A TROPICAL STORM
Two or three days passed without incident. The elder girls in their
heart of hearts were becoming convinced that the footprints must have
been those of an animal; but Tommy had shown herself so touchy on that
point that they never told her what they thought. With the return of
their confidence they began to think that they were punishing
themselves by neglecting to use the hut, and one night they ventured to
sleep in it for the first time, lying on their grass mats, with pillows
of grass and dried leaves. They found their new quarters so much more
easy and comfortable that they decided to use the boat no more as a
bedchamber, and thought they had been silly in not deserting it before.
The hut was delightfully cool both by day and night. In the daytime
they always lifted the awning facing the sea; at night they let it down
at first, getting ventilation by the space beneath the roof; but as
they became accustomed to their bedroom they left the opening uncovered
at night also. Before turning in they would sit cross-legged just
within the hut, gazing, most often in silence, over the wide expanse of
sea, watching the stars as they came into the darkening sky, and
thinking of their uncle and the friends at home. Uncle Ben was
scarcely ever mentioned among them now. They could not bear to think
that the dear old man was at the bottom of the sea, that could show
such a smooth and smiling face, and yet behave like a treacherous,
cruel monster. They scarcely ever dared to think of the future, for
though they seldom missed a visit to the cliffs, from which they could
look far over the sea, and though their flag was still flying from the
tree, they had almost lost hope of being rescued, and could only live
from day to day, killing thought by various little activities.
One day, for instance, Elizabeth suggested that as their hut was built
and furnished, and they had little to do except fish and prepare their
food, they might make themselves some new hats. The idea was eagerly
taken up by the others. Each girl worked in her own way, plaiting
lengths of thin grass, and Mary hit on a brilliant notion of making
brims out of the large leaves from a kind of dwarf palm that grew
plentifully in the neighbourhood. They fastened these together, and
then to the grass crowns, by threading them in and out with the very
fine tendrils of a creeper. When the hats were finished the girls had
what Tommy called a mutual admiration meeting, and felt very proud of
their Dolly Vardens.
A few days after the discovery of the breadfruit, they made a lengthy
excursion along the southern shore. Here the woods were a good deal
denser than in other parts, which was one reason why they had hesitated
to explore them. But the cliffs were much less lofty than those on the
north, and the girls easily climbed them, and penetrated for a short
distance into the fringing woods.
They discovered several trees of kinds they had not seen before. There
was one in particular that interested them by its fantastic shape; it
was so odd-looking that Tommy dubbed it the clown of the forest; the
real name, of which they were ignorant, was the pandanus. But the
special reward of this expedition was the discovery of a thick
plantation of bananas and oranges, quite equal to those they had seen
on the dreaded eastern side of the ridge. They rushed upon the oranges
that bestrewed the ground, devoured several, and filled their pockets
with them. What with fish--they were expert fishers by this time--the
breadfruit, and this fresh storehouse, they felt no more anxiety about
food, and if only they could have lost their fear of possible wild
neighbours they would have had nothing to trouble the serenity of their
healthy life. But none of them was as yet ready to tempt fate again by
crossing the ridge, and Elizabeth at any rate knew that while the
greater part of the island was shut to them, they could never be quite
easy in mind. She felt that the uncertainty was even harder to bear
than knowledge would have been.
One day their peaceful existence was rudely disturbed, not by man, but
by nature. The island was visited by a storm of quite extraordinary
violence. The air had been for some time very oppressive, and the
girls, feeling incapable of any exertion, were resting in the hut, when
there came a sudden hot blast of wind straight in from the sea. They
looked out. Vast lurid clouds were piling up; in a few seconds, it
seemed, the sky became black, and huge waves broke over the reef,
sending up mountains of spray. The wind tore through the woods,
increasing every moment in fury. One terrible blast ripped the slight
hut to fragments, and the girls had no sooner extricated themselves
from the heap of tattered mats and broken canes that covered them, than
a flood of rain poured upon them. They rushed away to the lee-side of
a hillock, trying in vain to find shelter from the storm, and cowering
in terror as they heard peals of thunder, and then a tremendous crash
as the tempest uprooted some great tree and dashed it to the ground.
Mary was always terror-stricken in a thunderstorm, and she clung
half-fainting to Elizabeth, who clasped her close in a motherly
embrace. Tommy, on the other hand, was perfectly fearless. She gazed
at the boiling sea, and watched the lightning with a sort of fascinated
admiration. She was almost sorry when the storm blew itself out after
two hours of fury, and the sky cleared as rapidly as it had darkened.
"How lovely!" she said, dripping wet as she was. "Poor old Mary!"
Mary, indeed, was quite overcome, and it was some time before she was
able to walk away. The tempest had left ruin in its track.
"The boat!" cried Elizabeth, suddenly remembering the little vessel,
which, though it had been drawn up higher than when they slept in it,
she feared might have been washed away. "We must leave you for a
little, Mary. Walk about if you can, and let the sun dry your things."
Then she raced down to the shore with Tommy, and was horrified to
discover that the boat had disappeared. The girls scanned the sea,
which was still rough, but there was not a sign of it. They ran along
the beach northward, hoping that the boat might have been cast up, and
were rejoiced to find it about a quarter of a mile away, bottom upwards
on a spit of sand. It was some distance from the sea, which, though it
had evidently come much higher than usual, had now receded to within a
little of high-water mark. The girls managed to right the boat, only
to find, of course, that the oars were missing.
"How silly we were not to bring the oars into the hut along with the
boat-hook!" cried Elizabeth. "The boat is perfectly useless without
the oars, and we can't make new ones."
"Perhaps the tide will wash them up," said Tommy. "Help me up this
rock, Bess; I'll see if they are in sight."
Mounted on the rock she scanned the surface, and after a time saw
something bobbing up and down about a hundred yards out, and some way
to the south of where she stood.
"There it is, I believe," she cried. "The sea is getting calmer now;
shall I swim out for it?"
"You mustn't think of it," said Elizabeth. "I dare say the sea is full
of sharks. I saw a fin yesterday when we were fishing."
"And you didn't tell me! I should love to see a real live shark."
Elizabeth smiled inwardly at this.
"But we must get the oar somehow, Bess. One would be better than
nothing. And quickly, too. See, the tide is running out fast. And if
the oar gets into the current that flows past the reef, it is good-bye
for ever."
"I don't see how we can. We haven't a paddle of any kind. The
boat-hook's no good. Wait, though; I wonder if we could get a branch
of a tree. Stay here and keep the oar in sight while I run and look."
She ran up the cliff-side, which was covered with vegetation. The
small trees had withstood the storm better than the large ones. Some
were cracked and broken, but others had merely bent to the blast, while
the ground was strewn with the more massive trunks, and with
innumerable small branches and twigs. In a little while she came to a
tree that had two boughs forming a fork, in shape like a boy's
catapult. Catching hold of this, and straining upon it, Elizabeth
managed to break it off; it had occurred to her that the fork might
form the skeleton of a paddle. But time was too precious for her to
attempt to make it by herself alone, so she ran with it to Mary.
"Quick, Mary," she cried. "Pull yourself together. We have found the
boat, but the oars are gone, and one is floating out to sea. Help me
to make a paddle, so that we can go after it. Get some creepers and
some leaves as quickly as you can. I'll show you what I mean."
There was no lack of material close at hand, and they were soon busily
at work making a sort of criss-cross lattice-work upon the fork, which
they notched at intervals with their knives, to give holding to the
tendrils. Having rapidly made their framework, they laid the leaves on
it, and bound these on with more creepers. Before they had finished it
as Elizabeth would have liked, they heard Tommy's shrill voice calling--
"Quick, Bess, the oar's going out fast."
Elizabeth jumped up, carrying the odd-looking paddle, which Tommy said
was like a lacrosse stick. The oar was now out of sight, though Tommy
could point to the spot where she saw it last. They launched the boat,
and using the paddle as a stern-oar, Tommy employed all the skill she
had gained by paddling the dinghy to and from the shore at Southampton.
The paddle was a very poor thing; it bent a good deal, and some of the
tendrils became loose, and hung about it like the string of an old
cricket bat. But there was no time to stop and repair it, or the oar,
which they now saw clearly, would drift past the reef and utterly
beyond reach.
Elizabeth began to grow a little anxious in case they should find
themselves adrift by and by with nothing better than the makeshift
paddle, which would certainly not last more than a very short time.
That would be a calamity indeed, for they might be carried far out to
sea, and there was Mary alone on the island. But Tommy was working so
energetically that the distance between the boat and the oar was fast
lessening, and Elizabeth, raising herself in her seat, suddenly caught
sight of the second oar not far beyond the first.
"Let me take your place, Tommy," she said. "You must be tired."
"Not a bit. Besides, we'll lose time if we change, and perhaps upset.
Stay where you are, Bess; I'll get that oar in a minute, and then we'll
soon have the other one."
A few more strokes brought the boat within reach of the oar, and
Elizabeth, bending over, drew it up. Then Tommy left the stern and
both sat on the thwarts, pulling towards the second oar, which they
overtook in a few seconds.
"We'll keep the paddle as a memento," said Elizabeth. "But look! What
a terrible distance we are from the shore! Mary will be half frantic."
"It's lucky that we are inside the reef," said Tommy. "Already I can
feel the current quite strong. We shall have to pull hard to get out
of it!"
By this time Tommy was rather tired, but she would not give in. It was
a long pull back, and at first it seemed impossible to draw the boat
out of the current that was rapidly bearing it northward. But having
now two good oars, they succeeded presently in getting back into calmer
water. Then, turning the boat's head southward, they rowed more gently
along the shore, and at last reached their own little harbour, where
Mary was awaiting them.
"I _am_ thankful you have got back safely," she cried. "When I saw you
going so far I nearly went mad for fear you couldn't return."
"We must take care it never happens again," said Elizabeth. "We'll
drag the boat up much higher this time, and if we tie the painter to a
rock, or to a tree if there's one near enough, we needn't be anxious,
and we'll certainly keep the oars in the hut."
"My dears, we haven't a hut," said Tommy. "We be three poor
mariners--vagabonds, homeless, ragged and tanned. Who was that old
king who sat himself down in a lonely mood to think, and watched a
spider spin its web over and over again, and thought he couldn't let a
spider beat him and at last beat all his enemies? Oh, dear, that's
made me out of breath. Robert Bruce, wasn't it, Mary?"
"Yes; Mrs. Hemans wrote the poem. 'Bruce and the Spider,' it's called."
"I don't care who wrote it, only we've got to spin our web again. Oh,
'Will you walk into my parlour?' said the spider to the fly. 'Please
'm, where's the parlour?' says the fly. There, I'm a lunatic, but I
feel so jolly at having caught those runaway oars. I say, are you dry?
I am. That's one advantage of living in a tropical climate; if you get
soaked you don't have to shiver while your things are dried at the
fire. 'Homeless, ragged and tanned, who so contented as I?'" she sang,
and Elizabeth, noticing the high spirits of her wild young sister,
hoped that there wouldn't be a reaction, and that Tommy was not going
to be ill.