"The merry homes of England!
Around their hearths by night,
What gladsome looks of household love
Meet in the ruddy light!
There woman's voice flows forth in song,
Or childhood's tale is told,
Or lips move tunefully along
Some glorious page of old."
Mrs. Hemans.
The peak, or highest part of the island, was at its northern extremity,
and within two miles of the grove in which Mark Woolston had eaten his
dinner. Unlike most of the plain, it had no woods whatever, but rising
somewhat abruptly to a considerable elevation, it was naked of
everything but grass. On the peak itself, there was very little of the
last even, and it was obvious that it must command a full view of the
whole plain of the island, as well as of the surrounding sea, for a wide
distance. Resuming his pack, our young adventurer, greatly refreshed by
the delicious repast he had just made, left the pleasant grove in which
he had first rested, to undertake this somewhat sharp acclivity. He was
not long in effecting it, however, standing on the highest point of his
new discovery within an hour after he had commenced its ascent.
Here, Mark found all his expectations realized touching the character of
the view. The whole plain of the island, with the exceptions of the
covers made by intervening woods, lay spread before him like a map. All
its beauties, its shades, its fruits, and its verdant glades, were
placed beneath his eye, as if purposely to delight him with their
glories. A more enchanting rural scene the young man had never beheld,
the island having so much the air of cultivation and art about it, that
he expected, at each instant, to see bodies of men running across its
surface. He carried the best glass of the Rancocus with him, in all his
excursions, not knowing at what moment Providence might bring a vessel
in sight, and he had it now slung from his shoulders. With this glass,
therefore, was every part of the visible surface of the island swept, in
anxious and almost alarmed search for the abodes of inhabitants. Nothing
of this sort, however, could be discovered. The island was
unquestionably without a human being, our young man alone excepted. Nor
could he see any trace of beast, reptile, or of any animal but birds.
Creatures gifted with wings had been able to reach that little paradise;
but to all others, since it first arose from the sea, had it probably
been unapproached, if not unapproachable, until that day. It appeared to
be the very Elysium of Birds!
Mark next examined the peak itself. There was a vast deposit of very
ancient guano on it, the washings of which for ages, had doubtless
largely contributed to the great fertility of the plain below. A stream
of more size than one would expect to find on so small an island,
meandered through the plain, and could be traced to a very copious
spring that burst from the earth at the base of the peak. Ample as this
spring was, however, it could never of itself have supplied the water of
the brook, or rivulet, which received the contributions of some fifty
other springs, that reached it in rills, as it wound its way down the
gently inclined plane of the island. At one point, about two leagues
from the Peak, there was actually a little lake visible, and Mark could
even trace its outlet, winding its way beyond it. He supposed that the
surplus tumbled into the sea in a cascade.
It will readily be imagined that our young man turned his glass to the
northward, in search of the group he had left that morning, with a most
lively interest. It was easy enough to see it from the great elevation
at which he was now placed. There it lay, stretched far and wide,
extending nearly a degree of latitude, north and south, and another of
longitude, east and west, most truly resembling a vast dark-looking map,
spread upon the face of the waters for his special examination. It
reminded Mark of the moon, with its ragged outlines of imaginary
continents, as seen by the naked eye, while the island he was now on,
bore a fancied resemblance to the same object viewed through a
telescope; not that it had the look of molten silver which is observed
in the earth's satellite, but that it appeared gloriously bright and
brilliant. Mark could easily see many of the sheets of water that were
to be found among the rocks, though his naked eye could distinguish
neither crater nor ship. By the aid of the glass, however, the first was
to be seen, though the distance was too great to leave the poor deserted
Rancocus visible, even with the assistance of magnifying-glasses.
When he had taken a good look at his old possessions, Mark made a sweep
of the horizon with the glass, in order to ascertain if any other land
were visible, from the great elevation on which he now stood. While
arranging the focus of the instrument, an object first met his eye that
caused his heart almost to leap into his mouth. Land was looming up, in
the western board, so distinctly as to admit of no cavil about its
presence. It was an island, mountainous, and Mark supposed it must be
fully a hundred miles distant. Still it was land, and strange land, and
might prove to be the abode of human beings. The glass told him very
little more than his eye, though he could discern a mountainous form
through it, and saw that it was an island of no great size. Beyond this
mountain, again, the young man fancied that he could detect the haze of
more land; but, if he did, it was too low, too distant, and too
indistinct, to be certain of it. It is not easy to give a clear idea of
the tumult of feeling with which Mark Woolston beheld these unknown
regions, though it might best be compared with the emotions of the
astronomer who discovers a new planet. It would scarce exceed the truth
to say that he regarded that dim, blue mountain, which arose in the
midst of a watery waste, with as much of admiration, mysterious awe and
gratification united, as Herschel may have been supposed to feel when he
established the character of Uranus. It was fully an hour before our
hermit could turn his eyes in any other direction.
And when our young mariner did look aside, it was more with the
intention of relieving eyes that had grown dim with gazing, than of not
returning to the same objects again, as soon as restored to their power.
It was while walking to and fro on the peak, with this intent, that a
new subject of interest caused him almost to leap into the air, and to
shout aloud. He saw a sail! For the first time since Betts disappeared
from his anxious looks, his eyes now surely rested on a vessel. What was
more, it was quite near the island he was on, and seemed to be beating
up to get under its lee. It appeared but a speck on the blue waves of
the ocean, seen from that height, it is true; but Mark was too well
practised in his craft to be mistaken. It was a vessel, under more or
less canvas, how much he could not then tell, or even see--but it was
most decidedly a vessel. Mark's limbs trembled so much that he was
compelled to throw himself upon the earth to find the support he wanted.
There he lay several minutes, mentally returning thanks to God for this
unexpected favour; and when his strength revived, these signs of
gratitude were renewed on his knees. Then he arose, almost in terror
lest the vessel should have disappeared, or it should turn out that he
was the subject of a cruel illusion.
There was no error. There was the little white speck, and he levelled
the glass to get a better look at it. An exclamation now clearly broke
from his lips, and for a minute or two the young man actually appeared
to be out of his senses. "The pinnace," "the Neshamony," however, were
words that escaped him, and, had there been a witness, might have given
an insight into this extraordinary conduct. Mark had, in fact,
ascertained that the sail beneath the peak was no other than the little
craft that had been swept away, as already described, with Betts in it.
Fourteen months had elapsed since that occurrence, and here it was
again, seemingly endeavouring to return to the place where it had been
launched! Mark adopted perhaps the best expedient in his power to
attract attention to himself, and to let his presence be known. He fired
both barrels of his fowling-piece, and repeated the discharges several
times, or until a flag was shown on board the sloop, which was now just
beneath the cliff, a certain sign that he had succeeded. A musket was
also fired from the vessel.
Our young man rather flew than ran to the ravine, down which he went at
a pace that several times placed his neck in jeopardy. It was a very
different thing to descend from ascending such a mountain. In less than
a quarter of an hour the half-distracted hermit was in his boat, nearly
crazy with the apprehension that he might yet not meet with his friend;
for, that it was Bob looking for the Reef and himself, he did not now
entertain the least doubt. The most plausible course for him to adopt
was precisely that which he followed. He pushed off in the Bridget,
making sail on the boat, and getting out of the cove in the shortest
time he could. On quitting his little haven, and coming out clear of all
the rocks, another shout burst out of his very soul, when he saw the
Neshamony, beyond all cavil, within a hundred fathoms of him, running
along the shore in search of a place to land. That shout was returned,
and Mark and Bob recognised each other at the next instant. As for the
last, he just off tarpaulin, and gave three hearty cheers, while the
former sank on a seat, literally unable to stand. The sheet of the sail
got away from him, nor could he be said to know what he was about, until
some little time after he was in the arms of his friend, and on board
the pinnace.
It was half-an-hour before Mark was master of himself again. At length
tears relieved him; nor was he ashamed to indulge in them, when he saw
his old companion not only alive and well, but restored to him. He
perceived another in the boat; but as he was of a dark skin, he
naturally inferred this second person was a native of some neighbouring
island where Bob had been, and who had consented to come with him in
this, his search after the shipwrecked mariner. At length Bob began to
converse.
"Well, Mr. Mark, the sight of you is the pleasantest prospect that has
met my eyes this many a day," exclaimed the honest fellow. "It was with
fear and trembling that I set out on the search, and little did I hope
to fall in with you so early in the cruise."
"Thank you, thank you, Bob, and God be praised for this great mercy! You
have been to some other island, I see, by your companion; but the
miraculous part of all is, that you should find your way back to the
Reef, since you are no navigator."
"The Reef! If this here mountain is the Reef, the country has greatly
altered since I left it," answered Bob. Mark then briefly explained the
great change that had actually occurred, and told his own story touching
his boat and his late voyages of discovery. Betts listened with the
greatest attention, casting occasional glances upward at the immense
mass that had been so suddenly lifted out of the sea, as well as turning
his head to regard the smoke of the more distant volcano.
"Well, this explains our 'arthquake," he answered, as soon as Mark was
done. "I must have been as good as a hundred and fifty leagues from this
very spot at the time you mention, and we had tremblings there that
would scarce let a body stand on his feet. A ship came in two days
arterwards, that must have been a hundred leagues further to the nor'ard
when it happened, and her people reported that they thought heaven and
'arth was a coming together, out there in open water."
"It has been a mighty earthquake--must have been, to have wrought these
vast changes; though I had supposed that Providence had confined a
knowledge of its existence to myself. But, you spoke of a ship,
Bob--surely we are not in the neighbourhood of vessels."
"Sartain--but, I may as well tell you my adventures at once, Mr. Mark;
though I own I should like to land first, as it is a long story, and
take a look at this island that you praise so much, and taste them
reed-birds of which you give so good an account. I'm Jarsey-born and
bred, and know what the little things be."
Mark was dying to hear Bob's story, more especially since he understood
a ship was connected with it, but he could not refuse his friend's
demand for sweet water and a dinner. The entrance of the cove was quite
near and the boats entered that harbour and were secured; after which
the three men commenced the ascent, Mark picking up by the way the
spy-glass, fowling-piece, and other articles that he had dropped in the
haste of his descent. While going up this sharp acclivity, but little
was said; but, when they reached the summit, or the plain rather,
exclamations of delight burst from the mouths of both of Mark's
companions. To the young man's great surprise, those which came from
Bob's dark-skinned associate were in English, as well as those which
came from Bob himself. This induced him to take a good look at the man,
when he discovered a face that he knew!
"How is this, Bob?" cried Mark, almost gasping for breath--"whom have
you here? Is not this Socrates?"
"Ay, ay, sir; that's Soc; and Dido, his wife, is within a hundred miles
of you."
This answer, simple as it was, nearly overcame our young man again.
Socrates and Dido had been the slaves of Bridget, when he left home; a
part of the estate she had received from her grandmother. They dwelt in
the house with her, and uniformly called her mistress. Mark knew them
both very well, as a matter of course; and Dido, with the archness of a
favourite domestic, was often in the habit of calling him her 'young
master.' A flood of expectations, conjectures and apprehensions came
over our hero, and he refrained from putting any questions immediately,
out of pure astonishment. He was almost afraid indeed to ask any.
Nearly unconscious of what he was about, he led the way to the grove
where he had dined two or three hours before, and where the remainder of
the reed-birds were suspended from the branch of a tree. The embers of
the fire were ready, and in a few minutes Socrates handed Betts his
dinner.
Bob ate and drank heartily. He loved a tin-pot of rum and-water, or
grog, as it used to be called--though even the word is getting to be
obsolete in these temperance times--and he liked good eating. It was not
epicurism, however, or a love of the stomach, that induced him to defer
his explanations on the present occasion. He saw that Mark must hear
what he had to relate gradually, and was not sorry that the recognition
of the negro had prepared him to expect something wonderful. Wonderful
it was, indeed; and at last Betts, having finished his dinner, and given
half-a-dozen preparatory hints, in order to lessen the intensity of his
young friend's feelings, yielded to an appeal from the other's eyes, and
commenced his narrative. Bob told his story, as a matter of course,
with a great deal of circumlocution, and in his own language. There was
a good deal of unnecessary prolixity in it, and some irrelative
digressions touching currents, and the trades, and the weather; but, on
the whole, it was given intelligibly, and with sufficient brevity for
one who devoured every syllable he uttered. The reader, however, would
most probably prefer to hear an abridgement of the tale in our own
words.
When Robert Betts was driven off the Reef, by the hurricane of the
preceding year, he had no choice but to let the Neshamony drive to
leeward with him. As soon as he could, he got the pinnace before the
wind, and, whenever he saw broken water ahead, he endeavoured to steer
clear of it. This he sometimes succeeded in effecting; while at others
he passed through it, or over it, at the mercy of the tempest.
Fortunately the wind had piled up the element in such a way as to carry
the craft clear of the rocks, and in three hours after the Neshamony was
lifted out of her cradle, she was in the open ocean, to leeward of all
the dangers. It blew too hard, however, to make sail on her, and Bob was
obliged to scud until the gale broke. Then, indeed, he passed a week in
endeavouring to beat back and rejoin his friend, but without success,
'losing all he made in the day, while asleep at night.' Such, at least,
was Bob's account of his failure to find the Reef again; though Mark
thought it probable that he was a little out in his reckoning, and did
not look in exactly the right place for it.
At the end of this week high land was made to leeward, and Betts ran
down for it, in the hope of finding inhabitants. In this last
expectation, however, he did not succeed. It was a volcanic mountain, of
a good many resources, and of a character not unlike that of Vulcan's
Peak, but entirely unpeopled. He named it after his old ship, and passed
several days on it. On describing its appearance, and its bearings from
the place where they then were, Mark had no doubt it was the island that
was visible from the peak near them, and at which he had been gazing
that very afternoon, for fully an hour with longing eyes. On describing
its form to Bob, the latter coincided in this opinion, which was in fact
the true one.
From the highest point of Rancocus Island, land was to be seen to the
northward and westward, and Bob now determined to make the best of his
way in that direction, in the hope of falling in with some vessel after
sandal-wood or bêche-le-mar. He fell in with a group of low islands, of
a coral formation, about a hundred leagues from his volcanic mountain,
and on them he found inhabitants. These. people were accustomed to see
white men, and turned out to be exceedingly mild and just. It is
probable that they connected the sudden appearance of a vessel like the
Neshamony, having but one man in it, with some miraculous interposition
of their gods, for they paid Bob the highest honours, and when he
landed, solemnly tabooed his sloop. Bob was a long-headed fellow in the
main, and was not slow to perceive the advantage of such a ceremony, and
encouraged it. He also formed a great intimacy with the chief,
exchanging names and rubbing noses with him. This chief was styled
Betto, after the exchange, and Bob was called Ooroony by the natives.
Ooroony stayed a month with Betto, when he undertook a voyage with him
in a large canoe, to another group, that was distant two or three
hundred miles, still further to the northward, and where Bob was told he
should find a ship. This account proved to be true, the ship turning out
to be a Spaniard, from South America, engaged in the pearl fishery, and
on the eve of sailing for her port. From some misunderstanding with the
Spanish captain, that Bob never comprehended and of course could not
explain, and which he did not attempt to explain, Betto left the group
in haste, and without taking leave of his new friend, though he sent him
a message of apology, one-half of which was lost on Bob, in consequence
of not understanding the language. The result was, however, to satisfy
the latter that his friend was quite as sorry to abandon _him_, as he
was glad to get away from the Spanish captain.
This desertion left Betts no choice between remaining on the pearl
island, or of sailing in the brig, which went to sea next day. He
decided to do the last. In due time he was landed at Panama, whence he
made his way across the isthmus, actually reaching Philadelphia in less
than five months after he was driven off the Reef. In all this he was
much favoured by circumstances; though an old salt, like Bob, will
usually make his way where a landsman would be brought up.
The owners of the Rancocus gave up their ship, as soon as Betts had told
his story, manifesting no disposition to send good money after bad. They
looked to the underwriters, and got Bob to make oath to the loss of the
vessel; which said oath, by the way, was the ground-work of a law-suit
that lasted Friend Abraham White as long as he lived. Bob next sought
Bridget with his tale. The young wife received the poor fellow with
floods of tears, and the most eager attention to his story, as indeed
did our hero's sister Anne. It would seem that Betts's arrival was most
opportune. In consequence of the non-arrival of the ship, which was then
past due two or three months, Doctor Yardley had endeavoured to persuade
his daughter that she was a widow, if indeed, as he had of late been
somewhat disposed to maintain, she had ever been legally married at all.
The truth was, that the medical war in Bristol had broken out afresh, in
consequence of certain cases that had been transferred to that village,
during one of the fever-seasons in Philadelphia. Greater cleanliness,
and the free use of fresh water, appear to have now arrested the course
of this formidable disease, in the northern cities of America; but, in
that day, it was of very frequent occurrence. Theories prevailed among
the doctors concerning it, which were bitterly antagonistical to each
other; and Doctor Woolston headed one party in Bucks, while Doctor
Yardley headed another. Which was right, or whether either was right, is
more than we shall pretend to say, though we think it probable that both
were wrong. Anne Woolston had been married to a young physician but a
short time, when this new outbreak concerning yellow fever occurred. Her
husband, whose name was Heaton, unfortunately took the side of this
grave question that was opposed to his father-in-law, for a reason no
better than that he believed in the truth of the opposing theory, and
this occasioned another breach. Doctor Yardley could not, and did not
wholly agree with Doctor Heaton, because the latter was Doctor
Woolston's son-in-law, and he altered his theory a little to create a
respectable point of disagreement; while Doctor. Woolston could not
pardon a disaffection that took place, as it might be, in the height of
a war. About this time too, Mrs. Yardley died.
All these occurrences, united to the protracted absence of Mark, made
Bridget and Anne extremely unhappy. To increase this unhappiness, Doctor
Yardley took it into his head to dispute the legality of a marriage that
had been solemnized on board a ship. This was an entirely new legal
crotchet, but the federal government was then young, and jurisdictions
had not been determined as clearly as has since been the case. Had it
been the fortune of Doctor Yardley to live in these later times, he
would not have given himself the trouble to put violent constructions on
anything; but, getting a few female friends to go before the necessary
judge, with tears in their eye's, anything would be granted to their
requests, very much as a matter of course. Failing of this, moreover,
there is always the resource of the legislature, which will usually pass
a law taking away a man's wife, or his children, and sometimes his
estate, if a pretty pathetic appeal can be made to it, in the way of
gossip. We have certainly made great progress in this country, within
the last twenty years; but whether it has been in a direction towards
the summit of human perfection, or one downward towards the destruction
of all principles, the next generation will probably be better able to
say than this. Even the government is getting to be gossipian.
In the case of Bridget, however, public sympathy was with her, as it
always will be with a pretty woman. Nevertheless, her father had great
influence in Bucks county, more especially with the federalists and the
anti-depletionists, and it was in his power to give his daughter great
uneasiness, if not absolutely to divorce her. So violent did he become,
that he actually caused proceedings to be commenced in Bridget's name,
to effect a legal separation, taking the grounds that the marriage had
never been consummated, that the ceremony had occurred on board a ship,
that the wife was of tender years, and lastly, that she was an heiress.
Some persons thought the Doctor's proceedings were instigated by the
circumstance that another relative had just died, and left Bridget five
thousand dollars, which were to be paid to her the day she was eighteen,
the period of a female's reaching her majority, according to popular
notions. The possession of this money, which Bridget received and,
placed in the hands of a friend in town, almost made her father frantic
for the divorce, or a decree against the marriage, he contending there
was no marriage, and that a divorce was unnecessary. The young wife had
not abandoned the hope of seeing her husband return, all this time,
although uneasiness concerning the fate of the ship, was extending from
her owners into the families of those who had sailed in her. She wished
to meet Mark with a sum of money that would enable him, at once, to
commence life respectably, and place him above the necessity of
following the seas.
Betts reached Bristol the very day that a decision was made, on a
preliminary point, in the case of Yardley versus Woolson, that greatly
encouraged the father in his hopes of final success, and as greatly
terrified his daughter. It was, in fact, a mere question of practice,
and had no real connection with the merits of the matter at issue; but
it frightened Bridget and her friend Anna enormously. In point of fact,
there was not the smallest danger of the marriage being declared void,
should any one oppose the decision; but this was more than any one of
the parties then knew, and Doctor Yardley seemed so much in earnest,
that Bridget and Anne got into the most serious state of alarm on the
subject. To increase their distress, a suitor for the hand of the former
appeared in the person of a student of medicine, of very fair
expectations and who supported every one of Doctor Yardley's theories,
in all their niceties and distinctions; and what is more, would have
supported them, had they been ten times as untenable as they actually
were, in reason.
Had the situation of Doctor Heaton been more pleasant than it was, it is
probable that the step taken by himself, his wife, and Bridget, would
never have been thought of. But it was highly unpleasant. He was poor,
and dependent altogether on his practice for a support. Now, it was in
Doctor Woolston's power to be of great service to the young couple, by
introducing the son-in-law to his own patients, but this he could not
think of doing with a depletionist; and John, as Anne affectionately
styled her husband, was left to starve on his system of depletion. Such
was the state of things when Bob appeared in Bristol, to announce to the
young wife not only the existence but the deserted and lone condition of
her husband. The honest fellow knew there was something clandestine
about the marriage, and he used proper precautions not to betray his
presence to the wrong persons. By means of a little management he saw
Bridget privately, and told his story. As Bob had been present at the
wedding, and was known to stand high in Mark's favour, he was believed,
quite as a matter of course, and questioned in a thousand ways, until
the poor fellow had not really another syllable to communicate.
The sisters shed floods of tears at the thought of poor Mark's
situation. For several days they did little besides weep and pray. Then
Bridget suddenly dried her tears, and announced an intention to go in
person to the rescue of her husband. Not only was she determined on
this, but, as a means of giving a death-blow to all expectations of a
separation and to the hopes of her new suitor, she was resolved to go in
a way that should enable her to remain on the Reef with Mark, and, if
necessary, to pass the remainder of her days there. Bob had given a very
glowing description of the charms of the residence, as well as of the
climate, the latter quite justly, and declared his readiness to
accompany this faithful wife in the pursuit of her lost partner. The
whole affair was communicated to Doctor and Mrs. Heaton, who not only
came into the scheme, but enlisted in its execution in person. The idea
pleased the former in particular, who had a love of adventure, and a
desire to see other lands, while Anne was as ready to follow her husband
to the ends of the earth, as Bridget was to go to the same place in
quest of Mark. In a word, the whole project was deliberately framed, and
ingeniously carried out.
Doctor Heaton had a brother, a resident of New York, and often visited
him. Bridget was permitted to accompany Anne to that place, whither her
money was transferred to her. A vessel was found that was about to sail
for the North-west Coast, and passages were privately engaged. A great
many useful necessaries were laid in, and, at the proper time, letters
of leave-taking were sent to Bristol, and the whole party sailed.
Previously to the embarkation, Bob appeared to accompany the
adventurers. He was attended by Socrates, and Dido, and Juno, who had
stolen away by order of their young mistress, as well as by a certain
Friend Martha Waters, who had stood up in 'meeting' with Friend Robert
Betts, and had become "bone of his bone and flesh of his flesh;" and her
maiden sister, Joan Waters, who was to share their fortunes. In a word,
Bob had brought an early attachment to the test of matrimony.
So well had the necessary combinations been made, that the ship sailed
with our adventurers, nine in number, without meeting with the slightest
obstacle. Once at sea, of course nothing but that caused by the elements
was to be anticipated. Cape Horn was doubled in due time, are Doctor
Heaton, with all under his care, was landed at Panama, just five months,
to a day, after leaving New York. Here passages were taken in the same
brig that Bob had returned in, which was again bound out, on a
pearl-fishing voyage. Previously to quitting Panama, however, a recruit
was engaged in the person of a young American shipwright, of the name of
Bigelow, who had run from his ship a twelvemonth before, to marry a
Spanish girl, and who had become heartily tired of his life in Panama.
He and his wife and child joined the party, engaging to serve the
Heatons, for a stipulated sum, for the term of two years.
The voyage from Panama to, the pearl islands was a long one, but far
from unpleasant. Sixty days after leaving port the adventurers were
safely landed, with all their effects. These included two cows, with a
young bull, two yearling colts, several goats obtained in South America,
and various implements of husbandry that it had not entered into the
views of Friend Abraham White to send to even the people of Fejee. With
the natives of the pearl island, Bob, already known to them and a
favourite, had no difficulty in negotiating. He had brought them
suitable and ample presents, and soon effected an arrangement, by which
they agreed to transport him and all his stores, the animals included,
to Betto's Islands, a distance of fully three hundred miles. The horses
and cows were taken on a species of catamaran, or large raft, that is
much used in those mild seas, and which sail reasonably well a little
off the wind, and not very badly on. At Betto's Islands a new bargain
was struck, and the whole party proceeded to Rancocus Island, Bob making
his land-fall without any difficulty, from having observed the course
steered in coming from it.
At Betto's group, however, Bob found the Neshamony, covered with mats,
and tabooed, precisely as he had left her to a rope-yarn. Not a human
hand had touched anything belonging to the boat, or a human foot
approached it, during the whole time of his absence. Ooroony, or Betto,
was rewarded for his fidelity by the present of a musket and some
ammunition, articles that were really of the last importance to his
dignity and power. They were as good as a standing army to him, actually
deciding summarily a point of disputed authority, that had long been in
controversy between himself and another chief, in his favour. The voyage
between Betto's group and Rancocus Island was made in the Neshamony, so
far as the human portion of the freight was concerned, The catamarans
and canoes, however, came on with the other animals, and all the
utensils and stores.
The appearance of Rancocus Island created quite as much astonishment
among the native mariners, as had that of the horses, cows, &c. Until
they saw it, not one of them had any notion of its existence, or of a
mountain at all. They dwelt themselves on low coral islands, and quite
beyond the volcanic formation, and a hill was a thing scarcely known to
them. At this island Heaton and Betts deemed it prudent to dismiss their
attendants, not wishing them to know anything of the Reef, as they were
not sure what sort of neighbours they, might prove, on a longer
acquaintance. The mountain, however, possessed so many advantages over
the Reef, as the latter was when Bob left it, that the honest fellow
frankly admitted its general superiority, and suggested the possibility
of its becoming their permanent residence. In some respects it was not
equal to the Reef, as a residence, however, the fishing in particular
turning out to be infinitely inferior. But it had trees and fruits,
being very much of the same character as Vulcan's Peak, in this respect.
Nevertheless, there was no comparison between the two islands as places
of residence, the last having infinitely the most advantages. It was
larger, had more and better fruits, better water, and richer grasses. It
had also a more even surface, and a more accessible plain. Rancocus
Island was higher and more broken, and, while it might be a pleasanter
place of residence than the Reef during the warm months, it never could
be a place as pleasant as the plain of the Peak.
Bob found it necessary to leave his friends, and most of his stores, at
Rancocus Island; Mrs. Heaton becoming a mother two days after their
arrival at it, and the cows both increasing their families in the course
of the same week. It was, moreover, impossible to transport everybody
and everything in the Neshamony, at the same time. As Doctor Heaton
would not leave Anne at such a moment, and Bridget was of the same way
of thinking, it was thought best to improve the time by sending out
Betts to explore. It will be remembered that he was uncertain where the
Reef was to be found exactly, though convinced it was to windward, and
within a hundred miles of him. While roaming over the rocks of Rancocus,
however, Vulcan's Peak had been seen, as much to Bob's surprise as to
his delight. To his surprise, inasmuch as he had no notion of the great
physical change that had recently been wrought by the earthquake, yet
could scarce believe he had overlooked such an object in his former
examinations; and to his delight, because he was now satisfied that the
Reef must be to the northward of that strange mountain, and a long
distance from it, because no such peak had been visible from the former
when he left it. It was a good place to steer for, nevertheless, on this
new voyage, since it carried him a hundred miles to wind ward; and when
Bob, with Socrates for a companion, left Rancocus to look for the Reef,
he steered as near the course for the Peak as the wind would permit. He
had made the island from the boat, after a run of ten hours; and, at the
same time, he made the crater of the active volcano. For the latter, he
stood that night, actually going within a mile of it, and, next
morning, he altered his course, and beat up for the strange island. When
Mark first discovered him, he had nearly made the circuit of Vulcan's
Peak, in a vain endeavour to land, and he would actually have gone on
his way, had it not been for the firing of the fowling-piece, the report
of which he heard, and the smoke of which he saw.