COULD HE BE----DEAD?
Gone the _Resolute_ most assuredly was. Hardly a timber of the old
craft was left together, only a portion of the hull and some dark
skeleton ribs pointing skywards through the white chaos of surf that
boiled and swirled around them.
And the beach on both sides was strewed with wreckage.
"Frank," said Fred that same morning:
"I had a dream, a happy dream,
I dreamt that I was free;
That in a boat that we had built
We sailed across the sea."
"Bravo!" cried Frank, "I didn't know you were a born poet. Pass the
sardines and the pickles, like a good boy. Fancy eating sardines in
this world again. But, I say, you know, touching that dream, it is a
real jolly one, and as soon as I've time I'll think it out Why
shouldn't we, now that we have tools, commence to build a ship?"
"I don't see why we shouldn't really. But mind you it isn't quite
such a simple business as you may imagine. She would require to be a
biggish boat, you know, and there are two difficulties to be thought
out at the very commencement.
"First and foremost, Fred, if we are going to build her close to the
beach, we may reckon on getting our work all destroyed in the first
gale of wind that blows; secondly, if we build her a safe distance
from the sea, how are we to launch her?"
So no more was said about building a ship just then, but,
nevertheless, the idea had taken root in the minds of all hands, and
even Hurricane Bob pretended to look very wise when Cassia-bud
broached the subject to him.
* * * * * *
It took our castaways three whole days to get their stores round to
the place where the camp was, as they were mostly all removed by sea.
But the planks of the wreck that they thought might one day come in
handy were dragged off the beach, and piled in a heap far beyond the
reach of the water.
While engaged at this work they suddenly came face to face with those
awful brothers in death, the ironed skeletons. They were sitting on
the beach, having evidently been floated out of the wreck on a piece
of the deck. Sitting there bolt upright, their sightless eye-sockets
turned towards the sea, the arm of one of them slightly raised, the
fleshless fingers pointing towards the distant horizon.
"Why this is awful!" said Frank.
"Yes," said Fred, "and it seems to me those spectres will haunt us
unless we bury them out of sight."
It was determined to do so at once therefore, and Magilvray and Fred
set about digging a grave high up on the beach.
"Poor wretches," said Frank. "Suppose, Fred, we read the English
burial service over them. They had sinned, but oh, they have
suffered! Shall we?"
"You're a right good fellow, Frank. Yes."
Among the books brought on shore was a church service, and Frank,
being more English than Fred, in a solemn voice read the service.
The bodies were then lowered into the grave and covered up.
Some weeks after this they raised a cross above the spot where they
lay, and carved the names of the unfortunate sailors on it.
"Those wretches may have had friends and relations in America, who
may be even now waiting and waiting, and hoping and hoping, for their
return. Who knows?"
That is what Fred said, as in company with his friend he left the
lonesome grave to return to camp.
For two months after the destruction of the derelict the weather
continued unsettled and heavy. A deal of rain fell occasionally, and
there were at times storms of wind that appeared to shake the island
to its very foundations.
One evening, on their return from the woods, where they had been cavy
shooting, Frank seemed quieter and duller than usual.
"What's the matter, old man? You don't appear to be your own saucy
self to-night at all."
Fred laughed a kind of a ready-made laugh.
"No, strangely enough," he said, "I feel dull in spirits. I don't
know if I am looking old, but I really feel to be about ninety-three
or ninety-four."
"It's best to be exact, old man," said Fred, "but a good dinner will
set you as straight as a plummet."
The good dinner was all ready, but it did not set Frank straight.
He lay down soon after, and Fred really for once felt sorry that his
bed was one of green boughs. He sat till nearly morning beside his
friend, who was now in a high and raging fever.
From the very first Frank's illness assumed a vigorous type. He was
quite delirious. Sometimes, indeed, it took all Quambo's force to
keep him still. He raved too, talking constantly of home and of his
mother, and even of his dead and gone father. Or at one moment he
seemed to be far away among the stormy seas of Antarctic regions, and
the next sailing in the little yacht _Water Baby_, with Toddie and
Fred, on the wild and beautiful coast around Methlin.
For a whole week he continued thus, being nursed and watched
constantly by Fred and the others. Then he became quieter, and his
friend feared weaker also. His ravings now were far less wild. It
almost broke Fred's heart to hear him talking so constantly about his
mother and Toddie. It was always mother now or Toddie.
He grew weaker and weaker, in spite of all they could do for him.
But he knew those around him now, and was very seldom delirious.
When he did sink into a moment's raving lethargy, he would keep
repeating over and over again the words, "I'm going home; oh, I want
so much to go home!"
One evening, while seated beside him, Fred thought he could see the
hand of death busy on his face; then he broke down entirely, and sat
sobbing and weeping beside Frank's couch of boughs, as if surely his
heart would break.
Frank awoke, and seeing Fred crying, stretched out his hand to him.
"Don't cry, poor Fred," he said, "We're brothers yet."
"Ay," said Fred, "brothers ever."
"Brothers till death," Frank muttered.
"Oh, Frank, Frank, do not talk thus! I will not, I cannot let you
go!"
It did seem, nevertheless, that poor Frank was going home that night.
The scene in that tent of boughs was a strange but a solemn one; the
sick lad--he was not yet twenty years of age--lying on the couch in
the corner, with sad-faced Fred holding his hand as he squatted near
him, little Cassia-bud sitting dolefully by the door, Quambo towering
high above him, and the great dog, as sad as anyone, lying on the
floor watching all. The lamp gave but a feeble light, for it was
shaded by green branches; and this only added additional gloom to
everything around.
"Are you there, Fred?"
It was Frank's voice, though it sounded very weak and very far away.
"I'm by you, dear Frank."
"Isn't it very dark?"
Fred's heart gave an uneasy thud. Had he attempted to speak now the
tears would have choked him. Frank was dying, he thought.
"I'm going to sleep, Fred. Good night. Hold my hand."
There was not a hush now in the tent. Fred kept his friend's thin
hand in his, his eyes on his face.
Fred was praying; and praying perhaps with greater earnestness than
ever he had prayed before. Oh, if his heavenly Father, who had saved
them from so many a danger, that loving tender Father, who heareth in
secret, and to whom all the ends of the earth are well known, would
but deign to hear him now, and spare his friend even at the eleventh
hour!
How quietly Frank was breathing! How very still he lay! Could he
be--_dead_?
Fred put his ear down to listen. Yes, he could hear his gentle
breathing. This was not death, it was sleep--gentle sleep.
Never once did Fred move from his position all that livelong night;
and when the sun rose and cast the shadows of the mountains across
the placid bay, the lad was still at his post.
At length Frank opened his eyes, and seeing Fred, gently pressed his
hand and smiled.
The sleep had done its kindest work.
Just a little cocoanut water, so cool and refreshing, then, like a
baby, Frank dropped off again; and Fred went right away into the bush
all by himself, and kneeling down beside a pandanus tree, returned
thanks to Him who had heard his prayer.
* * * * * *
Slow indeed, but steadfast, was Frank's recovery now from his
terrible illness. For weeks he scarce could walk; but now in the
matter of cookery Quambo quite excelled even himself. With the aid
of herbs he concocted the most delicious cavy stews; he wrapped
flying fish in fragrant leaves, and did them over a clear fire, and
he even concocted strengthening broths, from birds they shot in the
woods.
But Cassia-bud went wandering all by himself round the island one
day, and, lo and behold! he found a bed of clams near the shore. The
clams proved an unexpected delicacy to all, but more especially to
Frank. Turtles' eggs, also discovered by Cassia-bud, completed the
cure.
And so Frank grew strong again once more, and happiness and joy
reigned again in the little camp by the sea. And now, not knowing
how much longer they should have to live on this unknown island, Fred
planned the building of a house and laying out of a garden; for
though a tent of boughs is all very well in times of health, it is
wanting in comfort when sickness comes.
For weeks the four men--note, I have come to call them men at
last--the four men laboured hard in effecting a clearing, while the
catering and cooking devolved entirely upon little Cassia-bud and
Bob. Not that Bob did much, but he often caught a cavy, and besides
he was such a companion to Cassia-bud, it is doubtful if the lad
could have got on at all without him. For gardening tools our
castaways were worst off, but they managed to manufacture spades of a
rough sort from the wood of the pandanus tree.
So the work of clearing and digging went merrily on, and the exercise
it evolved strengthened every muscle in their bodies, and caused them
to feel as happy as the birds that sang in the boughs.
All round the garden they wove a snake fence, and hung gates; but the
fence was more for show than utility, as there really was nothing to
protect themselves from; all their enemies lived in the water, and,
with the exception of robber-crabs, and an occasional octopus, never
came on shore.
Trees were now sawn into planks, and exposed to dry, by being piled
up so that the warm air could blow over them.
Twenty-four feet long by twelve wide, that was the size they measured
out for their cottage; and it would be seven feet high at the eaves,
and consist of two rooms. So they proceeded at once to plant or put
down the uprights and strong cross-beams to support the roof. For
these purposes many of the planks saved from the wreck of the
_Resolute_ came in very handy. The uprights were firmly fixed in the
ground, and the cross-beams fastened with hard wooden pegs on top of
these.
The plan they adopted for boring holes was certainly original and
expeditious also. Quambo had proposed to burn holes in the planks.
"No," said Fred, "I know a quicker plan."
"You do, sah!"
"Now make a mark at the very place you want a hole drilled."
Quambo did as he was told. Fred picked up a loaded rifle, and in
less than a second the hole was made.
Quambo laughed at this till the woods rang again, and Bob ran off to
the woods expecting that there must be game of some kind to retrieve.
The making of doors and shutters for the openings that had to do duty
as windows required considerable time, and an expenditure of skill
also; but these were finished at last. Instead of being hinged on,
they were made to slide backwards and forwards, and this also was
Fred's idea.
There were no fire places, but ventilators; for it would be always
best to do all the cooking out of doors.
At long last the cottage was finished, and when the slanting roof was
thatched with leaves of the pandanus--some of these being six feet in
length--very neat and wholly rustic it looked.
Table and seats were next made. These were rough enough in all
conscience, but they suited very well indeed.
"I think," said Frank, "the front of the cottage looks rather plain
and squatter-like."
"Well," said Fred, "let us build a porch, and plant wild climbing
flowers from the forest around it."
So this was done.
The castaways now turned their attention to the garden. Walks were
laid out and bordered with old plank, and covered thickly over with
silver sand from the beach. Then flowers and flowering shrubs were
planted, and when all was finished proud indeed were they of their
charming cottage and grounds. Even the snake fence they had run up
round the compound sprouted and grew rapidly, so it was partly hedge
and partly railing.
There was no occasion to plant vegetables in the garden, for
everything they wanted grew wild in the woods, including many kinds
of spices and turmeric also, from which Quambo, after they settled
down again, concocted many a fragrant and delicious curry.
Well now, on the whole, our castaways were not badly off. They owned
a house and grounds, they owned a boat, they had rifles and
ammunition, and no lack of food.
All they longed for was the sight of a ship.
But the climate in which they lived is not only healthful and balmy,
but calmative as well, so they did not pine so much as might have
been expected.
"I say," said Fred one evening, "to-morrow will complete our first
year on this island.
"How the time has fled!" said Frank. "I couldn't have believed it."
So they celebrated their advent-day by having quite a banquet in
their new-built cottage, and everyone admitted--including Hurricane
Bob--that Quambo had never spread before them such a dinner as this,
such fragrant curry, nor such delightfully cooked fish.
* * * * * *
It was early summer in the woods now; early summer with the trees,
with their gorgeous and glittering foliage, and their wealth of
flowers--snow-white, yellow, lemon, and crimson; early summer with
the forest birds, whose sweet low songs filled every grove and glen;
early summer with the wild bees, the gorgeous beetles, and still more
lovely butterflies; early summer with many species of seafaring birds
as well, who built on the rocks and cliffs--gulls and noddies, and
the swift-winged frigate bird; early summer on land and on sea, which
shimmered in the sunshine like polished steel.
It was well that our castaways had saved tinned meats from the wreck;
for among the cavies or coneys it was thought advisable now to
institute a kind of close season. It was breeding time, and to slay
the parents, leaving perhaps the young to starve to death, would have
been cruel in the extreme.