The Coral Island--Our first cogitations after landing, and the result of
them--We conclude that the island is uninhabited.
There is a strange and peculiar sensation experienced in recovering from
a state of insensibility, which is almost indescribable; a sort of
dreamy, confused consciousness; a half-waking half-sleeping condition,
accompanied with a feeling of weariness, which, however, is by no means
disagreeable. As I slowly recovered and heard the voice of Peterkin
inquiring whether I felt better, I thought that I must have overslept
myself, and should be sent to the mast-head for being lazy; but before I
could leap up in haste, the thought seemed to vanish suddenly away, and I
fancied that I must have been ill. Then a balmy breeze fanned my cheek,
and I thought of home, and the garden at the back of my father's cottage,
with its luxuriant flowers, and the sweet-scented honey-suckle that my
dear mother trained so carefully upon the trellised porch. But the
roaring of the surf put these delightful thoughts to flight, and I was
back again at sea, watching the dolphins and the flying-fish, and reefing
topsails off the wild and stormy Cape Horn. Gradually the roar of the
surf became louder and more distinct. I thought of being wrecked far far
away from my native land, and slowly opened my eyes to meet those of my
companion Jack, who, with a look of intense anxiety, was gazing into my
face.
"Speak to us, my dear Ralph," whispered Jack, tenderly, "are you better
now?"
I smiled and looked up, saying, "Better; why, what do you mean, Jack? I'm
quite well."
"Then what are you shamming for, and frightening us in this way?" said
Peterkin, smiling through his tears; for the poor boy had been really
under the impression that I was dying.
I now raised myself on my elbow, and putting my hand to my forehead,
found that it had been cut pretty severely, and that I had lost a good
deal of blood.
"Come, come, Ralph," said Jack, pressing me gently backward, "lie down,
my boy; you're not right yet. Wet your lips with this water, it's cool
and clear as crystal. I got it from a spring close at hand. There now,
don't say a word, hold your tongue," said he, seeing me about to speak.
"I'll tell you all about it, but you must not utter a syllable till you
have rested well."
"Oh! don't stop him from speaking, Jack," said Peterkin, who, now that
his fears for my safety were removed, busied himself in erecting a
shelter of broken branches in order to protect me from the wind; which,
however, was almost unnecessary, for the rock beside which I had been
laid completely broke the force of the gale. "Let him speak, Jack; it's
a comfort to hear that he's alive, after lying there stiff and white and
sulky for a whole hour, just like an Egyptian mummy. Never saw such a
fellow as you are, Ralph; always up to mischief. You've almost knocked
out all my teeth and more than half choked me, and now you go shamming
dead! It's very wicked of you, indeed it is."
While Peterkin ran on in this style, my faculties became quite clear
again, and I began to understand my position. "What do you mean by
saying I half choked you, Peterkin?" said I.
"What do I mean? Is English not your mother tongue, or do you want me to
repeat it in French, by way of making it clearer? Don't you remember--"
"I remember nothing," said I, interrupting him, "after we were thrown
into the sea."
{Slowly recovering: p24.jpg}
"Hush, Peterkin," said Jack, "you're exciting Ralph with your nonsense.
I'll explain it to you. You recollect that after the ship struck, we
three sprang over the bow into the sea; well, I noticed that the oar
struck your head and gave you that cut on the brow, which nearly stunned
you, so that you grasped Peterkin round the neck without knowing
apparently what you were about. In doing so you pushed the
telescope,--which you clung to as if it had been your life,--against
Peterkin's mouth--"
"Pushed it against his mouth!" interrupted Peterkin, "say crammed it down
his throat. Why, there's a distinct mark of the brass rim on the back of
my gullet at this moment!"
"Well, well, be that as it may," continued Jack, "you clung to him,
Ralph, till I feared you really would choke him; but I saw that he had a
good hold of the oar, so I exerted myself to the utmost to push you
towards the shore, which we luckily reached without much trouble, for the
water inside the reef is quite calm."
"But the captain and crew, what of them?" I inquired anxiously.
Jack shook his head.
"Are they lost?"
"No, they are not lost, I hope, but I fear there is not much chance of
their being saved. The ship struck at the very tail of the island on
which we are cast. When the boat was tossed into the sea it fortunately
did not upset, although it shipped a good deal of water, and all the men
managed to scramble into it; but before they could get the oars out the
gale carried them past the point and away to leeward of the island. After
we landed I saw them endeavouring to pull towards us, but as they had
only one pair of oars out of the eight that belong to the boat, and as
the wind was blowing right in their teeth, they gradually lost ground.
Then I saw them put about and hoist some sort of sail,--a blanket, I
fancy, for it was too small for the boat,--and in half an hour they were
out of sight."
"Poor fellows," I murmured sorrowfully.
"But the more I think about it, I've better hope of them," continued
Jack, in a more cheerful tone. "You see, Ralph, I've read a great deal
about these South Sea Islands, and I know that in many places they are
scattered about in thousands over the sea, so they're almost sure to fall
in with one of them before long."
"I'm sure I hope so," said Peterkin, earnestly. "But what has become of
the wreck, Jack? I saw you clambering up the rocks there while I was
watching Ralph. Did you say she had gone to pieces?"
"No, she has not gone to pieces, but she has gone to the bottom," replied
Jack. "As I said before, she struck on the tail of the island and stove
in her bow, but the next breaker swung her clear, and she floated away to
leeward. The poor fellows in the boat made a hard struggle to reach her,
but long before they came near her she filled and went down. It was
after she foundered that I saw them trying to pull to the island."
There was a long silence after Jack ceased speaking, and I have no doubt
that each was revolving in his mind our extraordinary position. For my
part I cannot say that my reflections were very agreeable. I knew that
we were on an island, for Jack had said so, but whether it was inhabited
or not I did not know. If it should be inhabited, I felt certain, from
all I had heard of South Sea Islanders, that we should be roasted alive
and eaten. If it should turn out to be uninhabited, I fancied that we
should be starved to death. "Oh!" thought I, "if the ship had only stuck
on the rocks we might have done pretty well, for we could have obtained
provisions from her, and tools to enable us to build a shelter, but
now--alas! alas! we are lost!" These last words I uttered aloud in my
distress.
"Lost! Ralph?" exclaimed Jack, while a smile overspread his hearty
countenance. "Saved, you should have said. Your cogitations seem to have
taken a wrong road, and led you to a wrong conclusion."
"Do you know what conclusion _I_ have come to?" said Peterkin. "I have
made up my mind that it's capital,--first rate,--the best thing that ever
happened to us, and the most splendid prospect that ever lay before three
jolly young tars. We've got an island all to ourselves. We'll take
possession in the name of the king; we'll go and enter the service of its
black inhabitants. Of course we'll rise, naturally, to the top of
affairs. White men always do in savage countries. You shall be king,
Jack; Ralph, prime minister, and I shall be--"
"The court jester," interrupted Jack.
"No," retorted Peterkin, "I'll have no title at all. I shall merely
accept a highly responsible situation under government, for you see,
Jack, I'm fond of having an enormous salary and nothing to do."
"But suppose there are no natives?"
"Then we'll build a charming villa, and plant a lovely garden round it,
stuck all full of the most splendiferous tropical flowers, and we'll farm
the land, plant, sow, reap, eat, sleep, and be merry."
"But to be serious," said Jack, assuming a grave expression of
countenance, which I observed always had the effect of checking
Peterkin's disposition to make fun of everything, "we are really in
rather an uncomfortable position. If this is a desert island, we shall
have to live very much like the wild beasts, for we have not a tool of
any kind, not even a knife."
"Yes, we have _that_," said Peterkin, fumbling in his trousers pocket,
from which he drew forth a small penknife with only one blade, and that
was broken.
"Well, that's better than nothing; but come," said Jack, rising, "we are
wasting our time in _talking_ instead of _doing_. You seem well enough
to walk now, Ralph, let us see what we have got in our pockets, and then
let us climb some hill and ascertain what sort of island we have been
cast upon, for, whether good or bad, it seems likely to be our home for
some time to come."