Front matter (continued 6)

From these two rooms they passed with great difficulty to the forecastle, having to cut their way through a thick partition. Here the sight was more appalling than that which they had witnessed in the cabin. Lying on the floor, partly immersed in a muddy pool, were the skeletons of eight men and two boys; and in the midst of them they heard such a splashing of the water that their blood ran cold, and their hair stood on end. They started back in terror, thinking at first that the dead had waked from sleep, and were moving before their eyes; in doing so, Robert, who carried the candle, jostled roughly against Harold, and instantly they were in darkness.

"O mercy! mercy!" Robert ejaculated, in an agony of alarm, and falling upon his knees clasped his hands together, expecting every moment to be his last. Harold, however, with that presence of mind which is the mark of true courage, and is the best preservative in time of danger, threw his arms around him, to prevent him from escaping, and fortunately recovered the candle, which had dropped in the edge of the wet slime upon the floor.

"Nothing but fishes!" said he, divining the state of Robert's mind from what he knew of his own. "Nothing but fishes! I saw one leap from the water. Softly, Robert, let us light the candle."

The quieting effect of a soft, calm voice in a season of excitement is magical. Robert's excessive fear subsided, and though he trembled violently, he aided Harold to re-light the candle. Fortunately the wick was scarcely touched by the water; there was a slight spluttering from a particle or two of damp mud, but the flame soon rose bright as ever. Harold's hand now began to tremble; for though in the moment of trial his nerves had been stretched and steady as a tense wire, the re-action was so great that he began to feel weak. Robert perceived this, and pulling his sleeve said,

"Come, let us go."

Harold's courage, however, was of that sturdy kind that rises with the occasion, and he replied, "No, I mean to go through with it now. I was driven from the cabin by a bad smell, but no one shall say that I was scared off by a few catfish. Look, do you not see them floundering in the water?"

A calm inspection wholly relieved Robert from his fears, and he continued to examine the room with composure, although while looking he beheld the startling sight of a skeleton in actual motion through the water, a large fish having entered its cavity, and become entangled in the adhering clothes, giving a most lifelike motion to the arms and legs.

A glance around this room was sufficient to convince them that the vessel was of a warlike character. Great numbers of guns, pistols, cutlasses, and pikes, were visible on the floor, where they had fallen into the water, or against the walls where they had been fastened. The boys surveyed these significant appendages, exchanged glances with each other, and simultaneously exclaimed, "A cutter, or a pirate!"

"I doubt whether it can be a cutter," said Robert; "my mind misgives me that it is a vessel of bad character. But we can tell by going to the captain's room. Let us see."

They returned to the cabin, and entering the room which appeared to be the captain's, found it abundantly supplied with arms of various sorts, and (though mostly injured by the sea-water) of exquisite finish. Of papers they saw none; these were probably contained in a heavy iron chest which was fast locked, and the key of which was nowhere to be found. In the mate's room, however, the evidences were more decisive. There were flags of all nations; and among them one whose hue was jet black, except in the middle, where were sewed the snow-white figures of a skull and cross-bones. From the side-pocket of a coat, which lay in the berth, they took a pocket-book, containing letters in Spanish, and a paper signed by forty-two names, the greater part of which were marked by a cross. These indications were satisfactory, and the boys afterwards ascertained by circumstantial evidence, which left them no shadow of a doubt, that not only was the vessel piratical, but that she was overwhelmed by the same storm that had so nearly proved fatal to Sam. The prize, therefore, they considered their own by right of first discovery--stores, arms, magazine, money and all.

"By rights there ought to be a carpenter's room somewhere," said Robert; "or if not a room, there must be tools, which will help us greatly in our work. Let us look for them."

To Harold's mind the tools were the most valuable part of the prize, unless indeed they could find a boat ready made. But before proceeding, they took each a pistol from the captain's room, loaded, and thrust it into their bosoms, supposing that they should be more calm and self-possessed, when conscious of having about them the means of defence. The carpenter's room was found, and in it a chest of splendid tools, and an excellent grindstone.

With these discoveries the boys were content to think of returning home; and now they began to feel hungry. Taking from the steward's room the bottle of olives and case of anchovies, and breaking open a barrel of shipbread, from which they filled their pockets, they went to the open air, taking each a lemon and cocoanut, in lieu of water and dessert.

It was time to load the raft. Taking some small bags, of which they found a number, they filled them with sugar, coffee, rice, and flour; they brought out six hams, and, by opening a barrel, six pieces of mess-beef. In searching still further, they lit upon a barrel of mackerel, a firkin of good butter, and a case of English cheese; of each of which they took a portion, and laid all upon the most level part of the vessel's bottom, ready for lowering into the raft. The kegs of biscuit they found on trial to be too large to pass through their scuttle; they emptied them by parcels into a large bag outside.

Hitherto they had said nothing and thought little about money; for their minds had been fixed on supplying themselves with necessaries and comforts, together with the means of returning home. Indeed, the idea of enriching themselves at the expense of the dead, even if they were pirates, savoured rather of robbery, and the delicate sense of the young explorers was offended by the thought.

"But let us at least gather whatever of this sort we may find," said Harold, after exchanging thoughts with his cousin. "We can afterwards ask your father to decide what use shall be made of it."

Neither their consciences nor their pockets, however, were very heavily burdened with this new charge; for they found only a few hundred dollars' worth of money, chiefly in foreign gold, together with several rich jewels, the greater part of which was discovered in consequence of an act of kindness to Mary and Frank.

Resolving to return the next day, accompanied by the whole party, and unwilling to have Mary's nerves shocked as theirs had been, they determined to remove all unsightly objects from the cabin, and to close them up in the forecastle. A box of sperm candles enabled them to set a light along the dark passages, and in each room; and taking a small sail, upon which they carefully drew the skeletons, they carried them to the forecastle, and laid them decently in one corner. From the person of the man they took a gold watch and chain, a handsome pencil case, and pocket-knife, a purse containing several pieces of gold, and a pocket-book, containing papers, written apparently in Spanish, but almost perfectly illegible. The name of this man, marked upon the clothing, and occasionally appearing in the papers, was Manuel De Rosa. Upon the person of the lady were found a diamond ring, hanging loosely upon the slender bone of one finger, and on the lace cape over her bosom a sprig breast-pin, whose leaves were emerald, and its flower of opal. Her name, and that of the children also, was De Rosa. These valuables were collected into a parcel, together with a lock of hair from each, as the means of identifying them, should any clue be obtained to their history and their home.

While removing a coarsely clothed skeleton from that corner of the forecastle in which they wished to deposit the bones of the perished family, they found it so much heavier than the others, as to induce a closer examination. They found hid beneath the clothing, and belted to the bones, a large girdle, containing fifty-four Mexican dollars, a variety of gold pieces from different nations, and a lump of what appeared to be gold and silver fused into one mass. The name of this man could not be ascertained.

Their next work was to fumigate the cabin. They wrapped a little sugar in a piece of brown paper, and setting it on fire, walked around the room, waving it in every direction. The aromatic odour of the burnt sugar pervaded every crack and cranny, and overwhelmed so entirely the disgusting effluvium, that Robert snuffed at the pleasant fragrance, and remarked, "There, now! the cabin is fit for the nose of a king. Let us close up the forecastle, and return home."

Beside the provisions, which have been already mentioned as constituting a part of the intended load for the raft, the boys carried out such tools as they conceived needful for their work, consisting of adzes, drawing-knives, augers, gimlets, chisels, planes, saws, square and compass, and an oil-stone. They also took the box of sperm candles and a box of soap; three cutlasses and a rapier, four pikes, four pair of pistols, three rifles, two muskets, and flasks and pouches to suit. Gunpowder they did not see, except what was in the flasks; they knew there must be plenty in the magazine, which they supposed to be near the officers' rooms, but which they did not care then to visit.

A short but laborious tug against the tide, that set strongly up the creek, brought them to the river, on which they floated gently home. When within half a mile of the landing, they fired a gun, as a signal of their approach; and long before they reached the shore, Mary and Frank were seen running to meet them, with Mum and Fidelle scampering before, and Sam hobbling far in the rear.

"Here, Frank, is your Christmas present," said Robert, when the raft touched land; "and here, Sam, is yours, at least so long as we stay upon the island."

He tossed the one a cocoanut, and handed the other a musket and cutlass. Harold's presents were still more acceptable; he gave Frank a nice pocket-knife, somewhat the worse for rust, and gave Sam a large twist of tobacco.

Frank's eyes twinkled with pleasure at the sight of the knife; but Sam's expression of countenance was really ludicrous. He was a great chewer and smoker of tobacco, and the sight of that big black twist, after so long a privation, brought the tears to his eyes. He scraped his foot, and tried to laugh.

"Tankee, Mas Robbut! Tousand tankee to you, Mas Harrol! Sword, gun, tobacky! I-ee! I feel like I kin fight all de bear and panter in de wull!"

As the work of unloading and transporting to the tent occupied only about two hours, they had time sufficient, before dark, to construct another and a larger raft. There was a poplar, fallen and dry, near the water's edge; this they cut into suitable lengths, and across the long logs they laid a floor of short ones, so that they doubted not being able at their next load to bring from the wreck all that they wished.

CHAPTER XXXIV

SECOND VOYAGE TO THE WRECK--FUMIGATING AGAIN--MORE MINUTE EXAMINATION--RETURN--ACCIDENT--DANGERS OF HELPING A DROWNING PERSON--RECOVERING A PERSON APPARENTLY DROWNED

Next morning our young marooners endeavoured to make as early a start as on the day before; but there being now more persons to go, each of whom had some preparation to make; and besides that, encumbered by another clumsy float of logs, their arrival at the wreck was fully an hour later. Securing the two rafts to the vessel's side, Robert and Harold clambered to the hole they had cut, by the help of a rope tied there for the purpose; then making a slipknot at the end, they drew up Sam, Frank, and finally, Mary. The new comers were so anxious to enter the vessel that they could scarcely wait for the lighting of a candle, but slid at once into the hold, and began rummaging by means of the imperfect light transmitted through the scuttle.

The examination of the hold on the day before had been so thorough, that few more discoveries of importance remained to be made; and the new comers, burning with curiosity, begged to be conducted to the rooms below. Entering the cabin, Mary and Frank were repelled by the unpleasant odour that, notwithstanding the former fumigation, still continued; but the smell was on this occasion mingled more with that of mud, and Robert managed by a quick allusion to the river slime, and the nauseous odour of the mangroves, to prevent Mary's suspicion of the real cause.

"We burnt some sugar here, on yesterday," said he, "but the tide has been up since, and we shall have to burn more. Or stay--we can try something else. I recollect hearing father say that burning coffee is one of the best fumigators in the world."

He brought some coffee from the hold, and wrapping it in paper, tried to burn it, as he did the sugar; but it was not so easily ignited; and Mary, in her impatience, took some sugar, and setting it on fire while he was experimenting with the damp coffee, so thoroughly impregnated the room with its fragrant fumes, that they were ready to begin their examination.

The first thing they noticed on entering the cabin, was a handsome sofa and set of chairs. Overhead, screwed fast to what had been the floor, was an extension table, capable of seating from four to twelve persons. Mary clapped her hands at this welcome sight, exclaiming:

"O, now we can sit and eat like decent people again!"

To their right was a little room, with its door open. On entering it, they saw a boy's cap and pair of shoes. Frank pounced upon these, and tried them on, with several merry jests, to which the others made no reply, for the larger boys thought immediately of the little skeleton to which these had belonged. A trunk was there too, perched upon the upturned bottom of what had been the lowest berth, containing the usual wardrobe of the boy; and beside it, the trunk and carpet bag of the girl. These last were locked. On forcing them open, Mary found many of the articles in a state of perfect preservation; though the linen and cotton were sadly mildewed, and almost spoiled. She saw at a glance that the silk dresses, and other parts of attire, were nearly all the same size with her own. But though greatly in need of clothing, and fitted almost exactly in what she found, she manifested more sadness than pleasure at the sight; her mind reverted irresistibly to the former wearer, who was no doubt as fond of life as herself.

"Poor thing!" she said, as tears came into her eyes, after turning over several articles, "and her name was Mary, too. See here, 'Marie De Rosa,' written so neatly on this white handkerchief. What a beautiful name! I wish I knew her."

Fastened to the wall was a neat looking-glass, and beside it a handsome hair-brush, hung by a blue ribbon to a small brass knob; but the water had dissolved the glue, and the rosewood veneering had separated from the brush. On the floor were two ivory combs, and the fragments of pitcher, bason, and tumblers, lying with the towels. In the berths were two hair mattresses, whose ticking was mouldy and mildewed, but they were otherwise good; and in each, with the damp sheets, was a pair of blankets as good as new.

Next to this room was another, whose door was jammed and swollen tight. Forcing it open, they found two trunks and travelling bags, with various articles of male and female attire--a hat and pair of boots, a bonnet and rich shawl, the little boy's boots and best cap, and the girl's parasol and cloak; new evidences these, to the boys, to prove that the four skeletons belonged to one family. There were also several books, but they were in Spanish, and so perfectly soaked and blackened as to be useless, even had they been in their own language. The De Rosas were evidently a family of wealth and education.

The other rooms were furnished with the usual appendages of warlike men, and beside these there was little else to tell who or what they were. Their papers and valuables were probably locked up in the iron chest, or left behind where they had concealed their treasures.

Passing from the cabin, their attention was arrested at the door by a small closet under the companion-way. Harold stood upon a stool and examined it. There were silver cups, of various figures, a basket of champagne wine, and many bottles and decanters, or rather their fragments, which appeared to have held different kinds of liquors.

"Bah!" said Harold, "liquor in the hold--liquor in the rooms--liquor in the closets--there is more liquor than anything else aboard, except guns and pistols."

"They naturally go together," responded Robert. "I suspect the poor fellows needed the liquor to fit them for their wicked works."

From the cabin they went to the carpenter's room. Sam decided in a moment that he must have the grindstone, and the rest of the tools--they were too good to be lost. He also looked wistfully at the work-bench, with the iron vice attached, and said he thought they could force it from the wall, and float it behind the rafts. But the boys mistrusted his partiality for tools, and decided that it was not so important as some other things.

Next to the carpenter's room was another, into which they forced an entrance with the ax. This was the gunner's. Here they found cartridges in abundance, of all sorts and sizes, bomb-shells, clusters of grape-shot, canisters of balls, a profusion of cannon shot of several sizes, and two small cannons of brass, with balls to suit. There were also several large kegs of powder, but the powder appeared to be spoilt, for the kegs were damp.

When the time came to prepare for loading, the boys united with Sam to enlarge the scuttle. They put upon one raft a keg of rice, and another of flour, the firkin of butter, two cheeses, six loaves of sugar, the grindstone, the chest of tools, Sam's box of tobacco, and more of the hams and beef. On the other, they put the extension-table and leaves, six chairs, the sofa, the trunks of the De Rosas, five mattresses, with their clothing, the looking-glass, &c.

The return voyage was made in all safety until they reached the landing; but there occurred one of those misadventures that appear to come oftenest in seasons of greatest security.

As the rafts neared the shore, Sam hobbled to the hindmost end, to look after his darling tobacco, and having for some reason stooped as one raft struck the other in stopping, he lost his balance, and fell headlong into the water. No one knew of the accident, until hearing a great splutter, they looked around, and saw him blowing the water from his nose and mouth, and wearing a most comical expression of surprise and fear. They ran, of course, to his assistance, but knowing him to be a good swimmer, they apprehended no serious consequences, and were rather disposed to jest than to be alarmed. But Sam, who had been already strangling for a quarter of a minute, so as to be unable to utter a word, and who discerned at a glance that they did not apprehend his situation, stretched out his hand imploringly, and gasped.

"He is drowning!" exclaimed Harold. "Here, Robert, help me!" then ran to obtain something buoyant, to which Sam might cling. When he returned, bringing with him a pair of oars (the nearest thing within reach), he saw his cousin, heedless of danger, and moved only by sympathy, swimming just over the place where Sam had sunk.

"Robert! Robert! COME AWAY!" he called in a voice of thunder; "he is too strong for you, and will drown you!"

Robert turned at this earnest and even imperative call, and began to swim back; but it was too late. Sam rose within reach, grasped his arm, drew him up close, pinioned him firmly, and again sunk out of sight. Mary and Frank shrieked as they saw their brother go down, and Harold stood a moment, with clasped hands, exclaiming, "My God! What shall I do?"

At this moment an idea occurred to him. Calling to Mary, "Bring me that hat" (it was De Rosa's, and water-proof), he threw off his coat and vest, then spreading his handkerchief over the mouth of the hat, so that he could grasp the corners under the crown, he plunged into the water, swimming with one hand, and holding the hat as a temporary life preserver with the other. As he expected, Robert rose to the surface and grasped him. Harold did nothing at first but hold firmly to the hat to prevent his own sinking, and in that short interval Robert recovered sufficiently to know what he was about.

"Thank God for you, Robert!" said Harold. "I was afraid you were gone; here, take the hat and swim to the raft, while I dive after Sam. Has he ceased struggling?" Robert replied, "Yes."

Joining his hands high over his head, Harold rose as far as he could from the water, and sank perpendicularly with his feet close together. He succeeded in finding the body, but not in time to seize it, before he was compelled to rise for the want of breath. He came to the surface, panted for a quarter of a minute, then descended a second time, and rose with the body. Robert reached him one of the oars, dragged him to the raft, and then to the shore.

And now what was to be done? Robert knew well that when a person has been under water four minutes and more it is exceedingly difficult to restore life, and that whosoever would render aid must do it quickly. His preparations were few and simple.

Begging Mary and Frank to make a fire as soon as possible, and to heat one of the blankets, he laid the body with the head lowest, to allow the water to run from the mouth and throat, while he hastily unloosed the clothing. Then laying the body with the head highest, as in sleep, he and Harold rubbed the skin with all their might, for the double purpose of removing the moisture and restoring the heat.

This friction was continued for several minutes, when Robert, requesting Harold to keep on, tried another means. He inserted a reed into one of Sam's nostrils, which he pressed tightly around it, and closing also the other nostril and the mouth to prevent the egress of the air, he blew forcibly until he felt the chest rise, when, by a gentle pressure, he expelled the air as in natural respiration.

By this time Mary and Frank had warmed one of the blankets brought from the vessel. This Robert wrapped closely around the body, and while Mary and Frank were engaged in warming still another, Harold greatly increased the effectiveness of his friction by tearing a third blanket into strips, and using the hot pieces as rubbers.

Persisting for an hour in these simple means, the anxious company were at last rewarded by the signs of returning life. Sam's heart began to beat softly, and shortly after he gave a sigh. The boys were nearly exhausted by their protracted efforts, but still they kept on; and it was well they did, for many a person has been lost by neglect after life seemed to have been restored. When the patient was sufficiently recovered to swallow, Robert poured down his throat some warm water and sugar, remarking it was a pity they had brought none of the wines or spirits which were so abundant on shipboard.

"There is some in the box of tobacco," observed Frank. "I saw Sam put a bottle there; and when I asked him what it was, he said it was rum to rub on his weak leg."

Robert and Harold exchanged a significant smile; for though Sam might have intended only what he professed, they knew that he loved rum as well as tobacco. It was fortunate, however, that the spirits were there, for it was the best stimulant they could administer. Sam soon opened his eyes, and began to speak. His first words, after looking around, were, "Bless de Lord! Poor Sam here again!"

Leaving him now to recover slowly, the boys brought each a chair from the raft, and sat down to rest.

"Why, Robert," said Harold, "you seem to know by heart the whole rule for restoring a drowned person."

"And why not? There is nothing mysterious in it?"

"So it seems, and I wish you would teach it to me."

"I can do that in half a breath," replied Robert. "In father's words, all that you have to do, is to restore the warmth and excite the respiration."

"That, certainly, is simple."

"Father always said," continued Robert, "that he did not see why boys should not all be taught how to help one another on such occasions. 'Send for a doctor,' he said to me, 'but don't wait for him. Go to work at once before life is gone. If you can do nothing else strip off the wet clothes, and rub, rub, RUB, and blow into the lungs. Start the breath, and you will start the blood, or start the blood, and that will start the breath, for each comes with the other. Apply heat inwardly--outwardly by friction, by clothing, by fire, by hot bottles, by sand-bags, by any means, and keep trying for hours.' That is the rule."

"A good one it is," said Harold. "But it is a pity your father did not give you some rule also about keeping out of the way of drowning people so that you might put your knowledge to some use, instead of getting drowned yourself."

"He did," replied Robert, laughing, "but I forgot it. It was exceedingly thoughtless in me to do as I did. However, I tried to make up for it in another way; for after Sam had pinioned my arms, I made no effort whatever, except to take a long breath, and retain my presence of mind. When we were going down, I learned exactly what kind of a grip he had taken, and by the time we reached bottom, I had drawn up my knees, and put my feet against the pit of his stomach. When that was done I felt safe, for I knew that my legs were stronger than his arms, and that I could break his hold. But what did you intend to do when you called me to help you?"

"I had no exact plan," Harold answered, "except to keep you from putting yourself in danger, and then to throw or reach Sam something by which to help himself. I had seen drowning people before, and knew very well that unless you had something to prevent your own sinking, as I had when you seized me, or unless you were strong enough (as in this case you were not) to hold him at arm's length, he would be almost sure to drown you."

This untoward accident delayed the work of transportation until near dark, and then it was only the lighter and more necessary articles that they carried. Sam gradually recovered, and about dusk, supported by the boys, he staggered slowly to the tent.

CHAPTER XXXV

HOUSEHOLD ARRANGEMENTS--THIRD VISIT TO THE WRECK--RAINY WEATHER--AGREEMENT ABOUT WORK--MARY IN GREAT DANGER--EXTINGUISHING FIRE ON ONE'S DRESS--RELIEF TO A BURN--CONVERSATION

They did not return to the vessel the next day. The work of transporting the many heavy articles brought, and of giving them accommodation, occupied the whole day. Indeed, the work of arranging was by no means easy, for their possessions were now too large for their dwelling. They were therefore compelled to make a new room for Sam and his tools, by means of some spare sails brought from the wreck; and this led them to think of erecting still another wing to the tent, as a place of deposit for their stores of provision.

By Thursday the return tide came at so late an hour in the afternoon, that the boys were loth to go upon the third trip; but there were several other articles of importance that they needed, and intending to make a short visit, they did not start until near mid-day. On entering the vessel their first work was to remove the stove; which being quite new and recently put up, they had no difficulty in taking to pieces, and lowering, with its appurtenances, into the raft. The work-bench they detached, with great labour, from the wall, and tumbled it over the vessel's side. From the carpenter's room they carried several sails, two coils of small rope, and a hank of twine. The magazine they did not care to enter. Most of the powder in the gunner's room was wet, but there were two large kegs of cannon powder, the outside of which was caked and ruined, while the central part was perfectly good, and also a five pound canister of superfine rifle powder, which was so tightly sealed that not a particle of damp had entered. These they took. And dragging out one of the small cannon they managed, after hard work, to lower it, with its appropriate carriage, into the raft, and deposited along with it several dozen balls, and as many canisters to fit the bore. These, together with the trunks and clothing of the officers, the iron vice, a small kit of mackerel, and the box of cocoanuts, constituted their load. The voyage back was made without accident.

On landing, their first business was to shelter their powder, for the sky was clouding fast, with long blue belts, that promised rain before morning, and the night was rapidly coming on. Unwilling to keep so dangerous a quantity of powder in the tent, they divided it into several parcels, and concealed them in hollow trees, which they closed and marked.

The cannon carriage proved a great convenience in transporting the trunks, the disjointed parts of the stove, and other heavy articles to the tent. But even with this assistance they did not complete their work before the night set in.

The next day was wet--wet--wet. The young people continued within doors, made a particular examination of the trunks, and divided among themselves the articles that were serviceable. With these employments, and the fitting up of their stove, they spent all that day, and part of the next.

It was during that evening, as they sat listening to the incessant patter of the rain upon the canvas roof, that the boys conceived and resolved upon a species of competition, that gave a steady progression to their work from that time forward.

"Tomorrow is New Year's Day," observed Harold. "We have been two months and a half upon the island. Our first boat is not a quarter finished. Why, Robert, it will be six months before we get away by our own exertions; and then your father will have left Bellevue."

"But you forget how many interruptions we have had," replied Robert. "First, there was Sam's misfortune, then yours; after that, our removal to the prairie, and securing the tent; then this discovery of the wreck, which has furnished us with food and tools for continuing our work without interruption. If I am not mistaken, the end of January will see us at Bellevue, or on our way there. What do you think, Sam--can we finish our two boats in a month?"

"May be so, massa, if we work mighty hard; but it will take a heap o' work."

"I doubt if we finish them in two months, work as we may," remarked Harold.

Robert was not pleased with this discouraging assertion, though he was startled to find that the usual prudent Harold entertained such an opinion.

"Now, cousin," said he, "I will put this matter to the test. As we boys used to say, I'll make a bargain with you. We shall all work on the second boat, until it is as far advanced as the present one. Then we shall each take a boat and work. Sam shall divide his time between us. And if at the end of a month we are not ready to return home, I'll give up that I am mistaken."

"Give me your hand to that bargain," said Harold. "You shall not beat me working, if I can help it; but if, with all our efforts, we leave this island before the last day of February, I will give up that I am mistaken."

Faithful to this agreement, the boys went next morning to the landing, and brought the various parts of the work-bench, which they aided Sam in fitting up. The grindstone also they set upon its necessary fixtures; and collecting the various tools that were in need of grinding, they persisted in relieving each other at the crank, until they had sharpened two very dull axes, two adzes, three chisels, a broad ax, and a drawing knife, and stowed them safely under Sam's shelter.

The history of the day, however, was not concluded without an incident of a very serious character, in which Mary was the principal, though unwilling actress; and in which, but for her presence of mind, she would have met with a painful and terrible death.

About ten o'clock that night she retired to her room, undressed, and was laying aside the articles of dress necessary for the next morning, when, turning around, her night clothes touched the flame of the candle, which, for the want of a table, she had set upon the floor. The next instant she extinguished the candle, and was about stepping into bed, when her attention was excited by a dim light shining behind her, and a slight roar, that increased as the flame ran up her back. Giving a scream of terror, she was on the point of rushing into the next room for help, when recollecting the repeated and earnest injunctions of her father, she threw herself flat upon the blanket of the bed, and wrapping it tightly round her, rolled over and over upon the floor, calling for help. The flame was almost instantly quenched, as it probably would have been, even without a blanket, had she only sat down instantly on the floor, and folded the other part of her dress tightly over the flame.[#]

[#] Flame ascends. All have observed how much more rapidly it consumes a sheet of paper held with the burning end down, than the same sheet laid on the table. So with a female's dress; an erect posture allows the flame to run almost instantly over the whole person.

But though the flame was extinguished, the charred ends of the dress were not; they kept on burning, and coming into contact with the naked skin, made her scream with pain. The agony was so great, that again she was almost tempted to throw off the blanket and rush into the open air, but knowing that this would certainly increase the fire, and perhaps renew the blaze, she drew the blanket more tightly around her, and rolled over, calling to Robert, who had by this time come to her assistance. "Pour on water--water--WATER!" Robert did his best--he fumbled about for the pitcher, then finding it, asked where the water was to be poured; but now that the water was ready to be thrown upon her, Mary felt secure; she cast off the blanket, and the remaining fire was put out by the application of Robert's wet hand.

The time occupied by this terrifying scene was scarcely a minute and a half, yet Mary's night dress was consumed nearly to her shoulders, and her lower limbs were badly scorched. So rapid an agent is fire. Whoever would escape destruction from a burning dress, must work fast, with good judgment and a strong resolution.

Mary's burns were slight in comparison with what they might have been. The skin was reddened for a foot or more along each limb; but it was broken only in two places, about as wide and long as her two fingers. Still the pain was excessive, and she wept and groaned a great deal. Robert applied cold water for a number of minutes, and would have continued it longer, but Mary at last said:

"Bring me a cup full of flour. I have tried it on a burnt finger, and you can scarcely imagine how cooling it is."

The flour was brought, and applied by means of handkerchiefs tied over the raw and blistered parts. Its effect was to form a sort of artificial cuticle over those spots where the skin had been removed; and the soft and cool sensation it produced in the other parts was delightful. Still Mary appeared to suffer so much, that Robert administered an opiate, as he did in the case of Sam, and after that he heard no more from her until next morning.

"What a quick, brave girl she is!" said Harold, after Robert had described the scene. "Most girls would have rushed into the open air, and been burned to death."

"She showed great presence of mind," Robert assented.

"More than that," said Harold, "she showed great resolution. I knew a beautiful girl at school, who had presence of mind enough to wrap herself in the hearth rug, but who could not stand the pain of the fire; she threw off the rug, rushed into the open air, screaming for help, and was burnt to death in less than two minutes."

When Mary came from her room next morning her eyes were dull and glassy, from the effects of the medicine, and she had no appetite for more than a cup of coffee. The others met her with more than their usual affection. Her accident had revealed to them how much they loved her; and her coolness in danger, and fortitude in suffering, had given them a greater respect for her character.

"We do sincerely thank God, on your account, cousin," said Harold, as soon as they were left alone that Sabbath morning. "It is so seldom a person meets with such an accident, without being seriously injured."

"I hope I feel thankful, too," returned Mary. "I could not help thinking last night, before going to sleep, how uncertain life is. O, I do wish I were a Christian, as I believe you to be, cousin."

"Indeed, if I am a Christian at all, I wish you were a far better one," he replied. "I have neither felt nor acted as I desired, or supposed I should."

"But still you feel and act very differently from us."

"My feelings are certainly very different from what they used to be, and I thank God that they are. Yet the only particular thing which I recollect of myself, at the time that I began to feel differently, is that I was troubled on account of my past life, and wished heartily to serve God. To judge from myself, then, I should say that to desire to serve God, is to be a Christian."

"O, I do desire," said Mary, weeping. "I do, with all my heart. But I know I am not what I ought to be. I do not love God; I do not trust him; I do not feel troubled for sin, as I ought to be; and I have no reason to think that my sins are forgiven."

"I am a poor preacher, Mary," Harold said, with strong emotion; "for I never knew anything of these feelings myself, until lately. But this I can say, that if you will heartily give yourself to God, to be his servant for ever, and put your trust in his promises, you will be accepted. Did not Jesus Christ come into this world to save sinners, even the chief? Does he not say, 'Him that cometh to me, I will in nowise cast out'? Now what does the Bible mean, but to encourage all who feel as you do?"

Mary did not reply; the tears burst through her fingers, and dropped into her lap. Harold continued,

"Ever since we came to the island I felt as you feel, until the Sabbath when I knelt down in the woods, and gave myself to the Lord. My heart was very heavy; I knew that I was a sinner needing forgiveness, and that I had nothing that I could offer as pay; but I read where God offers salvation 'without money and without price,' and again where he says we must 'believe on him.' Well, after all that, I could not help believing; it was sweet to pray--sweet to think of God--sweet to read the Bible--sweet to do whatever was pleasing to Him. I hope it will be so always; and I long for the time when I can return to Bellevue to talk with your father about these things. Now, cousin, I advise you to try the same plan."

He marked several passages of Scripture for her to read; then walked into the woods, where he prayed that the Lord would direct her, so as to find peace by believing in Jesus Christ.

CHAPTER XXXVI

SUCCESSFUL WORK--EXCURSION--THE FISH-EAGLE--DIFFERENT METHODS OF PROCURING FIRE--WOODSMAN'S SHELTER AGAINST RAIN AND HAIL--NOVEL REFUGE FROM FALLING TREES

Monday morning found the labourers moving at the dawn of day. Sam was cook, and fulfilled his office with unexpected ability. His corn-bread was delightful; no one but a negro knows how to make it.

The tools were in excellent order, and the boys commenced work in fine spirits. At Harold's suggestion they resolved to work very leisurely that day and the next, as being the surest way to attain expedition in the end. Said he,

"My father was a great manager of horses, and sometimes made tremendous journeys. But his rule was always to begin a long journey very moderately. He used to say, 'If you strain a horse at the first, he will move heavily all the way through, but if you spare him at first, he will become gradually accustomed to the strain, and be able to push on faster at the end than at the beginning of the journey!' Now, as we are the horses, I think we had better make very moderate journeys today and tomorrow."

Robert was much pleased with the rule. Notwithstanding his boast, he had shuddered at the idea of blistered hands and weary limbs; but this plan enabled him to anticipate fresh feelings, and even increasing labour, so long as they chose to work.

In the course of four days the second tree was cut, hewed, and excavated to the exact shape and size of the first. They then drew for choices, and separated, each working on his own boat, within hearing of the other's ax and mallet. One reason, perhaps, of the increased rapidity of their work, was a lesson which they learned of employing every moment to advantage, and of resting themselves by a mere change of work. For instance, when weary of the adze they would resort to the mallet and chisel, the auger, ax, or drawing-knife, and this was to some extent a real rest, for fresh muscles were brought into play while the wearied ones were relieved.

By Friday, however, their whole bodies began to feel the effects of fatigue; and Harold proposed, that for that day their arms should be entirely relieved from labour, and that they should search the woods for timber suitable for masts, yards, and oars. They, therefore, took their guns and hatchets, and went first to the orange landing, where they saw their old raft lying as they had left it exactly a month before. Passing thence to the place which they had dubbed "Duck Point," they proceeded along the beach towards their old encampment, and thence home. This was their route; but it was marked by such a variety of useful expedients, that we must stop to describe them.

While Robert was engaged for a few minutes in searching a little grove, Harold saw a fish eagle plunge into the water, and bring out a trout so large that it could scarcely fly with it to the shore. Harold was hungry; his appetite at breakfast had not allowed him to eat at all. Now it began to crave, and the sight of that rich looking fish whetted it, keenly. He ran towards the eagle, crying out,

"I'll divide with you, old gentleman, if you please; that is too much for one."

The eagle, however, appeared to dissent from the proposal, and tried hard to carry its prey into a tree, but apprehensive of being itself caught before it could rise beyond reach, it dropped the fish, and flying to a neighbouring tree, watched patiently to see what share its human robber was disposed to leave.

A fish is easily enough cooked, if a person has fire; but in this case there was none, and what was worse, no apparent means of producing it, for their matches were left behind, and the wadding of their guns was not of a kind to receive and hold fire from the powder.

"Lend me your watch a minute," said Robert, on learning what was wanted. "It is possible that I may obtain from it what you wish."

Had Robert spoken of some chemical combination for producing fire, by mixing sand and sea-water, Harold could scarcely have been more surprised than by the proposal to obtain fire from his watch. He handed it to his cousin with the simple remark, "Please don't hurt it," and looked on with curiosity. Robert examined the convex surface of the crystal, which being old fashioned, was almost the section of a sphere, and said,

"I think it will do."

Then obtaining some dry, rotten wood from a decayed tree, he filled the hollow part of the crystal with water, and setting it upon a support, for the purpose of keeping the water perfectly steady, showed Harold that the rays of the sun passing through this temporary lens, were concentrated as by a sun-glass. The tinder smoked, and seemed almost ready to ignite, but did not quite--the sun's rays were too much aslant at that hour of the day, and the sky was moreover covered with a thin film of mist.

"It is a failure," said he, "but still there is another plan which I have seen adopted--a spark of fire squeezed from the air by suddenly compressing it in a syringe. If we had a dry reed, the size of this gun barrel, I would try it by using a tight plug of gun wadding as a piston."

But Robert had no opportunity for trying his philosophical experiment, and being mortified by a second disappointment, as he probably would have been, from the rudeness of the contrivance; for Harold's voice was soon heard from the bank above, "I have it now!" and when Robert approached he saw in his hand a white flint arrowhead. With this old Indian relic he showered a plentiful supply of sparks upon the dry touch-wood, until a rising smoke proclaimed that the fire had taken.

During the time occupied by these experiments, and the subsequent cookery, the thin mist in the sky had given place to several dark rolling clouds, which promised ere long to give them a shower. The promise was kept; for the boys had not proceeded half a mile before the rain poured down in torrents. As there was no lightning, they sought the shelter of a mossy tree, and for a season were so well protected that they could not but admire their good fortune. But their admiration did not last long; the rain soaked through the dense masses over head, and fell in heavy drops upon their caps and shoulders.

"This will never do," cried Harold. "Come with me, Robert, and I will provide a shelter that we can trust."

Putting upon their heads a thick covering of moss, which hung like a cape as far down as their elbows, they ran to a fallen pine, and loosened several pieces of its bark, as long and broad as they could detach, then placing them upon their heads above the moss, marched back to the tree, and had the pleasure of seeing the rain drip from their bark shelters as from the eaves of a house. Robert was much pleased with the expedient, and remarked,

"I suppose this is another of old Torgah's notions."

"O, no," replied Harold. "I have frequently seen it used by negroes in the field, and by hunters in the woods. But there is another device of a similar kind, which I will leave you to guess. I was riding once with a rough backwoodsman across one of our Alabama prairies, when we were overtaken by a severe hail-storm, that gave us an unmerciful pelting. Now, how do you suppose he protected himself against the hailstones?"

"Got under his horse," conjectured Robert. "I once saw a person sheltering himself under his wagon."

"He took the saddle from his horse, and placed it upon his head. For my own part, I preferred the pelting of the stones to the smell of the saddle."

The rain ceasing shortly after, they continued their walk to the old encampment, which they visited for the purpose of ascertaining whether there were any other signs of visitors. Everything was just as they had left it, except that it had assumed a desolate and weather-beaten aspect. Their flag was flying, and the paper, though wet, adhering to the staff. At sea the weather looked foul, and the surf was rolling angrily upon the shore. Resting themselves upon the root of the noble old oak, and visiting the spring for a drink of cool water, they once more turned their faces to the prairie.

Whoever will travel extensively through our pine barrens, will see tracts, varying in extent from a quarter of an acre to many hundreds of acres, destroyed by the attacks of a worm. The path from the old encampment led through a "deadening," as it is called, of this sort; in which the trees, having been attacked some years before, were many of them prostrate, and others standing only by sufferance of the winds. By the time our travellers reached the middle of this dangerous tract, a sudden squall came up from sea, and roared through the forest at a terrible rate. They heard it from afar, and saw the distant limbs bending, breaking, and interlocking, while all around them was a wilderness of slender, brittle trunks, from which they had not time to escape. Their situation was appalling. Death seemed almost inevitable. But just as the crash commenced among the pines, a brilliant idea occurred to the mind of Robert.

"Here, Harold!" said he. "Run! run! run!"

Suiting the action to the word, he threw himself flat beside a large sound log that lay across the course of the wind, and crouched closely beside its curvature; almost too closely, as he afterwards discovered. Hardly had Harold time to follow his example, before an enormous tree cracked, crashed, and came with a horrible roar, directly over the place where they lay. The log by the side of which they had taken refuge, was buried several inches in the ground; and when Robert tried to move, he found that his coat had been caught by a projecting knot, and partly buried. The tree which fell was broken into four parts; two of them resting with their fractured ends butting each other on the log, while their other ends rested at ten or twelve feet distance upon the earth. For five minutes the winds roared, and the trees crashed around them; and then the squall subsided as quickly as it had arisen.

"That was awful," said Robert, rising and looking at the enormous tree, from whose crushing fall they had been so happily protected.

"It was, indeed," Harold responded; "and we owe our lives, under God, to that happy thought of yours. Where did you obtain it?"

Robert pointed to the other end of the log, and said, "There." A small tree had fallen across it, and was broken, as the larger one had been. "I saw that," said he, "just as the wind began to crash among these pines, and thought that if we laid ourselves where we did, we should be safe from everything, except straggling limbs, or flying splinters."

"Really," said Harold, "at this rate you are likely to beat me in my own province. I wonder I never thought of this plan before."

"I had an adventure somewhat like this last year, only not a quarter so bad," said Robert. "I was fishing with Frank, on a small stream, when a whirlwind came roaring along, with such force as to break off limbs from several of the trees. Afraid that we, and particularly Frank, who was light, might be taken up and carried away, or else dashed against a tree and seriously hurt, I made him grasp a sapling, by putting around it both arms and legs, while I threw my own arms around him and it together, to hold all tight. I was badly frightened at the noise and near approach of the whirlwind, but for the life of me could not help laughing at an act of Frank's. We had taken only a few small catfish (which he called from their size, kitten-fish), and two of these being the first he had ever caught, he of course thought much of them. When the wind came nearest, and I called to him, 'Hold fast, Frank!' I saw him lean his head to one side, looking first at the flying branches, then at the string of fish, which the wind had slightly moved, and deliberately letting go his hold of the tree, he grasped his prize, and held to that with an air and manner, which said as plainly as an act could say, 'If you get them, you must take me too.'"

CHAPTER XXXVII

LAUNCHING THE BOATS--MORE WORK, AND YET MORE--ECLIPSE OF FEB. 12TH, 1831--HEALING BY "FIRST INTENTION"--FRANK'S BIRTHDAY--PREPARING FOR A VOYAGE--RAIN, RAIN

The boats came on swimmingly. By the end of the second week of their systematic labours they had not only been sufficiently excavated, but the young shipwrights had trimmed down much of the exterior. They were two and a half feet wide, by twenty inches deep, and eighteen feet long. At this stage Robert supposed the work to be nearly done, but Sam shook his head, and said, "Not half." The most laborious part of the work was over, but so much more remained, in the way of paring, smoothing, trimming, and bringing into proper shape, that it was full a fortnight before they were considered fit for the water.

They were ready for launching on the same day; and though Robert made his announcement of the fact some hours in the advance of Harold, it was agreed, that as Sam had been with him half a day more, the race should be considered as even. The launching occupied four days. They were distant from the water respectively an hundred and an hundred and fifty paces. A thick forest was to be traversed. It was necessary to clear a road, build bridges, and cut down the river bank. Robert's was launched on February 1st, and Harold's on February 3d. On each occasion there was a general rejoicing, and every person, not excepting Mary and Frank, fired a salute.

But on being launched the boats did not float to please them. One was too heavy at the bows, the other leaned too much to one side. Several days were spent in correcting these irregularities, and thus closed the fifth week of their labour.

Another week was spent in making the rudders and a pair of oars, and fitting in the seats and masts. This caused them to make another voyage to the wreck, for the purpose of obtaining planks, screws, and other materials. They went, of course, in their boats, and had the pleasure of seeing them behave admirably. They were steady, sat well on the water, and obeyed the oars and helm almost as well as though they had been built in a shipyard.

There were two incidents worthy of note occurring about this time. One was the discovery, made first by Frank, of an interesting astronomical phenomenon. About a quarter before twelve o'clock he had gone to the water bucket beside the door for a drink of water, when all at once Mary heard him call out,

"Run here, sister, run! The sun has turned into a moon!"

He had looked into the water, and seeing the reflected image of the sun like a half moon, sharply horned, had strained his eyes by looking up until he ascertained that the sun itself was of the same shape. Mary, who had witnessed an event of the kind before, perceived at a glance that it was an eclipse. She therefore took a basin, and hurried with Frank to the landing, to inform the others of the fact.

"Look in the water, brother," said Frank, whose eyes were yet watery from the severe trial he had given them. "You can't look at the sun without crying."

For a time, of course, no work was done; all were engaged in watching the phenomenon. It was the great annular eclipse of February 12th, 1831, in which the sun appeared at many places like a narrow ring of light around the dark body of the moon. To our young people there was no ring. They were too far south. The sun appeared like the moon when two days old, and the sky and earth were very gloomy.

The other incident was in itself trivial, and would not be introduced here but that the fact it illustrates is sometimes of real importance. It was simply the healing of a wound by what is called "first intention." Mary was engaged in some of her culinary duties, when, by an unfortunate slip of her hand, the knife which she was using missed its place, and sliced her finger. The piece was not cut off, but there was a large gash, and it bled profusely. Her first act was to wash the wound well in tepid water until the blood ceased to flow; then seeing that all the clots were removed, she brought the lips of the wound together, and kept them so by a bandage and a little case, like the finger of a glove made fast to the wrist by a piece of tape. The wound soon underwent a process similar to that of trees in grafting, only far more rapid. By the next morning the lips began to adhere, and in the course of three days the wound was healed--so rapidly will the flesh of a healthy person recover from a cut if the conditions necessary to "first intention" are observed, viz., that the parts be brought quickly together, and kept without disturbance.

The next week was spent in fitting up the sails and rigging, and preparing the boats, so that in case of rough weather they could be firmly lashed together.

Their work was now done. They had been labouring steadily for a month and a half, and were ready by Friday evening to pack up and start for home. But they resolved to wait and sanctify the Sabbath. They needed rest: they were jaded in every limb and muscle. Moreover, the next day was Frank's birthday. Taking everything into consideration, they preferred to spend that day in rest and rejoicing, partly in honour of Frank, but more especially as a sort of thanksgiving for their successful work. And as the voyage home promised to be long, and perhaps perilous, they also determined that they would devote Monday to trying their boats at sea, by an outward voyage round the island.

After Frank had retired, the rest agreed upon the plans by which to make the following day pleasant and profitable to him.

"I," said Mary, "will make him a birth-day cake."

"And I," said Robert, "will teach him how to shoot a bird."

"And I," said Harold, "will teach him how to swim."

"And I," said Sam, "will sing him a corn song."

They went to bed and slept soundly. It is astonishing how habit can reconcile us to our necessities! Had these young people been set down by any accident, a few months before, in the midst of a lonely prairie, surrounded by a wild forest, full of bears and panthers, afar from their friends, and without any other protection than that which they had long enjoyed, they would have been miserable. But they went to sleep that night, not only free from painful apprehension, but happy--yes, actually happy--when they knew that their nearest neighbours were treacherous savages, and that they were surrounded nightly by fierce beasts, from whose devouring jaws they had already escaped more than once, only by the blessing of God upon brave hearts and steady hands. How came this change? It was by cheerful habit. The labours, dangers, and exposure of men, had given them the hearts of men. God bless the children! They slept in the midst of that leafy forest as sweetly as though they were at home, and the bright stars that rose by turns to measure out the night, looked down like so many angel eyes, to watch the place of their habitation.

Mary and Frank were the first to awake in the morning. The others, wearied by their long labours, and free from pressing responsibility, abandoned themselves to a repose as sweet as it was needful. Frank moved first, and his moving awaked Mary, who, on calling to mind the nature of the day, and the resolutions of the night before, put her arms affectionately round his neck, and said, "Good morning, Mr. Eight-years-old; I wish you many pleasant birthdays."

Frank put his arms round her neck, also, and kissed her; then both began to dress. Wishing not to disturb the sleepers, they slipped softly from the tent. Mary went first to the poultry-pen, which she opened. The ducks quacked with pleasure at her approach, and she watched them as they dodged through the narrow hole opened for their passage, and ran in a long line with shaking tails and patting feet after the leading drake. Then she raised the portcullis-like gate for the goats and deer; Nanny bleated, no doubt intending to say "good morning," but the unmannerly kid and fawn pranced away, mindful of nothing but their expected feast of grass and leaves.

While Mary was engaged with these, Frank went to look after his own particular pets. She heard him at the back of Nanny's pen, where the cubs were kept, calling out, "Come along, sir!" then he laughed heartily, but a moment after his voice sounded impatiently, "Quit it, you Pollux! quit it, sir!" then in a distressed tone, "Sister, sister, come help me!" Mary ran to his assistance, yet she could scarce restrain her risibles at the sight which greeted her eyes. Frank had loosed the cord which confined the cubs, and was leading them out for the purpose of a romp, when Pollux, who was a saucy fellow, and knew as well as his young master what was intended, rose, with a playful growl, upon his hind legs, and walking behind him, pinioned his arms close, and began trying to throw him down. Frank was much pleased with what he regarded as a cunning trick in his young scholar; but he soon found that it was by no means pleasant to be hugged in that way by a bear. He tried in vain to break loose, and when Mary came to his assistance, the bear had thrown him down, with his face and nose in the dirt. Frank rose, looking very much mortified, and more than half angry.

"You ugly beast," he said to the bear, that seemed amazingly to enjoy the joke, and was rising for another frolic. "Get out, sir. I have a great mind to give you a beating."

"O, no, Frank," said Mary, "don't be angry with your playmate. Remember who taught him to wrestle, and remember besides that this is your birthday."

Frank's wrath instantly subsided, and jerking down Pollux by the cord, he led both cubs back to the pen, where he secured them, and then washed from his face the traces of his defeat.

Sam had by this time come from his shed-room and made the fire for breakfast, and Robert and Harold, awaked by Frank's call for help, dressed themselves and made their appearance. They all wished Frank a pleasant birthday, and hoped he might have as many as would be for his good.

"Now, Master Frank," said Harold, while they were sitting together, "what would you have us do for you today? We are all your humble servants, and ready to do whatever we can for your pleasure."

"Then," said Frank, "the first thing I want you to do, is to carry me right home to father and mother."

"I wish we could, Buddy," said Robert; "but as we cannot do all that today, you must try to think of something else."

Frank could think of nothing. Robert suggested that he might spend part of his birthday in learning to shoot.

"But I can shoot now," he replied. "Sister and I have shot many times already since we came to the island."

"I mean," said Robert, "that you should learn to use a gun, so as to kill whatever you wish."

"O, yes," said Frank, "I should like that very much. For who knows but some old bear or panther may come after sister or me yet, before we get away."

"O, as for bears," Robert maliciously remarked, "I think you will never need a gun. I think you will always find a tree."

Frank's face reddened as he returned, "I don't care if I did, sir. Cousin Harold knows that I did exactly right. Didn't I, cousin?"

"Pardon me, Frank," Robert implored, "I did not suppose that you felt so sore about that climbing. I only said it to teaze you. I am sure I should have done exactly as you did. But I can't help laughing to think how your feet twinkled, as you climbed that tree."

Robert well knew that this half apology would be satisfactory. Frank prided himself on his nimbleness, being so lithe and active that his playmates used to call him "squirrel." The allusion to his "twinkling" feet restored him to good humour.

"Now, Frank," said Robert, beginning his lecture with the gun in hand, "the first lesson I wish to teach you is this, never let the muzzle of your gun point to yourself, or to any person, and never allow any person to point one towards you. A gun can never kill where it does not point. Even when you are loading, or walking, be careful to hold it so, that if it should go off it could hurt nothing."

He then related several stories, illustrating the fact that almost all accidents from guns are from careless handling. Frank was a prudent child. He listened attentively, and then replied,

"Brother Robert, I think I had better let the gun alone till I am older. May be, if I begin so early, I shall shoot myself or somebody else."

Robert was pleased with this mark of caution in his little brother, and said, "Hold on to that, Frank, it is a remark worthy of your birthday, and I trust that every return of this day will find you as wise in proportion to your age."

The further instructions intended for Frank that day, being of an out-door character, were interrupted by a rain that commenced about nine o'clock, and held on steadily all day. They employed themselves leisurely in packing and preparing, first for the short voyage contemplated on Monday, and also for the longer voyage home. During the whole day the tent was strewed and confused with the various bags, boxes, trunks, and kegs, intended to receive the articles to be carried. They looked and felt like travellers on the eve of departure. About sunset the rain ceased. The preparations being now complete, they came together in the tent, and rested on the sofa. Sam was missing. He had not been seen for half an hour, and now it was getting dark. Presently they heard a voice ringing musically through the woods, in the direction of the boat landing, "Join, oh, join, oh! Come, boys, we're all here! Join, oh! join, oh!" Frank sprang to his feet, exclaiming, "That is a corn song!"

The music was very simple, and of the kind that may be termed persuasive. It was the song usually sung by the negroes of one plantation, when inviting those of the neighbourhood to join them in their "corn-shuckings." This practice is much more common in the up country of Georgia, where the corn crop is large, than on the seaboard, where the principal attention is given to cotton. A corn-shucking frolic among these light hearted people, is a scene worth witnessing; it is always held at night, and concluded about midnight with a feast, and is to the negro what a quilting party is to country people.

When Frank heard the first stave of Sam's song, he recalled vividly the merry scenes of the corn-shucking, and running towards the landing, met him, and returned, holding him by the hand, and joining in the chorus.

It was late ere they retired to rest. They began to realize a tender nearness to the loved ones at home, such as they had not felt since parting from them. They talked long and gratefully over past deliverances and future hopes; then closed the evening as those should who wish to find the Sabbath a day of blessing.

The next morning dawned more dark and uncomfortable than the day preceding. The whole sky was loaded with clouds, and the rain fell every minute through the day. The young people probably would have found their time pass away very dismally had it not been for the pious vivacity of Harold, who laid himself out to make it agreeable. He frankly avowed that one reason why he wished to have them unite with him in spending the Sabbath aright, was his desire to succeed in the effort to see their friends that week; and he referred for authority, to the story told of Sir Matthew Hale, High Chancellor of England, who advised that, if there were no higher motive, the Sabbath should be kept sacred as a matter of policy; remarking that, for his own part, he could almost foretell his success during the week to come, by the way he spent the Sabbath.

The others, influenced by a variety of considerations, united with him in this effort, and the day passed off not only with pleasure, but with profit. Robert had always thought in his heart that this story of Sir Matthew Hale smacked strongly of superstition; but when he came to reflect that if the Bible is true, of which he had no doubt, the God who speaks to us now is the same who spoke to Moses, and who actually prospered or hindered the children of Israel according to their observance of the Sabbath, he changed his opinion so far as this--he resolved for the present to adopt the advice of that great man, and then to watch whether the same results were verified in his own case. And although his reflections upon this point partook of the merely philosophic character that, to some extent, marked the operations of his mind, the course upon which he resolved had several good effects; it made him realize more sensibly his practical relation to God, and caused him to watch more closely the consequences resulting from the discharge or neglect not only of this particular duty, but of duty in the general. That resolution, apparently so trifling, and expressed to no one, started him on a perfectly new track, and enabled him to learn, from his own experience, that "whoever will watch the providence of God, will never lack a providence to watch."

On Monday the weather was worse than before. They did indeed go out, well protected by thick boots, watercoats, and tarpaulin hats, to see after their boats; but the day was so chilly, as well as wet, that their most comfortable place was near the fire. Before sunset, however, the rain ceased, the clouds rapidly dispersed, and when the sun flung his last slanting beams across the earth, Robert pointed to Harold a red spot upon a cloud, which spread so fast, that soon the whole western sky was blazing with the promise of a fair morrow. With this expectation they made every preparation, and went to bed.

CHAPTER XXXVIII

VOYAGE BOUND THE ISLAND--THE LOST BOAT--STRANGE SIGNALS AGAIN--HURRICANE--NIGHT MARCH--HELPLESS VESSEL--MELANCHOLY FATE--THE RESCUE--MAROONERS' HOSPITALITY--CONCLUSION

Tuesday morning dawned without a cloud. Before the stars had ceased shining all hands were called to work, and by the time the sun peeped over the eastern marsh, they pushed off from their landing, Harold and Sam, with Mum, being in one boat, and Robert, Mary, and Frank, with Fidelle, in the other. Rowing slowly down the river, against a light wind from the south-east, the perfume of yellow jessamines (gelseminum sempervirens), then in rich bloom, so loaded the air, that the young people snuffed up the delicious odours, and looked lovingly at the green island they were preparing to forsake.

The voyage was made almost without incident. When they had passed out to sea, the voyagers were rejoiced to find their boats behaving as well upon the rough water as they had already done upon the smooth--they danced joyously upon the gentle swell, as if congratulating their young builders in the happy prospect of a successful voyage. The boys tried the effect of lashing them together, and thus verified the expectation of their safety; they rubbed and creaked a good deal, and moved less rapidly than when separate, but they sat upon the water with a steadiness which no ordinary commotion could disturb.

Running the sea length of the island, and now bending their course for the north river, Sam sang out, "A sail!" Far up the coast a faint white speck appeared, glancing in the sunbeams, but it soon faded from sight, and they concluded that either it was a distant sea gull, or else a vessel passing to the north. They watched it with interest so long as it was visible, and then turned into the river. Had they suspected what that white thing was, and that instead of disappearing in the increasing distance, it was only obscured by a little mist, as it approached, beating against a head wind, they would have forsaken river, island, tent, everything, and sailed joyfully to meet it.

They reached the old encampment at one o'clock, having made the run of twenty-six miles in six and a half hours. The boats behaved so well, and the winds, sea, and sky were so inviting, that their only regret was, that they had not put everything aboard and made a day's voyage homewards. But doubtless, as Harold remarked, a kind Providence watched over their path, and would prove its kindness even in this delay.

Having taken a hasty survey of their old place of rest and of refuge, and refreshed themselves at the spring, they resolved to divide their company--Robert's boat to go direct to the orange landing, where it was to be left, while the passengers went by land to the tent, and prepared the provisions for next day; and Harold and Sam, in the meantime, to continue up the river, and ascertain whether there was not an inland passage round the island, shorter and easier than the route by sea. With this understanding they sailed together to Duck Point, where Robert turned into the Creek, and putting Mary at the helm, rowed until they came to the orange landing, and there moored the boat beside the old raft. They reached the tent long before sunset, and having completed the necessary preparations about dark, began to wish for the return of the others. Several times Robert went to the landing to look for them before the daylight had entirely ceased; and after dark he went again by the light of the moon, which, being half full, shed her light at this time of the evening perpendicularly upon his path. He was becoming uneasy, when afar off he heard the mellow sounds of a boat song; the notes grew more and more distinct; the thump of the oars began to be heard keeping time to the music; finally, the song ceased; a clatter was heard as the oars were laid in the boat; and soon the whole company were together once more, enjoying the last supper of which they expected to partake on the island.

"What kept you so long?" inquired Robert. "Was the distance great?"

"No," replied Harold, with a look of pleasure; "we found the distance only about six miles, but we were detained by missing our way, and more especially by trying to be sure of a piece of very good news. I think we have found the old boat."

"Indeed!" said Robert, starting to his feet, with the keenness of his delight. "Where? How?"

"In the marsh, at the far bend of the river. I always thought it had lodged somewhere in that direction, and therefore kept my eyes open at every little creek and opening in the marsh. At last I saw, what I cannot say positively is our boat, but it is a boat of the same colour, and having a stripe of white and black, like ours. We tried until sunset to approach it, but did not succeed in getting any nearer than at first; it is surrounded with soft mud, and a wilderness of mangroves."

This was certainly pleasant, though unprofitable, intelligence. There was no prospect of their being able to extricate the boat, except by the help of some uncommon tide; and its value, though considerable, was nothing in comparison with the necessity for returning home. They resolved not to wait for it; on the contrary, that they would transport to the portage, by means of Harold's boat, the lading intended for Robert's; then returning to the prairie, they would take in the second load, and passing around by the new way, unite at Duck Point, and sail thence for home. By rising early they were sure that they could leave the island by eleven or twelve o'clock.

While engaged in these plans for the morrow, Sam came in to say that he was afraid the next day also would see them on the island, for never in his life had he seen clouds gather so rapidly, or fly so fast. The little company went out, and saw a multitude of low scudding clouds passing with intense rapidity over the face of the moon. Suddenly each one started, and looked inquisitively into the others' faces, for at that moment the sound of a cannon, within five miles, came booming from the coast. Robert and Mary turned red and pale by turns. Frank clapped his hands, exclaiming, "It is father! O, I know it is father!" Harold folded his arms--he had evidently acquired something of the composure of the Indian.

"Quick! quick! let us answer it!" cried Robert, and with the word darted away to the tree where the cannon powder was kept. While he was gone there came another report. They loaded expeditiously, and in a moment afterwards the dark woods were illuminated with the flash, and the earth shaken with the thundering discharge.

"Now for a march to double quick time!" said Robert, his strong excitement making him the leader of all that was done. "But, sister, what shall we do with you and Frank? You cannot keep pace with us. You had better stay here with Sam, while Harold and I push on to the coast, and see who is there."

"Had we not better fire our cannon once more!" suggested Harold.

"Sam can do it," Robert answered. "Here, Sam, put in so much," showing him the quantity, "and fire it until you are sure they hear you. But what is that?" he continued, listening to a loud roar that came from the coast, and increased like the accumulating rush of waters.

"It is a hurricane," replied Harold. "There is no use in trying to go now. Down with the tent pins! deep! deep! or we shall have our house blown from above us."

They hastened all to do what could be done for their immediate protection; but there was little to be done. Gaining wisdom from their former experience, they had driven down the pins as far as they could go when the tent was pitched, and moreover had raised the floor and trenched the premises. They could only make the upper canvas a little more secure, and having done this, they entered the tent a few seconds before the storm burst upon them. It was a terrible repetition of what they had experienced four months before, when Sam was so nearly destroyed.

Mary and Frank were in deep distress. The earnest impetuosity of Robert, combined with their own thoughts, had left in their minds no doubt that the guns fired were from their father; and now, O what a storm to meet him on his coming a second time to their truly enchanted island! Frank cried as if his heart would break. Mary buried her face in her hands, and prayed to Him who is mighty to deliver, even when the winds and the waves overwhelm.

Harold also was strongly convinced that the guns were from his uncle, but he knew that this was only conjectural, and therefore he kindly remarked in the hearing of the others.

"You have no certain reason, Robert, to believe that those guns are from your father. But suppose that they are, then another thing is true, he is in a vessel, for boats do not usually carry guns. They were fired too before the storm came on; therefore they are not signals of distress, and also they appear to have come from the river. Now, if the person who fired them is in a vessel, and in the river, what is there to fear? He cannot get away tonight, and he cannot probably be hurt by the storm. Let us be quiet until morning, and then go out to see who it is."

These thoughts were very comforting. Mary and Frank ceased their weeping, and united in the conversation. They all huddled together in the middle of the tent. For hours the wind roared and howled with great fury, but their tent was protected by the grand wall of forest trees around, and also by the picket enclosure; and though the wind made the canvas flutter, it could neither crush it down nor lift it from above them. Nor did the rain which poured in torrents, and was driven with great violence across the prairie, give them any particular inconvenience; it was readily shed by the several thicknesses of canvas overhead, and carried off by the drainage round the tent.

In the course of an hour, Mary and Frank fell asleep upon the sofa, and the others took such naps as they could obtain, while sitting in their chairs, and listening to a roar of winds so loud, that if twenty cannons had been fired at the river they could scarcely have been heard.

About midnight the rain ceased, and the wind began sensibly to abate. Puff after puff, and roar after roar, still succeeded each other through the forest; but the fury of the storm was over. An hour before day, Harold shook Robert by the shoulder, and said, "I think we can start now. Come and see."

The sky and woods were pitchy dark, little pools of water covered the ground, and the prairie was rough with huge branches torn from the trees, and conveyed to a distance. These were obstacles and inconveniences, but not impediments; and as the wind had so far lulled that it was possible for a torch to live, Robert decided to make a trial. He waked Mary and Sam, and announcing his intention, said to them:

"We wish to reach the old encampment by the time there is light enough to see over the river. If possible, we will return by eight o'clock, and let you know all. If we are absent longer than that, you may conclude that we have found something to do; and in that case, you had better follow us. We shall, of course, be somewhere on the river; but as we ourselves do not know where, you had better go direct to Duck Point, from which you can see almost all the way to our old spring. Let me have a piece of white cloth, sister; I will, if necessary, set up a signal for you on the beach, to tell you where we are."

Mary was exceedingly unwilling to have them depart. The darkness looked horrible; their blind path must now be still more obscured by prostrate trees and fallen branches; and if they succeeded in reaching the intended place, they might be called to engage in she knew not what dangerous enterprise upon water as boisterous as the sea. Quelling her anxieties, however, in view of the necessities of the case, she said:

"Go, but do take care of yourselves. Remember that you two are the only protectors, except Sam, for Frank and me."

The boys promised to run no unnecessary risks, and to return if possible by the appointed hour. Taking their guns, the spy-glass, and a bundle of rich splints of lightwood, they set out. Mary watched their figures gradually diminishing under the illuminated arches of the forest. She noticed the dark shadows of the trees turning upon their bases as pivots, when the torch passed, until they all pointed towards the tent. Then the light began to be intercepted; it was seen by fitful glares; it ceased to be seen at all; its course was marked only by a faint reflection from the tree-tops, or from the misty air; finally every trace of the torch and of its reflection was lost to sight, and Mary returned, with a sigh and a prayer, to her seat upon the sofa.

The boys were compelled to watch very carefully the blazing upon the trees, and what few signs of their path remained. There were no stars to guide their course, and the marks upon the earth were so perfectly obliterated by the storm, that several times they missed their way for a few steps, and recovered it with the utmost difficulty. It is scarcely possible for the best woodsman in the world, of a dark night, and after a storm, to keep a course, or to regain it after it is lost. The boys were extremely fortunate in being able to reach the river by the break of day.

Nothing yet was visible. The river and marsh looked like a dark abyss, from which rolled hoarse and angry murmurs. They gathered some wet fragments of pine left by them near the oak, and made a fire, beside which they sat and talked. Was there any person in the river! Surely it was time to hear some voice or gun, or to see some answering light. They would have hallooed, but there was something oppressive and ominous in the gloom of that storm-beaten solitude; and, for aught they knew, their call might come only to the wet ears of the drowned and the dead. They waited in painful and reverential silence.

Gradually the dark rolling water became visible; then afar off appeared black, solitary things, that proved to be the tops of mangroves, higher than the rest, around which had gathered moss and dead twigs of the marsh. When the light of day more fully developed the scene, they descried, at the distance of two miles, an object which the glass revealed to be a small vessel, of the pilot boat class, dismantled, and on her beam ends. This sight filled them with apprehension.

There was no person visible on the side or yards; was there any one living within? The companion-way was closed. Possibly a gun might cause the persons on board to give some sign of life.

The boys made ready to shoot, but neither gun could be discharged. The powder was wet. The only leak in the tent the night before had been directly over the guns, and the rain had dripped into the barrels. It was vain to attempt cleansing them for use; and if they succeeded in producing a discharge, how could that help the persons on board?

"No, no," said Robert, "what they want is our boat. Let us get that, and go immediately to their rescue."

Before leaving the bluff they planted conspicuously a small pole, in the cleft top of which Robert slipped a piece of paper, on which was written, "We have gone for our boat; you will see us as we pass. Robert."

When they arrived at the orange landing the boat was floating so far from shore, that without swimming it could scarcely be reached. The raft, however, to which it was moored, was nearer the bank, and Harold managed, by climbing a slender sapling near the water's edge, and throwing his weight upon the proper side, to bend it so that he could drop upon the raft, and from that to enter the boat. It was ankle deep with water, and there was no gourd nor even a paddle with which to bale it. Robert's ingenuity devised a plan; he threw into the boat an armful of moss, which soaked up the water like a sponge, and lifting this over the gunwale, he squeezed it into the river.

After a short delay they pushed from shore. To their delight, the tide was so high that they could row over the marsh in a straight line for the river, which was hardly a mile distant. On their way the sun burst through a cloud, and appeared so high as to prove that the hour of eight was already passed, and that Mary's company was probably on their way to the point before them. The water in the river was dark and rough, from the action of the neighbouring sea, but undisturbed by wind. On reaching it they paused, and hallooed to know whether the party by land had reached the point; hearing no answer, they resumed their oars, and crossed to the other side of the river, where the water was more smooth.

We will now leave them for awhile, and return to the company at the tent. Mary reclined on the sofa, but could not sleep. The idea of her father in danger, perhaps lost in his effort to rescue them, and thoughts of the perilous night-march of the boys through a dense forest, and then the nameless adventures into which her daring cousin and excited brother might be tempted, haunted her mind until the grey light of morning stole through the white canvas, and admonished her to rise. Frank was fast asleep upon the sofa, covered with a cloak; and Sam's snores sounded long and loud from his shed-room. On looking at the watch, which Harold had left for her convenience, she found that it was nearly seven o'clock; she did not know that when the sky is densely covered by clouds, the dawn does not appear until the sun has nearly reached the horizon.

It was not long after this before a fire was made, and breakfast ready for the explorers. Mary employed herself in every useful way she could devise, until the slow minute hand measured the hour of eight; then taking a hasty meal, they set out upon their march. Sam led the van with a gun upon his shoulder, and a gourd of water in his hand. Mary followed, carrying a basket of provision for the hungry boys, and Frank went from one to the other, at will, or lagged behind to watch the motions of the dogs, that looked thoughtful, as if aware that something unusual was on hand.

The ground was still quite wet, and they were compelled to pick their way around little pools and puddles that lay in their path; but with care they succeeded so well that they would have reached Duck Point in advance of the boys, had it not been for a circumstance that interested them much, while it filled them with gloom.

Nearing the point, the dogs, that had hitherto followed very demurely behind, pricked up their ears, and trotted briskly towards the water's side. Sam noticed this, and remarked, "Dey after tukkey I 'speck, but we a'n't got no time fo' tukkey now." Soon after, their attention was arrested by hearing a cry from the dogs, which was neither a bark nor a whine, but a note of distress made up of both.

"Eh! eh!" said Sam. "Wat dem dog after now? Dah no cry for deer, nor for tukkey, nor for squirrel. Missus, you and Mas Frank stay here one minute, till I go see w'at dem dog about. I sho' dey got some'n strange. Only harkee how dey talk!"

Sam was in fact fearful that some sad accident had befallen Robert and Harold, and that the dogs, having scented them by the light wind coming down the river, had given utterance to this moan of distress. He therefore walked with hurried steps in the direction from which the sound proceeded, while Mary and Frank, unwilling to be left alone, followed slowly behind him. He had not gained more than twenty paces the advance, when they saw him stop--run a few steps forward--then stop again, and lift up his hands with an exclamation of surprise. They hurried to his side, and found him gazing, with looks of horror, into a little strip of bushes that skirted the margin of the tide water.

"What is the matter, Sam?" inquired Mary.

"Look, Missus," he replied, pointing with his finger. "Enty[#] dat some people drown dey in de ma'sh?"