Chapter 8

With a fervent "Thank God!" and a hopeful leap of the heart, the poor man beheld the waters of the sea rushing up to his very feet; and beyond the cave's mouth lay the grand ocean itself, like a bright picture in a black frame. But what was that projecting from the water, not twenty yards from where he stood? The broken mast of a sunken wreck! Mitford's heart almost stood still, for he became aware that he had made his way to the very cavern, in which the ill-fated _Lapwing_ had met her doom, and around him were masses of wreckage that had been washed up and thrown on the rocks at the inner end of the cave where he stood.

An involuntary shudder passed through the man's frame as he glanced round expecting to see the dead bodies of his late shipmates. But nothing of the kind was visible, and the spars, masts, and other wreckage which had reached the rocks had been shattered into "matchwood" by frequent gales.

John Mitford now hastened in eager hope along the sides of the cave towards its mouth, intending to go out to the base of the cliffs, forgetting, in his eagerness, that the mouth could not be reached without a boat. He soon discovered this, and was then thrown into another fit of despair by remembering that he could not swim.

Oh! how bitterly he blamed himself for having neglected to acquire such a simple accomplishment. He might have learnt it when young, had he not been indifferent, or lazy about it. Often had he been advised to learn it by companions, but had treated the matter lightly and let the chance go by--and now, only fifty yards or so of deep water intervened between the end of the ledges of rock and the outside of the cavern, where he might perhaps find foothold enough to scramble along the base of the cliffs--but those fifty yards were equal to the Atlantic to him, he could not swim that distance to save his life. Once or twice, in a fit of desperation, he had almost plunged in to attempt it, and take his chance. Fortunately his courage failed. Had he taken the plunge his fate would no doubt have been sealed.

Returning to the inner end of the cave he searched among the wreckage for wood, with which to make a raft, but it was so shattered that he found no pieces large enough to be thus used. He found, however, a barrel of pork and another of pease jammed into a crevice. These proved an immense relief to his feelings, for they secured him against absolute starvation, which he had begun to think stared him in the face.

From that time forward the unfortunate man made incessant and wild efforts to get out of the cave. He climbed and scrambled about until his clothes were almost torn off his back. He gathered the largest masses of wood he could find and tied them together in bundles, until he had made something like a raft; but John was not a handy workman; his raft overturned the first time he tried it, and went to pieces, and he would have been drowned at that time if he had not been within grasping distance of the rocks. As it was, he got a fright which made him finally turn from that method of escape in despair.

Then the raw pork and hard pease tried him severely, and brought on a complaint which lasted a considerable time and greatly reduced his strength, but John was tough, and recovered--though not much more than the skeleton of his former self remained.

Thus he continued to exist in that cavern, during all the time that his wife and friends were mourning him as dead; and in this condition was he there seated, on the morning in which this chapter opens.

"Weary, weary--desolation!" moaned the unfortunate man, lifting his head and gazing round, with the air of one from whom all hope has long since departed.

It is said, or supposed, that when a spoke in Fortune's wheel is at the lowest, there must needs be a rise. Mitford's experience at this time would seem to give ground for belief in the saying; for the word "desolation" had scarcely passed his lips, when distant voices of men were heard, causing his heart to bound violently. Next moment a boat glided in front of the cave's mouth.

John Mitford sprang up and gave vent to a yell!

Hope raised to strong life after being long deferred; despair suddenly trampled in the dust; joy bounding as from the tomb into rampant being-- and a host of indescribable sentiments and passions found vent in that tremendous, that inconceivable howl!

And its effect on those in the boat?--Well--

That morning our exploring party had resumed their voyage with somewhat saddened hearts, for they remembered the look of the coast well, and knew that an hour or so would bring them to the cave where the _Lapwing_ had gone down. Even Black Ned had become sentimental, and given vent to a few expressions of a semi-religious nature!

"We can't be far from it now," said Dr Hayward, as the men ceased rowing, and the boat glided slowly, silently along.

"It's a gruesome place," remarked Black Ned, in a low voice.

"To think that so many lives were lost here--or hereabouts," murmured Tomlin.

"An' their ghost, maybe, hangin' about!" suggested Slag, with a superstitious glance over his shoulder.

Just then Hayward bade O'Connor get up and stand in the bow with the boat-hook, ready to fend off,--an order which the Irishman, having been somewhat awed by the tone of the conversation, obeyed in silence.

It was at this point that they glided in front of the cave, and drew forth the yell which burst upon them like a clap of thunder. The shock to the nervous system of each was terrific. In the case of O'Connor it was visible, for he fell flat back into the bottom of the boat and fetched Jarring a tremendous whack on the head with the boat-hook in falling. Afterwards, Terrence asserted stoutly that a slip of the foot as he stood on the th'ort was the cause, but those who knew him best held that it was "a case of nerves."

Need it be said that, on recovering nervous equilibrium, the joy of rescuers and rescued was intense?

"Come along, let's take 'im home at wanst," cried the Irishman, when they had got the poor dazed man into the boat. "Isn't it Peggy that'll open her eyes an' screech for joy when she sots her eyes on ye!"

"We'll have to wash and comb an' clothe him first," said Tomlin.

He did not say "shave," for they had no razors,--and by that time the beards of most of the party were as long as Mitford's; but their locks had been trimmed by means of a clasp-knife super-sharpened, whereas Mitford's were in wildest disorder.

That night they encamped in the wreck-cave, made a fire, and prepared a splendid supper of pork and pea-soup for John and themselves, after which they subjected their recovered comrade to a scrubbing and cropping and repairing of habiliments that almost proved fatal to his constitution. Next day they loaded the boat with all the pork and pease they could find, as well as portions of cordage that might be useful. Then they started off on the return journey.

It was a fine day when they reached the encampment, where the coxswain and the women were on the look-out. Massey, of course, was the first to observe, as the boat approached, that an extra hand was in it; but he wisely said nothing at first. Then his heart began to beat as it used to do when he brought in rescued men and women from wrecks, for the truth suddenly flashed upon him. He glanced at Peggy. Poor thing, her sad eyes had wandered from the approaching boat and were resting wistfully on the horizon beyond.

"Nell," murmured the coxswain in a deep, earnest whisper to his wife, who stood at his elbow, "the tide's a-goin' to rise again wi' poor Peggy, if my eyes are tellin' truth."

"What d'ee mean, Bob?" asked Nellie, with a quick, anxious look.

"Five men went away, Nell; _six_ are comin' back!"

As he spoke, a tall figure rose up in the stern of the boat and waved a hand.

Nellie glanced quickly at her friend. She was standing with glaring eyes, parted lips, and a deathly pallor on her worn face.

"Peggy!"

The familiar word came rolling to the shore, and a piercing shriek replied to it as the poor woman threw up both hands and fell backward into the ready arms of the coxswain's wife, who had sprung to her side in anticipation of some such catastrophe.

There was the voice of prayer and thanksgiving that night in the hut on the lonely shore--such thanksgiving as we might conceive filled the hearts of Jairus and of the widow of Nain in the days of old.

STORY ONE, CHAPTER 12.

The state of things on the island was now considerably improved. Peggy, under the influence of gratitude for restored felicity, became more helpful than she had formerly been, and more loquacious than ever. Her female companions, being amiable and easily pleased, were rather amused than otherwise, at the continuous flow of discursive, sometimes incomprehensible, and always good-natured small talk--particularly small talk--with which she beguiled the hours that might have otherwise hung heavily on their minds while their hands were busily engaged with the bone-needles and sinew threads which the coxswain had manufactured for them. For the clothes with which they had landed on the island-- especially those of the men--had begun to wear out after eight or ten months, and new garments had to be made, while repairs never ceased.

Meanwhile, the men were fully occupied each day in hunting seals or fishing, cutting firewood with the axe they had found in the hut, and in making their home more comfortable. A door was fitted to the hut; a wooden partition was put up to cut off more effectually the women's apartment from that of the men; the open crevices in the walls were stopped up with moss, and many other improvements were made. A few nails extracted from the walls of the hut were converted into fish-hooks, by means of the file which had been found, and Nellie spun some excellent fishing-lines from flax found growing wild in abundance. The file also enabled them to strike fire with broken flints picked up on the shore. The ash of burnt cotton, as the doctor knew, makes good tinder; so in the public interest, John Mitford agreed to part with the ragged remains of the cotton shirt he had long worn--quite unnecessarily--over his woollen jersey. Thus they could afford to let the fire go out, and were relieved from constant watching, as well as anxiety in regard to it.

They did not, however, cease their nocturnal vigils, for the hope of deliverance never died out, though it at last sank very low. Besides keeping their seal-skin flag flying, they kindled a beacon-fire every night, to guard and replenish which became the nightly duty of one or other of the men--watch and watch about--all the time they stayed on the island.

During the earlier part of each night, however, the beacon-fire was not watched. It was merely lighted and left for some hours to look after itself. During this period, after supper, the whole party were wont to draw round the blazing fire in the hut, and each contributed his or her share to the entertainment of the social circle. Then it was that lugubrious John Mitford developed amazing powers of inventive story-telling, and Joe Slag came out strong with thrilling lifeboat tales, every word of which Bob Massey corroborated, while Terrence O'Connor displayed powers of sarcastic criticism of the highest order, and Tomlin, Black Ned, and the women proved an intensely appreciative audience. But the latter were not merely listeners. True, Peggy did nothing for the general good. Having quite exhausted her lungs with incessant talk during each day, she was fortunately almost incapable of speech in the evening, but Nellie, who possessed a voice as sweet as herself, and clear and true as that of a nightingale, was induced to "favour the company"--chiefly with pathetic or patriotic ditties and hymns--while Eva thrilled her audience with terrible tales of slavery, in many of which she had acted a part. Of course Dr Hayward lent his aid, both with song and story; but, like a true leader, he devoted himself chiefly to drawing out the powers of his companions, directing or diverting the flow of conversation, and keeping order. He also instituted what may be truly styled family worship at night, by repeating from memory portions of the word of, God and engaging in prayer just before retiring to rest. Bob Massey and Tomlin were induced to help him in this, and never was a prayer put up from that hut in which there was not an earnest petition that a ship might be sent for their deliverance.

"But a ship is long, long o' comin'," said Slag to Jarring as he accompanied the latter part of the way to the beacon-fire one night when it was Black Ned's turn to watch.

"A ship'll come, Joe, when God sees fit to send it," said Ned.

Slag glanced at his comrade in surprise, the reply was so very unlike Ned's usual style of speech that he felt uncertain whether it was uttered in earnest.

"The only thing I feel an awful longin' for now, at times, is a bit o' 'baccy," continued Ned.

"So does I, Ned, an' I sometimes think Dr Hayward has got the advantage of us there, for he never smoked, so he says, an' in coorse it stands to reason that he can't have no longin' for a thing he don't want--an' he seems as jolly an' happy as the best of us without it!"

"Ay, jollier and happier!" replied Ned, shortly.

"But, I say, Ned, don't ye ever feel a longin' for grog? Ye used to be raither fond of it."

"No--not now, Joe. It's the best thing as ever happened to me, bein' cast on this here island--wi' Dr Hayward to give a feller a word of advice."

Slag, who felt a sort of self-righteous superiority over his comrade, inasmuch as _he_ had never given way to drink, said, "You should be thankful for that, Ned."

"I _am_ thankful," returned the other in a tone that induced Slag to say no more.

It was a very dark night, and cold, so that Black Ned involuntarily shuddered as he approached the beacon-fire alone--Joe having left him-- and commenced to heap on fuel. Then rain began to fall heavily. There was no shelter, and the watchman was soon drenched to the skin. Heaping on more logs till the fire roared again, he tried to warm himself, and stood so close to the blaze that his garments smoked--they would have burnt had they not been wet--but no heat seemed to penetrate the shivering frame of Black Ned.

Next morning the poor man was smitten with a raging fever. From the first the doctor had little hope of his recovery. With a constitution fatally injured by dissipation and drink, his chance was very small; but of course every effort was made to save him. He was laid on a soft bed of moss in the warmest corner of the hut, and the women took their turn in nursing him, night and day--the coxswain's wife, however, being the chief nurse; for, besides being sympathetic and tender by nature, she had been trained in a rough school where self-reliance and capacity were constantly called into action in circumstances of difficulty, so that she was better fitted for the post than either of her companions. But their efforts were of no avail. After a week, Black Ned died, with a smile of gratitude on his dark face as he gazed in Hayward's eyes, and held his hand until the spirit returned to God who gave it.

The gloom cast over the little community by this sudden appearance of the King of Terrors lasted for many days, and had the good effect of turning the thoughts of all of them to those subjects which are obviously and naturally distasteful to fallen man--the soul and the world to come. But gradually the gloom passed away, though it left in the party a greater longing than ever to escape from their island prison.

One day, while some of them were at breakfast, Terrence O'Connor rushed into the hut with the news that a ship was in sight! Instantly the boat was manned, and they rowed with all their might towards the vessel, which was seen like a white speck on the horizon. They rowed to within four miles of her, with an oar set up as a mast, and a jacket attached thereto as a flag, but a breeze sprang up, and the strange sail actually passed on without taking the slightest notice of them--though the people on board could not have failed to see the boat!

Profound was the disappointment, and violent the indignation, that filled the thoughts of the castaways as they rowed slowly back to land.

"Sure it's devils that must live in the bodies o' some men," growled O'Connor, in the bitterness of his soul.

"You're too hard on the devils, Terrence," said Bob Massey. "Some men in this world do the worst _that they can_, an' surely devils can do no more than that."

This incident, however, aroused the hopes and expectations of the party to a high pitch, so that the beacon-fire was kept burning more steadily and brightly than before, and the look-out hill was more frequently visited; still, weeks and months passed by, and no deliverance came to them.

During this period, the seal-hunting, fishing, clothes-mending, etcetera, were carried on with unflagging energy, and the nightly entertainments became more and more entertaining, by reason of use and effort developing new capacities and talents that might in less favourable circumstances have lain altogether dormant. All this was due very much to their leader; for, besides being a God-fearing man, Hayward was pre-eminently cheery, and full of fun as well as vigour. The coxswain, too, was like-minded, and of great capacity in every way; while his wife's voice was so charming that the party became almost dependent on it. They could scarcely have gone to rest at last without Nellie's hymn or song as a lullaby! We must state, however, that Tomlin did not share in this pleasure. That poor man had been born musically deaf, as some people are born physically blind. There was no musical inlet to his soul! There was, indeed, a door for sound to enter, and music, of course, sought an entrance by that door; but it was effectually destroyed, somehow, in passing through the doorway, so that poor Tomlin showed no symptom of pleasure. What he heard, and how he heard it, is known only to himself!

Once or twice during this time they visited the cavern of the wreck, with the view, if possible, of recovering something from the sunk vessel, but though most of the men could swim, none of them could dive, therefore the result was failure.

They succeeded, however, in making soap by boiling wood-ash and seal's fat in their cast-iron pot. Those who are accustomed to the celebrated "Pears" can scarcely understand what an addition to cleanliness and comfort resulted from this coarsely manufactured article.

Gulls' eggs were found in great quantity on the cliffs, and the discovery and capture of wild pigs added to the luxury of their table-- which latter, by the way, was an ingenious contrivance of Joe Slag. Binding four sticks together in the form of a stout oblong frame, Joe had covered this--filled it in as it were--with straight branches about a finger thick, laid side by side and tied to the frame. This he fixed on four posts driven into the ground, and thus formed an excellent, if not an elegant, table.

One morning at breakfast, Terrence O'Connor was observed to be unusually busy with a large hook.

"Are you goin' to fish for sharks to-day?" asked Slag.

"Faix, no; it's to the woods I'll go fishin' to-day, Joe. Now, Nell, gi' me the stoutest line ye've got on hand, mavourneen."

"Will that do? I made it the other day specially for sharks--or whales!" said Nellie, with a light laugh, for she expected him to reject the line she held up.

"The very thing, Nell. Hand it over. Now, boys, I'm off to try my luck i' the woods, for I'm gittin' tired o' the say."

O'Connor went off alone, bestowing a mysterious wink on Peggy Mitford as he left.

The Irishman had observed that the wild pigs were particularly fond of a certain root which was plentiful in a valley about three miles distant from the hut. Repairing to that valley, he dug up one of the roots, baited his hook with it, hung it from a low branch to attract attention, fastened the other end of the line to a tree, and went off to hide and bide his time. Before half-an-hour had elapsed, a gay young pig visited the scene of its former festivities, saw the pendent bait, smelt it, took it in its mouth, and straightway filled the woods with frantic lamentations. The struggle between the Irishman and that pig was worthy of record, but we prefer leaving it to the reader's imagination. The upshot was, that the pig was overcome, carried--bound, and shrieking--to the hut, and tamed by Peggy. In a short time, other pigs were caught and tamed. So, also, were rabbits. These bred and multiplied. The original pig became the mother of a large family, and in a short time something like the sounds and aspects of a farm began to surround the old hut. Still further--by means of the cast-iron pot, which already boiled their soup and their soap--they managed to boil sea-water down into salt, and with this some of the pigs were converted into salt pork--in short, the place began to assume the appearance of a busy and thriving backwoods settlement.

"It's risin' tide with us again, after a fashion, Nell," said the coxswain to his wife, as they stood one evening on the sea-shore watching the sunset.

Nellie sighed. "It is, Bob," she said, "and I'm very thankful; but--but I'd rather be at home in Old England among kith and kin, even though the tide was low!"

"What! alongside o' Aunt Betty?"

"Yes, even alongside o' Aunt Betty; for if this voyage has taught me anything at all, it has taught me that, after all, `there's no place like home!'"

"Right you are, Nell," said Joe Slag, who came up at that moment, "there's no place like home--when it's a happy one; but if it ain't a happy one, there may be difference of opinion even on that pint, d'ee see?"

That very night, a great ocean steamer, bound from the Antipodes to Old England, chanced to diverge from her true course, and sighted the beacon-fire which Tomlin--on duty at the time--was stirring up to fervent heat. The Captain was not one of those whom Terrence O'Connor credited with diabolic possession. He was a good man; and, knowing that men did not light beacon-fires on lonely islands merely for amusement, he resolved to lay-to till daylight, which was due in about an hour from the time the island was sighted. Meanwhile, he sounded his steam whistle.

At the sound, the hut instantly disgorged its male inmates, who, recognising the familiar noise and the steamer's lights, sent up a shout of mingled joy and thanksgiving.

"Get out the boat, boys!" cried Hayward, as he ran back to the hut to rouse the women.

"Get ready, quick! Eva; a steamer at last, thank God, in the offing! Don't lose a moment. They may have little time to wait. Boat will be ready in a few minutes."

"Ay, an' pack up all you want to carry away," cried the coxswain, crossing the threshold at that moment.

"So it is all going to end suddenly like a dream!" said Eva, as she hastened to obey orders.

"Home, sweet home!" murmured Nellie, trembling with joy at the prospect.

"Wherever you are, my dear, the home will be sweet," said Peggy. "Though of course it wouldn't be that without your 'usband, for it takes two to make a fight, you know, an' it takes two no less, I think, to make things pleasant, but--dear, dear, what a disagreeable thing it is to 'ave to dress in a 'urry, though one shouldn't--"

"Look alive, there! look al-i-ve!" roared O'Connor, putting his head in at the door. "Daylight's a-breakin', an' they won't--"

"Oh! Terrence, that reminds me--don't forget our pets," cried Nellie, who had steadily declined to speak of them as "live stock."

"All right, missis. It's lookin' after them I am this minnit."

The Irishman ran, as he spoke, to the styes and hutches where the pigs and rabbits were kept and opened the doors.