I have often found, from experience, that the more one tries to collect
one's thoughts, the more one's thoughts pertinaciously scatter
themselves abroad, almost beyond the possibility of discovery. Such was
the case with me, after escaping from the sea and the sharks, as related
circumstantially in the last chapter. Perhaps the truth of this may
best be illustrated by laying before my readers the dialogue that ensued
between me and Jack on the momentous occasion referred to, as follows:--
_Jack_. "I say, Bob, where in all the world have we got to?"
_Bob_. "Upon my word, I don't know."
_Jack_. "It's very mysterious."
_Bob_. "What's very mysterious?"
_Jack_. "Where we've got to. Can't you guess?"
_Bob_. "Certainly. Suppose I say Lapland?"
_Jack_. (Shaking his head), "Won't do."
_Bob_. "Why?"
_Jack_. "'Cause there are no palm-trees in Lapland."
_Bob_. "Dear me, that's true. How confused my head is! I'll tell you
what it is, Jack, I can't think. _That's it_--that's the cause of the
mystery that seems to beset me, I can't tell how; and then I've been
ill--that's it too."
_Jack_. "How can there be two causes for one effect, Bob? You're
talking stuff, man. If I couldn't talk better sense than that, I'd not
talk at all."
_Bob_. "Then why don't you hold your tongue? I tell you what it is,
Jack, we're bewitched. You said I was mad some time ago. You were
right--so I am; so are you. There are too many mysteries here for any
two sane men." (Here Jack murmured we weren't men, but boys.) "There's
the running away and not being caught--the ship ready to sail the moment
we arrive; there's your joining me after all your good advice; there's
that horrible fight, and the lions, and Edwards, and the sinking of our
ship, and the--the--in short, I feel that I'm mad still. I'm not
recovered yet. Here, Jack, take care of me!"
Instead of replying to this, Jack busied himself in fitting a piece of
wood he had picked up to his wooden leg, and lashing it firmly to the
old stump. When he had accomplished his task, he turned gravely to me
and said--
"Bob, your faculties are wandering pretty wildly to-day, but you've not
yet hit upon the cause of all our misfortunes. The true cause is that
_you have disobeyed your father, and I my mother_."
I hung my head. I had now no longer difficulty in collecting my
thoughts--they circled round that point until I thought that remorse
would have killed me. Then suddenly I turned with a look of gladness to
my friend.
"But you forget _the letter_! We are forgiven!"
"True," cried Jack, with a cheerful expression; "we can face our fate
with that assurance. Come, let us strike into the country and discover
where we are. I'll manage to hop along pretty well with my wooden leg.
We'll get home as soon as we can, by land if not by water, and then
we'll remain at home--won't we, Bob?"
"Remain at home!" I cried; "ay, that will we. I've had more than
enough of foreign experiences already. Oh! Jack, Jack, it's little I
care for the sufferings I have endured--but your leg, Jack! Willingly,
most willingly, my dear friend, would I part with my own, if by so doing
I could replace yours."
Jack took my hand and squeezed it.
"It's gone now, Bob," he said sadly. "I must just make the most of the
one that's left. 'Tis a pity that the one that's left is only the left
one."
So saying he turned his back to the sea, and, still retaining my hand in
his, led me into the forest.
But here unthought-of trouble awaited us at the very outset of our
wanderings. The ground which we first encountered was soft and swampy,
so that I sank above the ankles at every step. In these circumstances,
as might have been expected, poor Jack's wooden leg was totally useless.
The first step he took after entering the jungle, his leg penetrated
the soft ground to the depth of nine or ten inches, and at the second
step it disappeared altogether--insomuch that he could by no means pull
it out.
"I say, Bob," said he, with a rueful expression of countenance, "I'm in
a real fix now, and no mistake. Come to anchor prematurely. I resolved
to stick at nothing, and here I have stuck at the first step. What _is_
to be done?"
Jack's right leg being deep down in the ground, it followed, as a
physical consequence, that his left leg was bent as if he were in a
sitting posture. Observing this fact, just as he made the above remark,
he placed both his hands on his left knee, rested his chin on his hands,
and gazed meditatively at the ground. The action tickled me so much
that I gave a short laugh. Jack looked up and laughed too, whereupon we
both burst incontinently into an uproarious fit of laughter, which might
have continued ever so long had not Jack, in the fulness of his mirth,
given his fixed leg a twist that caused it to crack.
"Hallo! Bob," he cried, becoming suddenly very grave, "I say, this
won't do, you know; if I break it short off you'll have to carry me, my
boy: so it behoves me to be careful. What is to be done?"
"Come, I'll help you to pull it out."
"Oh! that's not what troubles me. But after we get it out what's to be
done?"
"Jack," said I, seriously, "one thing at a time. When we get you out,
then it will be time enough to inquire what to do next."
"That's sound philosophy, Bob; where did you pick it up? I suspect you
must have been studying Shakespeare of late, on the sly. But come, get
behind me, and put your hands under my arms, and heave; I'll shove with
my sound limb. Now let us act together. Stay! Bob, we've been long
enough aboard ship to know the value of a song in producing unity of
action. Take the tune from me."
Suiting the action to the word, Jack gave forth, at the top of his
voice, one or two of those peculiarly nautical howls wherewith seamen
are wont to constrain windlasses and capstans to creak, and anchors to
let go their hold.
"Now then, heave away, my hearties; yo-heave-o-hoi!"
At the last word we both strained with all our might. I heard Jack's
braces burst with the effort. We both became purple in the face, but
the leg remained immovable! With a loud simultaneous sigh we relaxed,
and, looking at each other, groaned slightly.
"Come, come, Bob, never say die; one trial more; it was the braces that
spoiled it that time. Now then, cheerily ho! my hearties,
heave-yo-hee-o-HOY!"
The united force applied this time was so great that we tore asunder all
the fastenings of the leg at one wrench, and Jack and I suddenly shot
straight up, as if we had been discharged from a hole in the ground.
Losing our balance we fell over each other on our backs--the wooden leg
remaining hard and fast in the ground.
"Ah! Jack," said I sorrowfully, as I rubbed the mud off my garments,
"if we had remained at home this would not have happened."
"If we had remained at home," returned Jack, rather gruffly, as he
hopped towards his leg, "_nothing_ would have happened. Come, Bob, lay
hold of it. Out it shall come, if the inside of the world should come
along with it. There now--_heave_!"
This time we gave vent to no shout, but we hove with such a will, that
Jack split his jacket from the waist to the neck, and the leg came out
with a crack that resembled the drawing of the largest possible cork out
of the biggest conceivable bottle.
Having accomplished this feat we congratulated each other, and then sat
down to repair damages. This was not an easy matter. It cost us no
little thought to invent some contrivance that would prevent the leg
from sinking, but at last we thought of a plan. We cut a square piece
of bark off a tree, the outer rind of which was peculiarly tough and
thick. In the centre of this we scooped a hole and inserted therein the
end of the leg, fastening it thereto with pieces of twine that we
chanced to have in our pockets. Thus we made, as it were, an artificial
foot, which when Jack tried it served its purpose admirably--indeed, it
acted too well, for being a broad base it did not permit the wooden leg
to sink at all, while the natural leg did sink more or less, and, as the
wooden limb had no knee, it was stiff from hip to heel, and could not
bend, so that I had to walk behind my poor comrade, and when I observed
him get somewhat into the position of the Leaning Tower of Pisa I sprang
forward and supported him.
Thus we proceeded slowly through the forest, stumbling frequently,
tumbling occasionally, and staggering oft; but strange to say, without
either of us having any very definite idea of where we were going, or
what we expected to find, or why we went in one direction more than
another. In fact, we proceeded on that eminently simple principle which
is couched in the well-known and time-honoured phrase, "follow your
nose."
True, once I ventured to ask my companion where he thought we were
going, to which he replied, much to my surprise, that he didn't know and
didn't care; that it was quite certain if we did not go forward we could
not expect to get on, and that in the ordinary course of things if we
proceeded we should undoubtedly come to something. To this I replied,
in a meditative tone, that there was much truth in the observation, and
that, at any rate, if we did not come to something, something would
certainly come to us.
But we did not pursue the subject. In fact, we were too much taken up
with the interesting and amusing sights that met our gaze in that
singular forest; insomuch that on several occasions I neglected my
peculiar duty of watching Jack, and was only made aware of my
carelessness by hearing him shout, "Hallo! Bob, look alive!--I'm over!"
when I would suddenly drop my eyes from the contemplation of the plumage
of a parrot or the antics of a monkey, to behold my friend leaning over
at an angle of "forty-five." To leap forward and catch him in my arms
was the work of an instant. On each of these occasions, after setting
him upright, I used to give him a tender hug, to indicate my regret at
having been so inattentive, and my sympathy with him in his calamitous
circumstances.
Poor Jack was very gentle and uncomplaining. He even made light of his
misfortune, and laughed a good deal at himself; but I could see,
nevertheless, that his spirits were at times deeply affected, in spite
of his brave efforts to bear up and appear gay and cheerful.