Chapter VIII: Crusoes--Prepared for Anything

But that island was no mirage. Of this all hands were speedily convinced, and redoubled their efforts to pump the vessel and keep her afloat until they could reach it. Breakfast of biscuits steeped in coffee was partaken of on deck, then the steward spliced the main-brace.

Hardly half a mile now intervened between the _Peaceful_ and the island, but her rate of sailing was very slow, and she yawed about more than was agreeable.

It must be confessed that the danger was now extreme. The ship might sink at any moment, and in a moment, with all on board. Yet the captain and crew determined to stick to her.

And they did. Ah! there is no sailor in all the wide world like the British Jack-a’-tar, whether he treads the decks of a man-o’-war or hoists sail on a merchant vessel.

Death was staring those men in the face. In another minute they might all be in eternity, yet hear them sing as they work the busy pumps. Oh, only sailors’ doggerel, with no sense in it, bar that it chimes in with the motion and sound of the levers, and the gush of water that flows over the side--

“In San Domingo I was born,
Hurrah! lads, hurrah!
And reared among the yellow corn,
Heave, boys, and away she goes.
Hurrah!

My parients both were black as ink,
Hurrah! lads, hurrah!
They killed theirselves wi’ cussed drink,
Heave, boys, till pumps go dry.
Hurrah!”

The ship is reeling like a sick man. She reels, she staggers. When she yaws, it seems as though she would never recover.

But hurrah! the shore is near. And here is a little cove that runs inland a little way between banks of waving bananas and trees gorgeous with creeping flowers.

At last she strikes, she rasps, she is fast upon the sand, and on an even keel.

“The Lord’s Name be praised,” says the captain. And more than one manly voice responds, “Amen!”

The strain upon both Sandie’s mind and Willie’s, particularly during the last hour, had been very great; and now that the reaction had come, strangely enough, Sandie, at all events, felt that he would have given a five-pound note for a five minutes’ cry.

* * * * *

Our heroes were Crusoes now with a vengeance, but Crusoes after a somewhat strange fashion.

In looking back to all their adventures since they left Sandy Point, they could not but marvel at the wondrous way they had been preserved.

And here they were on board the wrecked derelict, safe and sound for a time, at all events, and with good hopes of soon being picked up.

The first thing the crew had to do was to cut down trees in the woods, to prop the ship up when the tide went farther back.

Meanwhile, taking Tyro with them, and not only a rifle each but a good revolver, Sandie and Willie set out to explore the island. They soon found that it was of no great extent, not more, indeed, than about ten miles long by five or six wide.

This they ascertained by climbing a rather high hill, which had a bold bluff rock right on its peak.

The island altogether was hilly and beautifully wooded, though there were many green and verdant glades in it, and some open glens as well, adown which they found, much to their joy, streamlets of clear water bounding or rippling along, going singing to the sea, in fact.

There was no smoke to be seen anywhere, consequently they came to the conclusion that the island was uninhabited.

This was strange, because there were fish in the streams, there were rock-rabbits on the hills, and cocoa-nut and other trees were laden with fruit. And it is the rule that, wherever on an island or on a coast you find cocoa-nut trees, you find natives.

“What is the mystery, I wonder?” said Willie.

“I cannot tell at all,” replied Sandie. “It appears so strange that so fertile and lovely an island as this should be lonesome and uninhabited.”

“Well, anyhow, Sandie, let us get farther into the interior.”

They wandered on and on, now through the greenery of the lovely woods, pausing often to admire the strange and beautiful flowers, that hung pendant or in garlands from the branches of the loftier trees, or to listen to the sweet low singing of some little bright-winged bird.

On and on they wander.

And now, all at once, a wide grassy glade opens out to their view.

Both Sandie and Willie shrink back appalled at the sight that meets their view.

Here are the ruins of a very large native village, with grass and creepers growing rank over the fallen walls.

Regaining courage, they venture forward, but do not proceed far before Willie trips, and almost falls over something in the grass. With the barrel of his gun he moves aside the weeds, A white ant-cleaned skeleton lies there. Lizards skurry away from it, grey lizards, red lizards, and green.

They shudder as they perceive that the skull has been cloven as if with an axe.

But they do not go much farther ere they come upon many, very many skeletons, and all bear the marks of violence.

And some among them are the skeletons of mere children.

Even in the blackened ruins of the huts lie half-charred bones, which tell their own dismal tale.

But the saddest sight of all is that which they come to at last.

It is that of a large skeleton, with no marks of violence, hanging in chains to a tree. The skull has tumbled to the ground and one of the limbs, but enough remains to show the gruesomeness of the tragedy which at no very recent date must have been enacted in this lovely glade. The poor wretch must have been chained up alive, and left to die in the sunshine, or to be eaten alive by the awful insects, the centipedes, and poisonous beetles that infest a forest such as this by night.

Sandie and Willie both felt sick, and were not sorry when they found themselves far away from that haunted glade.

They managed to shoot over a dozen rock-rabbits, and now with their spoil they betook themselves back to the ship, to report on all they had seen.

“As I thought,” said the old captain. “The Blackbirders have been at work. They have wiped out a portion of the natives who dared to resist, and have made prisoners of the rest; and the poor wretch, hung in chains to die a lingering death, was no doubt the chief.

* * * * *

The men of the lost _Boo-boo-boo_ soon began to settle down to their new mode of life, lonely and all though it was.

Captain D’Acre thought it would be best to live on board the _Peaceful_. They would not only be free from malaria, and the troubles of creeping insect life, but in a better position to defend themselves if attacked by some wandering hostile tribe.

There was no saying how soon an attack of this kind might not be made, so they determined to be prepared. They found a kind of willow-withe growing plentifully on the island, and from this they manufactured in a few days enough boarding-netting to go all the way round above the bulwarks. They got all arms up, and loaded them, also plenty of ammunition. They also trimmed all the lamps lest an attack should take place under cover of the night. Moreover, lest a fight might end in a siege, they laid in a goodly store of fresh water.

After this they felt comparatively safe, and inclined to take life very easy indeed.

Many little shooting excursions and rambles were made into the interior.

Fishing parties too were got up, both inland and at sea.

All day long a look-out was stationed on the rocky peak of the highest hill. His duty was to report by an arranged code of signals either the approach of suspicious canoes, or the appearance in the offing of a ship.

In the latter case, it would be the duty of two boats, always kept ready manned for the purpose, to row out to sea and endeavour to communicate with the vessel.

The rock-rabbits, the fresh-water fish, but above all the many delicious varieties of fish caught at sea, formed a most wholesome addition to the larder, so that it is no wonder that Willie remarked more than once, that, instead of existing in the guise of starving Crusoes, they really were living like the British fighting-cock.

The fruit of the island was luscious, rich, and rare, and to crown all, there were rare crabs, and curious but succulent lobsters, and oysters of rarest flavour found clinging to the rocks at low water.

Sandie had come through a good many hardships, and much anxiety of mind, within the last month or so; yet, singular to say, he had waxed hardy, stout, and strong. There was no trace of consumption about him now, unless, as Willie told him, it was the consumption of bananas and oysters. All cough had gone, his voice was once more manly and strong, and his spirits were never higher.

Oh, he often thought of home--that was but natural. He often wondered what his parents and Elsie might be doing, and dear little Maggie May. But when he did think of home, it was always hopefully, always with a happy feeling of certainty that he should return in health and safety to resume his studies at the University.

A whole month passed away, but no ship ever came; another dragged somewhat more wearily by.

Things were beginning to look a trifle serious, for this reason: there was a limit to the length of time the flour and biscuit would last. When these were done, they would be compelled to live on salt meat, with the fish, fruit, and rabbits they might succeed in getting.

So the men were now--in the third month of their Crusoe-ship--put on an allowance of biscuit. It was deemed advisable also to be as sparing in the expenditure of gunpowder as possible, so the rock-rabbits were snared instead of being shot.

But if no ship appeared, it was satisfactory, on the other hand, that no boats laden with savages hove in sight, so the Crusoes tried to live as contentedly as circumstances would permit.

No fishing, or even snaring of rabbits, took place on the Sabbath. This was kept as a day of rest, and in the forenoons the old captain always called all hands aft. Then a prayer would be offered up, several hymns sung, a chapter of the Bible read and explained or commented on to the best of the good old man’s ability, then, after more singing and another prayer, the men would be dismissed.

But D’Acre was a true sailor, and so every Saturday he caused the main-brace to be spliced. Well spliced, too, not in any half-hearted way, so that the men might enjoy themselves, and drink to those so far away--their mothers, wives, and sweethearts.

And almost every Saturday night the mate would go forward with his fiddle, and Sandie, too, would be there to sing a song. But before eight bells every man had turned in who was not on duty.

* * * * *

Three long months had passed away, and things began to look serious. The biscuits were done now, and even the beef was running short.

But, oh, joy! one forenoon the signalman on the hill-top was seen to indicate the presence of a ship, and pointed with his large fan in her direction.

In five minutes’ time two boats were under way, pulling merrily over the sparkling waters in the direction indicated. Never even at a boat-race surely did men pull more earnestly. It was indeed a race for life.

But now they can see the vessel. A great ocean steamer she is.

They alter course a little, their object being to intercept her. No need to hurry now! Oh, glorious hour! She sees the approaching boats and stops ship.

They are saved! What need to say more? The vessel is an outward-bound steamer for Sydney. She carries a few passengers, but has ample accommodation for the Crusoes.

They are made heartily welcome, and that evening, down in the splendid saloon, our chief heroes have, over and over again, to tell all the outs and ins of their wondrous adventures.