UNCLE PAUL'S RETURN--WE EMBARK--OVERTAKEN BY A FURIOUS GALE--OUR
PROVISIONS WASHED AWAY--JOSE'S DEATH--BURIAL AT SEA--OUR SUFFERINGS--A
BREEZE--A SAIL--DISAPPOINTMENT--CATCHING FISH.
Another day passed, and we became more and more anxious for the return
of our uncle and cousin. Sometimes our father talked of going back and
braving the worst; and sometimes he seemed eager to embark, to get clear
away from the island in which his once bright hopes had been so
completely destroyed. Frequently he spoke as if all happiness in life
for him was over, and seemed only to wish for death as an end to his
sorrows. He felt greatly the loss of our mother; and that alone would
have been sufficient to cast him down. But he was also, it was evident,
dissatisfied with himself. How could it be otherwise, when he reflected
that he had, by his own act, brought his present misfortunes upon
himself? We, however, did not and could not complain; and dear Marian
did her utmost to soothe and comfort him, telling him in a quiet way to
trust in God, and that all would be well.
"But I have not trusted in God; I have only trusted in myself," answered
our father bitterly, "and I have, in consequence, been terribly
deceived."
Though neither Marian nor I could offer sufficient consolation, we did
all we could to keep him from going back, and were thus, at all events,
of use.
Several times during the day I went down to the beach and looked along
the shore, in the hope of seeing the boat coming; but neither did she
appear, nor was any sail in sight. Tim would not leave his post, even
for the sake of getting some birds for our larder, but kept guard upon
Jose; who, it was evident, he thought would run off should he find an
opportunity.
"If once we get on salt water, the spalpeen may go and give all the
information he chooses; though it would be a pity to let him show this
snug little hiding-place, in case some other honest folks might wish to
take possession of it," he said to me. "I should just like to take him
with us, if I wouldn't rather be without his company."
We had been for some time shut up in our retreat that night, with the
entrance carefully closed. Marian had retired to her hut, and our
father to one we had built for him; Jose was lying asleep, or pretending
to be so; while Tim sat up with me, it being my watch,--when we heard a
slight sound, as of persons approaching the spot. The fire was burning
brightly, so that we could easily have been seen by those who might find
their way to the entrance. My anxiety was relieved, however, by the
voice of Uncle Paul; and he soon appeared, followed by Arthur and Camo.
"We have no time to lose," he said, after he had inquired if all had
gone well. "We have been able to purchase a boat; and though she is not
so large as I could wish, she will carry us all. We have brought her
down to the mouth of the river, where she is moored in safety; also some
casks of water, and all the provisions we have been able to procure. We
should embark at once, so as to be away from the land before morning
dawns."
Our father, who had been sleeping lightly, awoke on hearing Uncle Paul's
voice, and he seemed well-satisfied with the arrangements which had been
made. "I am perfectly ready to start, and shall rejoice to get away
from this unhappy country," he added.
I awoke Marian, who was equally ready to start; and we at once set to
work to pack up all the provisions we had collected. With these we
loaded ourselves, Jose taking one of the heaviest packages.
"You will accompany us," said my father to him. "If you have the regard
for me you profess, you will willingly go; and should we hear favourable
accounts of the progress of events in the island, you will be able to
return, should you wish it."
"It is my wish to obey you, senor," answered Jose. "Had it not been for
Senor Guy and Tim, I should have been killed by that dreadful serpent;
and I am thankful to them for saving my life."
"Notwithstanding all he says, I will keep an eye on him," whispered Tim
to me. "If he tries to give us leg-bail, I will be after him, and show
him that I have as good a pair of heels as he has."
We were quickly ready; and having extinguished the fire, to prevent the
risk of it spreading to the forest, we all set out,--Camo leading the
way, Arthur assisting Marion, while Tim and I brought up the rear.
"Stop a moment," said Camo, when we all got outside. "I will close the
entrance, so that no strangers may find it." Putting down his load, he
drew together the bushes amid which we had passed, as had been our
custom from the first.
We walked in silence through the wood till we got down to the seashore,
when, continuing along it for nearly a mile, we at length reached a
little harbour formed by a bay at the mouth of the river. Here we found
the boat, with the two natives guarding her. She appeared, indeed, very
small for the long voyage we contemplated, though sufficiently large to
hold all our party. Uncle Paul was the only seafaring person among us,
for in his early days he had been a sailor; but my cousin and I, as well
as Tim and Jose, could row, so that should the weather prove calm we
might still be able to make good way.
Camo and the other two natives would willingly have accompanied us; but
it not being necessary for them to leave the island, as there was but
little danger of their being captured provided they kept concealed, my
father and uncle had agreed that it would be better to leave them
behind. They shed tears as they assisted us to load the boat and bade
us farewell.
The oars were got out, and Uncle Paul gave the order to shove off; then,
getting her head round, we pulled down the river. There was but little
wind, and that was off the shore, so that the water at its mouth was
perfectly smooth. Bending to our oars, we pulled out to sea; and as we
left the shore astern, we all breathed more freely than we had done for
many a day. We had, at all events, escaped from the dreaded
Inquisition, and we thought, in comparison, but little of the dangers
before us. Having got some distance from the shore we felt the breeze
come stronger, and Uncle Paul desired us to step the mast and hoist the
sail, when we glided much more rapidly through the water than we had
done when rowing. The weather, too, promised to be fine, and Uncle Paul
cheered us up by saying that he hoped we should fall in with a vessel
during the morning; if not, he proposed steering a course for Tobago.
The boat was pretty well loaded with provisions and water, so that there
was not much space for lying down. We managed, however, to fit a small
cabin for Marian in the afterpart with a spare sail, into which she
could retire to rest. The task of navigating the boat fell most heavily
on Uncle Paul, as neither Arthur nor I were accustomed to steer, while
Tim and Jose knew nothing about the matter. Uncle, therefore, did not
like us to take the helm.
We glided on till the shores of the island could scarcely be
perceived,--the weather having been remarkably fine ever since we had
left home. Just before dawn, however, there were signs of it changing;
and as the sun rose from its ocean-bed it looked like a huge globe of
fire, diffusing a ruddy glow throughout the sky, and tingeing with a
lurid hue the edges of the rapidly gathering clouds. The wind came in
fitful gusts for some time from the westward; but soon after Uncle Paul
had put the boat's head to the north, it suddenly shifted, and began to
blow with considerable violence from that quarter. We had then, under
his directions, to close-reef the sail; but even thus it was more than
the boat could bear. In vain did we try to beat to windward.
"We shall make no way in the direction we wish to go," said Uncle Paul
at length. "We must either run before it, or stand back to the coast we
have left, and try to enter some river or harbour where we can find
shelter till the gale has passed."
My father was very unwilling to return to the island, fearing that we
should be suspected by the authorities of any place where we might land,
and be delivered into the hands of the government.
We were now steering to the southward, in a direction exactly opposite
to what we wished, but the sea had got up so much, and the wind blew so
violently, that it was the only one in which the boat could be steered
with safety. The more the sea got up, the more necessary it became to
carry sail, to avoid being swamped by the heavy waves which rolled up
astern.
Poor Uncle Paul had now been steering for some hours, but he could not
trust the helm to anyone else. The wind continuing to increase, a
stronger gust than we had before felt struck the sail. In an instant
both it and the mast, which had given way, were carried overboard; and
before we could secure them, they were lost. On this, Uncle Paul
ordered us to get out the oars, and to pull for our lives. We did as he
directed; but notwithstanding our efforts several seas which rolled up
broke into the boat, carrying away all our water-casks and the larger
portion of our provisions. While Arthur and Tim rowed, my father, Jose,
and I, aided by Marian, set to work to bail out the boat, and it was
with the greatest difficulty we could keep her clear.
Our position had now become extremely critical. Uncle Paul kept as calm
as at first, directing us what to do; but I knew by the tone of his
voice that he had great fears for our safety. Indeed, had the gale
continued to increase, no human power could have saved us.
Providentially, after the last violent blast it began to subside; but
the sea was still too high to allow us to make headway against it. As
soon as we had somewhat cleared the boat of water, Jose and I resumed
our oars; but, notwithstanding all our efforts, the summits of the
foaming waves occasionally broke aboard, and we had to recommence
bailing.
We were thus employed when Uncle Paul cried out,--"Take to your oars!
Pull--pull away for your lives!" We did our utmost, but the top of
another heavy sea, like a mountain, which rolled up astern, broke aboard
and carried away nearly the whole of our remaining stock of provisions;
and had not Uncle Paul at the moment grasped hold of Marian, she also
would, I believe, have been washed away. Another such sea would
speedily have swamped us. We, of course, had again to bail away with
all our might; but it took some time before the boat could be cleared of
water. When we at length got her to rights, and looked round for our
oars, we found, to our dismay, that both Jose's and mine had been
carried overboard, thus leaving only two with which to pull on the boat;
while we had only the small sail which had formed the covering to
Marian's cabin.
The gale continued for two days longer; and it seemed surprising that my
young sister, poor girl, should have survived the hardships she had to
endure. One small cask, only partly full of water, remained, with two
packages of dried manatee flesh, and a few oranges and other fruits,--
which were, besides, fast spoiling. Uncle Paul served them out with the
greatest care; giving Marian, however, a larger portion than the rest of
us--though he did not tell her so, lest she should refuse to take it.
Our poor father lay in the bottom of the boat, so prostrated, that had
we not propped him up and fed him, he would soon have succumbed. Jose
was in even a worse condition. He evidently had not recovered from the
injuries he had received in the coils of the anaconda; and when I asked
Uncle Paul if he thought he would recover, he shook his head.
"He will be the first among us to go," he answered in a most dispirited
way. Jose was groaning, crouched down in the bows of the boat. Tim's
compassionate heart was moved; he went and placed himself by his side.
"Cheer up," he said. "We may fall in with a vessel before long, when we
shall have plenty of grub, and you will soon get all to rights."
"No, no!" groaned Jose; "my doom is fixed; it serves me right, for I
intended to betray you for the sake of the reward I expected to receive.
I am dying--I know it; but I wish that I had a priest to whom I might
confess my sins, and die in peace."
"Confess them, my friend, to One who is ready to hear the sinner who
comes to Him--our great High Priest in heaven," answered Tim, who, like
most Irish Protestants, was well instructed in the truths of
Christianity. "Depend on it, all here are ready to forgive you the harm
you intended them; and if so, our loving Father in heaven is a
thousandfold more willing, if you will go to Him."
Jose only groaned; I was afraid that he did not clearly understand what
Tim said, so Arthur endeavoured to explain the matter.
"God allows all those who turn to Him, and place their faith in the
all-perfect atonement of His blessed Son, to come boldly to the throne
of grace, without the intervention of any human being," he said.
"I see! I see!" said the dying man. "What a blessed truth is that!
How dreadful would otherwise be our fate out here on the ocean, without
the possibility of getting a priest to whom to confess our sins."
I, of course, give a mere outline of what I heard, and cannot pretend to
translate exactly what they said. Jose, however, appeared much
comforted.
The wind had by this time entirely gone down, and the sea was becoming
smoother and smoother. At length night came on. Jose still breathed;
but he was speechless, though I think he understood what was said.
Either Arthur or Tim sat by him, while Marian and I supported our
father. Uncle Paul, overcome by fatigue, had gone to sleep. Just as
the sun rose, Jose breathed his last. Our father, who had slept for
some time, by this time appeared greatly refreshed; and after he had
taken some food, a little water, and an orange, he was able to sit up,
and we began to hope that he would recover. We did not tell him of
Jose's death, but soon his eye fell on the bow of the boat. "God is
indeed merciful, to have spared me. I might have been like that poor
man," he observed.
We waited till Uncle Paul awoke, to learn what to do, and he at once
said that we must bury poor Jose. I sat with Marian in the stern of the
boat, while Uncle Paul and Tim lifted Jose's body up to the side; and
the latter fastened a piece of stone, which served as ballast, to his
feet. Our uncle having uttered an earnest prayer that we might all be
preserved, they then let the corpse drop gently into the water, where it
quickly disappeared beneath the surface. It was a sad sight, and poor
Marian looked on with horror in her countenance. I wished that she
could have been spared the spectacle.
Our stock of provisions and water would now last us scarcely a couple of
days, and no land was in sight. Uncle Paul calculated, however, that we
must be some fifteen or twenty leagues to the south-east of Cape
Galeota, the most southern point of Trinidad. The brown colour of the
water also showed that we were off the mouth of the mighty Orinoco,
though probably many leagues away from it. Had we possessed our full
strength and four oars, we might in time have reached the shore; but,
weak as we were, and with only a couple of oars, we could have but
little hope of doing so. We still trusted to falling in with a vessel;
but as we gazed round over the glittering surface of the ocean, not a
sail appeared. While the calm lasted, none indeed could approach us;
and too probably, before a breeze would spring up, our scanty stock of
provisions might be exhausted.
"Cheer up, my friends; let us still trust in God," said Uncle Paul at
length. "It is wrong to give way to despair. There's One above who
watches over us, and orders all for the best."
"Let us pray to Him, then," exclaimed Marian, kneeling down; and
following the example of the dear girl, we lifted up our voices together
for safety and protection.
We all felt comforted, and even our poor father's countenance looked
less downcast than before. That which weighed most on his spirits was,
I suspect, the thought that he had been the cause of our being placed in
our present position. No one, however, uttered a word of reproach, and
we all did our utmost to console him. Arthur tried to speak cheerfully:
Tim attempted to sing one of the melodies of his native land, which he
had learned in his boyhood; but his voice broke down, and he was
well-nigh bursting into tears.
The calm, though very trying, enabled us to obtain the rest we so much
required; and the next morning, though suffering from hunger, Uncle Paul
was quite himself again.
After we had offered up our prayers, we took our scanty breakfast of
water and a small piece of dried meat, with such parts of the rotten
fruit as we could eat. Uncle Paul then stood up and looked about him.
"We shall have a breeze, I think, before long," he said, "and we must at
once prepare the sail. I am sorry, Marian, to deprive you of the
covering of your nest; but we have no other means of making the boat go
along."
"I shall be thankful to give it up, if it will help on the boat," she
answered, assisting to undo the lashing which secured the sail. It was
old, and already torn, but with a strong breeze it would afford such
canvas as the boat could carry. We had only an oar for a mast, and
another for a yard. Uncle Paul stepped the first, and stayed it up
carefully with such pieces of rope as could be found in the boat, while
he joined two or three together to form a sheet.
"We are now all ready for the breeze when it comes," he observed, having
finished his work. "I cannot say much for the appearance of our sail,
but we may be thankful if it enables us to reach a port in safety." He
went and sat down again in the sternsheets, resting his hand on the
tiller, so that not a moment might be lost after the breeze should reach
us.
"Here it comes!" he exclaimed at length. "But I wish it had been from
any other quarter. We may, however, hope to beat up against it, if it
proves light, as I expect." He pointed to the north-west, where a dark
blue line was seen extending across the horizon, and rapidly
approaching, every instant becoming broader and broader. Now some
cat's-paws came blowing over the ocean, rippling it up into mimic waves;
now they disappeared, now again came on, till the whole surface was
crisped over by the breeze. Our small triangular sail bulged out,
sending the boat along about a couple of miles an hour.
Uncle Paul was standing up, looking in the direction from which the wind
came, when he exclaimed, "A sail! a sail! She is coming from the
northward, and must be bound either up the Orinoco, or to some port in
the northern part of the continent."
Arthur and I looked eagerly out, but we could just see a small patch of
white rising above the horizon, which the eye of a sailor alone could
have declared to be the topmost sails of a vessel. We stood on in the
direction we were going, hoping to cut her off before she passed to the
southward of us. How eagerly we watched her!--now gazing at her, now at
Uncle Paul's countenance, which betrayed the anxiety he felt. By
degrees her canvas rose above the horizon, and we saw that she was a
schooner, under all sail, running rapidly through the water, and
directly crossing our course. It soon became evident that we could not
by any possibility cut her off, but we might be seen by those on board.
At length she came almost ahead of us. Tim stood up and waved eagerly,
and we all shouted at the top of our voices. We also attempted to fire
our guns, but so wet were they that they would not go off.
"Oh, let us pray!" cried Marian; and she and I knelt down.
Still the schooner stood on. No eye on board was turned towards us. We
must have presented, indeed, but a small speck on the wide ocean. Tim
now waved violently, but all our shouting and waving was of no avail.
Uncle Paul then kept the boat away, to obtain another chance of being
seen; though, of course, there was no hope of overtaking the
fast-sailing schooner.
"God's will be done!" at length cried Uncle Paul. "We are only running
further and further out of our course. We must hope that another vessel
will come by, and that we may be seen by those on board. If not, while
the wind holds as it now does we must endeavour to reach the northern
part of Guiana."
Though Uncle Paul said this, I could not help reflecting that our
provisions would not hold out to keep us alive till then. For myself, I
felt more hungry than I had ever before done in my life, and dreadfully
thirsty; and I feared that Marian was suffering even more than I was,
though she did not complain. I was careful, however, to say nothing to
increase her alarm, though I mentioned my fears in a whisper to Arthur,
as we were seated in the bows of the boat.
"I do not despair altogether," he answered. "We may very likely, before
long, be visited by birds, which, as we have our guns, we may be able to
shoot; or, should a calm come on, possibly some flying-fish may leap on
board, or we may be able to catch some other fish. Perhaps we may even
be able to manufacture a hook and line."
"What a fortunate idea!" I exclaimed. "I have got a file in my knife;
and we may be able to find a nail, to which I can put a barb, and bend
it into the proper shape."
We lost no time in putting the idea just started, into execution. We
hunted about, and fortunately discovered a long thin nail of tough iron,
which I thought we could bend into the shape of a hook. I told no one
what I was about, however, but at once began filing away so as to form
the barb, the most difficult part of my task. Arthur, meantime,
recollected that he had on a pair of strong thread socks; so, undoing
the upper part, he produced a long line, which when doubled was of
sufficient strength to bear a pretty strong pull. By the time I had
prepared my hook, greatly to my satisfaction, his line was ready. It
was not so long as we should have liked, but still long enough to allow
the bait to sink sufficiently below the surface to attract the unwary
fish. Tim, in the meantime, had been cleaning our guns, the locks of
which, not having been covered up, had prevented their use at the moment
they were so much required. We reloaded them, and put in fresh priming.
Uncle Paul having noticed what we were about,--"That is right," he
observed. "We are bound to make every effort to preserve our lives.
While we put full trust in God, He will favour our efforts."
The wind was again dropping, and the time, we thought, was favourable to
commence fishing. We had to sacrifice a small piece of manatee flesh,
but we trusted that it would give us a satisfactory return. So, having
baited our hook, and put some lead on the line, we dropped it into the
water, letting it tow astern. Never did fisherman hold a line with more
anxious wish for success than did Arthur. He had not long to wait.
"I have a bite!" he exclaimed in a tone of eagerness. "Hurrah! it's
hooked!"
Carefully he drew in the line, while Tim and I leaned over the side, to
lift up the expected prize, for fear that it might break away at the
last moment. It was a fish nearly two feet long; and it fortunately
struggled but little, or I believe that it would have carried away the
hook. How eagerly we clutched it!--literally digging our fingers into
its flesh--and then with a jerk brought it safely aboard. We none of us
knew its name; but as it was of the ordinary fishlike shape, we hoped
that it would prove to be of a species fit for human food.
"I wish we had a kitchen-fire at which to cook it," cried Marian.
"We must manage to do without that," observed Uncle Paul; "and we shall
not be the first folks who have been thankful to obtain raw fish for
dinner."
It is my belief that that fish saved our lives. Even Marian managed to
eat a small portion, which was beaten up fine to enable her to swallow
it. Strange to say, it was the only one we caught, though we had the
line out for several hours afterwards. We were afraid of allowing it to
remain unless one of us held it, lest some large fish, catching hold of
it, should carry away the hook. We therefore hauled it in at night;
and, it being calm, Arthur took the helm, while Uncle Paul lay down to
sleep.