THE CASTAWAYS
THE first business of the shipwrecked party, after hauling up the
boat and taking out of it the various stores it contained, was to
make some attempt at exploring the place upon which they had been so
unceremoniously flung. That is true, at least, of the more energetic
members, practically consisting of Gilbert Byfield, and Simon Quarle
and Pringle.
Daniel Meggison and his son, together with Mr. Tant, were left to guard
the ladies against those unknown dangers which in this strange place
might threaten them; Mrs. Stocker had already declared that she had
"heard savages"--but declined to enter into particulars regarding what
particular noise she referred to. So in the grey morning mist Julia
Stocker and her husband, and Mrs. Ewart-Crane and her daughter, seated
themselves upon the shore, and Daniel Meggison and his son with Mr.
Tant stood ready to hurl themselves upon any approaching foe.
Byfield and his two companions had set off round the shore; and they
had scarcely gone fifty yards when out of the mists they had left
behind there came towards them, crying to them, someone running.
Gilbert stood still, and even went back a few paces; and so came face
to face with Bessie. She caught at his hand, and for a moment it
seemed as though the old friendly confidence was restored between them.
"I want to go with you," she panted.
"Come along then," he responded quickly; and they moved on to join the
others.
"We mustn't make up our minds that the place is an island until we've
made the circuit of it," said Simon Quarle as they went on. "Romantic
notions are one thing--but we may be quite near to civilization."
"It only shows, sir, what a wonderful thing schooling is," said
Pringle, pausing for a moment, and speaking with the utmost respect.
"Now when I was a nipper,--boy I mean, sir--I was only too glad to cut
what lessons I could, sir. But suppose, for instance, I hadn't had
it well rubbed into me that an island was a piece of land entirely
surrounded by water--I might have got into quite a muddle over this.
Shouldn't have known, sir, how to set about it to find out if it really
_was_ an island. Wonderful thing education, sir."
By means of a pocket compass which dangled on the watchchain of Simon
Quarle they discovered first that they were going due south, and then
that they were turning towards the west. It was at about the most
western point of the island that they found that the character of
the land changed, and that from some low hills a deep wood stretched
down almost to the shore. Skirting this, and turning northward, they
found their further progress barred by a great chain of rocks that
rose abruptly from the more level ground and plunged also straight out
into the sea. It was obviously impossible for them any longer to keep
to the coast; they skirted this line of rocks inland, and came in a
comparatively short time again to the sea. This time the coast pointed
southwards; following it, they came to the boat drawn up on the beach,
and to the little company of people they had left.
"I see exactly the shape of this place," said Simon Quarle, rapidly
scraping out a rough design on the sand. "It is pear-shaped, with the
narrowest part of the pear (where the stalk would be) to the north, and
the broadest part of it running from east to west. There is only one
question we've left unsettled; what is beyond those rocks?"
"The sea, of course," said Gilbert. "Though what part of the sea, or
what this island is, or where we are, I haven't the least notion."
"The great question is--what are we going to live on?" asked Daniel
Meggison, looking round upon the little company. "Fish we might
procure, if anyone happened to be expert enough to capture them, or if
we had rods and lines; certain berries might also be discovered which
would sustain life. Of course in all probability so soon as the mist
lifts we may be able to make signals, and to attract the attention of
some passing ship."
"We must find out what lies beyond those rocks," said Bessie. "Will you
come with me, Mr. Quarle?"
"I'll go with you," broke in Gilbert eagerly; but she kept her eyes
fixed on Simon Quarle, and presently walked away with him.
"Mr. Quarle--what is going to happen to us?" she asked when they were
out of ear-shot of the others. "I am a little afraid, because this has
come upon us so suddenly; but is there no escape--no chance of getting
away?"
"Don't know, I'm sure--utterly impossible to say," said Quarle. "If we
knew where we were, things might be different; or if the other boats
turned up with the crew in them. But I'm afraid we're a mere set of
amateurs at this Robinson Crusoe business--and I don't quite know what
really will happen to us. At any rate we're on dry land--which is
better than knocking about in an open boat on the sea--isn't it?"
They came again to that great wall of rock, and after some search
discovered a sort of natural path which went up the face of it, and
was comparatively easy to climb. As they gained the top, their worst
suspicions were realized; on the other side of what was practically
merely a thick wall of rocks they heard the sea booming restlessly and
peered only into the mist which shrouded it. As Quarle had said, this
was the end of the island--the narrow part of the pear-shaped place on
which the sea had tossed them.
They scrambled down the rocks, and retraced their steps in a gloomy
silence. As they were nearing the place where they had left the party,
Bessie suddenly stopped, and faced Simon Quarle, and spoke with
something of the old, quiet, steady resolution that had been hers in
Arcadia Street.
"Mr. Quarle--even if you and I are desperately afraid we musn't let
the others know it," she said; "we've got to go on keeping brave faces
until something worse happens--and even then we've got to keep brave
faces. We shall have to make the best of the provisions we've got; and
still we must keep brave faces even when we're beginning to be hungry.
We've got to find some place to shelter us at night; and perhaps, after
all, help may come sooner than we anticipate."
"And perhaps, if help doesn't come, or if things get to the worst,
little Miss Make-Believe may contrive to make us all think that things
are better than they are--eh?" He smiled at her whimsically.
She stood for a moment looking out to sea; she did not turn to him
when she spoke. "If we can live here at all, we may need all the
make-believe we have in us," she said. "My poor make-believe seems to
have made shipwreck of my life, and the lives of others too; perhaps
here it may be more useful. I wonder!"
Quarle moved nearer to her for a moment; spoke to her over her
shoulder. "Bessie--I haven't cared to say anything to you about--about
yourself--and about this man. I rushed off to Newhaven, thinking you
might need a friend; have you nothing to say to me?"
"Only to thank you," she replied. "There's some strange Fate working
for me--or against me; I suppose that's why I've been dropped out of
the world I knew into this place."
"You're not answering my question; you're not being fair to me," he
said. "Have you nothing to say to me about this matter--about yourself?
Do you love him?"
She stood still for a moment or two, looking at the waves tumbling at
her feet; the man waited.
"Yes," she replied at last; and then turned swiftly to him, pouring
out a very flood of words upon him. "I love him with all my heart and
soul; there's no other man in all the world like him; he's my life--my
everything. And just for that reason, and just because of what he
has done, I can never have anything to do with him. In spite of all
I said to him, I know only too well why he lavished all that money
on me; I know that he never meant to wound me, or to shame me in the
eyes of other people. That wasn't his fault; it was the fault of those
who traded upon his generosity. If I have been shamed and hurt--how
much more has he been shamed and hurt because of me. There"--she
laughed quickly, and brushed the tears from her eyes--"that's the end
of it--and that's the last time I shall ever speak of it. It's good
to tell a secret sometimes--and I've told mine to the best friend
ever a poor unhappy girl had. I won't ask if you're going to keep my
secret--because that would be insulting you, and would show that I
didn't know what a good friend I've got. And you won't ever speak of
this again to me?"
He did not answer in words; he took her hand for a moment, and gripped
it; when presently they moved off towards the others he still held
that hand as she walked beside him. Only when they came in sight of
those who waited for them did he drop the hand, and resume his ordinary
attitude of walking with his own clasped behind his back.
"It's an island," said Simon Quarle. "We climbed up the rocks, and
there's nothing but the sea beyond. Therefore we must make the best of
it."
"Someone ought to be appointed to look after the provisions and things
generally--a sort of temporary ruler," said Daniel Meggison. "As
perhaps the oldest here I'm quite ready to take the post. It requires
dignity--and all that sort of thing."
"I think we can leave the question of the provisions to Pringle," said
Gilbert, "with the understanding that he is to be careful."
"Certainly, sir; most happy, sir," responded Pringle. "Sparing in all
things, sir--and stimulants to be kept for medicinal purposes," he
added.
"What the devil's the man winking at me for?" demanded Daniel Meggison
fiercely as he turned away.
As the morning advanced the day grew very hot. There was no protection
from the sun whatever on that side of the island, and it was presently
arranged that one of the spare sails in the boat should be rigged up
to form a species of shelter. There the women sat--a little removed
from each other, so far as the Ewart-Cranes and Mrs. Stocker were
concerned--and dozed at intervals; Bessie seemed to take her place
naturally enough with Simon Quarle and Gilbert in the actual work that
lay before them if they were to make any attempt to live at all.
Curiously enough, perhaps the most active of them all was that meek
little man, Edward Stocker. Relieved for the first time in his married
life from the thraldom of Mrs. Stocker, he was like a boy playing some
great game; he entered into it with the zest of a child. He it was who,
setting out to make some further exploration of the island, and being
lost for an hour or so, was presently observed racing towards them with
wildly waving arms, shouting something wholly unintelligible as he
ran. Mr. Daniel Meggison seeing him, promptly got behind Simon Quarle,
interposing that gentleman between himself and coming danger.
"He is pursued by some terrible beast--and we have no weapons!" he
shrieked.
However, as Mr. Stocker drew nearer it was observed that his face was
beaming with genuine pleasure, and that he was evidently very greatly
excited. He bounded into their midst, and announced his great discovery.
"I say--gentlemen--everybody--I've found a building!"
"A building?" they echoed, staring at him.
"Up there--beyond that long hill you can see," panted Mr. Stocker,
pointing. "It seems like a big sort of hut--but I didn't care to go in.
Rather dilapidated--but unmistakably a hut."
"It is pretty obvious that someone has lived here before," said Jordan
Tant. "More than that, it's not improbable that someone is living here
now. Somebody had better go and look at the place," he added. "I'll
stay here in case the ladies get alarmed."
Mr. Daniel Meggison also deciding to remain for the same gallant
purpose, the rest of the party tramped off northwards, guided by Mr.
Stocker, who was obviously not a little proud of himself. Skirting
the foot of the low hills that seemed to lie in the very centre of
the island, they presently came to a large hut, almost obscured by a
tangle of trees and bushes, but in fairly good condition. After some
little hesitation they ventured to thrust open the crazy door, and to
peer inside; by the light which came streaming through an aperture near
the roof they saw that the place was empty, and noticed with further
satisfaction that it was dry and fairly clean. Whatever hermit had once
inhabited it had long since departed, leaving behind him but few traces
of his occupancy.
A few rough boards had been nailed together in one corner to form a
sort of bed; and on this some old brushwood still lay. An empty barrel,
with nothing upon it to indicate what it had once contained or from
whence it had come, stood in one corner; and on a heavy flat stone just
under the aperture in the wall stood an old battered cooking-pot, quite
sound, and with the ashes of some ancient fire still surrounding it.
The place had a ghostly look, even on that bright sunshiny day; but it
was better than nothing.
"With a touch here and there, sir, this place could be made a palace,"
said Pringle. "It's a good sizeable place too; a bit primitive,
perhaps, sir, but none the worse for that. At any rate we could get it
ready for the ladies, sir, against to-night."
"Is it bein' suggested that the gentlemen of the party sleep in the
open air?" asked Aubrey. "I've nothin' to say against it for myself,
mind you--but I've not been used to it, and I don't quite see why it
should be necessary, even under special circumstances. Of course I
wouldn't wish----"
"The ladies will sleep here to-night," said Gilbert. He turned to
Bessie, who had accompanied the party. "Do you think the ladies will
object?" he asked.
"I don't know," she responded, with a half-smile, "but I should think
they'd be glad. Don't you think, Mr. Byfield, that things are turning
out rather well?"
"Splendidly!" he exclaimed, glad of that friendly word from her.
"But I wonder who can have lived in this place--and lived alone; or
so it seems, at least. Whoever it was must have been taken off, I
suppose, by some passing vessel; but how many years ago--or under what
circumstances--it's impossible to say."
"Whoever it was, we certainly hope and trust he was a gentleman," said
Aubrey, as he moved away. "My word," he added from a safe distance, "if
it wasn't for my sister I might have somethin' to say about this that
would astonish people!"
That great discovery was duly communicated to the ladies; Mrs.
Stocker, who had had visions of sleeping in the open air, guarded by
Mr. Stocker, heaved a sigh of relief at the prospect of shelter. Mrs.
Ewart-Crane, on the other hand, took Jordan Tant aside to speak of a
vital matter.
"Island or no island, it is of course distinctly understood that I do
not share the same sleeping accommodation with the Stocker woman, or
with this girl. Kindly arrange that some other hut is discovered, or at
all events that the present one be divided into two parts."
"Doesn't it strike you, ma, that we're rather lucky to get any place
to sleep in at all--and that the girl, at any rate, isn't half a bad
sort?" asked Enid good-naturedly.
"Silence, Enid; you do not seem to understand that certain social
distinctions must be observed, even in such a place as this. In London
I should not know the Stocker woman; why should I know her here? The
island is large, I am informed; let her discover some other place for
herself."
Even in that crisis the wonderful Pringle proved equal to the
emergency. It being mentioned by Jordan Tant to Gilbert that there was
a difficulty as to the sharing of that limited accommodation designed
for the ladies, Gilbert in despair summoned his henchman; and Pringle
smiled and suggested a way out.
"It's always the way with the ladies, sir--bless 'em!" he replied
cheerfully. "My poor old mother never could get on with the next-door
neighbour, sir--no matter whether we lived in a small and humble
way--or whether we was in what you might call the mansions of the
great; mother being a caretaker, sir, and rather a good caretaker at
that. Of course it isn't to be expected that a lady of the stiffness of
Mrs. Crane should wish to lay herself down in the presence of people
she doesn't really know; so I'll rig a sail up, sir, across the middle,
and they can toss for sides if they can't decide any other way, sir.
Leave it to me, sir; if you'll excuse the liberty, sir, I may say I
know their little failings--an' I know just how to humour them, sir."
So the sail was rigged up, and Mrs. Stocker and Bessie took possession
of one side of the hut, while Mrs. Ewart-Crane and Enid occupied the
other. Pringle had collected brushwood and dried grasses, and had made
two very respectable beds; the moon, when it came to the hour for
retiring, was fine and fair above them, and the night was warm.
But before that there had come another great surprise, in the form of
an impromptu supper. Certain provisions had been served out during the
day, in a promiscuous fashion, by Pringle; but now, when everyone
was gathered about the hut, the final preparations were being made,
and "good nights" being said, Pringle appeared with something of a
flickering smile about his face, and made a startling announcement.
"Ladies and gentlemen--supper is served!"
"Look here, my man--a joke is a joke--but pray remember your place, and
don't carry a joke too far," said Daniel Meggison sternly. "Remember
who you are--and take yourself off."
"This way, if you please, sir," said Pringle, taking not the faintest
notice of Daniel Meggison. "Not far, sir--just round the corner, as you
might say."
He led the way, and the others followed wonderingly. Presently they
came to a little clearing, sheltered by the hill that rose behind it;
and in that clearing was a fire upon the ground, and over the fire was
propped the old cooking-pot that had been discovered in the hut. Bessie
was bending over the cooking-pot, and from it there wafted to the
hungry little company an appetizing odour.
"By Jove!--this is capital," exclaimed Gilbert. "We can sit round here
in gipsy fashion, and enjoy it. Pringle--this is really clever of you."
"I see no necessity for my daughter to be occupied in a menial office,"
said Mr. Daniel Meggison stiffly. "After all, there are certain
decencies to be observed, even in this place."
"Not me, sir--nothing to do with me, sir," said Pringle, answering
Gilbert Byfield. "I certainly did gather the sticks for the fire--but
that's about all, sir. The cooking idea wasn't mine at all; I doubt if
I could have done it. Miss Meggison, sir, is the lady who's saved our
lives, as you might say, sir, to-night."
"It is certainly well to be experienced in these matters," said Mrs.
Ewart-Crane, lowering herself to the ground.
"It was quite easy," said Bessie, busying herself with the pot. "When
Pringle and I came to look into things, we found that there were
preserved meats and preserved vegetables; so it seemed to me that we
might have a sort of stew. It's a little mixed--but I think it's nice.
Pringle--the plates, please."
"Certainly, Miss," responded Pringle, and instantly produced, as if
from the result of a conjuring trick, half a dozen battered old tin
plates.
"This is wonderful--and most comfortable," said Mr. Edward Stocker.
"They took a bit of cleanin', sir," explained Pringle. "I found 'em
under some of the rubbish in the hut--likewise a knife and fork and a
big spoon. The big spoon's in the pot--and the knife and fork I suppose
ought to be handed to one of the ladies."
"I have never eaten with my fingers yet--not even in the matter of
asparagus," said Mrs. Ewart-Crane instantly.
"Then it's no use your makin' a start at this time of day--is it,
ma'am?" responded Pringle, handing over the knife and fork to her with
much politeness. "It's a three-pronger, ma'am--but still a fork's a
fork."
The steaming food was handed out--Pringle deftly holding the battered
tin plates to be filled. The little company was so ravenously hungry
that even with that limited number of plates there was not much
waiting, nor did it seem to be considered necessary that the plates
should be washed for a newcomer. Mrs. Ewart-Crane ate with some
elegance, and in a grim silence; the others used their fingers, and
laughed a little among themselves at the strange meal. Then, when it
was all over, and Pringle had collected the plates, and had taken away
the cooking-pot, the men gathered about the fire--or what was left
of it--and sat there on the ground, sharing what tobacco they had,
contentedly enough. Mr. Tant did not smoke; he sat in a glum silence,
staring into the dying fire.
Gradually the fire burnt itself out; but by that time the men had made
their several arrangements for sleep. Mr. Tant and Daniel Meggison and
Simon Quarle lay down near the hut in a sheltered place, and seemed to
fall asleep in a few minutes; Gilbert and Stocker and Aubrey remained
by the fire. Presently they too stretched themselves for slumber; at
the last, Gilbert Byfield, hearing the murmur of the waves in the
distance, thought sleepily how strange it was that he should have been
brought to this place, and in such company; wondered, without any real
uneasiness, what was to become of them all. A figure stealing towards
him in the darkness roused him; and he raised himself on one elbow, to
find Pringle bending respectfully over him.
"Anything I can do for you, sir?" asked Pringle, in a whisper.
"Nothing, thank you. Good night."
"Good night to you, sir," responded Pringle. "If I might take the
liberty of laying myself down, sir, near to you----"
"By all means," said Gilbert.
"Much obliged, sir," said Pringle, dropping to the ground. "I just
gave a last look at the hut as I came past--and everything seemed very
quiet. A snore or two, sir--but that only suggests peace. Good night,
sir!"