THE CASTAWAYS.
It was now the month of May and I had been about nine months a prisoner
on the island. If all went as well as I hoped, I might be at home before
the end of a year with money enough to redeem the dear old farm.
The morning was gray and gloomy, the wind still driving gusts of rain
from the northeast, and the breakers yellow with sand rolling in on the
beach, and dashing up fragments of weed and long streamers of bladder
plant. There was a strong salt smell in the nostrils that such weather
brings on the seashore; the gray, leaden clouds hung low and heavy over
a dark, indigo sea, whitened far and near with foaming crests, like
manes of racing steeds; the foliage gleamed silvery gray as the leaves
were swept by the wind; and the willows along the creek bent until they
dipped their slender branches in the stream. Occasionally a parrot or
other long-tailed bird could be seen tossed and buffeted in an attempt
to fly from one tree to another, frequently giving up the struggle and
fairly drifting away to be lost among the foliage.
Notwithstanding the wet, I went about getting stores into the boat and
preparing for the voyage. I filled half a dozen two-gallon gourds with
water, and stopped them with well waxed wooden plugs, stowing them
carefully in the bottom of the boat with due regard to her trim. Then I
put on board the remainder of the dried turtle-meat, and set a ham on
the fire to boil. I made two pans of bread, and put them, with pork,
beans, yams, and potatoes, in the oven to bake. This food would all keep
well. In addition I parched and ground up two or three quarts of seed
for cold gruel. Everything was stowed away, and the boat in readiness by
three o’clock in the afternoon.
There was but little sign of an abatement or change in the weather. I
felt curious to know if my buoy still held, and as there was yet time
before dark to go up to the north cape by way of the beach and return, I
called Duke and started along the strand. About half-way there we came
upon the carcass of a magnificent silver-sided tarpon,--a huge fish
somewhat like a sea-bass,--that would have weighed probably two hundred
pounds. It was dead when cast ashore, and so of course unfit for food. A
flock of gulls were quarrelling and fighting over it, and as we
approached they arose and filled the air in a great cloud. After we
passed by they circled around, wind-buffeted, and settled again on their
food, covering the beach, and hovering in a seething, hungry, struggling
crowd about the fish, which must have been a rare feast for them.
I picked up a beautiful and perfect specimen of the fragile shell of the
pearly nautilus, thin as paper, fluted and corrugated with lovely
regularity, and tinted like the shaded petals of a blush rose. Rarely
beautiful, divinely perfect, this sample of nature’s handiwork, cast up
by the foaming, angry breakers amid the brown tangle of the shore and
the foul-smelling ocean-weeds, seemed like a poem, a hymn in praise of
nature’s God. I put the delicate and perfect structure carefully in my
bosom to carry away as a memento of my island home.
We reached the cape, and I clambered up the highest rock from which I
could obtain a clear outlook, and found my buoy all right, rising and
falling with the swell, now submerged, and now reappearing, evidently
tugging at its anchor-rope, and securely held thereby.
I thought how peacefully slept the ancient hulk beneath all this
turbulence. Undisturbed by wind or wave it lay there slowly changing its
tough timbers of Andalusian oak back into the elements from which they
sprang. I thought, too, of the indestructible gold that lay buried
there, waiting the fulness of time for its reappearance in the active
life of man; how long the years had been since it had felt the grip of
avarice or slid freely from the fingers of charity.
Suddenly I saw away upon the rim of the sea in the northeast, in the
very eye of the wind, the white glint of a small sail. The mist, the
waves, and the changing rain hid it momently, and then it would gleam
out again a white spark among the gray. I watched it intently for a
quarter of an hour, and made out that it must be a small schooner-rigged
boat hove to with jib and close reefed mainsail, drifting bodily before
the wind, and rolling in a frightful manner. The mainmast had been
broken off at the top, and on the foremast, half-masted, fluttered a red
flag. I made out clearly, presently, that the craft was merely a
half-decked boat similar to my own, though perhaps of somewhat larger
size, and I thought I could see somebody on board, but could not
distinguish clearly. But of course, if it was hove to, there would be
some one on board, as such a condition of the canvas would not be likely
to occur by accident in a boat fortuitously adrift. If the wind held in
the present quarter, the boat was certain to drift on to the island, and
that too in a short time. It would not take above two hours and a half
for it to reach the breakers, unless it could run before the wind and
thus make a course to avoid the island. Very soon indeed, the island
would be a lee shore, and an exceedingly dangerous one. I marvelled
greatly that they did not seem to see this danger.
There was but one thing I could do, and that was the preparation of
beacon-fires to guide them into the creek mouth, the only harbor on the
east coast of the island. With this in view I hurried as fast as
possible down the beach to the house, and laid two fires, one on each
side of the creek mouth, heaping up the dry wood from my store in such a
manner that it would make a great blaze, and getting all in readiness to
light as soon as the sun went down. The wind was appreciably less, and I
believed was gradually decreasing. Moreover, it had now stopped raining,
and I could see the boat more distinctly.
An hour before sunset I thought it would be possible to go out with my
own boat under double-reefed canvas, and intercept the stranger.
Something was undoubtedly wrong on board of her, otherwise she would not
be allowed thus to drift to leeward without control, with the island in
plain sight. If there should prove to be no one on board, I might
possibly be able to save the boat, which could hardly fail to prove
better than my own. On the other hand, should there be some one on
board, I might render valuable assistance. I determined forthwith to
make the attempt. So I lighted my fires and got on board.
It was no easy matter to run my boat out over the bar in the teeth of a
half-gale of wind; and I did not accomplish it without getting
completely wet through, as I was obliged to tail on behind and push her
out through the breakers until I was immersed to my neck in salt water,
and then clamber in over the stern and haul aft the main sheet with the
sail flapping and thundering as though determined to burst loose.
However, I soon got her under control and was gliding along close
hauled on the starboard tack, with the spray, as she pitched nose down,
flying as high as the gaff, and raining down on the deck in bucketfuls.
The sun was about an hour high as I left the creek, and the strange boat
in plain sight about a mile and a half dead to windward. I could easily
get to windward of her in a single tack, by standing well off shore on
the first slant.
When I came up near enough to hail I did so, and got no response.
Getting to windward I wore and ran down quite to the boat, and letting
both sheets go, loosened the halliards and lowered the mainsail, and
brought my own boat close up along side. For the moment my own sail hid
the vessel and I could not see what was before me. But now I looked and
saw lying in the stern sheets what seemed to be the corpse of an old,
gray-haired man of perhaps seventy years, the head held by a girl of
eighteen or thereabouts.
I never shall forget the look that was on her face. Pale, drawn, with
dishevelled hair, and dark circles around her beautiful eyes, she gazed
at me without a word.
“Do you know,” cried I, “that you are drifting on to the beach and will
be among the breakers in half an hour?”
For answer she pointed to her dry lips.
“Is it water you want?”
She nodded. I hastily cast a line on board and lashed the two vessels
together, where grinding they rose and fell with the waves, and then
seizing a gourd of water made my way to the girl. She would not drink
herself until after I had poured some water into the mouth of the old
man, who though perfectly helpless was still alive, and swallowed the
water as fast as I gave it to him. Then I held the mouth of the heavy
gourd to her own lips until I thought she had drunk enough. She gripped
it with both hands, and I had to force it away from her. It was a
pitiful sight.
But there was no time to lose, for we were fast drifting into the
breakers, and it was absolutely necessary to get the boats before the
wind and get steerage way on, or we should be on shore and dashed to
pieces by the rollers. I sprang forward and loosened the main sheet of
the strange boat, unlashed the helm which was tied amidships, and she
paid off at once handsomely.
The sun was now quite down, but my two beacon-fires burned brightly, and
I steered straight for them. Finding my own boat alongside had a
tendency to bring us around to the wind, I put the helm into the girl’s
hand and bade her hold it just so, and jumping on to my own boat lowered
the jib, that was still set, cast off the lashing, and hitching a line
forward made her fast to tow. I then hauled up and got on board the
other boat again, and let my own boat drop behind us. Now I found no
difficulty in steering, though my own boat would yaw and pull a little,
first one way and then the other.
We were soon close to the bar, and I felt no little apprehension as to
what might happen when we actually encountered the huge roller which
broke every few moments there. But there was no help for it; we must
take our chances, one of which--and not the least probable--was that the
first boat might ground and the one in tow come crashing in on top of
us. Fortunately,--for it was pure good-luck,--we struck a roller just at
the right moment which lifted us over the bar as it broke. The tow-line
snapped in twain as we were on the crest, and my own boat shot alongside
like a waterfowl and passed us, both boats riding into the creek
alongside of each other, the red glare of the beacon-fires at either
hand lighting up the scene like the last act of a sensational drama.
As soon as we were fairly in the creek I jumped overboard, the water not
being above my chest, and beached both the boats safely. The girl still
sat holding the old man’s head, and had not spoken a word. But she
followed my motions with her eyes, and I could easily read therein that
she was grateful enough for my exertions, and appreciated the danger we
had escaped.
The old man could apparently neither speak nor move. An ashen pallor lay
on his countenance, and one side of his face, especially one corner of
his mouth, was drawn down and distorted,--a sufficient indication, had I
understood it, that he was suffering from a stroke of paralysis. From
his clothing, which was soaked with spray, I could easily see that he
was a clergyman.
I helped the girl out, partly carrying her as she could scarcely stand,
and then attempted to lift out the old man. He was a heavy, strongly
built man, weighing all of two hundred and fifty pounds. A heavy,
helpless man is about as awkward a burden as one can imagine. Limp and
yielding he could not be picked up except by the middle, and he was so
lying in the boat that it was impossible for me to get a good hold of
him in such position as to exert my strength. His clothing, all soaked
with rain and salt water, clung to him, and must have chilled his poor
helpless body through. If he was to live at all it was absolutely
necessary to get him warm and dry right speedily.
Meantime the poor girl stood shivering in her equally wet garments,
looking on anxiously at my efforts. Finally she spoke: “I think if you
will turn him across the boat, you may be able to lift his head and
shoulders up here,”--placing her hand on the gunwale. “Have courage,
dear father, he will be gentle with you.”
A wan flicker, somewhat like the wrecked ghost of a smile, seemed to
pass over the old man’s distorted face at the words of the girl, the
first I had heard her utter. It was idle to expect any help from her, as
she could scarcely stand, and was in fact partly supporting herself with
her hands on the boat. Following the daughter’s suggestion, I moved her
father around until he lay thwartships, and then placing my feet on the
gunwale and seizing him under the arms pulled him bodily up until his
head and shoulders were out of the boat. Then jumping overboard I
managed to get him fairly on my back, his back to my own with my two
hands under his armpits. Though I accounted myself pretty strong, and
the hardy life on the island had by no means diminished my muscular
power, this lift was the very limit of my strength. With bare feet
fairly gripping the yielding sand, and the water above my knees, I
managed to stagger through it to the shore and up to the work-shed,
where I sank on my knees and lowered him to the ground. The girl
followed us. I turned to her as soon as my breath came, and said, “Go
and stand by the fire, you are chilled almost to death. I shall be able
to get your father into the house and into a warm, dry bed, where I can
change these wet clothes.”
“I can be of some help, can I not?” said she with a piteous look. “Oh,
sir, be careful and gentle with him, I beseech you.”
“No, I can manage better alone, and you need to warm yourself,” said I,
and without waiting longer I stooped to the old man again, and now with
much greater ease managed, by putting my arms around him, to lift him
and carry him to the house, where I laid him down on the floor, and
immediately went to the beacon-fire near which the girl was seated. I
secured two half-burned pieces of wood, and returning to the house
built a rousing good fire in the chimney, and lighted a candle. Then as
rapidly as I could do so I stripped off his clothes and rolled him in a
dry blanket on a couch of grass.
“Are you more comfortable now?”
For answer came the abortive flicker, as of a throttled smile, and he
closed and opened his eyes once or twice as though assenting.
“Can’t you speak at all?”
A sort of struggle seemed to come over his face; then he closed his eyes
and held them shut for a moment. It then dawned upon me that the man was
suffering from a paralytic stroke. Up to this time, without giving the
matter any particular attention, I had thought that perhaps he was
merely suffering from chill and exhaustion, and several times during my
tremendous struggle with his weight it had been on my tongue to urge him
to exert himself for his own sake. Now the awful nature of his
condition, his utter helplessness, the mental torture he must have
endured and be yet enduring, came upon me and must have shown itself in
my face; for as he looked at me he closed his eyes again in the same
manner as before. There he lay swathed in the blanket, his intelligence
intact, perfectly able to see all that went on around him, and to
realize his situation and condition, doubtless also fully alive, so far
as sensation went, to every pain and discomfort, and yet utterly unable
to stir hand or foot or speak a word. Even distorted as his face was,
there was the stamp of a noble, generous nature upon it, and a venerable
benevolence yet shone forth from every feature. What a terrible fate was
this. I was moved to deepest pity by the contemplation of it.
I placed my hand upon his forehead and said gently, “Be assured and
rest easy now. I will go and bring your daughter here and see that she
is made comfortable. Here are food and shelter for you both, and you are
most heartily welcome to it and to my best assistance.”
I found the daughter sitting on the sand before the fire, her wet
garments already steaming from the heat. I told her that her father was
as comfortable as it was possible to make him, and that she had better
go to him and see if she could not get off some of her wet garments. In
the mean time I would get some food warm for them both.
“For pity’s sake,” said she in a tremulous and vibrant voice, “let me
have some water. We have been three days without water except what you
gave us.”
Without waiting to reproach myself for not doing sooner what I should
have known from personal experience was the thing to do, I ran to my
boat and got a gourd full and held it for her to drink. I then went with
her to the house and gave the old man a long drink.
The girl then said to me that on board there was a trunk containing her
clothing, and that she would be glad if she could have it; that as there
were several chests and trunks stowed under the deck forward, I would
know hers by such and such marks and peculiarities. I went down and got
the trunk, and moreover took out a chest and another trunk, which I put
under the work-shed, bringing her trunk up to the house. I had afterward
to be again called to get it open for her, as the key could not be
turned by her slender fingers.
Getting out of my boat a pan of baked pork and beans, I proceeded to
extemporize a hot soup by mashing up some of the beans and adding half
of a pepperpod and some water, and setting the preparation on the fire
to come to a boil. This made a good hot porridge soup, and did not take
long in preparation. When it was ready I went up to the house with the
kettle and knocked at the door; it was opened by the girl, her dress
changed for a dry one and much of the distress seemingly gone from her
pale, beautiful face.
“Here,” said I, “is some hot bean porridge for your father and you; and
here are a couple of cocoanut-shells from which to eat it. I will take
some for myself down at the shed.”
“But,” replied she, “we cannot drive you out of your house, sir; why do
you not come here and eat with us?”
“Very well, if you like,” said I. “There will be some corn-bread also
and plenty of water to drink.”
We ate heartily of the soup and bread, the old man taking only the soup.
I then brought up my hammock and swung it as low down as possible for
the girl, and took back the mainsail, that had once formed a tent at
Farm Cove, to use for my own bed at the shed. I explained as well as I
could how she should sleep in the hammock, and gave her one of the
blankets. She assured me she had often slept in a hammock and thought
she could manage it. She was then about to explain how she and her
father came to be adrift in the boat; but I stopped her by saying, “No,
let us wait until to-morrow. You are both exhausted and need sleep and
rest. You shall tell me all about it in the morning.” And then I wished
them both good-night.
“Good-night, and God bless you, sir, for your kindness,” answered the
girl.
When I reached the shed, built up a fire close by, and lay down it was
after nine o’clock, and as the wind had gone down, and the rain was
over, it was not so chilly as to make wet garments especially
dangerous, though sufficiently disagreeable. However, rolled up in the
sail with my feet to the fire, I soon felt warm enough to sleep. The
rescue of the two people on the island seemed likely to prove at least a
temporary hindrance to the execution of my plans; for I could not see
how it was possible, for a few days at least, to leave the island, as
the old man was in no condition to undertake such a voyage in an open
boat, and probably would not survive it. Indeed, that the hardships
which he had already undergone had not killed him was a sufficient
matter for wonder. No, I could not leave these people now, and at
present, for days and perhaps for weeks, it would be impracticable and
cruel to attempt to carry him away either in my boat or his own.
Doubtless, if I were to suggest departure, they would agree to it, and
undertake the voyage; but I saw it would be little less than murder.
However, if he should be no better in a week or two, then, provided he
still retained his present vitality, it might be wise to attempt to get
him where a physician could see him.
It was no use repining over this enforced delay. Humanity, and the
commonest sense of duty to my fellows, demanded that I should stand by
these helpless ones so long as they stood so absolutely in need of my
aid. The food question, which had long since ceased to trouble me, might
now, by reason of the increase in the number of mouths to fill, become
something to require considerable exertion, planning, and thought. The
weak spot in the larder was likely to be the supply of breadstuffs and
vegetables. There would be no lack of pork and fish. Judging from the
appearance of several boxes and gunny sacks on board the strangers’
boat, there was a supply of food there which might be relied upon to
tide over any present necessity that might arise, though my own supply
was still considerable.
Then too I must rig up as soon as possible in the house, perhaps by
hanging a curtain which could be temporarily drawn at night, a place of
privacy for the girl. At night the old man would require somebody to
watch him more or less, or at least be near him. I could not expect his
daughter to take this all upon herself, as that would be physically
impossible. How to manage about this puzzled me considerably. For a
short stay of a week or two I did not like to go to the considerable
trouble of enlarging my house, and yet the requirements of the situation
seemed actually to demand three separate rooms.
At last, as a compromise, I hit upon the idea of cutting down the back
wall of the house, between the house proper and the lean-to addition
wherein my provisions were stored, and which had been used upon occasion
as a smoke house. The provisions could be stored if necessary on board
the boats, or under the work-shed. And a wide doorway cut between the
two compartments would, with a curtain dividing the larger one, give me
the necessary room. I myself would take as my sleeping-place the added
room, and by arranging a couple of bunks, the thing would be done.