CHAPTER XII.Return to the Coast; A Mangrove Swamp; Fever.When I awoke it was morning, and the sun was fully an hour up. Taking a hasty bath in the cool water of the stream, and after a hurried meal, crossing the stream on the stones that were not submerged, I set off along the east bank. The stream flowed in a northerly direction. By keeping close to the edge of the forest I made rapid progress. Nothing occurred to distract my attention, except the sight of a small flock of pigeons, one of which I killed. I encamped for the night in the edge of a thicket, and made a fire to roast the bird which I plucked while waiting for a bed of coals.At daylight in the morning I continued my course down the stream which was now much wider and deeper. Its edge was thickly fringed with bamboo, and the idea came to me that I might construct a raft from them, and float down stream to the coast; but then, the stream was apt to become suddenly shallow in places, and it contained many large stones, and after delaying for several days while constructing the raft, it might prove to be time and labor lost.At the close of the fourth day, as the sun was declining behind the palm trees, I was astonished, on emerging from a thicket, to see the ocean, blue and calm, stretching out before me. I had failed to note the fact that I had followed a more direct course from the coast than when I marched toward the interior, and that the mountains were much nearer the north coast than the west. For the last two days I had noticed that the cocoanut palms were more plentiful, as were also the bamboos along the stream, both of which should have reminded me of my approach to salt water. I had reached the coast sooner than I expected.Knowing that I would probably not be able to cross the stream at its mouth, I found a place where a few stones rose above the water, and managed to cross to the other bank. The mouth of this stream differed from that of either of the other two streams that I had seen. It was broad and muddy, covering a wide expanse, and what seemed the strangest to me was that trees were growing from the water, covering the entire area of the mouth of the stream. Each tree rested upon the apex formed by a cluster of roots, which rose from the water, looking like gigantic spiders or devil-fish. I could see under the whole aquatic forest, a tangle of slimy roots above the dark water. The air was permeated by an indescribable stench; and around the edge of the dark recess, black, hairy crabs crawled about, or lay by the festering pools. I concluded that this was one of the famous mangrove swamps, and I decided to retire from such an undesirable locality.Accordingly I proceeded along the beach until I was free from the smell of the swamp, where I made camp for the night beneath some spreading trees near the water's edge, making a fire and roasting yams, and broiling a pigeon which I had killed just after crossing the stream.When I awoke in the morning I felt that a change had come over me. I felt dazed, the back of my head was aching, and I had a burning fever. After a few moments I remembered the swamp. The air which I had been breathing must be laden with fever. I staggered to my feet and, without stopping to get breakfast, I started along the beach, my course now being toward the west.I felt very weak and walked with great difficulty. I was obliged to stop frequently to rest, and toward mid-day I managed to eat the remainder of the pigeon that I had broiled the night before. Once I saw some orange trees, but the fruit was both sour and bitter. I sucked some of the juice, however. The bitter and the acid seemed to allay my fever a little, and I soon felt less weak. I camped at sundown, and went to sleep with confidence that my condition would be improved in the morning, as I was at a safe distance from the swamp.For two days more I marched along the shore, finding sweet orange-trees frequently, and plenty of pigeons whenever I chose to make a short detour into the forest.At last a high mound appeared ahead where the shore seemed to take a sharp sweep toward the south, and, hurrying forward, I was soon standing at the top of it and, to my great joy, looking down upon the bay where I had been cast ashore.Crossing the familiar little stream, I hastened toward my house. It was with a feeling of relief that I saw that everything was apparently as I had left it.CHAPTER XIII.A Feathered Companion; Making a Fish-Trap.Everything about my house was as I had left it. Nothing had been disturbed, the overflowing stream not having reached it. The vines around the stockade now completely covered it, and the yams that I had planted in front of the stockade-gate were thick and luxuriant, the great, bean-like leaves completely concealing the entrance.The effects of the fever were fast leaving me, and I grew strong rapidly. There was much to do, now that I was settled down at home. I dug up the yams in front of the stockade-gate and stored them in the house for future use. Then I carried out the couch and made a new one of fresh branches and grass, more comfortable than the first had been.I also made two fire-places, mere enclosures for keeping the coals in place. These consisted of circular enclosures of stones brought from the stream, each about three feet in diameter and one foot high, one being in a corner of the house for use during rainy weather, and the other in the enclosure of the stockade, near the gate.My next thought was to plant yams by the trunks of all the trees near the house. This would furnish me an inexhaustible supply, and of a superior quality, as the vines would have plenty of chance to climb, up and around the tree trunks.One day while walking through the bush in search of pigeons, having succeeded in killing two, I came across several cocoanut palms of much smaller size than any I had yet seen. They were not more than fifteen feet high to the base of the leaf heads, and their tops were very spreading, much more so in proportion to the length of the trunks than in the case of the larger trees. But these all bore great bunches of nuts, and I began to wonder how the unripe nuts would taste, and whether they contained more water than the ripe ones.With but little difficulty I climbed one of them, and with my knife clipped the stems of several of the nuts, which went tumbling to the ground.Descending, I cut off the husk of the end opposite the stem, until I could make a hole through the shell. The latter was very thin and soft, and the knife went through it easily. My knife was always in excellent condition, kept so by frequent sharpening on the stone which I used for striking fire to the tinder.Raising the nut as though it were a canteen, I drank the water. It was somewhat different from that of a ripe nut, much sweeter, more limpid and very cool and refreshing. After the water was drained from the nut I out it open, when I found the whole inside lined with a whitish, translucent pulp, of the consistency of solid jelly. This I found to be delicious, but, after having eaten a little, rather sickish. However, I carried several of the unripe nuts to the house, and soon became very fond of them. I made frequent trips to the young palms and the water became my principal beverage, while my only dessert was the jelly, for which I carved a rude spoon from a piece of hard wood.I noticed that the parrots were not so noisy as they had been before I left for the interior, and for several weeks I was at a loss to account for it. But one evening, while returning from the water-cocoanut palms, I espied two diminutive parrots fluttering through the bush. They were young ones and not quite able to fly, though nearly fledged. They would launch out from a limb, sometimes falling short of their next perch, and sometimes striking against a limb, when they would flutter to the ground, making small, parrot-like cries. They were a beautiful green, with red wing feathers and red breasts and necks. The parent birds all the while remained near-by, as though encouraging the little ones in their attempts to fly.I tried to catch one of them, but they were sufficiently active to evade me successfully. I felt a great desire to capture one and teach him to talk, for I sometimes longed for a companion to speak to. Finally I evolved a plan for catching one. I set to work to construct a net, for a snare would injure them. I prepared a great quantity of fibres from the cocoanut cloth, and with it wove a purse-shaped net, perhaps two feet in length. This was to be suspended to a limb of a tree, and baited with a piece of roast yam suspended over the mouth of the bag in such a manner that, when the young parrot reached for it, he would be almost sure to lose his balance and fall in. Its weight, together with the fluttering of the bird, would draw the mouth of the bag together and prevent its escape.This net cost me several weeks of work, but it was at last finished and ready to set. This I did very carefully, selecting a low limb in what seemed a favorite place for the parent birds to give flying lessons to the little ones.For several days the net remained undisturbed, and every morning I supplied it with a fresh, white piece of yam.One morning, just at daylight, I was awakened by a great outcry of parrots, and, feeling sure that one of the young birds had fallen into the net, I hastened toward it. Sure enough, the net had done its work, for it was bobbing about and swaying from the limb, while muffled little shrieks came from the nearly-closed mouth; and from the trees around there arose a perfect babel of discordant cries of parrots, old and young. The two parent birds were perched on the limb over the net, when I arrived, but on my approach they flew away a short distance, hurling cries of defiance at me. Carefully I cut the net clear of the limb and carried it to the house, the belligerent little parrot all the time fluttering and shrieking, and striking at my hand whenever it was near the opening. I reproached myself for not thinking to make a cage for it when captured, and I was obliged to secure the opening and deposit the net in the house, while I made a cage for my future companion. This was not a difficult task. Going to the brook where the wild canes grew, I cut a quantity of them and, cutting them to the required length, I stuck them into the ground, leaving spaces about two inches wide. The canes formed a small yard about two feet square. The top was covered with a piece of cocoanut cloth, the edges being tied all around to the upright canes.How to get the fighting little bird out of the net and into the cage was the next question. I did not exactly relish the idea of putting my hand into the net, so finally I decided to lift one corner of the cocoanut cloth on the top of the cage, and, loosening the mouth of the net, insert it under the cloth, at the same time reversing the net. The scheme worked perfectly and the little parrot tumbled into the cage, his feathers all ruffled. He was a curious little thing and I laughed aloud as, without uttering a sound, he proceeded to smooth his feathers, and then to circumnavigate the cage. He then retired a little from the bars and regarded me with the utmost seriousness, canting his head, looking at me first with one eye and then the other. Then he began to dress his feathers, evidently resolved to make the best of it all, and to feel perfectly at home from the first.I made my pet a little run-way outside the wall of the house, constructing it in the same manner as I had the cage, covering it half with cloth and the remainder with canes so he could have both sun and shade. This enclosure I connected with the cage by cutting a square hole through the wall of the house.As the weeks passed, the parrot grew, his wing and tail feathers developed, and he became very beautiful. He enjoyed his new home, apparently, spending a part of his time outside, and part inside. He enjoyed the sunshine, but would never remain long in it. He preferred the shade of the cloth covered portion. Nights, he always passed inside, and I made a perch for him to sleep on. It was simply a cane passing through the cage and securely fastened to a bar on each side. Hours and hours he would spend, swinging on this bar over and over, holding on with his claws, and then with his stubby beak. I fed him on yams, bananas and oranges, but the banana was his favorite food.Every day I talked to him, telling him all about the ship-wreck, discussing with him the various tasks that occupied me, and the probability of my rescue. I named him Puff Ball on account of his shape when captured, and then I called him simply "Puff." Puff listened patiently to all I had to say, frequently interjecting a sharp comment. Sometimes he would interrupt me by setting up a loud screeching, and I always had to cease talking when Puff had the floor.For weeks he did not appear to attempt to imitate my words, and I began to despair of teaching him to talk, when one morning, as I lay awake for a few minutes before arising, I heard him softly chattering to himself. I listened and heard him say "Puff," "Puff," very distinctly. I was delighted and, going to the cage, I complimented him on his first attempt.Once while bathing in the stream, I noticed, for the first time, several fish gliding through a quiet pool. From the momentary glance I had of them they appeared to resemble the white perch of the lakes at home.This opportunity to add to my larder could not be neglected, and I set to work to devise a plan for capturing them. I thought, at first, of making a hook from thorns; but this idea was abandoned as not apt to be practical, and I hit upon a plan for making a net. The first inspiration gradually developed into a trap, and took definite shape as I revolved the matter in my mind. It was a simple device, but I spent much time and patience in perfecting it.First selecting one of the supple vines, about half an inch in thickness, I bent it into the form of a hoop, two feet in diameter, uniting the two ends by lashing them with smaller vines. Then, with the aid of a sharp thorn and thread from the fibre of the cocoanut, I sewed together pieces of the cocoanut cloth so as to make a bag three feet long, with an opening of the same diameter as the hoop. Then I sewed the edge of the opening of the bag firmly to the hoop, which kept the bag rigidly open.Next, from more vines, I wove a funnel-shaped basket, the larger end fitting inside the hoop, while the smaller end, which was inserted into the bag, had an opening about six inches in diameter. The larger end of this basket, which was like an inverted cone, was lashed to the hoop, all around.This was my fish-trap, and as soon as it was ready I took it to the brook. The water was normally low and, finding the narrowest place in the current, I built across it a wall of stones, having an opening in the centre of the wall, in width just a little less than the diameter of the hoop. The trap was then set into this opening, with the mouth pointing up-stream, the gentle current keeping the bag distended, while the hoop projecting across the edges of the opening in the wall held the bag in position.I expected that the fish, swimming downstream, finding no other passage, would enter the opening of the bag and pass through the small opening in the lower end of the cone, thereby becoming imprisoned. From similar devices that my brother and myself had made and used in the brooks at home, I knew that, once inside, the fish would huddle in the lower end of the bag and make no effort to repass through the opening in the end of the cone.CHAPTER XIV.Another Exploring Trip; Tropical Fruits.The morning following the setting of the trap I removed it and, allowing the water to drain out through the meshes in the bag, I found three beautiful silvery fish, not unlike the white perch of the northern waters. Cleaning them, I broiled them over the coals, and found them to be delicious, delicate and fine flavored. After that I had no lack of fresh fish.Puff, meantime, had made rapid progress in the art of talking and could carry on quite a conversation--and many were the hours I spent assisting him in adding to his vocabulary. He insisted upon following me everywhere I went, always walking and never making any attempt to fly, his instructions in the use of his wings having been neglected since his capture. When walking through the bush in search of pigeons and other provisions, I always carried Puff perched upon my shoulder, and he never made any attempt to escape. He seemed as perfectly satisfied with my society as I was with his, and we kept up a continuous conversation.My supply of salt becoming nearly exhausted, I procured a large supply, enough to last me many months, by the same process as had been employed on the first experiment while marching along the coast. This I sealed securely in joints of bamboo.Having no particular task on hand, one afternoon I proceeded to prepare a supply of provisions, roast pigeon, fish, yam, a few oranges and half a dozen green cocoanuts, preparatory to setting off, the following morning, to explore along the bank of the stream, which flowed almost by my door, toward its source. I knew that this was a separate stream, independent of the other two that I had met with. I remembered that I had not crossed a third stream on my march from the mountains, and I was curious as to its source. Certainly it must be much shorter than the other two.Seeking my couch early in order that I might set off by daylight, before going to sleep I remembered that I needed a new supply of arrows. This would necessitate delaying another day, and in the morning I set to work, and before sunset I had several dozen of much better made arrows than the first ones.With my quiver and provision bag slung across my back and with Puff on one shoulder and the bow-gun on the other, I set out just as the sun was rising above the palm trees. I kept to the left bank of the stream, and soon passed "Bamboo Pool" where I had first discovered these useful plants.I walked along rapidly, stopping only to refresh myself and Puff. The way was easy, for there were very few shrubs or thorn bushes along the bank. But I had to occasionally turn aside to avoid inhospitable cactus plants, and the sharp, dagger-like plant which grew plentifully almost everywhere.Just as I was thinking about seeking a good place to camp in order that I might make myself and Puff comfortable before dark, I was brought to an abrupt stop, where I stood transfixed with surprise; for I had reached the source of the stream, less than a day's journey from my house.Before me there was a little pool, only a few feet across, and its centre was bubbling and boiling. The water which supplied the stream flowed from the bowels of the earth. While the pool was violently agitated, no sound was made by the up-rushing water. My brook was simply the outlet of a subterranean river.I at once made camp for the night, determining to spend a day around the pool before returning. I kindled a fire for the sake of its cheering effect, and made my supper from the provision bag. Puff was satisfied with a banana.After a frugal breakfast in the morning--for I had only some plantain and a part of one of the fish left--I set out to explore the forest in the near vicinity of the pool. Almost immediately I came across some banana trees, and near by a few plantains were also growing. Further around I found a couple of orange trees. This seemed quite a natural garden, and it was not so far away but that I could make frequent trips from home for bananas and plantains.Penetrating a little further into the forest, I came to a little clear spot, in the centre of which grew two large, handsome trees, each with straight, rather smooth trunks, with symmetrical tops.At first I thought both the trees were of the same kind, but I soon noticed that the leaves of one were larger than those of the other, and more pinnate. I discovered that both trees bore curious-looking fruit. The fruit, too, looked something alike. It was large, round, and green in color, with a pebbly rind. Several were lying under each tree; but that under one of the trees was decayed, and when I tried to move it with my foot it yielded to the pressure, and as the mass parted it looked like uncooked bread. The fruit under the other tree was firm and hard. I was at a loss to solve the mystery. Cutting one of the latter, I found that it had a very hard shell. Procuring a long pole from the bush, I succeeded in knocking off some fresh fruit from the other tree. On cutting this I found that the skin was thin, and that the inside had something the appearance of a yam.I carried one of each to camp, when it occurred to me to roast the latter, and see if it proved good to eat. While it was roasting in the coals, I cut the other green globe in halves, and found that the hard shell was very readily separated from the meat, leaving two nice bowls, suitable for drinking vessels, and perhaps for cooking. When I thought the other was thoroughly roasted, I took it from the ashes. The transformation was marvelous. The fruit was now like light, white bread. Very cautiously I tasted it, and found that, while it possessed no decided flavor, it was very delicate. I tried some with a little salt, and mentally pronounced it delicious.Before going into camp for the night, I procured half a dozen of each fruit, and, early in the morning, after adding a supply of bananas and plantains to my burden, started to return to the house, which was reached early in the evening.I became very fond of the new fruit, which answered for bread; and I made dishes from the shell of the other which served for drinking vessels, and I even boiled some fish in one of them.My time was now occupied by various tasks. Frequent trips were made to the pool. I planted more yams, and made frequent excursions hunting pigeons. I also made a complete suit of clothes from the cocoanut cloth, including a hat and a pair of very substantial moccasins, for my shoes were all but useless. These things were varied by giving Puff lessons in conversation, in which he proved to be an apt scholar.I had seen no turtles on this part of the coast, and I contemplated a journey to the cove where I had seen them months before, as soon as, from my calendar, I judged it to be their breeding season. I had long craved more of their delicious eggs.As the days and weeks passed, frequent showers came up; and after a time, the showers of warm, tepid rain became more frequent. Some were very violent, with high wind, and occasionally thunder and lightning. They rose quickly and as quickly passed over, when the sun would burst out, making the drops falling from the trees glisten like silver. But there came a day of almost steady rain, and, after consulting my calendar, I found that it was about time for the rainy season to set in.I had hardly thought of the rainy season since my return from the mountains. Indeed, I had intended to set to work and attempt to construct a craft with which to try to reach the distant land to the east. But now I must wait for another rainy season to pass before attempting it, for the sea would be too rough to risk a voyage in a rude and frail craft.I allowed gloomy thoughts to take possession of me, which I did not even confide to Puff, who was my only comforter.CHAPTER XV.A Hurricane and a Shipwreck.I strove to occupy my mind by digging a large store of yams, and gathering hundreds of cocoanuts, and storing them inside the house for use when the rain should prevent my going far from the shore. I also gathered an immense quantity of dead branches for firewood, which I piled in the rear of the house, covering it thickly with grass and then broad leaves and bark stripped from the trees, to shed the water.The rain became almost constant, and after a day of hard work making some repairs that I thought necessary on my house, I lay on my couch, secure from the rain and wind, thinking of the past, present and future. The wind had risen rapidly until it had become a gale. I listened to the rustle and flapping of the leaves of the palm trees, and to the roar of the waves on the shore. At length, through the crevices around the door I could see that the night was frequently lighted up by vivid flashes of lightning. Heavy thunder began to rumble away back over the forest. The wind increased, and then came a roar which seemed to shake the earth, and shrieks sounded above the dashing of the surf as the wind came with terrible force.I could hear the stockade creak, and see the walls of the house tremble. The rain came in torrents, and swept against the enclosure. Another blinding flash and roar, and, above the rattle of the palm leaves I could hear the crack and crash of breaking and falling branches and tree trunks. A hurricane had broken over the island. I lay appalled, and listened to the terrible havoc of the tempest. I could not close my eyes.It seemed as though the night would never pass; but after long, weary hours, a faint gray light stole into the house, denoting the approach of day and the end of that awful night.The storm abated a little, but the crashing sounds continued to come from the forest. As soon as it was light enough to see plainly I ventured to go outside the stockade. The structure had withstood the force of the wind; but what a pitiful sight greeted me as I looked about. Many of the tall cocoanut palms that had been my friends and companions from the first lay prostrate, twisted and broken. The ground was covered with nuts, leaves and broken branches. The little stream was full to the very top of the banks.The waves roared and thundered on the narrow beach. I turned toward the sea and thought about the night of the wreck.But had I gone mad? Had the horrors of the night so affected my mind? I covered my eyes, and in a moment looked again.Yes, out toward the bluff, only a few rods from the shore, was a vessel. It lay as though at anchor. I saw that it was a barkentine. The vessel had not anchored; she was stranded. Then I ran to the shore and waved my arms wildly. I could not go to the bluff on account of the swollen stream. I saw several men walking around the windlass. Then they ran excitedly along the deck; and then I saw but two men on the deck. I gazed out at the rocking vessel and saw a boat slowly swing around the bow. It was filled with men rowing. I saw the boat pointed toward the shore. I watched it eagerly. The boat seemed to make no headway. But, yes, it was slowly making headway. Then again my heart sank, as through the flying spume I saw a mountain of water, a great billow many times higher than the stranded ship, come rolling into the bay. I stood transfixed with horror, spellbound, as I watched the water, coming with the speed of the wind, with a roar which every instant became more terrific. Powerless to aid the poor souls in the boat, struggling against a forlorn hope, in this moment of peril--of instant death, I stood, sick and faint, in contemplation of their fate.The great wave now overhung the vessel. Its foam-fringed crest curled over and, with a fearful snarl of anger, like some dread monster with jaws agape, it rushed over the vessel and obscured it from sight.I sank to the ground and covered my face, as I wept in anguish. I was overcome at the awful thought of the catastrophe and by the instant, but full realization of my great disappointment,--almost at the moment when rescue from my long, lonely exile seemed near, every hope vanished; and in a few moments I should see the bodies of those whom I hoped would succor me tossed ashore, bruised and mangled. These thoughts flashed rapidly through my mind as I sank to the earth.Yet there was a faint hope, and the flitting thought caused my courage to revive for an instant.If the boat, perchance, escaped being swamped and should be borne far enough toward the beach to ground firmly and thus escape being carried back by the receding water, her passengers might be saved; but if not, her fate was certain, for she would be hurled back upon upon the reef and not a soul would escape.I started to my feet and strained my eyes in the direction of the vessel as the huge wave thundered upon the beach, the water rolling far up toward my house.Oh, the awful anguish of that moment! At first I could see no sign of the vessel, but as the succeeding wave subsided I caught a glimpse of the vessel and saw that her masts, spars and rigging were hanging about her in a tangled mass of wreck. The hull seemed to remain in about the same position, it only having careened shoreward. The boat was nowhere to be seen, though I carefully scanned every inch of the swirling water. Perhaps it had been dashed ashore unseen by me, obscured in the cloud of foam.I dashed to the beach and ran eagerly along the shore, hoping to find the boat and to rescue her passengers who, if discovered, would be in a state of insensibility. But my search was fruitless, and I stood again a hopeless castaway, no nearer rescue than when, on that bright morning after the storm which sent theEthelyn Hopeto the bottom, I regained consciousness to find myself alone at this very spot.I returned to my house and tried to reconcile myself to my disappointment, and to adjust my mind to the rapid succession of events in which were mingled joy and sorrow, hope and despair, all within little more than a half-hour.Fortunately my house, thanks to the thoroughness with which the builder, assisted by nature, had done his work, had withstood the fury of the hurricane and had proved to be impervious to the rain, so I had no difficulty in making a fire, by which I prepared breakfast, drying my costume in the meantime.The wind had by this time nearly all died away, though the incessant roar of the surf continued on the beach. Hoping still that some one from the ill-fated vessel might escape to keep me company, I went again to the beach, walking along toward the creek. Seeing neither a body nor a sign of the boat, I started to follow along the bank of the creek with the intention of crossing it and searching along the shore in front of the bluff; but I had taken a few steps only when I stopped in astonishment, for almost at my feet, her shoulders upon a tangle of reeds, lay the body of a young woman. I thought she must be dead, for she was very white and her eyes, while open, were fixed, turned upward toward the palm leaves. As gently as I could I lifted her and with some difficulty bore her to a mound at the foot of a palm tree, where I laid her carefully down, resting her drooping head in a natural position.Poor girl--for she was but a girl--cast up by the sea, dead; and that was all I could ever know, about her. How tenderly I would lay her beneath the tropical flowers on the bluff, in a grave lined with soft grass!--alas, all I could do.Sadly I gazed at the still form, and was about to turn away again toward the beach when, to my great surprise, I thought I noticed a faint tremor on her face and a movement of her hands. I must be mistaken; but no, again there was a movement--no mistaking it this time--then her eyes closed. I knelt beside her and held her wrist. It was cold, but I thought I could detect a tiny flicker of the pulse. Certain now that life remained, I lifted her as tenderly as possible. She was very slight and I could easily bear her weight; but her body was so limp that I found it difficult to carry her, supporting her head at the same time.However, I reached the house, bore her within and laid her upon the couch. Then I took a piece of the cocoanut cloth, hastily twisting it to make it as soft as possible, and went to work vigorously chafing her wrists and hands, and I was presently rewarded by seeing her open her eyes. Her head was turned slightly away, but with a faint sigh she moved it toward me. With a wondering gaze she looked full into my face for a moment, and then her eyes closed again. She had lost consciousness, and I again chafed her hands and loosened her wet garments about her throat. In what must have been a few moments only, but what seemed to me to be hours, she again opened her eyes and I saw her lips move. I bent close to her and made out to catch her words, faintly whispered."Where am I? Is papa here?"That was all, for then she swooned away again.Her father. How strange it all was, and now for the first time, I remembered that I had not noticed a woman on the deck of the ship before the boat was launched. Satisfied now that her life was safe, I left her, hurried to the beach and renewed my search, when, directly in front of my door, with the water washing partly over it, I saw the body of a man resting upon the sand. From his appearance I judged him to be a sailor. I dragged the body out of the water. The limbs were rigid and there was a deep gash on the left temple.Feeling certain that life was extinct, I turned and continued my search. I soon picked up an oar, and as I came to the mouth of the creek I saw something which caused me to start back, involuntarily. It was a hand protruding from a pile of broken reeds. Hastily I tore away the reeds, revealing the body of a man, which, I noticed, was not dressed like a sailor. While I was moving the body away from the edge of the creek I observed that the man was rather past middle life, well built and rather stout, of medium complexion, with thick hair and moustache, both being sprinkled with gray. His limbs were not rigid, which caused me to hope that a spark of life remained. I therefore began to treat him as I knew drowning persons should be dealt with, and shortly, to my great joy, he began to revive and was, ere long, able to sit up and look about him. He gazed at me in seeming wonder as though thinking me to be a being of a different species from himself, which was not to be wondered at in view of my picturesque costume."Oh Marjorie, my poor girl:" were his first words."If you mean your daughter, sir," I said, "she is safe and sound in my house yonder." He extended his hand to me, which I took and held while he recovered his vitality sufficiently to go to the house."I fear we shall intrude greatly upon the hospitality of your household;" he said, with a little effort."No fear of that, sir," I made reply; "for the company of yourself and daughter is certainly a great pleasure to me and I am the sole member of my household.""Are you alone, then?" he asked."Yes, sir, alone on this island," I answered.He was going to say more but I begged him to desist until he was stronger, and until he was able to proceed to the house.He expressed himself as being fully able to do so, and as he seemed anxious about his daughter I assisted him to rise; and, placing an arm about him I supported him as he walked slowly to the house.The meeting of father and daughter was a joyous one. The girl was able to sit up and the color was returning to her cheeks. I could not help noticing at a glance that she was very pretty, tall with a slender well moulded figure, with brown hair and blue eyes and a clear complexion. She was, I judged, anywhere from seventeen to nineteen years old. With usual feminine thoughtfulness of her appearance she had already coiled her hair neatly and rearranged her damp garments as well as she was able. While I stirred up the fire so that my visitors might dry their clothes, the father related, briefly, the story of their experiences.His name was Richard Harborough, of Halifax, Nova Scotia, from which port the wrecked barkentine,Three Sisters, of which he was the owner, hailed. His family consisted of his wife, and three daughters for whom his vessel was named. He had determined to make a voyage in his vessel for health and recreation and his daughter Marjorie, a student at Dalhousie College, whose health had been impaired by overstudy, had accompanied him, the family physician strongly recommending a voyage in the southern seas as a restorative.TheThree Sistershad taken out a cargo of general merchandise to Demerara, British Guiana, and after discharging she had proceeded to Greytown, British Honduras, where she had taken in a partial cargo of mahogany for Boston, proceeding from the Central American coast to San Domingo where she took on board sufficient logwood to complete her cargo. During heavy weather the seas that came aboard had polluted her fresh-water casks and seeing the island just at dusk they had put in toward it intending to anchor until morning and then to come ashore and refill her casks. But the storm broke upon her, the rain obscured the island, and she would have gone ashore had she not struck one of the hidden coral reefs. What prevented her masts from going overboard the men could not explain; but it must have been a miracle, they said. As soon as the barkentine struck, the anchor was let go, by which it was hoped she would be prevented from drifting, until daylight. When first I saw the men on the deck they were hauling up the anchor, finding that the barkentine had not drifted, with the intention of taking it to windward and trying to work her off the reef by heaving at the windlass. But realizing that the vessel was hopelessly aground, and fearing that she might break up, it was decided to try to reach the shore, the result of which attempt I had witnessed.CHAPTER XVIPleasant Companions; Enlarging the House.I told them, as briefly as possible, the story of my exile on the island, to which they listened, seemingly with the greatest interest, refraining, on account of delicacy, I supposed, from asking about my strange garb."And now," I said at the conclusion of my narrative, "you must make yourselves at home and as comfortable as possible, while I see about dinner"--for it was just mid-day--"and then we will attend to the poor fellow who lies outside on the beach."So saying I took my bow-gun, my guests watching me in wonder, and started for the thicket behind the house.I hoped to secure a pigeon, for my companions must be in need of nourishing food. I had the good fortune to spy a pigeon almost immediately and to secure it with a single arrow. My companions were greatly surprised to see me return so quickly, and after placing some yams and bread fruit to roast in the ashes, I set about plucking the pigeon. It was a plump bird, of the ring-tail variety. Half of it I fixed over the coals to roast, and with the remainder I proceeded to make some broth, which I succeeded very well in doing, thickening it with crumbs of cold roasted bread fruit, and seasoning it with salt of my own manufacture, as I explained to my guests, while I prepared it.After the repast, which greatly revived Mr. Harborough and his daughter, we all went to the beach, I leading the way, to where the dead sailor lay."Poor fellow," said Mr. Harborough, "it is the third mate. The barkentine carried seven men beside the captain and three mates. We must see if any more have come ashore." But although we searched carefully all along the shore up the bay, we found no other bodies. So the dead sailor was carried tenderly to the palm grove, where he was laid in a grave, dug after much hard labor, and lined with grass; I promising to carve a head-piece for it, in the near future.Then I took Mr. Harborough and his daughter around the neighborhood of my hut, showing them where I had been cast ashore, where I had gathered the reeds and cut the bamboos for my house, where I had discovered the yam vines; indeed, I gave them a careful history of my doings thereabout, which used up all the afternoon. The sea, meantime, had subsided and the sun had dried the bush and the grass; and after a frugal meal from the remnants of the noonday repast, we sat long in front of the house beneath the tropical sky, watching the moon rising above the feathery palm tops, while we speculated regarding the future.The situation presented few complications, for we must simply make the best of everything until rescued, be it days, months, or years. Mr. Harborough had most important information to communicate, namely, that theThree Sistershad a bountiful store of food supplies and cooking utensils, as well as a rifle, shot-gun and ammunition for each. The rifle had belonged to the captain and the shot-gun to the mate, who, when opportunity offered, were accustomed to go ashore for a little sport, shooting. To get these treasures ashore would greatly add to our comfort, and, although we had no boat, we resolved, very early in the morning, to set about discussing means for saving as much as possible from the vessel.Mr. Harborough, I was glad to see, took a cheerful view of the situation, and was resolved not to despair; and Miss Harborough, also, showed her bravery by taking the greatest interest in our plans. With some large pieces of cocoanut cloth I screened off a corner of the room, including my couch, which was to serve as Miss Harborough's sleeping apartment, while Mr. Harborough and I stretched ourselves on the floor near the door. Before we slept I communicated to him my intention to build an addition to the house before attempting to do much in getting things from the vessel, in order to afford Miss Harborough privacy, by having a room to herself. He thanked me for all my kindness, and we knew no more until awakened by Puff, who, while everything was damp, had not been heard from. Indeed, I had, I regretted to admit, forgotten him. But now, his feathers dry, and the morning bright and fair, he made himself heard, indicating by all the words in his vocabulary, interspersed with shrill screeches, that he was hungry, and would brook no delay in having his wants supplied.The morning repast finished, we adjourned to the beach to lay out a plan of work for the immediate future. We had two matters to discuss: one, the most important, of devising ways and means of transporting the supplies from the stranded barkentine to the shore, and the other, the construction of an addition to the house for the accommodation of Miss Harborough."It seems to me," observed Mr. Harborough, "that we should solve the problem of getting out to the vessel as quickly as possible; for, if there arises another great storm, she might break up.""That is very true," I replied, "and your suggestion is a wise one; so, as the building of the addition to the house will not be a long task if we work together, let us set to work upon it at once. We will construct it in the same manner as I built this house."It was decided that Mr. Harborough should cut the bamboos and the canes, while I would build the house, having acquired some skill from my previous work."I fear you will find it laborious work, for I have only this knife," I observed, taking out my much-used knife."Ah," he replied, "I have a good knife, larger and stronger than yours;" so saying he produced a large pocket-knife, having a broad, strong blade."Capital," said I; "now we shall get on famously."I conducted him to the thicket of bamboos a a little way up the stream, leaving him, while I went a little further down, to cut reeds."Oh, but I want to do something to help," exclaimed Miss Harborough. "What can I do?""You can be of the greatest assistance by carrying reeds to the house. They are very light, and, besides, you can take small armfulls."She was overjoyed at the idea, and she at once set to work with much enthusiasm. I cut a quantity of reeds and then went back to bring some bamboos, after which I set to work cutting a door-way through the side of the house to connect it with the extension. I pursued the same methods as in making the main house, Mr. Harborough cutting bamboos and reeds, his daughter bringing all the filling material from the stream, while I set up the frame and wove the reeds into the walls. This finished, grass was cut for thatching the roof. We worked steadily, only stopping for a bit to eat at noon, so that, by sunset, the addition was completed. It was six by eight feet in dimensions, and it was very thoroughly made. After consulting Miss Harborough, it was decided not to have a door between the two apartments, but to hang up a curtain instead. I suggested that the curtain be made of cocoanut cloth, and I promised Miss Harborough to gather the cloth in the morning, and show her how to sew it together with fine roots.We all sat for a time in front of the house, enjoying the breeze which blew toward the land after the sun-down, retiring early in anticipation of the work of the morrow. Before I slept I had formed a plan to reach the barkentine on the reef, which I believed would prove successful. The morning dawned bright and cloudless, and the household was awakened by Puff, screaming for his breakfast.
CHAPTER XII.
Return to the Coast; A Mangrove Swamp; Fever.
When I awoke it was morning, and the sun was fully an hour up. Taking a hasty bath in the cool water of the stream, and after a hurried meal, crossing the stream on the stones that were not submerged, I set off along the east bank. The stream flowed in a northerly direction. By keeping close to the edge of the forest I made rapid progress. Nothing occurred to distract my attention, except the sight of a small flock of pigeons, one of which I killed. I encamped for the night in the edge of a thicket, and made a fire to roast the bird which I plucked while waiting for a bed of coals.
At daylight in the morning I continued my course down the stream which was now much wider and deeper. Its edge was thickly fringed with bamboo, and the idea came to me that I might construct a raft from them, and float down stream to the coast; but then, the stream was apt to become suddenly shallow in places, and it contained many large stones, and after delaying for several days while constructing the raft, it might prove to be time and labor lost.
At the close of the fourth day, as the sun was declining behind the palm trees, I was astonished, on emerging from a thicket, to see the ocean, blue and calm, stretching out before me. I had failed to note the fact that I had followed a more direct course from the coast than when I marched toward the interior, and that the mountains were much nearer the north coast than the west. For the last two days I had noticed that the cocoanut palms were more plentiful, as were also the bamboos along the stream, both of which should have reminded me of my approach to salt water. I had reached the coast sooner than I expected.
Knowing that I would probably not be able to cross the stream at its mouth, I found a place where a few stones rose above the water, and managed to cross to the other bank. The mouth of this stream differed from that of either of the other two streams that I had seen. It was broad and muddy, covering a wide expanse, and what seemed the strangest to me was that trees were growing from the water, covering the entire area of the mouth of the stream. Each tree rested upon the apex formed by a cluster of roots, which rose from the water, looking like gigantic spiders or devil-fish. I could see under the whole aquatic forest, a tangle of slimy roots above the dark water. The air was permeated by an indescribable stench; and around the edge of the dark recess, black, hairy crabs crawled about, or lay by the festering pools. I concluded that this was one of the famous mangrove swamps, and I decided to retire from such an undesirable locality.
Accordingly I proceeded along the beach until I was free from the smell of the swamp, where I made camp for the night beneath some spreading trees near the water's edge, making a fire and roasting yams, and broiling a pigeon which I had killed just after crossing the stream.
When I awoke in the morning I felt that a change had come over me. I felt dazed, the back of my head was aching, and I had a burning fever. After a few moments I remembered the swamp. The air which I had been breathing must be laden with fever. I staggered to my feet and, without stopping to get breakfast, I started along the beach, my course now being toward the west.
I felt very weak and walked with great difficulty. I was obliged to stop frequently to rest, and toward mid-day I managed to eat the remainder of the pigeon that I had broiled the night before. Once I saw some orange trees, but the fruit was both sour and bitter. I sucked some of the juice, however. The bitter and the acid seemed to allay my fever a little, and I soon felt less weak. I camped at sundown, and went to sleep with confidence that my condition would be improved in the morning, as I was at a safe distance from the swamp.
For two days more I marched along the shore, finding sweet orange-trees frequently, and plenty of pigeons whenever I chose to make a short detour into the forest.
At last a high mound appeared ahead where the shore seemed to take a sharp sweep toward the south, and, hurrying forward, I was soon standing at the top of it and, to my great joy, looking down upon the bay where I had been cast ashore.
Crossing the familiar little stream, I hastened toward my house. It was with a feeling of relief that I saw that everything was apparently as I had left it.
CHAPTER XIII.
A Feathered Companion; Making a Fish-Trap.
Everything about my house was as I had left it. Nothing had been disturbed, the overflowing stream not having reached it. The vines around the stockade now completely covered it, and the yams that I had planted in front of the stockade-gate were thick and luxuriant, the great, bean-like leaves completely concealing the entrance.
The effects of the fever were fast leaving me, and I grew strong rapidly. There was much to do, now that I was settled down at home. I dug up the yams in front of the stockade-gate and stored them in the house for future use. Then I carried out the couch and made a new one of fresh branches and grass, more comfortable than the first had been.
I also made two fire-places, mere enclosures for keeping the coals in place. These consisted of circular enclosures of stones brought from the stream, each about three feet in diameter and one foot high, one being in a corner of the house for use during rainy weather, and the other in the enclosure of the stockade, near the gate.
My next thought was to plant yams by the trunks of all the trees near the house. This would furnish me an inexhaustible supply, and of a superior quality, as the vines would have plenty of chance to climb, up and around the tree trunks.
One day while walking through the bush in search of pigeons, having succeeded in killing two, I came across several cocoanut palms of much smaller size than any I had yet seen. They were not more than fifteen feet high to the base of the leaf heads, and their tops were very spreading, much more so in proportion to the length of the trunks than in the case of the larger trees. But these all bore great bunches of nuts, and I began to wonder how the unripe nuts would taste, and whether they contained more water than the ripe ones.
With but little difficulty I climbed one of them, and with my knife clipped the stems of several of the nuts, which went tumbling to the ground.
Descending, I cut off the husk of the end opposite the stem, until I could make a hole through the shell. The latter was very thin and soft, and the knife went through it easily. My knife was always in excellent condition, kept so by frequent sharpening on the stone which I used for striking fire to the tinder.
Raising the nut as though it were a canteen, I drank the water. It was somewhat different from that of a ripe nut, much sweeter, more limpid and very cool and refreshing. After the water was drained from the nut I out it open, when I found the whole inside lined with a whitish, translucent pulp, of the consistency of solid jelly. This I found to be delicious, but, after having eaten a little, rather sickish. However, I carried several of the unripe nuts to the house, and soon became very fond of them. I made frequent trips to the young palms and the water became my principal beverage, while my only dessert was the jelly, for which I carved a rude spoon from a piece of hard wood.
I noticed that the parrots were not so noisy as they had been before I left for the interior, and for several weeks I was at a loss to account for it. But one evening, while returning from the water-cocoanut palms, I espied two diminutive parrots fluttering through the bush. They were young ones and not quite able to fly, though nearly fledged. They would launch out from a limb, sometimes falling short of their next perch, and sometimes striking against a limb, when they would flutter to the ground, making small, parrot-like cries. They were a beautiful green, with red wing feathers and red breasts and necks. The parent birds all the while remained near-by, as though encouraging the little ones in their attempts to fly.
I tried to catch one of them, but they were sufficiently active to evade me successfully. I felt a great desire to capture one and teach him to talk, for I sometimes longed for a companion to speak to. Finally I evolved a plan for catching one. I set to work to construct a net, for a snare would injure them. I prepared a great quantity of fibres from the cocoanut cloth, and with it wove a purse-shaped net, perhaps two feet in length. This was to be suspended to a limb of a tree, and baited with a piece of roast yam suspended over the mouth of the bag in such a manner that, when the young parrot reached for it, he would be almost sure to lose his balance and fall in. Its weight, together with the fluttering of the bird, would draw the mouth of the bag together and prevent its escape.
This net cost me several weeks of work, but it was at last finished and ready to set. This I did very carefully, selecting a low limb in what seemed a favorite place for the parent birds to give flying lessons to the little ones.
For several days the net remained undisturbed, and every morning I supplied it with a fresh, white piece of yam.
One morning, just at daylight, I was awakened by a great outcry of parrots, and, feeling sure that one of the young birds had fallen into the net, I hastened toward it. Sure enough, the net had done its work, for it was bobbing about and swaying from the limb, while muffled little shrieks came from the nearly-closed mouth; and from the trees around there arose a perfect babel of discordant cries of parrots, old and young. The two parent birds were perched on the limb over the net, when I arrived, but on my approach they flew away a short distance, hurling cries of defiance at me. Carefully I cut the net clear of the limb and carried it to the house, the belligerent little parrot all the time fluttering and shrieking, and striking at my hand whenever it was near the opening. I reproached myself for not thinking to make a cage for it when captured, and I was obliged to secure the opening and deposit the net in the house, while I made a cage for my future companion. This was not a difficult task. Going to the brook where the wild canes grew, I cut a quantity of them and, cutting them to the required length, I stuck them into the ground, leaving spaces about two inches wide. The canes formed a small yard about two feet square. The top was covered with a piece of cocoanut cloth, the edges being tied all around to the upright canes.
How to get the fighting little bird out of the net and into the cage was the next question. I did not exactly relish the idea of putting my hand into the net, so finally I decided to lift one corner of the cocoanut cloth on the top of the cage, and, loosening the mouth of the net, insert it under the cloth, at the same time reversing the net. The scheme worked perfectly and the little parrot tumbled into the cage, his feathers all ruffled. He was a curious little thing and I laughed aloud as, without uttering a sound, he proceeded to smooth his feathers, and then to circumnavigate the cage. He then retired a little from the bars and regarded me with the utmost seriousness, canting his head, looking at me first with one eye and then the other. Then he began to dress his feathers, evidently resolved to make the best of it all, and to feel perfectly at home from the first.
I made my pet a little run-way outside the wall of the house, constructing it in the same manner as I had the cage, covering it half with cloth and the remainder with canes so he could have both sun and shade. This enclosure I connected with the cage by cutting a square hole through the wall of the house.
As the weeks passed, the parrot grew, his wing and tail feathers developed, and he became very beautiful. He enjoyed his new home, apparently, spending a part of his time outside, and part inside. He enjoyed the sunshine, but would never remain long in it. He preferred the shade of the cloth covered portion. Nights, he always passed inside, and I made a perch for him to sleep on. It was simply a cane passing through the cage and securely fastened to a bar on each side. Hours and hours he would spend, swinging on this bar over and over, holding on with his claws, and then with his stubby beak. I fed him on yams, bananas and oranges, but the banana was his favorite food.
Every day I talked to him, telling him all about the ship-wreck, discussing with him the various tasks that occupied me, and the probability of my rescue. I named him Puff Ball on account of his shape when captured, and then I called him simply "Puff." Puff listened patiently to all I had to say, frequently interjecting a sharp comment. Sometimes he would interrupt me by setting up a loud screeching, and I always had to cease talking when Puff had the floor.
For weeks he did not appear to attempt to imitate my words, and I began to despair of teaching him to talk, when one morning, as I lay awake for a few minutes before arising, I heard him softly chattering to himself. I listened and heard him say "Puff," "Puff," very distinctly. I was delighted and, going to the cage, I complimented him on his first attempt.
Once while bathing in the stream, I noticed, for the first time, several fish gliding through a quiet pool. From the momentary glance I had of them they appeared to resemble the white perch of the lakes at home.
This opportunity to add to my larder could not be neglected, and I set to work to devise a plan for capturing them. I thought, at first, of making a hook from thorns; but this idea was abandoned as not apt to be practical, and I hit upon a plan for making a net. The first inspiration gradually developed into a trap, and took definite shape as I revolved the matter in my mind. It was a simple device, but I spent much time and patience in perfecting it.
First selecting one of the supple vines, about half an inch in thickness, I bent it into the form of a hoop, two feet in diameter, uniting the two ends by lashing them with smaller vines. Then, with the aid of a sharp thorn and thread from the fibre of the cocoanut, I sewed together pieces of the cocoanut cloth so as to make a bag three feet long, with an opening of the same diameter as the hoop. Then I sewed the edge of the opening of the bag firmly to the hoop, which kept the bag rigidly open.
Next, from more vines, I wove a funnel-shaped basket, the larger end fitting inside the hoop, while the smaller end, which was inserted into the bag, had an opening about six inches in diameter. The larger end of this basket, which was like an inverted cone, was lashed to the hoop, all around.
This was my fish-trap, and as soon as it was ready I took it to the brook. The water was normally low and, finding the narrowest place in the current, I built across it a wall of stones, having an opening in the centre of the wall, in width just a little less than the diameter of the hoop. The trap was then set into this opening, with the mouth pointing up-stream, the gentle current keeping the bag distended, while the hoop projecting across the edges of the opening in the wall held the bag in position.
I expected that the fish, swimming downstream, finding no other passage, would enter the opening of the bag and pass through the small opening in the lower end of the cone, thereby becoming imprisoned. From similar devices that my brother and myself had made and used in the brooks at home, I knew that, once inside, the fish would huddle in the lower end of the bag and make no effort to repass through the opening in the end of the cone.
CHAPTER XIV.
Another Exploring Trip; Tropical Fruits.
The morning following the setting of the trap I removed it and, allowing the water to drain out through the meshes in the bag, I found three beautiful silvery fish, not unlike the white perch of the northern waters. Cleaning them, I broiled them over the coals, and found them to be delicious, delicate and fine flavored. After that I had no lack of fresh fish.
Puff, meantime, had made rapid progress in the art of talking and could carry on quite a conversation--and many were the hours I spent assisting him in adding to his vocabulary. He insisted upon following me everywhere I went, always walking and never making any attempt to fly, his instructions in the use of his wings having been neglected since his capture. When walking through the bush in search of pigeons and other provisions, I always carried Puff perched upon my shoulder, and he never made any attempt to escape. He seemed as perfectly satisfied with my society as I was with his, and we kept up a continuous conversation.
My supply of salt becoming nearly exhausted, I procured a large supply, enough to last me many months, by the same process as had been employed on the first experiment while marching along the coast. This I sealed securely in joints of bamboo.
Having no particular task on hand, one afternoon I proceeded to prepare a supply of provisions, roast pigeon, fish, yam, a few oranges and half a dozen green cocoanuts, preparatory to setting off, the following morning, to explore along the bank of the stream, which flowed almost by my door, toward its source. I knew that this was a separate stream, independent of the other two that I had met with. I remembered that I had not crossed a third stream on my march from the mountains, and I was curious as to its source. Certainly it must be much shorter than the other two.
Seeking my couch early in order that I might set off by daylight, before going to sleep I remembered that I needed a new supply of arrows. This would necessitate delaying another day, and in the morning I set to work, and before sunset I had several dozen of much better made arrows than the first ones.
With my quiver and provision bag slung across my back and with Puff on one shoulder and the bow-gun on the other, I set out just as the sun was rising above the palm trees. I kept to the left bank of the stream, and soon passed "Bamboo Pool" where I had first discovered these useful plants.
I walked along rapidly, stopping only to refresh myself and Puff. The way was easy, for there were very few shrubs or thorn bushes along the bank. But I had to occasionally turn aside to avoid inhospitable cactus plants, and the sharp, dagger-like plant which grew plentifully almost everywhere.
Just as I was thinking about seeking a good place to camp in order that I might make myself and Puff comfortable before dark, I was brought to an abrupt stop, where I stood transfixed with surprise; for I had reached the source of the stream, less than a day's journey from my house.
Before me there was a little pool, only a few feet across, and its centre was bubbling and boiling. The water which supplied the stream flowed from the bowels of the earth. While the pool was violently agitated, no sound was made by the up-rushing water. My brook was simply the outlet of a subterranean river.
I at once made camp for the night, determining to spend a day around the pool before returning. I kindled a fire for the sake of its cheering effect, and made my supper from the provision bag. Puff was satisfied with a banana.
After a frugal breakfast in the morning--for I had only some plantain and a part of one of the fish left--I set out to explore the forest in the near vicinity of the pool. Almost immediately I came across some banana trees, and near by a few plantains were also growing. Further around I found a couple of orange trees. This seemed quite a natural garden, and it was not so far away but that I could make frequent trips from home for bananas and plantains.
Penetrating a little further into the forest, I came to a little clear spot, in the centre of which grew two large, handsome trees, each with straight, rather smooth trunks, with symmetrical tops.
At first I thought both the trees were of the same kind, but I soon noticed that the leaves of one were larger than those of the other, and more pinnate. I discovered that both trees bore curious-looking fruit. The fruit, too, looked something alike. It was large, round, and green in color, with a pebbly rind. Several were lying under each tree; but that under one of the trees was decayed, and when I tried to move it with my foot it yielded to the pressure, and as the mass parted it looked like uncooked bread. The fruit under the other tree was firm and hard. I was at a loss to solve the mystery. Cutting one of the latter, I found that it had a very hard shell. Procuring a long pole from the bush, I succeeded in knocking off some fresh fruit from the other tree. On cutting this I found that the skin was thin, and that the inside had something the appearance of a yam.
I carried one of each to camp, when it occurred to me to roast the latter, and see if it proved good to eat. While it was roasting in the coals, I cut the other green globe in halves, and found that the hard shell was very readily separated from the meat, leaving two nice bowls, suitable for drinking vessels, and perhaps for cooking. When I thought the other was thoroughly roasted, I took it from the ashes. The transformation was marvelous. The fruit was now like light, white bread. Very cautiously I tasted it, and found that, while it possessed no decided flavor, it was very delicate. I tried some with a little salt, and mentally pronounced it delicious.
Before going into camp for the night, I procured half a dozen of each fruit, and, early in the morning, after adding a supply of bananas and plantains to my burden, started to return to the house, which was reached early in the evening.
I became very fond of the new fruit, which answered for bread; and I made dishes from the shell of the other which served for drinking vessels, and I even boiled some fish in one of them.
My time was now occupied by various tasks. Frequent trips were made to the pool. I planted more yams, and made frequent excursions hunting pigeons. I also made a complete suit of clothes from the cocoanut cloth, including a hat and a pair of very substantial moccasins, for my shoes were all but useless. These things were varied by giving Puff lessons in conversation, in which he proved to be an apt scholar.
I had seen no turtles on this part of the coast, and I contemplated a journey to the cove where I had seen them months before, as soon as, from my calendar, I judged it to be their breeding season. I had long craved more of their delicious eggs.
As the days and weeks passed, frequent showers came up; and after a time, the showers of warm, tepid rain became more frequent. Some were very violent, with high wind, and occasionally thunder and lightning. They rose quickly and as quickly passed over, when the sun would burst out, making the drops falling from the trees glisten like silver. But there came a day of almost steady rain, and, after consulting my calendar, I found that it was about time for the rainy season to set in.
I had hardly thought of the rainy season since my return from the mountains. Indeed, I had intended to set to work and attempt to construct a craft with which to try to reach the distant land to the east. But now I must wait for another rainy season to pass before attempting it, for the sea would be too rough to risk a voyage in a rude and frail craft.
I allowed gloomy thoughts to take possession of me, which I did not even confide to Puff, who was my only comforter.
CHAPTER XV.
A Hurricane and a Shipwreck.
I strove to occupy my mind by digging a large store of yams, and gathering hundreds of cocoanuts, and storing them inside the house for use when the rain should prevent my going far from the shore. I also gathered an immense quantity of dead branches for firewood, which I piled in the rear of the house, covering it thickly with grass and then broad leaves and bark stripped from the trees, to shed the water.
The rain became almost constant, and after a day of hard work making some repairs that I thought necessary on my house, I lay on my couch, secure from the rain and wind, thinking of the past, present and future. The wind had risen rapidly until it had become a gale. I listened to the rustle and flapping of the leaves of the palm trees, and to the roar of the waves on the shore. At length, through the crevices around the door I could see that the night was frequently lighted up by vivid flashes of lightning. Heavy thunder began to rumble away back over the forest. The wind increased, and then came a roar which seemed to shake the earth, and shrieks sounded above the dashing of the surf as the wind came with terrible force.
I could hear the stockade creak, and see the walls of the house tremble. The rain came in torrents, and swept against the enclosure. Another blinding flash and roar, and, above the rattle of the palm leaves I could hear the crack and crash of breaking and falling branches and tree trunks. A hurricane had broken over the island. I lay appalled, and listened to the terrible havoc of the tempest. I could not close my eyes.
It seemed as though the night would never pass; but after long, weary hours, a faint gray light stole into the house, denoting the approach of day and the end of that awful night.
The storm abated a little, but the crashing sounds continued to come from the forest. As soon as it was light enough to see plainly I ventured to go outside the stockade. The structure had withstood the force of the wind; but what a pitiful sight greeted me as I looked about. Many of the tall cocoanut palms that had been my friends and companions from the first lay prostrate, twisted and broken. The ground was covered with nuts, leaves and broken branches. The little stream was full to the very top of the banks.
The waves roared and thundered on the narrow beach. I turned toward the sea and thought about the night of the wreck.
But had I gone mad? Had the horrors of the night so affected my mind? I covered my eyes, and in a moment looked again.
Yes, out toward the bluff, only a few rods from the shore, was a vessel. It lay as though at anchor. I saw that it was a barkentine. The vessel had not anchored; she was stranded. Then I ran to the shore and waved my arms wildly. I could not go to the bluff on account of the swollen stream. I saw several men walking around the windlass. Then they ran excitedly along the deck; and then I saw but two men on the deck. I gazed out at the rocking vessel and saw a boat slowly swing around the bow. It was filled with men rowing. I saw the boat pointed toward the shore. I watched it eagerly. The boat seemed to make no headway. But, yes, it was slowly making headway. Then again my heart sank, as through the flying spume I saw a mountain of water, a great billow many times higher than the stranded ship, come rolling into the bay. I stood transfixed with horror, spellbound, as I watched the water, coming with the speed of the wind, with a roar which every instant became more terrific. Powerless to aid the poor souls in the boat, struggling against a forlorn hope, in this moment of peril--of instant death, I stood, sick and faint, in contemplation of their fate.
The great wave now overhung the vessel. Its foam-fringed crest curled over and, with a fearful snarl of anger, like some dread monster with jaws agape, it rushed over the vessel and obscured it from sight.
I sank to the ground and covered my face, as I wept in anguish. I was overcome at the awful thought of the catastrophe and by the instant, but full realization of my great disappointment,--almost at the moment when rescue from my long, lonely exile seemed near, every hope vanished; and in a few moments I should see the bodies of those whom I hoped would succor me tossed ashore, bruised and mangled. These thoughts flashed rapidly through my mind as I sank to the earth.
Yet there was a faint hope, and the flitting thought caused my courage to revive for an instant.
If the boat, perchance, escaped being swamped and should be borne far enough toward the beach to ground firmly and thus escape being carried back by the receding water, her passengers might be saved; but if not, her fate was certain, for she would be hurled back upon upon the reef and not a soul would escape.
I started to my feet and strained my eyes in the direction of the vessel as the huge wave thundered upon the beach, the water rolling far up toward my house.
Oh, the awful anguish of that moment! At first I could see no sign of the vessel, but as the succeeding wave subsided I caught a glimpse of the vessel and saw that her masts, spars and rigging were hanging about her in a tangled mass of wreck. The hull seemed to remain in about the same position, it only having careened shoreward. The boat was nowhere to be seen, though I carefully scanned every inch of the swirling water. Perhaps it had been dashed ashore unseen by me, obscured in the cloud of foam.
I dashed to the beach and ran eagerly along the shore, hoping to find the boat and to rescue her passengers who, if discovered, would be in a state of insensibility. But my search was fruitless, and I stood again a hopeless castaway, no nearer rescue than when, on that bright morning after the storm which sent theEthelyn Hopeto the bottom, I regained consciousness to find myself alone at this very spot.
I returned to my house and tried to reconcile myself to my disappointment, and to adjust my mind to the rapid succession of events in which were mingled joy and sorrow, hope and despair, all within little more than a half-hour.
Fortunately my house, thanks to the thoroughness with which the builder, assisted by nature, had done his work, had withstood the fury of the hurricane and had proved to be impervious to the rain, so I had no difficulty in making a fire, by which I prepared breakfast, drying my costume in the meantime.
The wind had by this time nearly all died away, though the incessant roar of the surf continued on the beach. Hoping still that some one from the ill-fated vessel might escape to keep me company, I went again to the beach, walking along toward the creek. Seeing neither a body nor a sign of the boat, I started to follow along the bank of the creek with the intention of crossing it and searching along the shore in front of the bluff; but I had taken a few steps only when I stopped in astonishment, for almost at my feet, her shoulders upon a tangle of reeds, lay the body of a young woman. I thought she must be dead, for she was very white and her eyes, while open, were fixed, turned upward toward the palm leaves. As gently as I could I lifted her and with some difficulty bore her to a mound at the foot of a palm tree, where I laid her carefully down, resting her drooping head in a natural position.
Poor girl--for she was but a girl--cast up by the sea, dead; and that was all I could ever know, about her. How tenderly I would lay her beneath the tropical flowers on the bluff, in a grave lined with soft grass!--alas, all I could do.
Sadly I gazed at the still form, and was about to turn away again toward the beach when, to my great surprise, I thought I noticed a faint tremor on her face and a movement of her hands. I must be mistaken; but no, again there was a movement--no mistaking it this time--then her eyes closed. I knelt beside her and held her wrist. It was cold, but I thought I could detect a tiny flicker of the pulse. Certain now that life remained, I lifted her as tenderly as possible. She was very slight and I could easily bear her weight; but her body was so limp that I found it difficult to carry her, supporting her head at the same time.
However, I reached the house, bore her within and laid her upon the couch. Then I took a piece of the cocoanut cloth, hastily twisting it to make it as soft as possible, and went to work vigorously chafing her wrists and hands, and I was presently rewarded by seeing her open her eyes. Her head was turned slightly away, but with a faint sigh she moved it toward me. With a wondering gaze she looked full into my face for a moment, and then her eyes closed again. She had lost consciousness, and I again chafed her hands and loosened her wet garments about her throat. In what must have been a few moments only, but what seemed to me to be hours, she again opened her eyes and I saw her lips move. I bent close to her and made out to catch her words, faintly whispered.
"Where am I? Is papa here?"
That was all, for then she swooned away again.
Her father. How strange it all was, and now for the first time, I remembered that I had not noticed a woman on the deck of the ship before the boat was launched. Satisfied now that her life was safe, I left her, hurried to the beach and renewed my search, when, directly in front of my door, with the water washing partly over it, I saw the body of a man resting upon the sand. From his appearance I judged him to be a sailor. I dragged the body out of the water. The limbs were rigid and there was a deep gash on the left temple.
Feeling certain that life was extinct, I turned and continued my search. I soon picked up an oar, and as I came to the mouth of the creek I saw something which caused me to start back, involuntarily. It was a hand protruding from a pile of broken reeds. Hastily I tore away the reeds, revealing the body of a man, which, I noticed, was not dressed like a sailor. While I was moving the body away from the edge of the creek I observed that the man was rather past middle life, well built and rather stout, of medium complexion, with thick hair and moustache, both being sprinkled with gray. His limbs were not rigid, which caused me to hope that a spark of life remained. I therefore began to treat him as I knew drowning persons should be dealt with, and shortly, to my great joy, he began to revive and was, ere long, able to sit up and look about him. He gazed at me in seeming wonder as though thinking me to be a being of a different species from himself, which was not to be wondered at in view of my picturesque costume.
"Oh Marjorie, my poor girl:" were his first words.
"If you mean your daughter, sir," I said, "she is safe and sound in my house yonder." He extended his hand to me, which I took and held while he recovered his vitality sufficiently to go to the house.
"I fear we shall intrude greatly upon the hospitality of your household;" he said, with a little effort.
"No fear of that, sir," I made reply; "for the company of yourself and daughter is certainly a great pleasure to me and I am the sole member of my household."
"Are you alone, then?" he asked.
"Yes, sir, alone on this island," I answered.
He was going to say more but I begged him to desist until he was stronger, and until he was able to proceed to the house.
He expressed himself as being fully able to do so, and as he seemed anxious about his daughter I assisted him to rise; and, placing an arm about him I supported him as he walked slowly to the house.
The meeting of father and daughter was a joyous one. The girl was able to sit up and the color was returning to her cheeks. I could not help noticing at a glance that she was very pretty, tall with a slender well moulded figure, with brown hair and blue eyes and a clear complexion. She was, I judged, anywhere from seventeen to nineteen years old. With usual feminine thoughtfulness of her appearance she had already coiled her hair neatly and rearranged her damp garments as well as she was able. While I stirred up the fire so that my visitors might dry their clothes, the father related, briefly, the story of their experiences.
His name was Richard Harborough, of Halifax, Nova Scotia, from which port the wrecked barkentine,Three Sisters, of which he was the owner, hailed. His family consisted of his wife, and three daughters for whom his vessel was named. He had determined to make a voyage in his vessel for health and recreation and his daughter Marjorie, a student at Dalhousie College, whose health had been impaired by overstudy, had accompanied him, the family physician strongly recommending a voyage in the southern seas as a restorative.
TheThree Sistershad taken out a cargo of general merchandise to Demerara, British Guiana, and after discharging she had proceeded to Greytown, British Honduras, where she had taken in a partial cargo of mahogany for Boston, proceeding from the Central American coast to San Domingo where she took on board sufficient logwood to complete her cargo. During heavy weather the seas that came aboard had polluted her fresh-water casks and seeing the island just at dusk they had put in toward it intending to anchor until morning and then to come ashore and refill her casks. But the storm broke upon her, the rain obscured the island, and she would have gone ashore had she not struck one of the hidden coral reefs. What prevented her masts from going overboard the men could not explain; but it must have been a miracle, they said. As soon as the barkentine struck, the anchor was let go, by which it was hoped she would be prevented from drifting, until daylight. When first I saw the men on the deck they were hauling up the anchor, finding that the barkentine had not drifted, with the intention of taking it to windward and trying to work her off the reef by heaving at the windlass. But realizing that the vessel was hopelessly aground, and fearing that she might break up, it was decided to try to reach the shore, the result of which attempt I had witnessed.
CHAPTER XVI
Pleasant Companions; Enlarging the House.
I told them, as briefly as possible, the story of my exile on the island, to which they listened, seemingly with the greatest interest, refraining, on account of delicacy, I supposed, from asking about my strange garb.
"And now," I said at the conclusion of my narrative, "you must make yourselves at home and as comfortable as possible, while I see about dinner"--for it was just mid-day--"and then we will attend to the poor fellow who lies outside on the beach."
So saying I took my bow-gun, my guests watching me in wonder, and started for the thicket behind the house.
I hoped to secure a pigeon, for my companions must be in need of nourishing food. I had the good fortune to spy a pigeon almost immediately and to secure it with a single arrow. My companions were greatly surprised to see me return so quickly, and after placing some yams and bread fruit to roast in the ashes, I set about plucking the pigeon. It was a plump bird, of the ring-tail variety. Half of it I fixed over the coals to roast, and with the remainder I proceeded to make some broth, which I succeeded very well in doing, thickening it with crumbs of cold roasted bread fruit, and seasoning it with salt of my own manufacture, as I explained to my guests, while I prepared it.
After the repast, which greatly revived Mr. Harborough and his daughter, we all went to the beach, I leading the way, to where the dead sailor lay.
"Poor fellow," said Mr. Harborough, "it is the third mate. The barkentine carried seven men beside the captain and three mates. We must see if any more have come ashore." But although we searched carefully all along the shore up the bay, we found no other bodies. So the dead sailor was carried tenderly to the palm grove, where he was laid in a grave, dug after much hard labor, and lined with grass; I promising to carve a head-piece for it, in the near future.
Then I took Mr. Harborough and his daughter around the neighborhood of my hut, showing them where I had been cast ashore, where I had gathered the reeds and cut the bamboos for my house, where I had discovered the yam vines; indeed, I gave them a careful history of my doings thereabout, which used up all the afternoon. The sea, meantime, had subsided and the sun had dried the bush and the grass; and after a frugal meal from the remnants of the noonday repast, we sat long in front of the house beneath the tropical sky, watching the moon rising above the feathery palm tops, while we speculated regarding the future.
The situation presented few complications, for we must simply make the best of everything until rescued, be it days, months, or years. Mr. Harborough had most important information to communicate, namely, that theThree Sistershad a bountiful store of food supplies and cooking utensils, as well as a rifle, shot-gun and ammunition for each. The rifle had belonged to the captain and the shot-gun to the mate, who, when opportunity offered, were accustomed to go ashore for a little sport, shooting. To get these treasures ashore would greatly add to our comfort, and, although we had no boat, we resolved, very early in the morning, to set about discussing means for saving as much as possible from the vessel.
Mr. Harborough, I was glad to see, took a cheerful view of the situation, and was resolved not to despair; and Miss Harborough, also, showed her bravery by taking the greatest interest in our plans. With some large pieces of cocoanut cloth I screened off a corner of the room, including my couch, which was to serve as Miss Harborough's sleeping apartment, while Mr. Harborough and I stretched ourselves on the floor near the door. Before we slept I communicated to him my intention to build an addition to the house before attempting to do much in getting things from the vessel, in order to afford Miss Harborough privacy, by having a room to herself. He thanked me for all my kindness, and we knew no more until awakened by Puff, who, while everything was damp, had not been heard from. Indeed, I had, I regretted to admit, forgotten him. But now, his feathers dry, and the morning bright and fair, he made himself heard, indicating by all the words in his vocabulary, interspersed with shrill screeches, that he was hungry, and would brook no delay in having his wants supplied.
The morning repast finished, we adjourned to the beach to lay out a plan of work for the immediate future. We had two matters to discuss: one, the most important, of devising ways and means of transporting the supplies from the stranded barkentine to the shore, and the other, the construction of an addition to the house for the accommodation of Miss Harborough.
"It seems to me," observed Mr. Harborough, "that we should solve the problem of getting out to the vessel as quickly as possible; for, if there arises another great storm, she might break up."
"That is very true," I replied, "and your suggestion is a wise one; so, as the building of the addition to the house will not be a long task if we work together, let us set to work upon it at once. We will construct it in the same manner as I built this house."
It was decided that Mr. Harborough should cut the bamboos and the canes, while I would build the house, having acquired some skill from my previous work.
"I fear you will find it laborious work, for I have only this knife," I observed, taking out my much-used knife.
"Ah," he replied, "I have a good knife, larger and stronger than yours;" so saying he produced a large pocket-knife, having a broad, strong blade.
"Capital," said I; "now we shall get on famously."
I conducted him to the thicket of bamboos a a little way up the stream, leaving him, while I went a little further down, to cut reeds.
"Oh, but I want to do something to help," exclaimed Miss Harborough. "What can I do?"
"You can be of the greatest assistance by carrying reeds to the house. They are very light, and, besides, you can take small armfulls."
She was overjoyed at the idea, and she at once set to work with much enthusiasm. I cut a quantity of reeds and then went back to bring some bamboos, after which I set to work cutting a door-way through the side of the house to connect it with the extension. I pursued the same methods as in making the main house, Mr. Harborough cutting bamboos and reeds, his daughter bringing all the filling material from the stream, while I set up the frame and wove the reeds into the walls. This finished, grass was cut for thatching the roof. We worked steadily, only stopping for a bit to eat at noon, so that, by sunset, the addition was completed. It was six by eight feet in dimensions, and it was very thoroughly made. After consulting Miss Harborough, it was decided not to have a door between the two apartments, but to hang up a curtain instead. I suggested that the curtain be made of cocoanut cloth, and I promised Miss Harborough to gather the cloth in the morning, and show her how to sew it together with fine roots.
We all sat for a time in front of the house, enjoying the breeze which blew toward the land after the sun-down, retiring early in anticipation of the work of the morrow. Before I slept I had formed a plan to reach the barkentine on the reef, which I believed would prove successful. The morning dawned bright and cloudless, and the household was awakened by Puff, screaming for his breakfast.