centre was bubbling and boiling. The water which supplied the stream
flowed from the bowels of the earth. While the pool was violently
agitated, no sound was made by the up-rushing water. My brook was
simply the outlet of a subterranean river.
I at once made camp for the night, determining to spend a day around the
pool before returning. I kindled a fire for the sake of its cheering
effect, and made my supper from the provision bag. Puff was satisfied
with a banana.
After a frugal breakfast in the morning--for I had only some plantain
and a part of one of the fish left--I set out to explore the forest in
the near vicinity of the pool. Almost immediately I came across some
banana trees, and near by a few plantains were also growing. Further
around I found a couple of orange trees. This seemed quite a natural
garden, and it was not so far away but that I could make frequent trips
from home for bananas and plantains.
Penetrating a little further into the forest, I came to a little clear
spot, in the centre of which grew two large, handsome trees, each with
straight, rather smooth trunks, with symmetrical tops.
At first I thought both the trees were of the same kind, but I soon
noticed that the leaves of one were larger than those of the other, and
more pinnate. I discovered that both trees bore curious-looking fruit.
The fruit, too, looked something alike. It was large, round, and green
in color, with a pebbly rind. Several were lying under each tree; but
that under one of the trees was decayed, and when I tried to move it
with my foot it yielded to the pressure, and as the mass parted it
looked like uncooked bread. The fruit under the other tree was firm and
hard. I was at a loss to solve the mystery. Cutting one of the latter,
I found that it had a very hard shell. Procuring a long pole from the
bush, I succeeded in knocking off some fresh fruit from the other tree.
On cutting this I found that the skin was thin, and that the inside had
something the appearance of a yam.
I carried one of each to camp, when it occurred to me to roast the
latter, and see if it proved good to eat. While it was roasting in the
coals, I cut the other green globe in halves, and found that the hard
shell was very readily separated from the meat, leaving two nice bowls,
suitable for drinking vessels, and perhaps for cooking. When I thought
the other was thoroughly roasted, I took it from the ashes. The
transformation was marvelous. The fruit was now like light, white
bread. Very cautiously I tasted it, and found that, while it possessed
no decided flavor, it was very delicate. I tried some with a little
salt, and mentally pronounced it delicious.
Before going into camp for the night, I procured half a dozen of each
fruit, and, early in the morning, after adding a supply of bananas and
plantains to my burden, started to return to the house, which was
reached early in the evening.
I became very fond of the new fruit, which answered for bread; and I
made dishes from the shell of the other which served for drinking
vessels, and I even boiled some fish in one of them.
My time was now occupied by various tasks. Frequent trips were made to
the pool. I planted more yams, and made frequent excursions hunting
pigeons. I also made a complete suit of clothes from the cocoanut
cloth, including a hat and a pair of very substantial moccasins, for my
shoes were all but useless. These things were varied by giving Puff
lessons in conversation, in which he proved to be an apt scholar.
I had seen no turtles on this part of the coast, and I contemplated a
journey to the cove where I had seen them months before, as soon as,
from my calendar, I judged it to be their breeding season. I had long
craved more of their delicious eggs.
As the days and weeks passed, frequent showers came up; and after a
time, the showers of warm, tepid rain became more frequent. Some were
very violent, with high wind, and occasionally thunder and lightning.
They rose quickly and as quickly passed over, when the sun would burst
out, making the drops falling from the trees glisten like silver. But
there came a day of almost steady rain, and, after consulting my
calendar, I found that it was about time for the rainy season to set in.
I had hardly thought of the rainy season since my return from the
mountains. Indeed, I had intended to set to work and attempt to
construct a craft with which to try to reach the distant land to the
east. But now I must wait for another rainy season to pass before
attempting it, for the sea would be too rough to risk a voyage in a rude
and frail craft.
I allowed gloomy thoughts to take possession of me, which I did not even
confide to Puff, who was my only comforter.
*CHAPTER XV.*
_*A Hurricane and a Shipwreck*_*.*
I strove to occupy my mind by digging a large store of yams, and
gathering hundreds of cocoanuts, and storing them inside the house for
use when the rain should prevent my going far from the shore. I also
gathered an immense quantity of dead branches for firewood, which I
piled in the rear of the house, covering it thickly with grass and then
broad leaves and bark stripped from the trees, to shed the water.
The rain became almost constant, and after a day of hard work making
some repairs that I thought necessary on my house, I lay on my couch,
secure from the rain and wind, thinking of the past, present and future.
The wind had risen rapidly until it had become a gale. I listened to
the rustle and flapping of the leaves of the palm trees, and to the roar
of the waves on the shore. At length, through the crevices around the
door I could see that the night was frequently lighted up by vivid
flashes of lightning. Heavy thunder began to rumble away back over the
forest. The wind increased, and then came a roar which seemed to shake
the earth, and shrieks sounded above the dashing of the surf as the wind
came with terrible force.
I could hear the stockade creak, and see the walls of the house tremble.
The rain came in torrents, and swept against the enclosure. Another
blinding flash and roar, and, above the rattle of the palm leaves I
could hear the crack and crash of breaking and falling branches and tree
trunks. A hurricane had broken over the island. I lay appalled, and
listened to the terrible havoc of the tempest. I could not close my
eyes.
It seemed as though the night would never pass; but after long, weary
hours, a faint gray light stole into the house, denoting the approach of
day and the end of that awful night.
The storm abated a little, but the crashing sounds continued to come
from the forest. As soon as it was light enough to see plainly I
ventured to go outside the stockade. The structure had withstood the
force of the wind; but what a pitiful sight greeted me as I looked
about. Many of the tall cocoanut palms that had been my friends and
companions from the first lay prostrate, twisted and broken. The ground
was covered with nuts, leaves and broken branches. The little stream
was full to the very top of the banks.
The waves roared and thundered on the narrow beach. I turned toward the
sea and thought about the night of the wreck.
But had I gone mad? Had the horrors of the night so affected my mind?
I covered my eyes, and in a moment looked again.
Yes, out toward the bluff, only a few rods from the shore, was a vessel.
It lay as though at anchor. I saw that it was a barkentine. The vessel
had not anchored; she was stranded. Then I ran to the shore and waved my
arms wildly. I could not go to the bluff on account of the swollen
stream. I saw several men walking around the windlass. Then they ran
excitedly along the deck; and then I saw but two men on the deck. I
gazed out at the rocking vessel and saw a boat slowly swing around the
bow. It was filled with men rowing. I saw the boat pointed toward the
shore. I watched it eagerly. The boat seemed to make no headway. But,
yes, it was slowly making headway. Then again my heart sank, as through
the flying spume I saw a mountain of water, a great billow many times
higher than the stranded ship, come rolling into the bay. I stood
transfixed with horror, spellbound, as I watched the water, coming with
the speed of the wind, with a roar which every instant became more
terrific. Powerless to aid the poor souls in the boat, struggling
against a forlorn hope, in this moment of peril--of instant death, I
stood, sick and faint, in contemplation of their fate.
The great wave now overhung the vessel. Its foam-fringed crest curled
over and, with a fearful snarl of anger, like some dread monster with
jaws agape, it rushed over the vessel and obscured it from sight.
I sank to the ground and covered my face, as I wept in anguish. I was
overcome at the awful thought of the catastrophe and by the instant, but
full realization of my great disappointment,--almost at the moment when
rescue from my long, lonely exile seemed near, every hope vanished; and
in a few moments I should see the bodies of those whom I hoped would
succor me tossed ashore, bruised and mangled. These thoughts flashed
rapidly through my mind as I sank to the earth.
Yet there was a faint hope, and the flitting thought caused my courage
to revive for an instant.
If the boat, perchance, escaped being swamped and should be borne far
enough toward the beach to ground firmly and thus escape being carried
back by the receding water, her passengers might be saved; but if not,
her fate was certain, for she would be hurled back upon upon the reef
and not a soul would escape.
I started to my feet and strained my eyes in the direction of the vessel
as the huge wave thundered upon the beach, the water rolling far up
toward my house.
Oh, the awful anguish of that moment! At first I could see no sign of
the vessel, but as the succeeding wave subsided I caught a glimpse of
the vessel and saw that her masts, spars and rigging were hanging about
her in a tangled mass of wreck. The hull seemed to remain in about the
same position, it only having careened shoreward. The boat was nowhere
to be seen, though I carefully scanned every inch of the swirling water.
Perhaps it had been dashed ashore unseen by me, obscured in the cloud of
foam.
I dashed to the beach and ran eagerly along the shore, hoping to find
the boat and to rescue her passengers who, if discovered, would be in a
state of insensibility. But my search was fruitless, and I stood again
a hopeless castaway, no nearer rescue than when, on that bright morning
after the storm which sent the _Ethelyn Hope_ to the bottom, I regained
consciousness to find myself alone at this very spot.
I returned to my house and tried to reconcile myself to my
disappointment, and to adjust my mind to the rapid succession of events
in which were mingled joy and sorrow, hope and despair, all within
little more than a half-hour.
Fortunately my house, thanks to the thoroughness with which the builder,
assisted by nature, had done his work, had withstood the fury of the
hurricane and had proved to be impervious to the rain, so I had no
difficulty in making a fire, by which I prepared breakfast, drying my
costume in the meantime.
The wind had by this time nearly all died away, though the incessant
roar of the surf continued on the beach. Hoping still that some one
from the ill-fated vessel might escape to keep me company, I went again
to the beach, walking along toward the creek. Seeing neither a body nor
a sign of the boat, I started to follow along the bank of the creek with
the intention of crossing it and searching along the shore in front of
the bluff; but I had taken a few steps only when I stopped in
astonishment, for almost at my feet, her shoulders upon a tangle of
reeds, lay the body of a young woman. I thought she must be dead, for
she was very white and her eyes, while open, were fixed, turned upward
toward the palm leaves. As gently as I could I lifted her and with some
difficulty bore her to a mound at the foot of a palm tree, where I laid
her carefully down, resting her drooping head in a natural position.
Poor girl--for she was but a girl--cast up by the sea, dead; and that
was all I could ever know, about her. How tenderly I would lay her
beneath the tropical flowers on the bluff, in a grave lined with soft
grass!--alas, all I could do.
Sadly I gazed at the still form, and was about to turn away again toward
the beach when, to my great surprise, I thought I noticed a faint tremor
on her face and a movement of her hands. I must be mistaken; but no,
again there was a movement--no mistaking it this time--then her eyes
closed. I knelt beside her and held her wrist. It was cold, but I
thought I could detect a tiny flicker of the pulse. Certain now that
life remained, I lifted her as tenderly as possible. She was very
slight and I could easily bear her weight; but her body was so limp that
I found it difficult to carry her, supporting her head at the same time.
However, I reached the house, bore her within and laid her upon the
couch. Then I took a piece of the cocoanut cloth, hastily twisting it
to make it as soft as possible, and went to work vigorously chafing her
wrists and hands, and I was presently rewarded by seeing her open her
eyes. Her head was turned slightly away, but with a faint sigh she
moved it toward me. With a wondering gaze she looked full into my face
for a moment, and then her eyes closed again. She had lost
consciousness, and I again chafed her hands and loosened her wet
garments about her throat. In what must have been a few moments only,
but what seemed to me to be hours, she again opened her eyes and I saw
her lips move. I bent close to her and made out to catch her words,
faintly whispered.
"Where am I? Is papa here?"
That was all, for then she swooned away again.
Her father. How strange it all was, and now for the first time, I
remembered that I had not noticed a woman on the deck of the ship before
the boat was launched. Satisfied now that her life was safe, I left
her, hurried to the beach and renewed my search, when, directly in front
of my door, with the water washing partly over it, I saw the body of a
man resting upon the sand. From his appearance I judged him to be a
sailor. I dragged the body out of the water. The limbs were rigid and
there was a deep gash on the left temple.
Feeling certain that life was extinct, I turned and continued my search.
I soon picked up an oar, and as I came to the mouth of the creek I saw
something which caused me to start back, involuntarily. It was a hand
protruding from a pile of broken reeds. Hastily I tore away the reeds,
revealing the body of a man, which, I noticed, was not dressed like a
sailor. While I was moving the body away from the edge of the creek I
observed that the man was rather past middle life, well built and rather
stout, of medium complexion, with thick hair and moustache, both being
sprinkled with gray. His limbs were not rigid, which caused me to hope
that a spark of life remained. I therefore began to treat him as I knew
drowning persons should be dealt with, and shortly, to my great joy, he
began to revive and was, ere long, able to sit up and look about him.
He gazed at me in seeming wonder as though thinking me to be a being of
a different species from himself, which was not to be wondered at in
view of my picturesque costume.
"Oh Marjorie, my poor girl:" were his first words.
"If you mean your daughter, sir," I said, "she is safe and sound in my
house yonder." He extended his hand to me, which I took and held while
he recovered his vitality sufficiently to go to the house.
"I fear we shall intrude greatly upon the hospitality of your
household;" he said, with a little effort.
"No fear of that, sir," I made reply; "for the company of yourself and
daughter is certainly a great pleasure to me and I am the sole member of
my household."
"Are you alone, then?" he asked.
"Yes, sir, alone on this island," I answered.
He was going to say more but I begged him to desist until he was
stronger, and until he was able to proceed to the house.
He expressed himself as being fully able to do so, and as he seemed
anxious about his daughter I assisted him to rise; and, placing an arm
about him I supported him as he walked slowly to the house.
The meeting of father and daughter was a joyous one. The girl was able
to sit up and the color was returning to her cheeks. I could not help
noticing at a glance that she was very pretty, tall with a slender well
moulded figure, with brown hair and blue eyes and a clear complexion.
She was, I judged, anywhere from seventeen to nineteen years old. With
usual feminine thoughtfulness of her appearance she had already coiled
her hair neatly and rearranged her damp garments as well as she was
able. While I stirred up the fire so that my visitors might dry their
clothes, the father related, briefly, the story of their experiences.
His name was Richard Harborough, of Halifax, Nova Scotia, from which
port the wrecked barkentine, _Three Sisters_, of which he was the owner,
hailed. His family consisted of his wife, and three daughters for whom
his vessel was named. He had determined to make a voyage in his vessel
for health and recreation and his daughter Marjorie, a student at
Dalhousie College, whose health had been impaired by overstudy, had
accompanied him, the family physician strongly recommending a voyage in
the southern seas as a restorative.
The _Three Sisters_ had taken out a cargo of general merchandise to
Demerara, British Guiana, and after discharging she had proceeded to
Greytown, British Honduras, where she had taken in a partial cargo of
mahogany for Boston, proceeding from the Central American coast to San
Domingo where she took on board sufficient logwood to complete her
cargo. During heavy weather the seas that came aboard had polluted her
fresh-water casks and seeing the island just at dusk they had put in
toward it intending to anchor until morning and then to come ashore and
refill her casks. But the storm broke upon her, the rain obscured the
island, and she would have gone ashore had she not struck one of the
hidden coral reefs. What prevented her masts from going overboard the
men could not explain; but it must have been a miracle, they said. As
soon as the barkentine struck, the anchor was let go, by which it was
hoped she would be prevented from drifting, until daylight. When first
I saw the men on the deck they were hauling up the anchor, finding that
the barkentine had not drifted, with the intention of taking it to
windward and trying to work her off the reef by heaving at the windlass.
But realizing that the vessel was hopelessly aground, and fearing that
she might break up, it was decided to try to reach the shore, the result
of which attempt I had witnessed.
*CHAPTER XVI*
_*Pleasant Companions; Enlarging the House*_*.*
I told them, as briefly as possible, the story of my exile on the
island, to which they listened, seemingly with the greatest interest,
refraining, on account of delicacy, I supposed, from asking about my
strange garb.
"And now," I said at the conclusion of my narrative, "you must make
yourselves at home and as comfortable as possible, while I see about
dinner"--for it was just mid-day--"and then we will attend to the poor
fellow who lies outside on the beach."
So saying I took my bow-gun, my guests watching me in wonder, and
started for the thicket behind the house.
I hoped to secure a pigeon, for my companions must be in need of
nourishing food. I had the good fortune to spy a pigeon almost
immediately and to secure it with a single arrow. My companions were
greatly surprised to see me return so quickly, and after placing some
yams and bread fruit to roast in the ashes, I set about plucking the
pigeon. It was a plump bird, of the ring-tail variety. Half of it I
fixed over the coals to roast, and with the remainder I proceeded to
make some broth, which I succeeded very well in doing, thickening it
with crumbs of cold roasted bread fruit, and seasoning it with salt of
my own manufacture, as I explained to my guests, while I prepared it.
After the repast, which greatly revived Mr. Harborough and his daughter,
we all went to the beach, I leading the way, to where the dead sailor
lay.
"Poor fellow," said Mr. Harborough, "it is the third mate. The
barkentine carried seven men beside the captain and three mates. We
must see if any more have come ashore." But although we searched
carefully all along the shore up the bay, we found no other bodies. So
the dead sailor was carried tenderly to the palm grove, where he was
laid in a grave, dug after much hard labor, and lined with grass; I
promising to carve a head-piece for it, in the near future.
Then I took Mr. Harborough and his daughter around the neighborhood of
my hut, showing them where I had been cast ashore, where I had gathered
the reeds and cut the bamboos for my house, where I had discovered the
yam vines; indeed, I gave them a careful history of my doings
thereabout, which used up all the afternoon. The sea, meantime, had
subsided and the sun had dried the bush and the grass; and after a
frugal meal from the remnants of the noonday repast, we sat long in
front of the house beneath the tropical sky, watching the moon rising
above the feathery palm tops, while we speculated regarding the future.
The situation presented few complications, for we must simply make the
best of everything until rescued, be it days, months, or years. Mr.
Harborough had most important information to communicate, namely, that
the _Three Sisters_ had a bountiful store of food supplies and cooking
utensils, as well as a rifle, shot-gun and ammunition for each. The
rifle had belonged to the captain and the shot-gun to the mate, who,
when opportunity offered, were accustomed to go ashore for a little
sport, shooting. To get these treasures ashore would greatly add to our
comfort, and, although we had no boat, we resolved, very early in the
morning, to set about discussing means for saving as much as possible
from the vessel.
Mr. Harborough, I was glad to see, took a cheerful view of the
situation, and was resolved not to despair; and Miss Harborough, also,
showed her bravery by taking the greatest interest in our plans. With
some large pieces of cocoanut cloth I screened off a corner of the room,
including my couch, which was to serve as Miss Harborough's sleeping
apartment, while Mr. Harborough and I stretched ourselves on the floor
near the door. Before we slept I communicated to him my intention to
build an addition to the house before attempting to do much in getting
things from the vessel, in order to afford Miss Harborough privacy, by
having a room to herself. He thanked me for all my kindness, and we
knew no more until awakened by Puff, who, while everything was damp, had
not been heard from. Indeed, I had, I regretted to admit, forgotten
him. But now, his feathers dry, and the morning bright and fair, he
made himself heard, indicating by all the words in his vocabulary,
interspersed with shrill screeches, that he was hungry, and would brook
no delay in having his wants supplied.
The morning repast finished, we adjourned to the beach to lay out a plan
of work for the immediate future. We had two matters to discuss: one,
the most important, of devising ways and means of transporting the
supplies from the stranded barkentine to the shore, and the other, the
construction of an addition to the house for the accommodation of Miss
Harborough.
"It seems to me," observed Mr. Harborough, "that we should solve the
problem of getting out to the vessel as quickly as possible; for, if
there arises another great storm, she might break up."
"That is very true," I replied, "and your suggestion is a wise one; so,
as the building of the addition to the house will not be a long task if
we work together, let us set to work upon it at once. We will construct
it in the same manner as I built this house."
It was decided that Mr. Harborough should cut the bamboos and the canes,
while I would build the house, having acquired some skill from my
previous work.
"I fear you will find it laborious work, for I have only this knife," I
observed, taking out my much-used knife.
"Ah," he replied, "I have a good knife, larger and stronger than yours;"
so saying he produced a large pocket-knife, having a broad, strong
blade.
"Capital," said I; "now we shall get on famously."
I conducted him to the thicket of bamboos a a little way up the stream,
leaving him, while I went a little further down, to cut reeds.
"Oh, but I want to do something to help," exclaimed Miss Harborough.
"What can I do?"