CAPTAIN GRANT'S STORY.
Joy does not kill, for the long lost father and his recovered children
were soon rejoicing together and preparing to return to the yacht. But
how can we depict that scene, so little looked for by any? Words are
powerless.
[Sidenote: THE JOYS OF REUNION.]
As soon as he gained the deck, Harry Grant sank upon his knees. The
pious Scotchman, on touching what was to him the soil of his country,
wished, first of all, to thank God for his deliverance. Then, turning
towards Lady Helena; Lord Glenarvan, and their companions, he thanked
them in a voice broken by emotion. While on their way to the yacht, his
children had briefly told him the story of the Duncan.
[Illustration: A man was standing on the beach between two others. His
form was tall and stout.]
How great a debt of gratitude did he feel that he owed this noble woman
and her companions! From Lord Glenarvan down to the lowest sailor,
had not all struggled and suffered for him? Harry Grant expressed
the feelings of thankfulness that overflowed his heart with so much
simplicity and nobleness, and his manly countenance was illumined by so
pure and sincere a sentiment, that all felt themselves repaid for the
trials they had undergone. Even the imperturbable major's eye was wet
with a tear that he could not repress. As for Paganel, he wept like a
child who does not think of hiding his emotion.
Captain Grant could not cease gazing at his daughter. He found her
beautiful and charming, and told her so again and again, appealing
to Lady Helena as if to be assured that his fatherly love was not
mistaken. Then, turning to his son, he cried rapturously:
"How he has grown! He is a man!"
He lavished upon these two beings, so dearly loved, the thousand
expressions of love that had been unuttered during long years of
absence. Robert introduced him successively to all his friends. All had
alike proved their kindness and good wishes towards the two orphans.
When Captain Mangles came to be introduced, he blushed like a young
girl, and his voice trembled as he saluted Mary's father.
Lady Helena then told the story of the voyage, and made the captain
proud of his son and daughter. He learned the exploits of the young
hero, and how the boy had already repaid part of his obligation to Lord
Glenarvan at the peril of his life. Captain Mangles' language to Mary
and concerning her was so truly loving, that Harry Grant, who had been
already informed on this point by Lady Helena, placed the hand of his
daughter in that of the noble young captain, and, turning towards Lord
and Lady Glenarvan, said:
"My lord and lady, join with me to bless our children!"
It was not long before Glenarvan related Ayrton's story to the captain,
who confirmed the quartermaster's declaration in regard to his having
been abandoned on the Australian coast.
"He is a shrewd and courageous man," added he; "but his passions have
ruined him. May meditation and repentance lead him to better feelings!"
But before Ayrton was transferred to Tabor Island, Harry Grant wished
to show his new friends the bounds of his habitation. He invited them
to visit his house, and sit for once at his table. Glenarvan and his
companions cordially accepted the invitation, and Robert and Mary
were not a little desirous to see those haunts where their father had
doubtless at times bewailed his fate. A boat was manned, and the whole
party soon disembarked on the shores of the island.
A few hours sufficed to traverse Captain Grant's domain. It was in
reality the summit of a submarine mountain, covered with basaltic rocks
and volcanic fragments. When the shipwrecked seamen of the Britannia
took refuge here, the hand of man began to control the development of
nature's resources, and in two years and a half the captain and his
companions had completely metamorphosed their island home.
The visitors at last reached the house, shaded by verdant gum-trees,
while before its windows stretched the glorious sea, glittering in
the rays of the sun. Harry Grant set his table in the shade, and all
took seats around it. Some cold roast meat, some of the produce of the
breadfruit-tree, several bowls of milk, two or three bunches of wild
chicory, and pure, fresh water, formed the elements of the simple but
healthful repast. Paganel was in ecstasies. It recalled his old idea of
Robinson Crusoe.
[Sidenote: THE RULING PASSION STILL STRONG.]
"That rascal Ayrton will have no cause to complain," cried he in his
enthusiasm. "The island is a paradise!"
"Yes," replied Harry Grant, "a paradise for three poor sailors whom
Heaven sheltered here. But I regret that Maria Theresa is not a large
and fertile island, with a river instead of a rivulet, and a harbor
instead of a coast so exposed to the force of the waves."
"And why, captain?" asked Glenarvan.
"Because I would have laid here the foundation of that colony that I
wish to present to Scotland."
"Ah!" said Glenarvan. "Then you have not abandoned the idea that has
made you so popular in your native land?"
"No, my lord; and God has saved me, through your instrumentality, only
to permit me to accomplish it. Our poor brothers of old Caledonia shall
yet have another Scotland in the New World. Our dear country must
possess in these seas a colony of her own, where she can find that
independence and prosperity that are wanting in many European empires."
"That is well said, captain," replied Lady Helena. "It is a noble
project, and worthy of a great heart. But this island----?"
"No, madam, it is a rock, only large enough to support a few colonists;
while we need a vast territory, rich in all primitive treasures."
"Well, captain," cried Glenarvan, "the future is before us! Let us seek
this land together!"
The hands of both men met in a warm clasp, as if to ratify this
promise. All now wished to hear the story of the shipwrecked sailors
of the Britannia during those two long years of solitude. Harry Grant
accordingly hastened to satisfy the desires of his new friends, and
began as follows:
[Illustration: Harry Grant set his table in the shade, and all took
seats around it.]
[Sidenote: A TALE OF INDUSTRY.]
"It was on the night of the 26th of June, 1862, that the Britannia,
disabled by a six days' tempest, was wrecked on the rock of Maria
Theresa. The sea was so high that to save anything was impossible,
and all the crew perished except my two sailors, Bob Learce and Joe
Bell, and myself; and we succeeded in reaching the coast after many
struggles. The land that we thus reached was only a desert island, two
miles wide and five long, with a few trees in the interior, some meadow
land, and a spring of fresh water that, fortunately, has never ceased
to flow. Alone with my two sailors, in this quarter of the globe, I did
not despair, but, placing my confidence in God, engaged in a resolute
struggle. Bob and Joe, my companions and friends in misfortune,
energetically aided my efforts. We began, like Robinson Crusoe, by
collecting the fragments of the vessel, some tools, a little powder,
several weapons, and a bag of precious seeds. The first weeks were very
toilsome, but soon hunting and fishing furnished us subsistence, for
wild goats swarmed in the interior of the island, and marine animals
abounded on its coast. Gradually our daily routine was regularly
organized. I determined our exact situation by my instruments, which
I had saved from the shipwreck. We were out of the regular course of
ships, and could not be rescued except by a providential interposition.
Although thinking of those who were dear to me, and whom I never
expected to see again, still I accepted this trial with fortitude, and
my most earnest prayers were for my two children. Meantime we labored
resolutely. Much of the land was sown with the seeds taken from the
Britannia; and potatoes, chicory, sorrel, and other vegetables improved
and varied our daily food. We caught several goats, which were easily
kept, and had milk and butter. The breadfruit-tree, which grew in the
dry creeks, furnished us with a sort of nourishing bread, and the
wants of life no longer gave us any alarm. We built a house out of the
fragments of the Britannia, covered it with sails, carefully tarred,
and under this shelter the rainy season was comfortably passed. Here
many plans were discussed, and many dreams enjoyed, the best of which
has just been realized! At first I thought of braving the sea in a
boat made of the wreck of the vessel; but a vast distance separated us
from the nearest land. No boat could have endured so long a voyage.
I therefore abandoned my design, and no longer expected deliverance,
except through a Divine interposition. Ah, my poor children, how many
times, on the rocks of the coast, have we waited for ships at sea!
During the entire period of our exile only two or three sails appeared
on the horizon, and these soon to disappear again. Two years and a half
passed thus. We no longer hoped, but still did not wholly despair. At
last, yesterday afternoon, I had mounted the highest summit of the
island, when I perceived a faint smoke in the west, which grew clearer,
and I soon distinctly discerned a vessel that seemed to be coming
towards us. But would she not avoid this island, which offered no
landing-place? Ah, what a day of anguish, and how my heart throbbed! My
companions kindled a fire on one of the peaks. Night came, but the ship
gave no signal for approach. Deliverance was there, and should we see
it vanish? I hesitated no longer. The darkness increased. The vessel
might double the island during the night. I threw myself into the sea,
to swim to her. Hope increased my strength. I beat the waves with
almost superhuman energy, and approached the yacht. Scarcely thirty
yards separated me, when she tacked. Then I uttered those despairing
cries which my two children alone heard, for they were no illusion. I
returned to the shore, exhausted and overcome by fatigue and emotion.
It was a terrible night, this last one on the island. We believed
ourselves forever abandoned, when, at daybreak, I perceived the yacht
slowly coasting along the shores. Your boat was then lowered,--we were
saved, and, thanks to the Divine goodness of Heaven, my dear children
were there to stretch out their arms to me!" [Sidenote: THE DOCUMENT
ONCE MORE!]
Harry Grant's story was finished amid a fresh shower of kisses and
caresses from Robert and Mary. The captain learned now, for the first
time, that he owed his deliverance to that hieroglyphic document
that, eight days after his shipwreck, he had inclosed in a bottle and
confided to the mercy of the waves.
But what did Jacques Paganel think during this recital? The worthy
geographer revolved the words of the document a thousand ways in his
brain. He reviewed his three interpretations, which were all false. How
had this island been indicated in these damaged papers? He could no
longer restrain himself, but, seizing Harry Grant's hand, cried:
"Captain, will you tell me what your undecipherable document contained?"
At this request curiosity was general, for the long-sought clew to the
mystery would now be given.
"Well, captain," said Paganel, "do you remember the exact words of the
document?"
"Perfectly," replied Harry Grant; "and scarcely a day has passed but
memory has recalled those words upon which our only hope hung."
"And what are they, captain?" inquired Glenarvan. "Tell us, for our
curiosity is great."
"I am ready to satisfy you," continued Harry Grant; "but you know that,
to increase the chances of success, I inclosed in the bottle three
documents, written in three languages. Which one do you wish to hear?"
"They are not identical, then?" cried Paganel.
"Yes, almost to a word."
"Well, give us the French document," said Glenarvan. "This one was
spared the most by the waves, and has served as the principal basis for
our search."
"This is it, my lord, word for word," answered Harry Grant.
"'On the 27th June, 1862, the brig Britannia, of Glasgow, was lost
1500 leagues from Patagonia, in the southern hemisphere. Carried by the
waves, two sailors and Captain Grant reached Tabor Island----'"
"Ha!" interrupted Paganel.
"'Here,'" resumed Harry Grant, "'continually a prey to a cruel
destitution, they cast this document into the sea at longitude 153° and
latitude 37° 11'. Come to their aid, or they are lost.'"
At the word "Tabor," Paganel had suddenly risen, and then, controlling
himself no longer, he cried:
"How Tabor Island? It is Maria Theresa."
"Certainly, Mr. Paganel," replied Harry Grant; "Maria Theresa on the
English and German, but Tabor on the French maps."
At this moment a vigorous blow descended upon Paganel's shoulder. Truth
compels us to say that it was from the major, who now failed in his
strict habits of propriety.
"A fine geographer you are!" said MacNabb, in a tone of badinage. "But
no matter, since we have succeeded."
"No matter?" cried Paganel; "I ought never to have forgotten that
twofold appellation! It is an unpardonable mistake, unworthy of the
secretary of a Geographical Society. I am disgraced!"
When the meal was finished, Harry Grant put everything in order in his
house. He took nothing away, for he was willing that the guilty convict
should inherit his possessions.
They returned to the vessel; and, as he expected to sail the same day,
Glenarvan gave orders for the quartermaster's landing. Ayrton was
brought on deck, and found himself in the presence of Harry Grant.
"It is I, Ayrton," said he.
"Yes, captain," replied Ayrton, without betraying any astonishment at
Harry Grant's appearance. "Well, I am not sorry to see you again in
good health."
[Illustration: The passengers could see the quartermaster, with folded
arms, standing motionless as a statue, on a rock, and gazing at the
vessel.]
"It seems, Ayrton, that I made a mistake in landing you on an inhabited
coast."
"It seems so, captain."
"You will take my place on this desert island. May Heaven lead you to
repentance!"
"May it be so," rejoined Ayrton, in a calm tone.
Then Glenarvan, addressing the quartermaster, said:
"Do you still adhere, Ayrton, to this determination to be abandoned?"
"Yes, my lord."
"Does Tabor Island suit you?"
"Perfectly."
"Now listen to my last words. You will be far removed from every land,
and deprived of all communication with your fellow-men. Miracles are
rare, and you will not probably remove from this island, where we leave
you. You will be alone, under the eye of God, who reads the uttermost
depths of all hearts; but you will not be lost, as was Captain Grant.
However unworthy you may be of the remembrance of men, still they will
remember you. I know where you are, and will never forget you."
"Thank you, my lord!" replied Ayrton, simply.
Such were the last words exchanged between Glenarvan and the
quartermaster. The boat was ready, and Ayrton embarked. Captain Mangles
had previously sent to the island several cases of preserved food, some
clothes, tools, weapons, and a supply of powder and shot. The abandoned
man could therefore employ his time to advantage. Nothing was wanting,
not even books, foremost among which was a Bible.
The hour for separation had come. The crew and passengers stood on
deck. More than one felt the heart strangely moved. Lady Helena and
Mary Grant could not repress their emotion.
"Must it then be so?" inquired the young wife of her husband. "Must
this unfortunate be abandoned?"
[Sidenote: "FAREWELL! A LONG FAREWELL!"]
"He must, Helena," answered Glenarvan. "It is his punishment."
At this moment the boat, commanded by Captain Mangles, started. Ayrton
raised his hat and gave a grave salute. Glenarvan and the crew returned
this last farewell, as if to a man about to die, as he departed, in a
profound silence.
On reaching the shore, Ayrton leaped upon the sand, and the boat
returned. It was then four o'clock in the afternoon, and from the upper
deck the passengers could see the quartermaster, with folded arms,
standing motionless as a statue, on a rock, and gazing at the vessel.
"Shall we start, my lord?" asked Captain Mangles.
"Yes, John," replied Glenarvan, quickly, with more emotion than he
wished to manifest.
"All right!" cried the captain to the engineer.
The steam hissed, the screw beat the waves, and at eight o'clock the
last summits of Tabor Island disappeared in the shadows of the night.