The time passed, to use Gatty's phrase, "fatally fast," in fact, we
heard distant murmurs and fears expressed lest our dear old captain
should return too soon. There was something so novel and unrestrained in
our present life, and we all seemed to feel we never should again have
such an opportunity of imitating the gipsies, and we were so happy and
merry, that, excepting Madame, we were none of us willing to be restored
too soon to civilized life.
Was our future fate a punishment or not, for thus presuming to decide
our own destiny? A fortnight passed. On whose heart fell first the dread
thought that something was pending over us, too horrible to be put into
words? In the dead of night, I whispered low in Schillie's ear, "Do you
think anything can have happened to the ship?" "Nonsense, who but you
would think anything so ridiculous. Do you know I think I have
discovered what these trees are. I am sure they are a species of
Banyan." "Yes," said I absently. "Yes," said she, "yes, did you say?
Then why did you not tell me before. I have never been able to sleep a
wink when I first came to bed for wondering what they could be. Just
like you." So she sulkily went off to sleep.
Another fortnight passed. No word yet was spoken, no voice had even
uttered where was the Captain, Smart, La Luna? But the Mother's face was
pale. She spent her days on the cliffs, looking out until her eyes
ached, and bade the little Mother, who sat so silent and quiet beside
her, to look for her through the telescope. And the merry voices were
hushed, no laughter was heard, the meals passed in silence, the little
ones played at a distance speaking in whispers, on every face you could
trace a hidden fear, a secret dread, a mysterious foreboding, but not a
word was spoken on the thought of each heart. As evening after evening
stole by, the Mothers came down from their watch on the cliff, and
though every eye asked, "Have you seen nothing?" yet no tongue had
courage to say, "Where was the Captain, Smart, La Luna?"
One day, it was hotter than usual, the sun was going down with a red
glare, a low moaning wind came every now and then suddenly through the
trees. As Schillie and I came down the cliffs, our knees knocked
together with heat and lassitude. We had not spoken for several hours
until I had said, "Come, let us go." She mutely assented, and,
supporting each other, we wearily and slowly clambered down. Suddenly
stopping at a a smooth place on the cliff, on which had been spread by
Smart the skin of the Anaconda to dry, and which still remained as he
had left it, she said to me, "Which fate do you prefer, June, would you
rather now be a corpse within that skin, or yet alive with your present
feelings and fears." "O, Schillie, Schillie," I exclaimed, "it is not
for myself I fear, but think of all these young ones, can it really be
possible or true that we are likely to spend our lives in this place."
_Schillie._--"At present it seems true enough, not that you will have
long to fret about it, for we shall have to bury you soon, grieving in
this manner; I shall go as soon as I can after you; Madame is already
gasping; and then I should like to know what will become of all the
young ones."
_Mother._--"I do my best, I try to think about it as little as possible.
But what are your thoughts, Schillie? What do you think about them not
returning for us? Is it accident, or----"
_Schillie._--"Come, say no more at present, here are the girls coming to
meet us. To-morrow we must settle something, it is due to them for the
patience with which they have acted in the last fortnight, to take them
into our councils. Give us all until to-morrow, before we finally doom
ourselves to consider this island our living grave."
_Mother._--"But have you no hope, Schillie, speak quickly ere they come,
have you no hope?"
_Schillie._--"Hope! hope for Aladdin's Lamp, Prince Hassan's Carpet,
Green's Balloon, a Railway over the Sea. Hope nothing, and you won't be
disappointed."
_Mother._--"You are cruel, Schillie."
_Schillie._--"Face the worst at once, it will save you much sorrow
hereafter. Now say no more, but scrape up a smile for those poor girls
if you can."
Even this uncomfortable conversation proved of so much relief to us two
that we were more cheerful that evening at tea, and consequently the
poor children took courage to be also a little more lively. But we were
hurried to our different shelters by a clap of thunder and flash of
lightning, unlike anything we had ever seen before, and the rain fell in
large splashing drops. In the middle of the night, we were awakened by
repeated peals of thunder crashing over our heads, while the lightning
played incessantly, beautiful but most awful to behold. The rain at
first came in gusts, but after a while, such a deluge poured down upon
us, that in half an hour our little frail huts were beaten down over our
heads. One minute's exposure to the sheets of water that were descending
drenched us through. With difficulty we crawled to a little cavern,
which just held us, and also permitted the servants to change the
children's dripping clothes, and thus passed the whole night; but the
sun arose as bright as ever, rendering the scene more brilliant and
lovely, from the innumerable rain-drops bespangling everything. Not all
the cold, misery, and discomfort we had undergone, besides losing our
rest, prevented us exclaiming at the fresh beauty of the verdure and
trees, and the sweet smell of the thirsty earth as we emerged from our
cavern.
We had first to light a great fire, and then to spread all the bedding
on the rocks to dry in the sun. We soon warmed some water, and drank hot
tea and coffee; but Madame showed symptoms of a violent cold, and little
Felix and Winny shivered and shook as if in an ague fit. The poor little
huts were entirely ruined, and what was worse still, all our stores and
the different things belonging to La Luna, though carefully covered with
sail cloth and other things, were yet evidently much damaged by the wet;
in fact, it was not this day only that we had to deplore the effect of
the night storms catching us so unprepared. We suffered for it, as will
be seen hereafter, the whole time we were on the island. However, we
could now only think of making ourselves comfortable again. Of course
the tents had been beaten down even before the huts; we could not
shelter under the great chestnut tree, as the stream had swollen so as
to surround it on all sides, washing away all our seats, a great many
dinner things, books, and various other matters which we had left there,
and which of course had been carried down into the sea, so that we never
recovered them again. Fresh disasters were being discovered every
minute, and so much were we taken up by them, that it was not until late
in the evening, when tired and exhausted we sat down to tea, that the
much greater weight and dread on our minds returned in full force.
After a silence, Schillie looked at me and nodded. I tried to speak, but
the words would not come, they died away in whispers. All waited in
anxious expectation, not knowing what was coming; at last, Sybil and
Serena both rose, and coming to me, clasped their arms round me, and
said, "Dear Sister, if the ship does not come back for us, we do not
care so long as you are well and happy. Do not grieve on our account,
everything will end well, you will see. Do you not always bid us trust
in God. Let us pray then for his help, but do not grieve, do not weep
thus."
But their sweet voices, and comforting words were lost amidst the
wailing and weeping that arose on all sides, now that we had given voice
to our sad fears. Words fail me when I think of describing this mournful
and affecting scene, for one and all seemed equally certain that hope
was gone, we had now been three months here, and the captain told us
all, not once, but many times, that in six weeks for certain he should
return. Something therefore must have happened. Either the vessel must
have foundered, or they had failed in getting another vessel for us, or
they had met with some accident, or worse than all from the instruments
being destroyed on deck during the storm Captain MacNab had not been
able to take any observations so as to settle whereabouts this island
was, and he was perhaps now sailing about unable to find us. For it was
a most singular thing which we had several times noticed, that during
the whole time we had been there we had never seen a vessel on the
horizon. That was a mournful evening, so sad and painful that I am sure
none of those who participated in it could forget it as long as life
lasted. And in the midst of the fears that assailed us regarding our
future lot, many were the sorrowful thoughts we had as to what could
have become of the kind good Captain, the faithful and attached Smart,
and all those worthy companions, so lately forming a part of ourselves.
Darkness had long wrapped the little island in her dull mantle, but sobs
were heard in different parts of the little cavern in which we had all
been obliged to congregate for the night, and gentle whispers of prayer
to the giver of all good rose now and then in the stillness of the
night, shewing that some hearts felt too deeply to sleep; the
overwrought minds sought comfort from the bountiful fountain of love and
compassion, that increaseth as it is poured forth. And full well can we
say, our trust hath not been in vain, deeply as we suffered then and
since. But on looking back to that time, and all the subsequent trials
that have befallen us, I think this period was the most painful we ever
endured. Not only were we in miserable uncertainty about ourselves, but
we lost and bewildered ourselves in painful conjectures as as to what
could have become of our companions.
To have been told that they were really destroyed, that we should never
see them more, that we must depend upon ourselves for every thing, and
upon chance that we might be taken from the island, would I think have
been less painful to bear than the state in which we found ourselves. At
any rate then we should have known what to do, and would in all
probability have exerted ourselves to better our condition as best we
could.
But at present we were like people suddenly left in the dark, with the
additional feeling of not knowing when it would be light again, or what
we could do to free ourselves. Say that we were to sit still, and wait
with patience, hoping the best, believing it impossible that we could be
alone and deserted, this could not last, we could not sit still for
ever. Say that we immediately made up our minds to the worst; that we
were alone, and to be so for an indefinite, perhaps final period; that
we must shift for ourselves; that our welfare, peace, comfort, food,
clothing, solely depended on our own exertions; then, perhaps, after
making these exertions, after using every effort, and they would be no
slight ones, but must commence immediately with great toil, and anxious
thought, they would arrive, we should be saved, and thus have undergone
unnecessary labour and fatigue for nothing.
Yet we were at present fitted for neither of these fates. The life of
ease and enjoyment without care or thought, that we had indulged in for
two months; the indolent habits we had contracted from the, to us,
unusual hot climate; the strangeness and suddenness of our fate, all
combined to unnerve us, and for the present overwhelm the energy and
strength of character necessary for such emergency.
That was a memorable night, calm and serene, as it was after the great
storm of the preceding one. Troubled and tempest-tost was each heart as
it awakened scared by its own dreams, through which ran wild visions of
the beloved faces, perhaps never more to be seen. Yearnings after the
homes we had so thoughtlessly left, the scenes we might never more
behold, the voices perchance we should never hear again. Every thing we
loved and valued and had left! seemed on this memorable night to come
vividly before us. Was it therefore to be wondered that with subdued and
chastened feelings we all met the next day, the elder ones steeling
their hearts, and recovering their minds to enter into a regular
discussion and investigation of the fate destined for them; the younger
ones meek and sorrowful but most loving and engaging in their simple
reliance on our words, and their quiet, but watchful anticipations of
our looks and wishes, and this day happened to be a Sunday.
We generally performed the church service on an elevated, but small
platform above the dining place, looking down upon the great chestnut
tree, and indeed upon all our possessions. Thus endeavouring to realize
the scenes so often seen in England, where the pretty simple church,
with its graceful spire, is seen on an elevated place, while the humble
cottages, and rose-covered houses clustered round its base.
To make the resemblance more perfect, one single large cocoa-nut tree,
with its tall stem and fan-like head, was the only tree growing near the
spot, and the children were wont to call this tree when its solitary
condition caught their eye, the church spire.
The cliff shelved over some feet, making a natural shade and cover, and
here we placed the proper seats, two only being at the foot of the tree
whose occupants read and responded to the church service.
Sometimes a sermon was read after the prayers, but more often it was my
habit to give each of the young ones a text from the Holy Bible, and
from that they made small sermons, or rather remarks of their own which
were meant only for the Mother's eye, and sacredly respected by her in
that particular.
On this Sunday, the prayers being over, the psalm sung, they waited a
short space for me to give them their texts as usual, but seeing how
sorrowful and weak I was, and so slow in finding them out, they asked to
choose their own texts for this time, which I willingly granted.
They separated to perform their own tasks until dinner time, after which
Schillie and I intended between us to enter into a full discussion of
our present state, and future lot, assisted by Madame, before them all.
"In the multitude of councillors there is knowledge," and tho' many of
our party were so young, yet I have often noticed happy thoughts, and
very sage ideas rise in little heads, and amongst so many might not some
brilliant conception arise, some fresh thought be promulgated which had
escaped the harassed minds, and jaded spirits of the older heads. My
readers shall judge of this in the next chapter.