THE CASTAWAYS AGAIN.
LEAVING the boys safe from the danger that had threatened them, let us
return to the castaways whom we left confronted by that menace, the
most grewsome of all to shipwrecked sailors, the lack of water.
The sponger captain needed no explanation but the captain's simple
words to realize the terrible tortures and awful death that awaited
them all if help in some shape did not soon come to their rescue. His
bronzed face grew white beneath it's coat of tan.
"I am frightfully thirsty, already," he exclaimed, "Is there no way we
can reach the mainland. Thar's water in plenty thar."
"If we were birds or fish, we might get thar, I reckon," replied
Captain Westfield, "but, being as we are only human beings, I calculate
it ain't no way possible."
The Conch eyed the raging water that stretched between the little
island and the shore.
"A strong swimmer might make it," he observed, musingly. "I've swum
farther many a time but it was when I was in a sight better shape than
I am now."
"Yes, I reckon a right powerful swimmer might make it," assented the
captain, "but this little fellow and I are not equal to it, we'd never
reach the land."
"I believe I could do it even now," said the sponger calculatingly,
"but I won't desert yo' two Yo' saved my life an' I'd be worse than a
Greek to leave yo' here."
"If you can do it, go ahead, man," said the old sailor. "You can't do
us any good by staying. Better save your own life," but the Conch shook
his head sadly.
"My life ain't worth much, now," he said sadly. "My little ship's
gone, all my brave comrades drowned, an' everything I had in the world
lost. I've not much to live for now."
"Bosh, man," said the old sailor, "I reckon, thar's always something
for a man to live for as long as the Good Lord let him live. If thar
wasn't the Lord wouldn't let him live."
But the Conch was not to be comforted, the full extent of his loss was
beginning to make itself felt as he regained his strength and the full
possession of his senses after his terrible ordeal. He soon moved a
little apart from the two castaways, and, seating himself on the sand
buried his face in his hands. The two watchers could see the tears
trickling between his fingers and they turned away greatly moved at
that most impressive of sights, the grief of a strong man, ashamed of
displaying his tears. When they looked again he was on his knees and
his bowed head showed that he was praying. When he rejoined them, his
manner was filled with the calm and quietness of one who has found
peace for his afflictions.
"I see there is no wood here with which to build a raft," he observed.
"Things look pretty bad, but they say the darkest hour is just before
the dawn. We must take courage. Yo'r young friends may return with help
at any hour."
The captain shook his head sadly. "Something has happened to them or
they would have been back long ago. They cannot return now until the
storm is over."
"It cannot last much longer," declared the Conch, confidently. "It is
losing force now, I believe it will blow out by morning."
"Maybe, but it will take a long time for the sea to go down so a boat
can live in it, and, in the meantime we have no water."
"We must not give way to despair," said the Conch, who seemed like
another man after his devotions. "Let's dig another well right in the
midst of the island, perhaps we can get water fit to drink."
With but little hope the three fell to work and by noon had dug a hole
to water, but they had only their labor for their pains, the water
was salt, bitter, and undrinkable. Indeed their labor was worse than
fruitless for their exertions had greatly increased their thirst.
Chris kindled a fire and roasted some of the turtle meat and eggs, but
the castaways only partook of a few mouthfuls, as eating seemed but to
increase their thirst.
The Conch had lost his hat when wrecked and Chris, observing his bare
head, set about braiding him another hat from the green palmetto leaves.
The Sponger watched him with interest. "Do yo' think yo' could make a
water-tight mat of that stuff?" he enquired, eagerly.
"Golly! I reckon, dis nigger could," declared the little darkey. "I'se
done made baskets ob hit dat would hold water like a bucket."
"How long would it take yo' to make a mat four feet square?"
The little negro considered, "I guess I could do hit in a day."
"Then drop that hat business and get to work on hit. Work like yo'
never did before. There's a chance, jes' a chance, that it will be the
saving of us. Captain, there is work for us to do. Get the entrails out
of one of those turtle shells. Clean them out good, pack them full of
sand, and stretch them out in the sun to dry. I've got a plan in mind.
It may fail, but it's worth trying. Be careful not to break the skins."
It was evident from the man's manner that he was intensely in earnest
and the old sailor lost no time in asking idle questions but went
quickly to work at the task assigned him. In a short time he had
cleaned and washed out the turtle entrails and filling them with dry
sand stretched them out to dry in the hot sun. When thus prepared they
formed a kind of small hose some thirty feet in length.
While he was thus engaged, the Conch dragged the empty shell down to
the water and cleaned and washed it out thoroughly. Leaving it near
the water's edge, he collected and piled close beside it, a heap of
dry wood. Then he returned to where Chris was working and fell to
helping him by stripping and preparing the palmetto buds for the little
darkey's nimble fingers.
Just before sundown he carefully removed the sand from the dried
entrails and was in possession of a long, tough waterproof hose without
hole or break in it.
Night brought no cessation of the strange labor. A fire was kindled
beside the little darkey and he plaited on by its light while the
captain and the Conch kept him supplied with palmetto strips.
About midnight Chris held up his work with a weary sigh; "Hit's done,"
he announced.
"Now for the test," cried the Conch, trembling with excitement.
Taking the strong, flexible, green mat he hurried down to the turtle
shell which he had filled half full of sea water. Placing the mat
over the top of the shell, he bound it firmly in place with wisps of
palmetto leaves. Then, cutting a small hole in the center of the mat,
he inserted in it one end of the strange hose, packing wet sand around
it to make it air-tight. He next coiled down the hose in the edge of
the sea and placed the other end of it in the empty turtle shell. Then,
heaping wood around the mat-covered shell, he started a fire.
The Captain and Chris at last understood his plan. With his rude
contrivance, he was going to try to distill fresh water from salt after
the manner they do on big steamships with costly and complicated
apparatus. The steam from the heated water was supposed to escape from
the shell through the hose. In passing through it it would become
chilled when the hose was coiled down in the cold sea water and,
condensing into water again, reach the other shell fresh and free from
salt.
In theory the plan was perfect, but would the rude contrivance do the
work?
The three thirsty watchers fairly held their breath as they kept the
fire roaring around the shell and awaited results. At last tiny wisps
of steam began to trickle through the closely-woven mat. Tiny drops of
moisture were dropping from the end of the hose. These grew larger and
larger until at last a tiny stream of water trickled forth.
They danced and shouted for joy. "It works! It works!" they cried.
But thirsty though they were they had to possess their souls in
patience and wait for the process worked very slowly. All night they
staid by the shells keeping the fire going. Just at day-break the Conch
gave the command to put out the fire. In the other shell was several
gallons of clear, pure water. As soon as it had cooled sufficiently
they dipped it up with shells and drank greedily. It was slightly
bitter and tasteless but never did drink taste better to parched
throats. With the satisfying of their thirst, came hunger and they all
made a hearty meal off the roasted meat and eggs left from dinner.
Just as the sun arose they lay down to sleep completely exhausted but
with thankfulness to God in their hearts. Their greatest danger was
past. They had water and food in abundance, and the storm was slowly
but surely subsiding.
They slept through the long day, awakening only when the shades of
night began to fall. Then after satisfying their hunger and thirst,
they lay down and slept until morning came.
They opened their eyes upon a clear, still day. The storm had gone and
the sea was growing calm. Far to the South there showed on the blue
water a tiny patch of white,--a sail.