SAVED FROM THE SEA.
The first among the passengers to completely give way was Stephen
Homebush. He had observed no manner of discretion in eating his food,
and had always swallowed it hastily, so that it did him but little
good. Contrary to what might have been expected of him as a man of
pious parts, he was the most selfish of all the passengers. Instead of
praying for mercy, he rebelled in thought and speech against the
misfortune which had overtaken him. He did not think of the others. It
was _his_ fate that was so hard. The prayers that he had so liberally
offered up for other lost men were not for him now that he was lost.
All other men were sinners, so he had preached. There was no grace in
any of them. He came to impart it to them. Let them open their
rebellious hearts, and receive it, while there was yet time. To all
kinds of men had he preached this, striking at them hard, trying to
frighten them with threatened penalties if they refused to believe as
he believed. He came to give them grace; did he himself require none?
What kind of faith is that which believes all other faiths wrong and
sinful? What is the test of faith? Sincerity? Ay, for me; but not for
you. _I_ am sincere; _I_ am born in the grace of God. But you! Fall
down and repent!
Such had been the preaching of Stephen Homebush. But now that the
earth was crumbling from beneath his feet, and the New Life was before
him, he prayed neither for others nor for himself. He maintained a
sullen rebellious silence, faithful to his nature for the first time
in his life. His mood, no less than the scanty supply of food and his
manner of eating it, drove him mad; and within a fortnight of his
sojourn on the raft, he was crawling and staggering about, uttering a
dreadful jumble of prayers and blasphemies. His sister Rachel attended
to him as well as her strength allowed her; but he struck at her
often, and often cursed her and himself. It was terrible to see and
hear. He did not suffer long. One day he ran from one part of the raft
to another, raving that a sail was in sight. At first they thought
that he might be right, but they soon discovered that he was raving.
But he saw the ship coming nearer and nearer. His sister was the only
one who had patience to bear with him. He described the ship to her,
and described the men and women that were on the deck; and she
shuddered as she recognized in his descriptions acquaintances and
relatives every one of whom was dead.
"Here it comes," he said, standing up in his eagerness,
"nearer--nearer! I shall be able to jump on board presently."
She strove to restrain him; but he broke from her wildly, and gave a
leap on to the imaginary ship. He sank at once, and was seen no more.
The forlorn woman sat stupefied, and never moved. Hours afterwards,
Rough-and-Ready, taking pity upon her condition, spoke to her, and
bade her take comfort, The sense of what he said was lost to her, but
she understood the sympathy that was expressed in his voice, and she
looked at him gratefully while the tears rolled down her face. He
placed his hand upon her shoulder, and said gently; "Poor woman! poor
woman!" She took his hand in hers, and clung to it, as if her only
hope of life was there. He could not disengage his hand except by
force; so he sat by her for an hour and more, until she released him.
Then he crept to where the women were lying; there was comfort in
being close to them.
One of their most frightful experiences was the sight of the sharks
snapping at the bodies as they were thrown into the sea. A great
number of these creatures followed the raft day and night, scenting
their prey. Each of the unfortunates thought, as he saw the sharks
tearing at the body of his fellow creature, "Perhaps it is my turn
next." About the twentieth day they caught at least a dozen rock cod,
but after that they caught no fish for many days. Soon their fresh
water was nearly gone; for some time past they had only half a pint a
day; now the quantity was reduced to a quarter of a pint. Some tins of
the preserved meat were also found to be putrid: the women could not
touch it; but a few of the sailors Scadbolt and the Lascar among them,
devoured it greedily. When another new moon rose, the courage of
nearly every one of them was gone; hope had fled too. They looked upon
themselves as doomed.
A curious conversation took place between the two friends, Harry Wall
and James Heartsease. In the morning they had refused their portion of
food.
"Save it for the women, sir," they said to the captain.
He expostulated with them, and tried to prevail upon them to take it,
but he did not succeed.
"Sir," said James Heartsease, "we are going to lie down to die. We
both of us feel that our time has come. To rob the poor women of any
more food would be simple barbarity. I should like to shake hands with
you."
Captain Liddle shook hands with them; and after that they crawled to
the women, and shook hands with them, and kissed little Emma Pigeon.
Then they crawled away, and lay down side by side.
"The end has come, Jim," said Harry.
"All right, Hal," said James; "it is only a matter of a few
years--perhaps not so long as that. If we had had plenty to eat, it
might have come just the same. After all, what is time? Draw a breath,
and it is gone. It isn't so hard to give up a few years when you think
of that. Besides"--But here he paused.
"Besides what, Jim?"
"We are alone; we have no women-ties--no wives, no sweethearts. If we
had, I think we should both try to live as long as we could."
"I think so too. 'Tis a good job we are alone in the world."
"Did you notice the women, Hal? I don't think they'll last long."
"One of them won't," said Harry. "Mrs. Pigeon will soon go. Well, you
know the reason of that."
"Yes; she gives all her food to her little girl. Women are good
creatures, Hal."
"Such as she are. Jim, old boy, a sudden weakness has come over me.
Put your face closer to mine--I want to kiss you. Good old boy--good
old boy!"
They did not speak for some time after that. Heartsease was the first
to break silence.
"Hal, old fellow," he said, "we shall meet somewhere by and by."
"Sure to," said Harry; "somewhere, somehow. It is awfully grand to
think of--it is good to believe. I am glad I never did any great wrong
to sting me now. Jim, depend upon it, there is only one true religion;
that is, the religion of being kind and tender and unselfish--the
religion of doing unto others as you would others should do unto you,
and of living a good life. Give me the man who does that, and who
believes in the goodness and greatness of God. All the rest is
mummery. We have agreed upon that, haven't we old boy?"
"Ay, times out of mind."
"Now, I tell you what I am going to do. I don't want to quite starve
to death--it would be too painful; it's frightful to bear even now. I
don't want to commit suicide, although to throw one's self into the
water just now would be, in a certain measure, justifiable. I am going
to draw myself close to the edge of the raft; then I am going to
sleep. If the waves should chance to wash me over in the night--good!
Let them; then I shall know something."
"All right, Hal; I'll lie by your side. Goodnight, old fellow."
"Goodnight."
When the sun rose again, those two good friends had gone to their
rest, to meet again. Somewhere--Somehow!
So day after day passed, and their numbers continued to grow fewer,
until there were no more than eighteen on the raft. In the first
quarter of the second new moon--that is, when they had been on the
raft for more than thirty days--Mrs. Pigeon died. When the news went
round, there were few dry eyes among the poor creatures. Every one
loved her, even to Scadbolt and the Lascar, whose clothes she had
mended. It was a wonder how she had lasted so long, for it was with
the greatest difficulty she could be prevailed upon to take food; she
gave it all to her little daughter. When, almost by force, a small
portion had been put into her mouth, Joshua had seen her take it out
to feed Little Emma. That is why the child lived while the mother
starved to death. Between Mrs. Pigeon and Minnie a strong affection
had sprung up. Minnie scarcely ever left the side of the dying woman,
and what little she could do to ease her last hours--it was but
little, God knows!--she did tenderly and cheerfully. Minnie knew that
Mrs. Pigeon was starving herself, so that her little girl might live.
The beauty of that sacrifice Minnie was well able to comprehend. She
would have done the same. But she was terribly unhappy. She knew by
Joshua's manner, and by the few words that he spoke to her--kind one
day, constrained the next--that her conduct had added to his
unhappiness. She had seen him look at her with such a look of fear and
wild amazement in his eyes, as to convey to her the impression that
she had done him a great wrong. But so blinded was she by her love,
that she could not quite understand the meaning of this; indeed, she
did not pause to consider. The night before Mrs. Pigeon died, Minnie
lay by her side, talking in whispers. But few words were spoken at a
time; Mrs. Pigeon was too weak. The mother lay with her child in her
arms, and her husband sitting close to her, his hands clasping his
knees, and with an expression of stony despair in his face. So he had
sat for three or four days, answering his wife vacantly, and with the
air of one whose mind was a blank. Little by little, Minnie had told
Mrs. Pigeon her story; and the dying woman, notwithstanding her own
great trouble, had wept with Minnie, and sympathized with her. But
Mrs. Pigeon, as well as expressing her sympathy, had striven to make
Minnie aware of the fault she had committed.
"You see, my dear," she gasped in her weak voice, "he has left a
sweetheart at home, and he fears that if it were known that you were
in the ship with him, she and his other friends might believe that he
had played false with them."
"I never thought of that before," sobbed Minnie. "I only thought of
one thing: I loved him, and I wanted to be near him. I didn't want him
even to know; and those at home bad no idea of what I was going to
do--they can't even suspect."
"But Mr. Marvel _fears_ they may. Then think, my dear, was it not
wrong to leave your father?"
"It was--I see it now; but I did not think of it then. But O Mrs.
Pigeon if he would only forgive me! If I ask him, he will; but the
answer would come out of the goodness of his heart, and while he
forgave he would still condemn me. I know it, I know it, for he has
never once called me by my name."
Soon after that, Mrs. Pigeon fell into a doze; and waking when it was
near midnight, whispered, "Minnie!"
"Yes," answered Minnie. She had been sleeping too, but so lightly that
a whisper was sufficient to awake her.
"I have not long to live, my dear," said Mrs. Pigeon; "and I should
like to pass my last minutes alone with my husband and child, and to
speak to no one but them--to think of no one but them. But before I
go, I should be glad to say good-by to Joshua Marvel. Can you bring
him to me? Say that I am dying."
Repressing her sobs, Minnie crept to where Joshua was standing on the
lookout. He had grown thin and gaunt like the others; his feet were
bare, the only pair of shoes he had possessed having been rotted by
the salt water; his clothes hung about him in tatters; and his face
was covered with hair, which, having not yet grown to a decent length,
added to the wretchedness of his appearance. The moon had gone down,
and Joshua, shading his eyes with his hand, was looking out to sea,
possessed with the fancy that he saw a sail many miles away. This had
now become a very common illusion; scarcely a man on board who did not
see imaginary sails and ships a dozen times a day. With a weary sigh
Joshua dropped his hand.
"It is folly," he muttered; "there's no hope."
Minnie timidly touched his sleeve, but did not succeed in attracting
his attention. Then she called softly, "Joshua!" And he gave a gasp,
and turned and saw her; but there was not light enough for him to see
the tears upon her face.
"Mrs. Pigeon has sent me for you," said Minnie. "She is dying, and
wants to wish you good-by."
He followed her in silence to where Mrs. Pigeon was lying.
"Is it so bad?" he asked gently, as he leaned over her close enough to
see her poor thin face.
"Yes," she murmured. "Sit by me for a few minutes."
He sat down, and took her wasted hand in his: it was like the hand of
a skeleton, thin and cold--a hand already dead, though it closed on
Joshua's fingers.
"Every one speaks well of you," said Mrs. Pigeon in broken tones: "I
have heard the captain speak many times of your courage and goodness
and constancy."
"I have been glad to hear it, and am glad to hear it again," replied
Joshua; "it is my best reward as a sailor."
"You have a kind heart, I am sure," continued the dying woman. "If it
were in your power to lessen the bitter grief that even a mere
acquaintance might suffer, you would do so."
"I think I would."
"I am sure you would; if only for the sake of those you love at home,
and to whom you would wish that others might be kind when grief comes
to them. You will forgive me for speaking thus; but I am dying, and I
am a woman. I cannot say much more; I am too weak. If I could see you
do one little thing, I should be glad."
"I will do any thing you ask."
"Because a dying woman asks you; but do it from your own kind impulse
as well. That is what I wish. You know who it is that is sitting by us
now."
"Yes," he answered with a troubled glance at Minnie.
"She has been very good to me, very kind, very, very patient. And she
is so young! Soon you and she may follow me. Think of that."
"What is it you would have me to do?"
"I would have you be kind to this poor child; I would have you, at
this awful time, show to her the love that a brother might show to a
sister. She has committed a fault; forgive her for it; let her atone
for it. Be not you the one to cast the stone at her. And when you
speak to her, speak from your heart; for she can read and understand,
as all loving women can, the music of the voice."
"Minnie," said Joshua, turning to her. Mrs. Pigeon had loosed his
hand; and now be held out his two hands to Minnie. It was the first
time he had called her by her name.
"Joshua," she said, with deep sobs, her hands in his, and bowing her
head upon his shoulder until her lips almost touched his face.
Was it treasonable to Ellen that he should permit it? Surely not,
surely not, at such a time.
"You have made me glad," said Mrs. Pigeon. "Now go. Good-by. Heaven
send you peace!"
"And you!" they both said.
Mrs. Pigeon nestled her face close to that of her little daughter, and
soon afterwards died peacefully.
Then, for the first time, Mr. Pigeon seemed to awake to the reality of
things. Kneeling by the side of his wife, he called softly, "Emma!
Emma!" And receiving no answer, shook her gently, and smoothed the
hair from her white face.
"Be comforted," said Joshua to him.
"Comforted!" he repeated with a pondering look, as if he were
considering what meaning there was in the word. He kissed her
passionately, and whispered something in her ear, and waited for the
answer that could not come. "My God!" he cried suddenly, "she is
dead!"
Minnie placed Little Emma before him, thinking that the sight of his
little girl might lessen his grief; but he took no notice of the
child, and sat the whole day nursing, the dead body of his wife in his
lap. One tin of preserved meat was all that remained now of their
stock of provisions. They brought his small share to him; but he
motioned them away impatiently and fretfully. They went to him, and
endeavored to make him understand that, for the sake of the others, he
should allow the remains of his wife to be placed in their poor shroud
of sacking; but he met them savagely, and threatened to bite at them
and strangle them if they did not let him alone.
"For the sharks to eat," he whispered to the inanimate form; "they
want to throw you into the sea for the sharks to eat, my darling. But
I'll tear their hearts out before they part us."
When the silver crescent looked down again upon the despairing group,
Joshua tried once more to comfort the man, and said, with a heavy
heart, that perhaps at the last moment a ship might pick them up. But
though he uttered the words, he did not believe in them.
"And if it does," muttered Mr. Pigeon hoarsely, "what do I care now?
You don't know what it is to lose the woman you love." He staggered to
his feet with the beloved form in his arm. "You want to take her from
me; that is why you speak the lying words. But nothing shall part
us--nothing."
Her face was lying upon his shoulder, and her fair hair was hanging
loosely down over his breast. He took some of the hair in his mouth;
and as Joshua saw him standing thus in the moon's light, he thought he
had never seen a picture so utterly despairing. Thus the man stood,
motionless, for a time, until the captain's lady crept to his side,
and tried to console him. Poor thing! she was terribly weak, and the
words came from her lips slowly and wearily. He gazed at her vacantly
while she spoke, then turned his eyes to his dead wife.
"Emma," he said, "don't fear; nothing that they say shall make me give
you up. We will go together--we will go together."
He cast one last look at the peaceful heavens, and whispering, "Lord,
receive us!" clasped his wife more closely to him, and jumped into the
sea. Two or three heads turned at the plash; but no other notice was
taken of the event. They were all too weak and despairing. The
captain's wife gasped, with heart-broken sobs,--
"Poor dears! poor dears! Their troubles are over; they are happier
than we are."
"Yes, my lady," said Joshua; "but I would not end my life like that.
We are in the hands of the Lord; our lives belong to Him."
He stretched himself at full length upon the raft, and took Ellen's
picture and the lock of hair from his breast, and kissed them again
and again. They, and the Bible that Dan had given him, were his most
precious possessions. When he looked up, Minnie and Little Emma were
close to him. He took the child's hand; and they remained together
during the long, long night.
A dreadful announcement was made the next day. The water that was
served out was the last--one tablespoonful each exhausted the store;
all the provisions were used up also. It seemed, indeed, as if the
best thing they could do would be to die at once by their own hands.
The rules made by the council were no longer thought of. Something to
eat, something to drink: these were the only laws now. When the next
man died, the sailors looked longingly at the body. The Lascar had his
knife open, and was about to use it, when Captain Liddle called to him
to stop.
"Why?" asked the Lascar, with a savage flourish of his knife.
"Why?" echoed the other men: there were only six of them left
altogether.
"Because fish is better to eat than human flesh," said the captain.
"So it is," said one; "but we haven't any more fishing-line."
"Come now," said the captain, "even without that we can manage to
catch a shark perhaps. Wait a few minutes. I'll think of a way."
And sure enough, very soon he devised a snare. First a running-bowling
knot was made; then they cut a leg off the man that WAS dead (terrible
to write, but true), and lashed it to the end of an oar; while on the
end of another oar they hung the snare in such a way that the fish, to
get at the bait, was compelled to come through it. There were plenty
of sharks; and it was not long before one fell into the trap. It was
dragged on to the raft; and a few blows from an axe soon killed it.
After that, the man was sewed in sacking, and the funeral-service was
read over him as it had been over all the others who had been buried
in the sea.
During all this time it was evident that they were near the coast, and
yet they never saw it. The captain said that they were in the vicinity
of the north-east coast of Australia--a part of the continent which
had been very little explored. Here came in Rough-and-Ready's
experience. He knew something of the country, he said. It was
inhabited by the most savage of the Australian natives, and no white
man had as yet had the courage to penetrate far into the country.
"Yet we might make the coast," said Rough-and-Ready, "and not see a
native for a long time, if we could manage to live; for I don't
believe there are a great many of them. Cannibals they are; but, for
all that, I should be glad to get among them. We might succeed in
working our way down to a cattle-station."
"Would there be really a chance of that?" asked one or two.
"About a hundred to one against us," replied Rough-and-Ready
carelessly; "but that would be better than nothing."
Rough-and-Ready gave them a description of some natives that he had
seen, and told of their manner of living, their treachery and
wildness. It was not very comforting to hear; the prospect of reaching
land, and finding themselves in the midst of such savages, was very
dismal.
The suffering that they had now to bear--that of thirst--was the most
awful experience of all. Some of them grew delirious, and saw gardens
and pools of fresh water. "My lady" was one of these. She whispered to
her husband that a beautiful garden was within a few yards of them,
and that they should reach it presently. She described the flowers and
trees, and the cool fruit waiting to be plucked. And as the vision
faded, she clutched him by the hand, and cried, "John, John! What are
they doing? We are going the wrong way. O my God we have passed it--it
is gone!" and lay exhausted. The words came from her parched throat
with difficulty; and Joshua shuddered as he touched her face: it
seemed to be on fire. Soon, however, the gardens dotted with
clear-water fountains, and with trees laden with refreshing fruit,
grew again for the delirious woman. She saw them in the water, in the
air, in the heavens--so bright, so deliciously cool, that her heart
almost burst in the vain attempt she made to reach them with her hand.
A little rain fell mercifully, and yet mockingly; for nearly every
thing on board was so impregnated with salt as to render the pieces of
rags and canvas that were held out to catch heaven's tears no better
when they were soaked than if they had been dipped into the sea.
Rough-and-Ready took the lining out of his wide-awake hat; and he and
Joshua held it out until it was soaked with the blessed drops. The
first use they made of the piece of wet rag was to moisten the women's
lips with it, and then the little girl's and their own. Little Emma
lived still; and Minnie had taken charge of her. As Joshua moistened
Mrs. Liddle's lips, the captain, who was lying beside her, motioned
him.
"It is all over with me, Marvel," he gasped; "I haven't long to live.
If by God's mercy you are rescued, report me at home and say I did all
in my power to save the ship." Joshua pressed the dying captain's hand.
"Mind, you are first in command now. In a few hours you will be
captain. You have risen quickly," he said with a faint smile. "Beware
of Scadbolt and that Lascar dog. When I am dead, take my boots--you
have none--and what of my clothes may be useful to you; take the
log-book too, and keep it safe. There is a record in it of Scadbolt's
conduct, and your promotion. It will be necessary in case a ship picks
you up. Scadbolt was your superior officer when we left the port of
Sydney; and he might bring a charge against you, which, without the
log-book, you would not be able to refute."
Joshua thanked the captain for his thoughtfulness, and expressed a
hope that it was not so bad with him as he feared. Then the captain
told Joshua how, a few days before, he had struck his head against a
piece of iron, and how he had lost a quantity of blood. Joshua put his
hand to the back of the captain's head, round which a piece of canvas
was tied, and felt a great gash there.
"I did not tell any one; but it so weakened me, that I thought I was
about to die then. This is a piteous sight!" pointing to his wife. She
lay, pale as death, with her eyes wide open, gazing at the gardens in
the air. The tears rolled down Joshua's face. "Bury us together,"
continued the captain. "There are two or three pieces of iron you
might put into the canvas with us, so we may sink at once. You will do
this?'"
"Yes."
Captain Liddle pressed Joshua's hand, and creeping close to his wife
clasped her in his arms. In the mean time Rough-and-Ready was busy
squeezing drops of fresh water into a bottle. He saved nearly a pint.
Shortly after that, Joshua was the first to see land. He went to tell
the Captain, but could not arouse him; his heart still beat, but very
faintly. Night came on soon; and when day dawned again the land was
gone. Rough-and-Ready came to Joshua with a grave face. He said
nothing; but Joshua understood him. They went to where the lifeless
bodies of the captain and his wife lay, and sewed them in canvas, and
placed inside the pieces of iron, as Joshua had promised. Joshua read
the burial-service as the bodies were thrown into the sea. They sank
at once.
"Not many of us left," observed Rough-and-Ready. "I should like to see
land again. If we don't sight it soon, we may find that the worst has
not yet come. It is as Scadbolt said when the rules were being read,
'Every man for himself now, and God for us all.' But come what may
we'll stick to each other and to the women."
"It does my heart good to hear you speak so," said Joshua. "I know
what you mean: the worst men are left against us; but we are a match
for them, I think. See, here's the log-book, with the poor skipper's
last words: 'I appoint Joshua Marvel captain of this raft, made out of
the spars of the "Merry Andrew," and intrust to him the charge of the
surviving passengers and crew.--John Liddle, Master of the "Merry
Andrew."'"
Rough-and-Ready touched his hat in sailor fashion.
"While we are at sea, captain," he said, "I will obey your orders."
A thrill ran through Joshua as he heard himself called captain.
Captain! But of what a crew! The promotion had come all too soon.
Before long he had to exercise his authority. They were being, driven
on to a reef by a strong current. It was necessary to get the raft
into deep water before dark. He gave his orders; and although both
Scadbolt and the Lascar saw the wisdom of them, they refused to obey.
"I am captain," said Scadbolt. "You will obey my orders now."
Then Rough-and-Ready took a double-barrelled pistol from his belt, and
gave its fellow to Joshua. They covered Scadbolt and the Lascar with
them.
"Obey orders!" cried Rough-and-Ready in as loud a voice as he could
command. "Obey orders! Speak another word of disobedience, and you are
dead men!"
The rebellious men were cowed. With scowling faces they worked as
Joshua directed: and with some trouble they got the raft clear over
the reef, and floated it into deeper water. The night that followed
was a night of great anxiety. Joshua knew that they were near land;
and he and Rough-and-Ready kept watches of two hours' duration in
turn. The reason of this was, that they did not deem it safe to sleep
both at the same time; for they suspected that Scadbolt and the Lascar
were only waiting for the opportunity to fall upon them and kill them.
"We have all the fire-arms, thank goodness," said Rough-and-Ready,
"and all the powder and shot. We are masters while we can keep these."
He had kept a sharp guard over the firearms, and had indeed secretly
dropped three guns into the sea. "Better there than in those rascals'
hands," he wisely thought; "we mustn't cumber ourselves with too much
lumber."
In the night Joshua whispered to Rachel Homebush and Minnie that
to-morrow probably would decide their fate. They revived somewhat at
the news, and Minnie directed Joshua's attention to little Emma
Pigeon.
"She has not spoken all day," said Minnie anxiously.
Joshua placed his hand on the little girl's heart; it beat, but very
faintly.
"She will live, Minnie," said Joshua, "if we can reach land; we are
certain to find food then."
While they spoke, Minnie kept Joshua's hand in hers; it was her only
comfort, poor child. He was kneeling by her side, and she saw in his
face that he had no harsh thoughts for her. They had not exchanged a
word about their friends at home, but Minnie said to-night,--
"Joshua, when you first came to our little room--do you
remember?--what should we have thought if a wizard had told us this?"
"What, indeed!" replied Joshua; and then, after a pause, "Do you
suffer much, Minnie?"
"Not now. Ah, Joshua, if I can only live to repay you!"
"Keep up your courage, Minnie, and pray that we may reach friendly
land--any land--to-morrow," was his answer.
She did pray fervently, and when daylight came they saw land. It did
not look very friendly. A long line of dark savage-looking rocks was
what they saw; towering gloomily and threateningly for the most part,
but with many a little inlet, which offered them a favorable chance of
landing, as Joshua's seaman's eye discerned. There were only eight
living persons now on the raft out of the thirty-five who first took
shelter there. Five men--to wit, Joshua, Rough-and-Ready, Scadbolt,
the Lascar, and the sailmaker; two women--Rachel Homebush and Minnie,
and the little girl Emma. The men worked and watched with a will.
Private animosities were for the time forgotten; but for all that,
Rough-and-Ready was never off his guard. Every thing looked fair, when
suddenly up sprang a land breeze, and they were driven to sea again;
the hope that had been kindled died away. They caught a cod, but the
women turned from it with loathing. Then Joshua thought of a fine
thing. The sun was high in the heavens. He took a piece of rag and
washed it and dried it; then he took a magnifying glass out of a
telescope, and caught the sun's fire on to the rag. He had wood ready,
and they made a fire on the raft. The sailors ate their portion of the
fish raw; but Joshua put his and the women's and Rough-and-Ready's on
the wood, and roasted it. Before they gave this delicious food to the
women, they moistened their lips with a little of the water that was
still left in Rough-and-Ready's bottle; the moistening and the food
were new life to them all Minnie chewed a little of the fish and
placed it in the child's mouth; the child swallowed it, with
difficulty at first, and seemed to grow stronger soon afterwards; she
had been better nourished than the others. As if in reward for this
good thought of Joshua's, the wind shifted to a sea breeze, and a
couple of hours before mid-night they were driven on to land. It
required the greatest care and the most delicate handling to steer the
raft safely through the rocks; but it was done. Scadbolt and the
Lascar were about to scramble on to the rocks, when Rough-and-Ready,
in a voice of thunder--he seemed suddenly to have recovered his full
strength--commanded them to stand. Not his voice, but his pistol,
enforced obedience.
"Why?" demanded Scadbolt.
"Because you are treacherous dogs," roared Rough-and-Ready; "because
you are not men, but savages; because I know how such scum are to be
treated. Ah! scowl as you will I but I have shot better men than you
down before to-night, and I'll shoot _you_ down if you dare to stir,
as I would a brace of treacherous dingos or Blacks--they're much the
same. The women and child are to be saved first. Why, if we allowed
you to get ashore, you'd strike us from the rocks before we got a
footing! I know you, you see, you skunks. Marvel, take the women and
little girl ashore first, one by one. I'll keep guard here the while.
Sailmaker, assist Mr. Marvel."
By this last masterly stroke Rough-and-Ready enlisted the sailmaker on
his side, for a time at least. For the sailmaker and Joshua were man
to man, and Joshua had fire-arms. So, with difficulty, the women and
child were conveyed on to the rocks in safety; then Rough-and-Ready
bade Joshua take ashore what things would be useful from the raft.
Among other things, Joshua took ashore two axes, all the nails he
could find, and some iron pots. The women also had some things they
were anxious to preserve--needles and thread and such like. All this
occupied nearly two hours, and was not accomplished without
difficulty. Scadbolt and the Lascar stood sullenly by, the while.
Rough-and-Ready was in his element; he absolutely revelled in the task
he had set himself. It was as good as meat and drink to him to watch
those two rascals and beat them through their fears. When Joshua and
the sailmaker had completed their task, Rough-and-Ready joined them on
the rocks. After him Scadbolt and the Lascar scrambled on to land, and
began to look hungrily about them. It was a fine night; the moon was
nearly at its full. The first thing Rough-and-Ready did was to cast a
glance at the women lying helpless on the rocks; the next thing he did
was to smooth his mustache with his hand in a thoughtful manner; the
next, to send a dark look at Scadbolt and the Lascar, who were
prowling about on the rocks in search of shell-fish; the next, to lay
his hand in a familiar manner upon the sailmaker's shoulder.
"I say, mate," said Rough-and-Ready, "have you a wife at home?"
"Two."
Rough-and-Ready whistled loud and long, and followed up the whistle
with a laugh.
"It's no joke," said the sailmaker.
"One isn't, much less two," replied Rough-and-Ready, with a wink; "but
never mind them now."
"I'm content."
"You seem a good-hearted fellow, sailmaker, and as you have two
wives, you must think a great deal of womankind."
"I love 'em,"--looking at the two poor creatures lying near them.
"I'm a bushman myself," said Rough-and-Ready, with assumed
carelessness; "I'd as soon be where I am as in any part of the world.
I am at home here. What do you say, mate? Shall we be friends?"
"Glad to be." And the two men shook hands, Rough-and-Ready hugging
himself for his successful diplomacy.
"You're a man after my own heart," said Rough-and-Ready, really
appreciating the crisp utterances of the sailmaker, who evidently was
not a word-waster. "Seems to me that the first thing we've got to do
is to bring the women round; mustn't let them die, eh?"
"Certainly not."
"There's a split in the camp," continued Rough-and-Ready. "Those two
rascals prowling about in search of something to eat, would be glad of
an opportunity to get rid of us; and then God help the women. At all
events let us three stick together--you and me and Captain Marvel.
Agreed?"
"Agreed."
"Good. What I want to do is to get fresh water for us and the women; I
know how to look for it. Will you keep guard over the women with
Captain Marvel till I return?"
"Yes."
Rough-and-Ready placed a loaded pistol in the sailmaker's hand--he did
it without hesitation--and that act completed the conquest. Joshua,
standing by, had heard the conversation and now shook hands with the
sailmaker. Scadbolt and the Lascar had also seen the conference.
"They've bought him over," said the Lascar.
"Never mind," replied Scadbolt, "there will be plenty of
opportunities."
In less than an hour Rough-and-Ready returned. He had taken two
bottles with him, and brought them back filled with bright, clear,
fresh water. He had his wide-awake hat in his hand; it evidently
contained something good, he was so careful in carrying it. Joshua put
his hand in, and started back with a cry; he had grasped a nettle.
"Careful, careful," said Rough-and-Ready, laughing at Joshua's
grimaces; "don't be too eager to take hold of things. A great deal of
the wood-growth round about-here is covered with thorns, and some of
them are poisonous to the blood. This isn't, though; 'tis an old
friend."
He took out of his hat two small branches with long spines upon them;
the branches were covered with fruit resembling a small apple.
"Good to eat?" asked the sailmaker.
"Shouldn't have brought them otherwise," answered Rough-and-Ready, in
unconscious imitation of the sailmaker's manner of speaking.
The sailmaker took some of the fruit and ate it, and would have taken
more, but that Rough-and-Ready's hand restrained him.
"That's not the way for a man to eat who has been nearly starved for
six weeks," he said, "unless he wants to kill himself right out. Here,
make yourself useful; but take a little water to drink first."
Rough-and-Ready measured a small quantity of water, and gave the
sailmaker and Joshua to drink. He had thrown down a couple of pieces
of wood when he said "Make yourself useful," and the sailmaker, after
drinking, asked him what the wood was for.
"A good job for you two that you have me for your mate," said
Rough-and-Ready good-humoredly; "you might stand a chance of starving
else. The enemy"--with a nod of his head in the direction of Scadbolt
and the Lascar--"won't be half as well off as we shall be. Just watch
me." He took his knife and cut from the wood two pieces, in one of
which he made a kind of groove, which he placed upon the ground. "This
is off the black fig-tree, and is the best wood there is for making
fire. Now rub away into the groove, steadily, like this, and keep
rubbing. It's hard work; but never mind; it's worth the labor."
He disappeared again, leaving the sailmaker at work, and returned
with an armful of dry sticks and leaves. Soon fire came into the wood,
the sparks dropped on to the dry leaves, and a blaze was kindled, that
brought astonishment into the eyes of Scadbolt and the Lascar. Before
the fire was made, the indefatigable bushman had gone _down_ the rocks
this time, and had returned with a hat full of mussels. These he put
on the fire to cook; and then sat down and rubbed his hands in a high
state of satisfaction. Joshua had not been idle; he had attended to
the women and child, and had given them a little water, which was like
nectar to them. They were too weak to exert themselves; so the men sat
by them and ate supper, and gave them to eat, sparingly, under the
direction of Rough-and-Ready, who was regarded by the others with
unbounded admiration. The warmth of the fire was very comforting to
them, for although summer was coming, their long sojourn on the raft
had chilled their blood.
"Well now," said Rough-and-Ready, when supper was over, "I think we
ought to be very grateful for our escape. It was touch-and-go with us.
We sha'n't be very strong for a few days; and that's what we've got to
do first: to get strong. Then we can look about us."
"Where are we?" whispered Minnie.
"As well as I can make out, my dear, we are somewhere on the
north-east coast of the continent of Australia; where I don't believe
a white man ever trod foot before. That's something, isn't it? We're
the first bits of civilization that these rocks have ever seen."
"Is there any chance of a ship seeing us?"
"I doubt it; but for my part I don't want a ship to see me; I've had
enough of ships. I feel at home here, or I shall feel so in a little
while. I don't doubt but what we shall be able to get plenty to eat
and drink, and that's our first great need. Try and sleep for an hour
now. Strength is what we want, remember."
Rachel Homebush turned to him and held out her hand. She was grateful
for being saved, but she did not speak. The three men arranged to get
a little rest also, watch and watch in turn. It was Rough-and-Ready's
watch first. Before Joshua lay down, he went to see if Minnie was
asleep. Her eyes were closed, but she was aware of his approach.
"That is you, Joshua?"
"Yes, Minnie. Do you think you can sleep?"
"I don't know; I am strangely excited. I thank God that you are saved.
Joshua," rising to a sitting posture and taking his hand, "you will
not be unkind to me now that we are out of danger?"
"Surely not, Minnie. What makes you ask?"
"I was afraid, that was all."
Here the little child murmured something. Minnie placed her ear to the
girl's lips.
"She asked who was talking to me, and I told her you," said Minnie,
taking Little Emma upon her lap. "She wants you to kiss her."
Joshua stooped and kissed the little girl, and she put her arms round
his neck, and asked where papa had gone to. Joshua turned away, and
pressing Minnie's hand, was soon afterwards in the land of dreams. So,
during the night, they slept and watched, and in their troubled dreams
felt the rocks moving and swaying beneath them. Every now and then
they started in terror, and clutched what was nearest to them, as if
life was slipping away; they suffered over again the agonies of
thirst, and moved their parched lips entreatingly. When it was
Joshua's watch, he observed the sufferings of his sleeping companions;
he guessed the cause, for he had suffered himself in like manner. With
merciful thoughtfulness he moistened their lips with fresh water; the
women smiled and grew more composed; perhaps at that moment they
dreamed that an angel was bringing them life and health. Minnie's head
was lying on her hand, and her face was exposed to the light. It was
sun-burnt, but the gypsy stain was dying out of it. Her hair too was
growing lighter and longer. Joshua looked up at the sky and round
about him at the strange scene. Over his head the light of day was
just breaking, but the dusky shadows still lay upon the waters. Behind
him a faint light, heralding the sun, was quivering on distant wood
and upland.
"Dan made me promise," he said softly to himself, as the wonderful
strangeness of his position came upon him, "when I was seeing strange
sights in strange places, to think, 'Dan is here with me, although I
cannot see him.' _Is_ Dan here with me now? Is it possible that he can
have the vaguest idea of me as I stand, heart-wrecked, in this wild
country? I will try to believe so; I will try to believe that he and
Ellen see me as I am, know me as I am, and pity me. I could die here
now contentedly, if that were a conviction. Ellen, dear wife! Dan,
dear friend! dear mother and father! stand fast to me, and believe
that I never wavered in my love and my truth!"
This was his theme that he thought of and mused upon, while all the
others were asleep. The rocks were burnished with golden light before
they awoke.