We entered our apartment literally as if we had come out of the sea, and
I found my poor Elizabeth much agitated. “Heaven be praised!” said she;
“but where is Jack, that rash little fellow?”
“Here I am, mamma,” said he, “as dry as when I left you. I have left my
dress below, that I might not terrify you; for if Mr. Fritz had had his
gun, I might have been shot as a _rhinoceros_, and not been here to tell
you my story.”
The good mother then turned her thoughts on Fritz and me, and would not
suffer us to come near her till we had changed our drenched garments. To
oblige her, we retired to a little closet I had contrived between two
thick branches at the top of the staircase, which was used to contain
our chests of linen, our dresses, and our provisions. Our dress was soon
changed; we hung up the wet garments, and I returned to my companion,
who was suffering from her foot, but still more from a frightful
headache. She had a burning fever. I concluded that bleeding was
urgently needed, but commenced by assuaging her thirst with some
lemonade. I then opened my box of surgical instruments, and approached
the opening to the east which served us for a window, and which we
could close by means of a curtain, that was now entirely raised to give
air to our dear invalid, and to amuse my children, who were watching the
storm. The mighty waves that broke against the rocks, the vivid
lightning bursting through the castles of murky clouds, the majestic and
incessant rolling of the thunder, formed one of those enchanting
spectacles to which they had been from infancy accustomed. As in the
Swiss mountains we are liable to frightful storms, to which it is
necessary to familiarize oneself, as one cannot avoid them, I had
accustomed my wife and children, by my own example, to behold, not only
without fear, but even with admiration, these great shocks of the
elements,—these convulsions of nature.
I had opened the chest, and my children had directed their attention to
the instruments it contained; the first were a little rusty, and I
handed them to Ernest, who, after examining them, placed them on a table
inside the window. I was searching for a lancet in good condition, when
a clap of thunder, such as I had never heard in my life, terrified us
all so much, that we nearly fell down. This burst of thunder had not
been preceded by any lightning, but was accompanied by two immense
forked columns of fire, which seemed to stretch from the sky to our very
feet. We all cried out, even my poor wife; but the silence of terror
succeeded, and seemed to be the silence of death. I flew to the bedside,
and found my dear patient in a state of total insensibility. I was
convinced that she was dead, and I was dumb with despair. I was roused
from my stupor by the voice of my children. I then remembered that I
had not lost all: there still remained duties to fulfil, and affection
to console me. “My children,” cried I, extending my arms to them, “come
and comfort your unfortunate father: come and lament with him the best
of wives and mothers.” Terrified at the appearance of their mother, they
surrounded her bed, calling on her in piercing accents. At that moment I
saw my little Francis was missing, and my grief was augmented by the
fear that he had been killed by the lightning. I hastily turned to the
window, expecting to find my child dead, and our dwelling in flames.
Fortunately, all was safe; but, in my distraction, I scarcely thanked
God for His mercy, at the very moment even when he graciously restored
to me my lost treasures. Francis, frightened by the storm, had hidden
himself in his mother’s bed, and fallen asleep; awaked by the thunder,
he had not dared to move, fearing it announced the arrival of the
savages; but at last, the cries of his brothers roused him, and raising
his pretty fair head, supposing his mother sleeping, he flung his arms
round her neck, saying, “Wake, mamma, we are all here,—papa, my
brothers, and the storm, too, which is very beautiful, but frightens me.
Open your eyes, mamma; look at the bright lightning, and kiss your
little Francis.” Either his sweet voice, or the cries of her elder
children, restored her faculties: she gradually recovered, and called me
to her. The excess of my joy threatened to be almost as fatal as my
grief. With difficulty I controlled my own feelings and those of my
boys; and, after I had sent them from the bed, I ascertained that she
was not only really living, but much better. The pulse was calm, and
the fever had subsided, leaving only a weakness that was by no means
alarming. I relinquished, joyfully, the intention of bleeding her, the
necessity of which I had trembled to contemplate, and contented myself
with employing the boys to prepare a cooling mixture, composed of the
juice of the lemon, of barley, and tamarinds, which they completed to
the great satisfaction of their mother. I then ordered Fritz to descend
to the yard, to kill a fowl, pluck and boil it, to make broth,—a
wholesome and light nourishment for our dear invalid. I told one of his
brothers to assist him, and Jack and Francis, frequently employed under
their mother, were ready in a moment. Ernest alone remained quietly on
his seat, which I attributed to his usual indolence, and tried to make
him ashamed of it. “Ernest,” said I, “you are not very anxious to oblige
your mother; you sit as if the thunderbolt had struck you.”
“It has, indeed, rendered me unfit to be of any service to my good
mother,” said he, quietly; and, drawing his right hand from under his
waistcoat, he showed it to me, most frightfully black and burnt.
This dear child, who must have suffered very much, had never uttered a
complaint, for fear of alarming his mother; and even now he made a sign
to me to be silent, lest she should hear, and discover the truth. She
soon, however, fell into a sleep, which enabled me to attend to poor
Ernest, and to question him about the accident. I learned that a long
and pointed steel instrument, which he was examining near the large
window, stooping over it to see it better, had attracted the lightning,
which, falling partly on the hand in which he held it, had caused the
misfortune. There were traces on his arm of the electric fire, and his
hair was burnt on one side. By what miracle the electric fluid had been
diverted, and how we, dwelling in a tree, had been preserved from a
sudden and general conflagration, I knew not. My son assured me he had
seen the fire run along the instrument he held, and from thence fall
perpendicularly to the earth, where it seemed to burst with a second
explosion. I was impatient to examine this phenomenon, and to see if any
other traces were left, except those on the hand of my son, which it was
necessary, in the first place, to attend to. I remembered frequently to
have applied with success in burns the most simple and easy of remedies,
which everybody can command: this is, to bathe the hand affected in cold
water, taking care to renew it every eight or ten minutes. I placed
Ernest between two tubs of cold water, and, exhorting him to patience
and perseverance, I left him to bathe his hand, and approached the
opening, to try and discover what had preserved us, by averting the
direction of the lightning, which one might have expected would have
killed my son, and destroyed our dwelling. I saw only some light traces
on the table; but, on looking more attentively, I found that the greater
part of the surgical instruments which Ernest had placed upon it were
either melted or much damaged. In examining them separately, I remarked
one much longer than the rest, which projected beyond the edge of the
table, and was much marked by the fire. I could not easily take it up;
it had adhered somewhat in melting, and, in endeavouring to disengage
it, I saw that the point, which was beyond the opening, touched a thick
wire, which seemed to be suspended from the roof of our tent. All was
now explained to me; except that I could in no way account for this
wire, placed expressly to serve as a conductor for the lightning. It
seemed to be the work of magic. The evening was too far advanced for me
to distinguish how it was fastened, and what fixed it below; therefore,
enjoining Ernest to call loudly if he needed me, I hastened down. I saw
my three cooks very busy, as I passed through, preparing the broth for
their mother—they assured me it would be excellent. Fritz boasted that
he had killed the fowl with all speed, Jack that he had plucked it
without tearing it much, and Francis that he had lighted and kept up the
fire. They had nothing to employ them just then, and I took them with me
to have some one to talk to on the phenomenon of the lightning. Below
the window I found a large packet of iron wire, which I had brought from
Tent House some days before, intending on some leisure day to make a
sort of grating before our poultry-yard. By what chance was it here, and
hooked by one end to the roof of our house? Some time before I had
replaced our cloth canopy by a sort of roof covered with bark nailed
upon laths; the cloth still enclosed the sides and front; all was so
inflammable, that, but for the providential conductor, we must have been
in flames in an instant. I thanked God for our preservation; and little
Francis, seeing me so happy, said—
“Is it quite true, papa, that this wire has preserved us?”
“Yes, it is true, my darling; and I wish to know what good genius has
placed it there, that I may be thankful,” said I.
“Ah! father,” said my little fellow, “embrace me, but do not thank me;
for I did not know that I was doing good.”
Astonished at this information, I requested my boy to tell me why and
how he had fixed the wire?
“I wanted to reach some figs,” said he, “when you and Fritz were at Tent
House, and Jack and Ernest were nursing mamma; I wished to do some good
for her. I thought she would like some of our sweet figs; but there were
none in my reach, and I had no stick long enough to beat them down. I
went below, and found that great roll of wire. I tried to break a piece
off, but could not; and I then determined to carry the whole up to our
dwelling, and to bend one end into a hook, by which I might catch some
of the branches, and bring them near me to gather the figs. I was very
successful at first, and secured one or two figs. I had my packet of
wire on the table by the window, and stood near it myself. I thought I
could reach a branch that hung over our roof, loaded with fruit. I
leaned forward, and extended my hook to the branch; I felt I had secured
it, and joyfully began to pull. You know, papa, they bend, and don’t
break; but it remained immovable, as well as my hook, which was held by
one of the laths of the roof. I pulled with all my strength, and, in my
efforts, I struck my foot against the roll of wire, which fell down to
the ground without detaching the hook. You may judge how firm it is, for
it is no trifling leap from our house to the ground.”
“A good work, indeed, my boy,” said I, “is yours, for it has saved us.
God has inspired you, and has made use of the hand of a child for our
preservation. Your conductor shall remain where you have so happily
placed it; we may still have need of it. The sky still looks very
threatening; let us return to your mother, and take a light with us.”
I had contrived a sort of portable lantern, made of isinglass, which
lighted us in our offices. Moreover, a calibash pierced with small
holes, with a candle inside, was placed at the top of the winding
staircase, and lighted it entirely, so that we were able to descend
without danger by night as w ell as by day. I was, however, uneasy about
the way we should bring my wife down, if we found it necessary to remove
her during her sickness; I named it to Fritz.
“Have no uneasiness, father,” said he, “Ernest and I are very strong
now, and we can carry mamma like a feather.”
“You and I might, my dear boy,” said I; “but Ernest cannot be of much
assistance to us at present.”
I then related his misfortune to them. They were distressed and
astonished, not comprehending the cause, which I promised to explain.
They wished now, however, to see their brother. Fritz then requested, in
a low tone of voice, that he might go to Tent House, to see if the
vessel and the captain had arrived. Seeing his brothers listening with
curiosity, I thought it best to tell them the affair, requesting them,
however, not to name it to their mother at present. Jack, who was now
about fourteen years of age, listened with the most intense interest,
his eyes sparkling with joy and surprise.
“A vessel!—people from Europe! Do you think they have come to seek us?
Perhaps they are our relations and friends.”
“How glad should I be,” said Francis, “if my good grandmamma were there;
she loved me so much, and was always giving me sweetmeats.” This was the
mother of my dear wife, from whom she had parted with extreme regret; I
knew that a single word from the child would have revived all her
sorrows, and would in her present state be dangerous. I therefore
forbade him naming such a thing to his mother, even if we mentioned
the vessel.
We ascended, and found our dear patient awake, with Ernest at her side,
his hand tied up, and somewhat relieved; though, from not having applied
the water immediately, there were several blisters, which he requested
me to open. It was necessary to tell his mother he had had a burn; she
named several remedies, and I was hesitating which to use, when Fritz,
giving me a significant glance, said, “Don’t you think, father, that the
leaves of the karata, which cured Jack’s leg so well, would be as
serviceable to Ernest’s hand?”
“I have no doubt of it,” said I; “but we have none here.”
“I know very well where they grow,” said he. “Come, Jack, we shall soon
be there; we shall have a little rain, but what of that? we shall not be
melted, and we can have a bath.”
My wife was divided between her desire to relieve Ernest, and her fear
of the boys venturing out in such a stormy night. She agreed at last,
provided Jack had my cloak, and Fritz the boots, and that they should
take the lantern. Thus equipped, they set out; I accompanied them
outside the tree; Fritz assuring me they would be back in three hours,
at most. He intended to proceed along the rocks towards Tent House, to
make what observations he could; for, as he told me, he could not get
the poor captain and his vessel out of his head. It was now seven
o’clock; I gave them my blessing, and left them with injunctions to be
prudent, and returned with an anxious heart to my invalids.
* * * * *