Chapter XI: "friends for Life"--Round the Camp Fire

The next morning after breakfast Crusoe and Friday set to work in earnest. They very soon fashioned rude spades, and the tide being well back they commenced digging around the yacht. They dug and dug for hours. Then the Crusoe stood up to straighten out the "kinks from his backbone," as he himself phrased it. He scratched his head and smiled.

"Well, massa," said Friday, "you look very wise."

"We're a pair of fools though, Friday. Just listen, we're not doing a bit of good, we're only sinking the yacht lower, and as fast as we dig a canal down to the sea, as fast will the waves fill it up with sand."

Friday cried, "Hurrah! I am so glad!" Then he threw away his spade. Friday was not fond of work. You see, reader, theory is one thing, practice another.

They went away now to the hill again to rebuild the fire. It was quite out, and it was evident enough no one had seen it, or taken much notice of it at all events.

"I'm not sure, you know, that the fire will be of much use," said Fred, "but it is the correct thing to do, so we must do it for Toddie's sake. You and I, Frank, wouldn't mind this life for a month."

"Yes, for dear Toddie's sake, brother Fred."

There was something in the look that Frank gave his companion, more than in the words themselves, that went straight away to the heart of the fisher-boy, and on the impulse of the moment he stretched out his hand, and right heartily was it grasped.

"For life," said Frank.

"Yes," said Fred, "friends for life, Frank."

And so the strange compact was sealed.

A compact such as this men may smile at, but there is far more in the love that often exists 'twixt boy and boy, than many old heads could imagine or would be willing to believe.

As soon as dusk fell again the fire was once more lit, and once more the children danced and played in its rosy gleams, then, somewhat tired, though certainly not weary, they went home to read and talk around the camp fire, and then sleep again sealed the eyes of our shipwrecked mariners.

Another day and another went by just the same. The island seemed quite out of the course of steamboats, and fisher-boats never came near it.

But all through the glad sunlit hours they played at Crusoes, at pirates, and smugglers, and all sorts of children's heroes, and the day did not seem half long enough to contain all the jollity and joy that had to be crammed into it.

I'm not sure that the hour around the camp fire just before turning in was not the jolliest of all, for on board the little yacht they had all sorts of pleasant story books, and while Frank or Fred read aloud, the other two permitted their fancies to run riot in the pleasant land of imagination.

But why, they often wondered, did no boat answer their signal? It was kept up now even in the sunshine. It was as Fred reverently said, a pillar of cloud by day, and a pillar of fire by night.

Yet nevertheless they seemed forgotten of all the world.

But one evening, just at sunset, and before the night fire was lit, to their joy they saw a boat coming straight down under sail towards the island. It came near enough for them to see the fishermen's caps and faces.

They ran down to the cliff top, and the boys, took off their coats, shouting loudly.

Yes, they are heard; for look! there is a commotion in the boat, the sail shivers, the boat's way is all but stopped. Next minute, to the consternation of the children, and to their astonishment as well, round goes the mainsail boom, and away on another tack flies the boat.

The truth is, this little island was supposed to be haunted, and these superstitious fishermen, who had probably come from a far-off island, believed they had seen ghosts in daylight. The forms of Toddie, Fred, and Frank, on that dizzy cliff top, scaring the myriads of wild birds with their waving garments, appeared to their frightened imaginations as giants warning them away from the place.

When the children lit their fire that evening, they did not think of dancing round it, and hardly one of them spoke as they went slowly down to the beach again. Even Tippetty was dull, and lagged behind.

"Don't lead a stoly to-night, Flank," said Toddie. "I's so tired."

Then Fred took her on his knee and nursed her, and she soon fell fast asleep. Between the two of them they carried her on board, and put her to bed with Tip.

The boys turned in as usual under the sail on the sand; but about two o'clock, or half-past, just as the dawn was creeping gray over the sea, Fred awoke, and getting up went straight away to Toddie.

Tip looked up, and gave a little low coughing bark. He was afraid to bark aloud lest he should wake his charge. But poor Toddie never opened her eyes. Fred felt her hands and arms, which were tossing uneasily about. They were hot. He put his cheek to hers. It was burning.

Then the terrible truth flashed over his mind, Toddie was ill, and in a fever.

"Oh," he moaned, "what if no help comes, and she dies all alone on this island!"

He sat by her side now till seven o'clock. She only waked once and called for water.

She sat up in bed, but her eyes had a sparkle that Fred did not like.

"Are you ill, Toddie?"

"Oh, no; I'se not ill, oo know. Only dust feepy (sleepy); but, Fled, I didn't say my players. Will the Dood God be angry?"

There was a big lump in Fred's throat, and he did not dare to speak, only snuggled her up, and she slept once more.

All that day she lay like a wee dying bird, and it was indeed a long and a lonesome one to the boys. No more Crusoe now, no more Man Friday.

When sunset came again they went to the hill and lit the fire. Tip would not come. Like Toddie, he had eaten nothing all day; the spirit seemed clean gone out of him.

Neither Frank nor Fred could go to sleep to-night, so they brought the lamp down to the cabin and sat on the floor, whispering low when they talked at all, Fred holding Toddie's hot wee hand.

It almost broke the boys' hearts to hear the poor child raving in her delirium about her dolly-fish and the Johnnie whale, and calling for Daddy Pop.

"Oh, Frank!" said Fred at last, "Toddie's going to die to-night, I feel so sure, so sure!"

Then his head dropped on his friend's shoulder, and he fairly broke down and sobbed.

"Fred," said Frank, "you're generally the bravest of the two"--Frank took no note of his grammar to-night, poor lad--"but now I must take you in hand."

"Oh, Frank! but you don't know how much I love Toddie, no one can ever know; and if she dies, and I'm sure she will, I don't want ever to do anything again."

"I tell you, Fred, she won't die. Now don't be silly, Fred." Frank patted his friend, and soothed him as if he had been a baby. He really was a baby in heart at present, for the dear boy had had no sleep for so long a time, and sorrow weighs the eyelids down.

He was quiet at last, sobbed a little now and then, opened his hands once or twice very wide, clutched his right hand, and slept.

Then his friend lowered him gently to the deck, placed a jacket under his head, and gradually drew himself high enough up to watch Toddie.

Tip looked at him with his sad brown eyes. "Somebody has hurt my poor little mistress," he seemed to say; "can't you help her?"

It looked as if nothing could ever help Toddie again. Her breath came in gasps, and her eyes were only partially closed.

Suddenly it occurred to Frank that he had in the ship that little fever mixture his mother always made him take a teaspoonful of when ill. It was there in the cupboard, and he got it at once.

Tippetty watched him.

"I'm going to make your little mistress well, Tip."

Tip wagged his tail just once, as if he were not too sure about it.

Then Frank poured a little in a glass.

"Can you drink, dear?" he whispered, gently raising her head and shoulders.

The child opened her eyes, smiled faintly, and drank.

Then he lowered her back on the pillow.

"Oo is a dood daddy whale," she muttered, and closed her eyes in sleep once more.

A whole hour must have passed away--a long and weary one for the watcher. Frank had been holding Toddie's hand all the time.

"Flank! Flank!"

It was Toddie's voice, and she sat bolt upright on the sofa.

"Oh, Toddie, lie down, dear!"

"No, Flank, I's listenin'."

With her great glistening eyes, open to their widest extent, she quite terrified the boy.

"They is toming, Flank, they is toming! I's going home, Flank. Oh, I's going home!"

Frank was petrified with fear. He had never seen death, but something told him it must be like this. "listen, Flank; listen!"

Frank did listen now. Then he could distinctly hear a shout.

"Fred, Fred!" he cried, forgetting even Toddie in his excitement. "A boat, Fred! a boat! We're saved, and Toddie will live."

"Of tourse," said Toddie, "I's doin' to live. Listen adain."

They could now hear the sound of oars in rowlocks, and both the boys rushed overboard and down to the water's-edge, just as a cobble was beached.

Bunko jumped plash into the water and quickly drew the boat up, then Eean himself descended.

"My poor boys," he cried, "how you must have suffered! And Toddie, is she well?"

Fred would have spoken, but Frank grasped his arm. "She is just a little feverish, sir," he said.

"Look! look! she is coming," he cried now, and hurried back to the yacht.

Tippetty had jumped on to the sand, and Frank's sturdy young arms were just extended in time to save poor Toddie from falling after him.

Next minute she was at home in Daddy Pop's strong arms.

Bunko was standing on the beach in the morning dawn, leaning on his pole, and looking picturesque enough in his red coat against the dark gray of the rocks.

"It's no' very sodger-like to greet (cry)," he said, hiding his eyes with his raised arms; "but--forgive me, my friends, I canna really help it."

* * * * * *

A great red ball of a sun was rising through the summer morning's haze, and throwing its crimson over the sea as Eean's boat, the _Treasure-trove_, stole silently away from the Crusoe isle, with both the cobble and the yacht in tow. Bunko was in the cobble with his pole, and it took him all his time to prevent the two crafts from colliding.

But a westerly wind sprang up, and by one o'clock all were safe in Methlin Bay.

The children and their little yacht had long, long been given up for lost; only somehow hope remained in Eean's breast. He had therefore cruised about for nearly a week, and at last chanced to fall in with the very boat our heroes had seen approaching the haunted island.

They told him a strange and garbled story about gigantic spirits having been seen dancing in smoke, and Eean had at once come to the conclusion that the giants might be the dear children he was in search for.

Immediately after the arrival of the _Treasure-trove_ in the bay, poor wee Toddie was handed over to Eppie's tender care, and Bunko was dispatched for the doctor. But nevertheless I feel quite sure it was owing more to Mammy Mop's tender nursing than to this doctor's physic, that Toddie at the end of two weeks was enabled once again to join Fred and Frank in their rambles.

It is needless to say that Mrs. Fielding had been half wild about her boy. It is almost needless to add that she spoke of depriving the boys of their yacht. But Eean got her to listen to reason at last.

"It was all an accident," he argued. "The lads could not have behaved more heroically, or shown themselves better sailors, and she ought to be proud of her boy."

"Indeed, Mrs. Fielding," said Eean in conclusion, and talking almost bitterly, "Frank would be a man if you would only permit him to be so."

So, much to their joy, the boys were allowed to go yachting and fishing again, and playing at pirates too, and once more Tippetty took his old seat at the bows where he could best bark at the sea gulls, and once more Toddie bravely took the tiller.