“O, BERNARD, IT IS YOUR FATHER’S SHIP!.”
After the strange meeting with Bernard Herbert, his imprisonment on the
lonely island no longer felt irksome to Tom Talisker.
Indeed, for a time at all events, he was in no hurry for “the ship” to
come. Had it arrived the first week even, I daresay Tom would have been
a little disappointed. O, it was bound to appear some day or other; all
three prisoners felt sure of that. For they were young and healthy, and
therefore they were happy and hopeful. Why should they not enjoy life as
thoroughly as possible, therefore? They did so anyhow.
They hunted, they fished, they roamed through the woods and wild glens,
and studied nature in its every phase and form, and in fact really felt
part and parcel of the living joys and wonders all around them.
“It is very well being a Crusoe, for a short time all by yourself,” Tom
said one day to Bernard; “but it is doubly delightful to have a
companion.”
The very flowers seemed more beautiful now, the trees looked greener,
and the sky and sea a deeper blue.
Strange to say, neither Tom nor Bernard thought twice of the buried
treasure. It was there waiting them when they wanted it. Far more in
gold alone than would purchase all the lands of Craigielea, and half the
parish besides. They did not even trouble themselves to wonder how it
had come there. A dying convict had told Bernard its whereabouts--a
convict that he had befriended--and doubtless it had been concealed long
years ago by the buccaneers who infested these seas in the good old
times.
The huge tame tortoises were a source of endless amusement to the
Crusoes. They even managed to domesticate them. Two of these especially
were great pets and favourites. Both were old males--bulls Bernard
called them; and there is really no saying how long they might not have
crawled about the island--probably a hundred years if not two. Tortoises
are animals that take life wondrously easy. They never hurry, and most
assuredly never worry; and thus they manage to exist for a whole
century, and live happy ever afterwards.
One would think that during such a long innings the Galapagos tortoise
would amass a vast deal of wisdom. Perhaps they do; but, if so, they
keep it to themselves. They seem to know that silence is golden, and
consequently stick to it. These two giants, Peter and John the Crusoes
called them, knew well enough what was good for them; and that is more
than some boys do. Their food was collected for them, and they stopped
eating at once when nature was satisfied; and they never touched
anything that was left, a second time. If stale food were offered to
them, they snorted and drew in their heads at once; but as soon as the
half-dry stuff was taken away, and some nice juicy morsels of cacti
placed about a yard off, out came the heads again. Not quickly; O, no,
they did not even hurry themselves in putting their heads out; though
they always managed to draw them in with a jerk
[Illustration: GIANT TORTOISE RIDING]
when offended. Black Tom was their particular aversion. I cannot
understand why, but as soon as he appeared, “Pshaw!” they would shout,
and in went their heads in a moment; and away Black Tom would fly, with
his tail on end and like a bottle brush. The cat could growl and hiss
pretty well himself; but not in the terribly startling way the tortoises
did. John was the better-natured of these two race-horses. That is the
reason they call him John. The other was a little crotchety so they
called him Peter. Peter did not like anyone to point a stick or even a
finger at him. If you did so, you offended him at once. “Pshaw!” he
would cry, and draw in his head, and one could not help feeling mean.
But you might have pointed a finger all day long at John, and he would
not have troubled himself.
Is it possible, I wonder, for huge ungainly monsters like these to
possess affection? I myself believe it is; and that John grew really
fond of Tom. For sometimes after eating his dinner, instead of drawing
in his neck and going quickly to sleep as his brother Peter did, John
started looking or staring at Tom, if he happened to be lying reading
out of doors. It was a long, steady, stony stare, that lasted for
perhaps half an hour at a time. Bernard used to say that he saw a smile
on John’s face; but Tom would not admit that. However, there was no
mistake about the staring; for Tom used to shift his position, and the
head and neck followed him slowly round. But John never turned his body
round. That would have been far too much trouble. When Tom got tired of
being stared at like this he used to call for pussy. That was enough for
John. “Pshaw!” he would cry, and in would go the neck.
* * * * *
In about a month’s time Bernard Herbert, though still dressed in
garments made of skin, was as thoroughly civilized as could be wished,
and his English was now unexceptionably good. But though a handsome man,
he was a terribly red-brown one. The tanning his skin had received in
the wilds of the eastern lands of Ecuador would probably never leave it;
only there was surely nothing to be sorry for on this account.
Tom had commenced to teach Bernard to read, and, partly because his
heart was in it, and partly because he really was very clever, he soon
made excellent progress.
One forenoon when Brandy was away in the woods Tom had just sat down to
give Brother Bernard, as he called him, a lesson, when they heard a
distant shout, and looking up beheld the negro boy coming rushing wildly
over the plain.
Tom ran for his rifle, then hastened to meet him, not knowing what might
be the matter. He hailed the lad when near enough; but Brandy had no
voice now, he could only point away seawards and make faces.
“Is it a ship?” cried Tom.
Brandy signalled assent, and back ran Tom, shouting wildly, madly,
exultantly--
“A ship! A ship!”
And Bernard threw his goat-skin cap in the air and joined the chorus,
for Brandy had recovered his breath, and the very woods and welkin rang
with--
“A ship! A ship!”
Then away they all hurried together to the look-out station.
The vessel was standing steadily in towards the land, with all sail set.
But Tom had only to look at her once before he exclaimed:
“O, Bernard, it is the _Caledonia_! It is your father’s ship!”
Bernard smiled faintly, then pressed both hands to his heart, as if in
sudden pain. Strong man though he was, the joyful and sudden news was
almost too much for him.
He recovered in a moment though; then, as if by some sudden impulse, the
three joined hands and danced and capered there until they were fain to
desist from sheer exhaustion. They quieted down after this. They had
allayed their excitement, blown off their steam. But for the time being
surely no madder, dafter dance had ever been danced on a hilltop.
Brandy, with his black face and white rolling eyes, the wild red man in
his skins, and honest Tom Talisker in his rags-a comical trio!
I think when the dance was over they were all a little ashamed of it;
but after all what else could they have done under the circumstances?
“Well, sah,” said Ginger Brandy, “I’se ’llayed my feelings plenty
proper.”
“And I’ve allayed mine,” said Tom.
“I think,” said Bernard, “that dance has saved my reason.”
“And now,” cried Tom, “look, yonder goes the anchor down. Let us run and
meet them.”
Well, surely there is truth in the old saying that wonders will never
cease, for who should Tom meet near the shore coming panting up the
tortoise-path but Uncle Robert himself.
“O, may the Lord be praised, my boy, we have found you.”
And for one moment Tom in his rags was pressed to the old man’s heart,
and, will it be believed, he was sobbing like a child.
Uncle Robert saw he could not speak, though he was trying hard to, so he
wisely forestalled his questions.
“Your mother and father, sister and brothers are all well, and ’Theena
is here on board the _Caledonia_.”
About the same time an earnest-eyed red man in goat skins had rushed up
to Captain Herbert on the beach.
“Father,” he said. “Do not start, I am your boy, Bernard!”
But wonders had not ceased even yet. For coming along the path,
clambering over lumps of scoriæ and kicking away cinders, was Barnaby
Blunt himself.
“I tell you what it is, friends, this is about the prettiest bit of an
ending to a drama that ever I see’d in all my born days, and I reckon
nobody’ll care to contradict me. Here was Captain Barnaby Blunt
foundered at sea, and took to boats, separated from his dinghy and
finally picked up by a whaler, who landed him at Buenos Ayres. Here five
months afterwards was Captain Herbert, and my young friend’s Uncle
Robert, come out from England to look for their runaway boys, and here
we all meet again as unexpected as if we had dropped out of a balloon.
If it ain’t about the strangest and queerest thing that ever happened,
then may Barnaby Blunt never command a ship of his own again, nor meet
his dear old wife, ’Liza Ann. And here’s Brandy himself.”
Then this queer old Quaker Yankee got serious all at once.
“I say, men and boys,” he said, “don’t you think we’ve all got a deal to
be thankful for. Then let us just kneel down here among the cinders and
praise God’s holy name.”
They did kneel down--just there, where they had been standing, and if
Barnaby Blunt’s prayer was brief it was heartfelt.
* * * * *
Reader, my story is all but ended, and I am not the one to keep the
curtain up a single minute longer than is necessary.
Just as they were then, in their rags and skins, Captain Herbert
insisted on bundling them on board the _Caledonia_. “Bundling” is the
right word in the right place.
When Tom Talisker saw advancing to meet him on the quarter-deck a
beautiful girl of some seventeen summers--we should always call it
summers when talking of a lady’s age--he felt inclined to hang fire, and
Bernard was half afraid too.
But Tom soon screwed up his courage, took Brother Bernard by the hand,
and both advanced; and when she looked at them ’Theena first smiled and
then laughed right heartily, though the tears were rolling over her face
all the time. And everybody joined in the laugh, even the Crusoes
themselves.
* * * * *
The treasure was safely loaded and stowed, and let me say to his credit
that Barnaby Blunt was not a bit jealous of the young men’s luck.
“‘Liza Ann and me has eno’, praised be His name,” said Barnaby, “and I
wish you long life and luck to spend your fortune, boys.”
When boats at Guayaquil brought off Tom’s treasures of natural history,
and brought off at the same time his old friend Samaro to see Uncle
Robert, the latter was indeed a proud and happy man. And his parting
with his quondam guide was quite affecting.
“My boy Tom may see you again, Samaro,” he said, “he is a rover born;
but I never shall till we meet up bye. Farewell!”
“_A dios_, my good señor. _A dios._”
These were Samaro’s last words as he went slowly over the side.
* * * * *
It was many months after this ere the good ship _Caledonia_ was towed up
the Clyde; but the long voyage had been a very happy one, almost idyllic
indeed, and ere it was all ended ’Theena had one evening under the
silvery stars promised Tom Talisker that she would take a longer voyage
with him--the voyage through life.
They are living now at Craigielea; Tom’s parents still keep the fine old
farm, but Tom himself lives at Craigie Castle, and owns the shootings.
Black Tom, the cat, is also alive and very living like. Uncle Robert has
rooms at the castle too. The place would not be complete without Uncle
Robert.
Bernard is still a bachelor and likely to be, but he has bought a fine
estate not far from Tom’s place.
Between them they own a very beautiful yacht, with decks white as snow
and sails like sea-bird’s wings; but only their most intimate friends
know the reason why she is named the _Southern Hope_.
“English boys owe a debt of gratitude to Mr. Henty.”--_Athenæum._
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SIR HARRY JOHNSTON, G.C.M.G., K.C.B.
=Pioneers in West Africa.= With 8 coloured illustrations by the author,
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and maps and other illustrations in black-and-white. Demy 8vo, cloth
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These two volumes are the first of a series, the object of which is to
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told in a picture of splendid colouring, and with great accuracy.
ALEXANDER MACDONALD
=Through the Heart of Tibet=: A Tale of a Secret Mission to Lhasa. 6_s._
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HARRY COLLINGWOOD
=A Middy of the King=: A Romance of the Old British Navy. Illustrated by
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“A story of thrilling interest.”--_British Weekly._
--=The Cruise of the Thetis=: A Tale of the Cuban Insurrection. 5_s._
“A good, stirring book.”--_Times._
STAFF SURGEON T. T. JEANS, R.N.
=On Foreign Service=: or, The Santa Cruz Revolution. Illustrated by W.
RAINEY, R.I. 6_s._
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--STAFF SURGEON T. T. JEANS, R.N.
Mr. Midshipman Glover, R.N.: A Tale of the Royal Navy of To-day. 5_s._
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HERBERT STRANG
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--Tom Burnaby: A Story of Uganda and the Great Congo Forest. 5_s._
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--Kobo: A Story of the Russo-Japanese War. 5_s._
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ROBERT M. MACDONALD
The Rival Treasure Hunters: A Tale of the Debatable Frontier of British
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DAVID KER
=Under the Flag of France=: A Tale of Bertrand du Guesclin. 5_s._
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--=Among the Dark Mountains=: or, Cast away in Sumatra. 3_s._ 6_d._
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ERNEST GLANVILLE
=The Diamond Seekers=: A Story of Adventure in South Africa. 6_s._
“We have seldom seen a better story for boys.”--_Guardian._
--=In Search of the Okapi=: A Story of Adventure in Central Africa. 6_s._
“An admirable story.”--_Daily Chronicle._
MEREDITH FLETCHER
=Every Inch a Briton=: A School Story. 3_s._ 6_d._
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--=Jefferson Junior=: A School Story. 3_s._ 6_d._
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FREDERICK P. GIBBON
=The Disputed V.C.= A Tale of the Indian Mutiny. 3_s._
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G. MANVILLE FENN
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--=Bunyip Land=: Among the Blackfellows in New Guinea. 3_s._
“One of the best tales of adventure produced by any living
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--In the King’s Name. 3_s._ 6_d._
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News._
--Dick o’ the Fens: A Romance of the Great East Swamp. 3_s._ 6_d._
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Dr. GORDON STABLES, R.N.
The Naval Cadet: A Story of Adventure on Land and Sea. 3_s._ 6_d._
“An interesting travellers’ tale, with plenty of fun and incident in
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--For Life and Liberty: A Tale of the Civil War in America. 3_s._
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FRED SMITH
The World of Animal Life. A Natural History for Little Folk. With eight
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A. J. CHURCH
Lords of the World: A Tale of the Fall of Carthage and Corinth. 3_s._
6_d._
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G. I. WHITHAM
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ESCOTT LYNN
=When Lion-Heart was King=: A Tale of Robin Hood and Merry Sherwood.
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“A lively tale.”--_Birmingham Post._
WILLIAM BECK
=Hawkwood the Brave=: A Tale of Mediæval Italy. 3_s._ 6_d._
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DOROTHEA MOORE
=God’s Bairn=: A Story of the Fen Country. 3_s._ 6_d._
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WALTER C. RHOADES
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--=Two Scapegraces=: A School Story. 3_s._ 6_d._
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PAUL DANBY
=The Red Army Book.= With many Illustrations in colour and in
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J. CUTHBERT HADDEN
=The Nelson Navy Book.= With many Illustrations in colour and in
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“A stirring, heartening tale, bold and bracing as the sea
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PERCY F. WESTERMAN
=The Quest of the Golden Hope=: A Seventeenth century Story of Adventure.
Illustrated by Frank Wiles. 2_s._ 6_d._
Typographical errors corrected by the etext transcriber:
for Samoro now told=> for Samaro now told {pg 114}
Barnably Blunt looked=> Barnaby Blunt looked {pg 156}
see the the negro=> see the negro {pg 172}
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Some of these wonderful tortoises are so large that half a dozen
men can hardly lift them from the ground.
[2] Owing to the raids made upon these strange animals by the American
whalers they had become very scarce, but this island not having been
visited for many years, they had recuperated their forces.--G. S.
[3] This is the idea Indians have of photographs.