"I'm monarch of all I survey,My right there is none to dispute;From the centre all round to the sea,I'm lord of the fowl and the brute!Oh Solitude where are the charms," &c.
"I'm monarch of all I survey,
My right there is none to dispute;
From the centre all round to the sea,
I'm lord of the fowl and the brute!
Oh Solitude where are the charms," &c.
This was so enthusiastically applauded, that my friend Abraham, whose passion for all sorts of curiosities had led him to explore musty old books as well as musty old caves for odds and ends, now rose on his goatskin, and said that, with permission of the company, he would attempt something which he considered peculiarly appropriate to the occasion. He was not much of a singer, but he hoped the interest attached to the words would be a sufficient compensation for all the deficiencies of voice and style.
"Go ahead, Abraham!" cried every body, greatly interested by these remarks. "Let us have the song! Out with it!"
"First," said Abraham, clearing his voice, "I beg leave to state, for the benefit of all who may not be familiar with the fact, that this is no vulgar or commonplace song, as many people suppose who sing it. On the contrary, it may be regarded as a classical production. Among the many effusions to which the popularity ofRobinson Crusoe gave rise, none was a greater favorite in its day than the song which I am about to attempt. It has been customary to introduce it in the character of Jerry Sneak, in Foote's celebrated farce, the Mayor of Garratt. As the words are now nearly forgotten, I hope you'll not consider it tiresome if I go through to the end. Join in the chorus, gentlemen!"
POOR ROBINSON CRUSOE.
"When I was a lad, my fortune was bad,My grandfather I did lose O;I'll bet you a can, you've heard of the man,His name it was Robinson Crusoe.Oh! poor Robinson Crusoe,Tinky ting tang, tinky ting tang,Oh! poor Robinson Crusoe."You've read in a book of a voyage he took,While the raging whirlwinds blew, soThat the ship with a shock fell plump on a rock,Near drowning poor Robinson Crusoe.Oh! poor, &c."Poor soul! none but he escaped on the sea.Ah, Fate! Fate! how could you do so?'Till at length he was thrown on an island unknown,Which received poor Robinson Crusoe."
"When I was a lad, my fortune was bad,My grandfather I did lose O;I'll bet you a can, you've heard of the man,His name it was Robinson Crusoe.Oh! poor Robinson Crusoe,Tinky ting tang, tinky ting tang,Oh! poor Robinson Crusoe.
"When I was a lad, my fortune was bad,
My grandfather I did lose O;
I'll bet you a can, you've heard of the man,
His name it was Robinson Crusoe.
Oh! poor Robinson Crusoe,
Tinky ting tang, tinky ting tang,
Oh! poor Robinson Crusoe.
"You've read in a book of a voyage he took,While the raging whirlwinds blew, soThat the ship with a shock fell plump on a rock,Near drowning poor Robinson Crusoe.Oh! poor, &c.
"You've read in a book of a voyage he took,
While the raging whirlwinds blew, so
That the ship with a shock fell plump on a rock,
Near drowning poor Robinson Crusoe.
Oh! poor, &c.
"Poor soul! none but he escaped on the sea.Ah, Fate! Fate! how could you do so?'Till at length he was thrown on an island unknown,Which received poor Robinson Crusoe."
"Poor soul! none but he escaped on the sea.
Ah, Fate! Fate! how could you do so?
'Till at length he was thrown on an island unknown,
Which received poor Robinson Crusoe."
"Here, gentlemen, I beg you to take notice that we are now, in all probability, on the very spot. I have the strongest reasons for supposing that the castle of our excellent host, in which we are at this moment enjoying the flow of soul and the feast of reason, is built upon the identical site occupied in former times by the castle of the remarkable adventurer in whose honor this song was composed. But to proceed—
"Tinky ting tang, tinky ting tang,Oh! poor Robinson Crusoe."But he saved from on board a gun and a sword,And another old matter or two, soThat by dint of his thrift, he managed to shiftPretty well, for poor Robinson Crusoe.Oh! poor, &c."He wanted something to eat, and couldn't get meat,The cattle away from him flew, soThat but for his gun he'd been sorely undone,And starved would poor Robinson Crusoe.Oh! poor, &c."And he happened to save from the merciless waveA poor parrot, I assure you 'tis true, soThat when he came home, from a wearisome roam,Used to cry out, Poor Robinson Crusoe.Oh! poor, &c."Then he got all the wood that ever he could,And stuck it together with glue, soThat he made him a hut, in which he might putThe carcass of Robinson Crusoe."
"Tinky ting tang, tinky ting tang,Oh! poor Robinson Crusoe.
"Tinky ting tang, tinky ting tang,
Oh! poor Robinson Crusoe.
"But he saved from on board a gun and a sword,And another old matter or two, soThat by dint of his thrift, he managed to shiftPretty well, for poor Robinson Crusoe.Oh! poor, &c.
"But he saved from on board a gun and a sword,
And another old matter or two, so
That by dint of his thrift, he managed to shift
Pretty well, for poor Robinson Crusoe.
Oh! poor, &c.
"He wanted something to eat, and couldn't get meat,The cattle away from him flew, soThat but for his gun he'd been sorely undone,And starved would poor Robinson Crusoe.Oh! poor, &c.
"He wanted something to eat, and couldn't get meat,
The cattle away from him flew, so
That but for his gun he'd been sorely undone,
And starved would poor Robinson Crusoe.
Oh! poor, &c.
"And he happened to save from the merciless waveA poor parrot, I assure you 'tis true, soThat when he came home, from a wearisome roam,Used to cry out, Poor Robinson Crusoe.Oh! poor, &c.
"And he happened to save from the merciless wave
A poor parrot, I assure you 'tis true, so
That when he came home, from a wearisome roam,
Used to cry out, Poor Robinson Crusoe.
Oh! poor, &c.
"Then he got all the wood that ever he could,And stuck it together with glue, soThat he made him a hut, in which he might putThe carcass of Robinson Crusoe."
"Then he got all the wood that ever he could,
And stuck it together with glue, so
That he made him a hut, in which he might put
The carcass of Robinson Crusoe."
"Hold on there! hold on!" cried a voice, in a high state of excitement. Every body turned to see who it was that dared to interrupt so inspiring a song. Immediately the indignant gaze was fixed upon the face of the Doubter, who, with outstretched neck, was peering at Abraham from his dark corner. "Excuse me, gentlemen," said he, "but I want some information on that point. Did you mean to say, sir, that he, Robinson Crusoe, stuck the wood together withgluewhen he built his house? withglue, did you say?"
"So the song goes," said Abraham, a little confused, not to say irritated. "Doubtless the words are used in a metaphorical sense. There is every reason to believe that this is a mere poetical license; but it doesn't alter the general accuracy of the history. For my own part, I am disposed to think that the house was built very much upon the same principles as that of our friend Pearce; in fact, that it was precisely such an establishment as we at present occupy."
"Go on, sir—go on; I'm perfectly satisfied," muttered the Doubter; "the whole thing hangs together by means of glue; every part of it is connected with the same material!"
Abraham reddened to the eyebrows at this uncalled-for remark; his fine features, usually so placid and fullof good nature, were distorted with indignation; he turned fiercely toward the Doubter; he instinctively doubled up both fists; he breathed hard between his clenched teeth; then, hearing a low murmur of dissuasion from the whole party, he turned away with a smile of contempt, breaking abruptly into the burden of his song,
"Tinky ting tang, tinky ting tang,Oh! poor Robinson Crusoe!"While his man Friday kept the house snug and tidy,For be sure 'twas his business to do so,They lived friendly together, less like servant than neighbor,Lived Friday and Robinson Crusoe.Oh! poor, &c."Then he wore a large cap, and a coat without nap,And a beard as long as a Jew, soThat, by all that's civil, he looked like a devilMore than poor Robinson Crusoe."
"Tinky ting tang, tinky ting tang,Oh! poor Robinson Crusoe!
"Tinky ting tang, tinky ting tang,
Oh! poor Robinson Crusoe!
"While his man Friday kept the house snug and tidy,For be sure 'twas his business to do so,They lived friendly together, less like servant than neighbor,Lived Friday and Robinson Crusoe.Oh! poor, &c.
"While his man Friday kept the house snug and tidy,
For be sure 'twas his business to do so,
They lived friendly together, less like servant than neighbor,
Lived Friday and Robinson Crusoe.
Oh! poor, &c.
"Then he wore a large cap, and a coat without nap,And a beard as long as a Jew, soThat, by all that's civil, he looked like a devilMore than poor Robinson Crusoe."
"Then he wore a large cap, and a coat without nap,
And a beard as long as a Jew, so
That, by all that's civil, he looked like a devil
More than poor Robinson Crusoe."
"Which shows," continued Abraham, with his accustomed smile of good humor, "the extraordinary shifts to which a man may be reduced by necessity, and the uncouth appearance he must present in a perfectly unshaved state, when even the poet admits that he looked like a devil. These articles of clothing, which contributed to give him such a wild aspect, were made of goatskins, as he himself informs us in his wonderful narrative; and I beg you to remember, gentlemen, that the very skins upon which we are this moment sitting are related, by direct descent, to those which were worn by Robinson Crusoe."
Here the Doubter groaned.
"Well, sir, is there any thing improbable in that?" said Abraham, fiercely. "Have you any objection to that remark, sir?"
"No; I have nothing to say against it in particular, except that I'd believe it sooner if there were goats in the skins. I never heard of modern goatskins descending from ancient goatskins before."
"Of course, sir," said Abraham, coloring, "the goats were in the skins before they were taken out."
"Likely they were," growled the Doubter; "I won't dispute that. But I'd like to know, as a matter of information, if he, Robinson Crusoe, made his clothes in the same way as he made his house?"
"To be sure, sir; to be sure: he made both with his own hands."
"I thought so," said the Doubter, sinking back into his dark corner; "he sew'd 'em with glue. All glue—glue from beginning to end."
"I'll see you to-morrow, sir!" said Abraham, swelling with indignation; "we'll settle this matter to-morrow, sir. At present I shall pay no further attention to your remarks!" Here he drew several rapid breaths, as if swallowing down his passion; and, looking round with a darkened brow upon the mute and astonished company, resumed, in a loud and steady voice,
"Tinky ting tang, tinky ting tang,Oh! poor Robinson Crusoe!"At length, within hail, he saw a stout sail,And he took to his little canoe; so,When he reach'd the ship, they gave him a trip,Back to England brought Robinson Crusoe.Oh! poor Robinson Crusoe!"
"Tinky ting tang, tinky ting tang,Oh! poor Robinson Crusoe!
"Tinky ting tang, tinky ting tang,
Oh! poor Robinson Crusoe!
"At length, within hail, he saw a stout sail,And he took to his little canoe; so,When he reach'd the ship, they gave him a trip,Back to England brought Robinson Crusoe.Oh! poor Robinson Crusoe!"
"At length, within hail, he saw a stout sail,
And he took to his little canoe; so,
When he reach'd the ship, they gave him a trip,
Back to England brought Robinson Crusoe.
Oh! poor Robinson Crusoe!"
We all joined in the chorus—all, except the incredulous man; and, notwithstanding the unfortunate difference between Abraham and that individual, which tended so much to mar the harmony of the occasion, we thought, from the way our voices sounded, that it must have been the very first time this inspiring song was sung in the solitudes of Juan Fernandez. I even fancied I detected the crusty voice of Pearce in the chorus: but I wouldn't like to make a positive assertion to that effect, on account of the danger of giving him offense, should he ever cast his eyes upon this narrative. As there was still evidently a cloud upon Abraham's brow, which might burst to-morrow upon the Doubter, and thereby bring the whole adventure to a tragic termination, several of us now, by a concerted movement, endeavored to effect a reconciliation.We seized upon the Doubter, who by this time was dozing away in the corner, and brought him forth to the light, where he looked about him in mute astonishment, muttering, as if awakened out of a dream, "No, sir, it can't be done, sir; a house never was built with glue yet; goatskins never were sewed together with glue—never, sir, never!"
"You shall swallow those words, sir!" cried Abraham, quivering with passion; "I'll make you swallow them, sir, to-morrow morning!"
"I'll swallow 'em now if you like," drawled the Doubter, with provoking coolness, "but I can't swallow a house built of glue. Possibly I might swallow the goatskins, but the house won't go down—it ain't the kind of thing to go down!"
Here it required our full force to restrain Abraham; he fairly chafed with indignation; his face was flushed; his nostrils distended; his stalwart limbs writhing convulsively; in truth, our well-meant plan of reconciliation only seemed to hasten the tragedy which we were striving to prevent. Pearce himself now interposed.
"I know'd it," said he; "I know'd they'd tear my house down yet, and ruin my furniture! Next thing, all hands'll be breakin' my chairs to pieces on one another's heads; I know'd it; I wouldn't believe 'em on oath!"
This rebuke touched Abraham in a tender point. Quick to take offense, he was also ready in forgiving an injury, especially when a due regard for the feelings of others required it.
"Gentlemen," said he, "it shall never be said that I have violated the rites of hospitality. There shall be no further difficulty about this matter; I forgive all. Your hand, sir!"
The Doubter awkwardly held out his hand and suffered it to be shaken, upon which he crept back into his dark corner, still, however, muttering incoherently from time to time; but as nothing could be distinguished butthe word "glue," it was not deemed of sufficient importance for the renewal of hostilities, or the interruption of the general harmony. Good humor being restored, it was all the more hearty after these unpleasant little episodes; and so genial an effect had it upon Pearce, that he quite forgot his resentment, and unbended himself again. Gradually he began to tell us wild stories of his Crusoe life; how he had lived all alone for nearly a year on the island of Massafuero without seeing the face of man; how, during that time, he sustained himself upon roots and herbs, and likewise by catching wild goats in traps; how he never was so happy in his life, and never had any trouble till he left that island in a whaler, and came here to Juan Fernandez; how for two years he had lived on this island, sometimes alone, and sometimes surrounded by outlawed Chilians; how on one occasion, while up in the mountains hunting goats, he fell down a precipice, and broke his arm and two of his ribs, and was near dying all alone, without a soul to care for him. A great many strange stories and legends he told us, too, in his rude way, about Juan Fernandez; and so strong was his homely language, and so fresh and novel his reminiscences, that we often looked round in the waning light of the lamp for fear some ghost or murderer would steal in upon us.
As well as I can remember, one of his strange narratives was substantially as follows. There was all the force of reality to give it interest; for it was evidently, as he told us, a simple recital of facts.
THE MURDER.
About five years ago (I think he said it was in 1844), a murder was committed on the island by the father of one of the present Chilian residents. Pearce was thenin Valparaiso, and had a statement of the circumstances from some of the parties concerned in it.
Tragic Fate of the ScotchmanTRAGIC FATE OF THE SCOTCHMAN.
TRAGIC FATE OF THE SCOTCHMAN.
A Scotch sailor, it appeared, deserted from a vessel that touched at the island for wood and water. For a time he concealed himself in a cave among the cliffs near the bay. When the vessel sailed, he came down into the valley and built himself a hut out of straw, in which he resided several months alone. By fishing, and catching wild goats in traps, he supported himself comfortably, and was becoming reconciled to his isolated life, when a family of Chilians, consisting of five or six men and women, under the control of an old Spaniard, father-in-law of one of the younger men, came over about this period in a small trading vessel from Massafuero. They had been living there for some time, but thought they could do better in Juan Fernandez. There were no huts standing there then except that belonging to the sailor. The Chilians prevailed upon him to let them occupy a part of his house, promising to build themselves one as soon as they could cut straw and wood enough. Every day they went out on the hill-sides to cut the straw, and they seemed to be making good progress with their hut. One night the sailor, as he lay in bed,overheard one of the Chilians say to the others, "We are working hard every day, but it will be a long time before we can get a house built. Neither will it be big enough for us all when we finish it. This man is nothing but a heretic, therefore it would be no sin to take his life. Let us kill him, and then we can have his house, which has other buildings to it, without the trouble of doing any more work." The others agreed to this, all except one woman, who said God would never suffer them to prosper if they committed such a deed. However, they silenced her by threats, and then talked further upon the best means of murdering the Scotchman. Having been a beach-comber for many years in Spanish countries, he understood the language, and it so happened that he overheard nearly every word. Being a powerful man, of great courage and fierce temper, he sprang from his bed, and swore they must leave the house at that very instant, or he would cut their throats. The woman he would have spared this treatment, but he knew she would only fare the worse for his protection. Finding him resolute, they took their things and left the house; but after they were out in the dark, it being a stormy night, they begged so hard for shelter that he told them they might go into a shed, which he had built some distance off to keep goats in. Here they remained, without daring to molest him, until their own house was completed. In the mean time, the suspicions of the sailor were lulled by their friendly behavior, and he often spent a part of his time in social talk with them, which was the more agreeable inasmuch as the old man's daughter, who had taken his part at first, fell in love with him, and, although jealously watched by her husband, found frequent chances of meeting him alone. He became much attached to her, as well on account of her attempt to save his life as the charms of her person, which were well calculated to excite admiration and kindle the amorous flame. She was a very beautiful woman, a Chilian by birth, and was married against her inclination; andcoming from a country where the marriage tie is not considered so sacred as it is in more northern climes, she had but little scruple in yielding to her guilty love. His manly person and bold bearing had attracted her in the first place, and these stolen interviews only served to strengthen the passion that grew up between them. At this period they were joined by an English sailor, another deserter, who took up his quarters with the Chilians in their new abode, and became a member of their gang. The Scotchman had refused, from some dislike that he formed to this man on first sight, to take him into his cabin. This led to a mutual hatred, which was soon increased by other causes. The Englishman, struck by the beauty of the young woman, whose affections the other had won, now made love to her on all occasions, but she gave him no encouragement. He attributed his failure to the Scotchman, whom he secretly watched. Fired with jealousy and deadly hatred toward his rival, he resolved upon putting him to death by stratagem, for he was too cowardly to undertake it openly. Having learned the difficulty that had previously occurred, he took occasion to tell the Chilians that the Scotchman was their mortal enemy, and only awaitedan opportunity to murder them all, so as to get entire possession of the young woman, with whom he had already formed a guilty connection. At this period three Americans deserted from a whale-ship and joined the Scotchman. Through some accident, or most likely by foul means, his hut took fire soon after, and was burnt to the ground. He and his companions were obliged to move to a cave near by, where they designed living till they could build another. Knowing nothing of the schemes of the English sailor, who took care that it should not be found out through the woman, they were ignorant of the hostile intention of the Chilians, till one day, as they were scattered over the valley, cutting wild oats for their cabin, the Englishman told the old man, who was the leader of the Chilians, that he had overheard the other party say they were going to murder them all that night; and prevailed upon him to muster his men together secretly, and settle the matter at once. They all went first to the cave, and took possession of the arms left there by the Americans and their leader. The old man, followed at a distance by his comrades, thereupon proceeded to the valley with a loaded gun; and seeing the Scotchman at a distance from the others, he stole upon him and shot him through the body with slugs. Badly wounded, but not mortally, the Scotchman shouted to his friends that he was shot; that they must follow him and fight for their lives, upon which he ran, covered with blood, toward the cave, followed by the Americans. On arriving there they found all their fire-arms gone: they fought for some time with their knives, but were finally overpowered by the Chilian party and bound hand and foot.
The LoversTHE LOVERS.
THE LOVERS.
Next day it so happened that a whale-ship came into the harbor for wood and water. The Americans were carried back some distance and hid among the cliffs, with an armed guard over them, so that they might be out of the way when the people from the ship came ashore; and the wounded man was concealed in a cave. TheEnglishman then went on board with the old Chilian, and told the captain that a deserter from a whale-ship, who had been on the island some time, had undertaken to murder them, and they had shot him in self-defense. Their story was plausibly told, and was believed. They said the man was not dead, and they asked the captain to take him away, as they wanted to get rid of him. The captain refused to do this, saying he would have nothing to do with a deserter; if the man got into trouble by his misconduct, he might get out of it the best way he could. When the vessel sailed, which was the next day, the Chilians, in compliance with the advice of the Englishman, took their wounded prisoner out into an open space, and shot him through the heart. He fell dead upon the spot. They then dug a hole in the ground and buried him; and, in order to keep his spirit from rising upon them at night, they erected a cross over the grave. The woman, upon hearing that her lover was murdered, fell into a state of melancholy, and refused to taste any food for many days. Such was her distress, that she wandered about the cliffs like one bereft of her senses, and was often found at night weeping upon his grave. Indeed, she never fully recovered, but was always from that time weakly and unsettled in her mind.
Grave of the Murdered ManGRAVE OF THE MURDERED MAN.
GRAVE OF THE MURDERED MAN.
Another vessel came into port in the course of a few months, and the affair became known through the three Americans, who made their escape and got on board. News of the murder was carried to Talcahuana by this vessel; and as soon as it reached Valparaiso, a small Chilian cutter, then lying in the harbor, was dispatched to the island of Juan Fernandez to capture and bring home the murderers. On their arrival in Valparaiso they were taken in irons to Santiago, the seat of government, where they were tried and sentenced to be shot in the public plaza. Some of the circumstances, considered palliating, became known before the execution was carried into effect, and their punishment was commuted to five years' banishment on the island of St. Felix.
The Chilian government still holds a penal settlement on that island. All criminals of a desperate character are sent there and subjected to hard labor. The term for which these murderers had been banished had just expired (in 1849), and it was supposed by the present Chilian residents that they would return by the first opportunity to Juan Fernandez.
THE SKULL.
During the recital of this tragical narrative, Abraham, who had listened to every word with intense interest, became strangely agitated. Several times it was apparently with the utmost difficulty he could refrain from relieving himself of something that produced an unusual effect upon his mind. Especially when it came to the death of the unfortunate Scotchman, I thought I noticed that he was intensely excited. At first, knowing the tenderness of his feelings, I attributed this extraordinary manifestation of interest to grief and pity for the unhappyfate of the beautiful Chilian; but I soon found that it proceeded from another and very different cause. No sooner had Pearce concluded than he exclaimed,
"I'll wager a thousand dollars, gentlemen, that the Scotchman never was buried!"
"He was buried, certain," said Pearce; "I can show you the place."
"Then there is some strange mystery about it," said Abraham, somewhat disappointed. "This very day I found a man's skull, which I am now quite certain has some connection with this tragedy."
The intense excitement produced by this disclosure is quite indescribable. Every body in the party leaned forward, with starting eyes, and gazed with breathless interest at Abraham. He had purposely withheld making any reference to the affair of the skull till a fitting opportunity should occur to disclose all the particulars, when the mind of every individual present was in a proper tone of solemnity to receive so important a communication. That opportunity had how occurred, under the most favorable and unlooked-for circumstances. I never saw Abraham so excited in my life before—not even on the occasion of his late unpleasant difficulty.
"Gentlemen," said he, "I had a presentiment before we left the ship that this expedition would result in some extraordinary discovery. You may judge from the facts which I am about to disclose to you how far this presentiment has been verified."
He then, in a voice of becoming solemnity, went into a detailed narrative of our adventures in the mountains. He commenced at the very starting-point, where we separated from the hunting party; he dwelt vividly on our perilous adventure on the cliff, stating all the particulars of our escape; how we climbed up a perpendicular wall of rocks four thousand feet high; how we stood upon the very highest pinnacle, which was only ten inches in diameter; how, when we came down again to the base, we lay perfectly insensible for an entire hour;and the wonderful adventures we had in the interior—the walk of six miles directly back from the ocean; our preservation from a horrible and lingering death by thirst, through the agency of a little bird; the Enchanted Valley that we explored, and the two wild horses we caught entangled in the bushes, and afterward rode; our discovery of an old castle built in the sixteenth century by Juan Fernando; the mysterious marks upon the outer wall; our strange and startling explorations of the interior vaults and marble halls; and finally the discovery of the skull—the skull of some unfortunate man who had crept into one of those dreary vaults, where he died on a miserable bed of straw, all alone, without a soul near him! Afterward how he (Abraham) and myself were overtaken by a frightful tornado, and cast down over the rocks a distance of three miles in a direct line; how, during this terrible fall, he had the misfortune to strike a rock, and ruin the invaluable relic of mortality which he had put in his pocket, by breaking it all to pieces; but—
"Did you save the pieces?" asked a voice from the corner. Of course it was the voice of the Doubter. A look from Abraham silenced him, and the narrative was resumed:
But it fortunately happened that a portion of the socket of one eye and a piece of the forehead remained entire, which, together with all the smaller fragments, he would be most happy to exhibit to the company; premising, however, that there was but little question in his mind, from all the particulars of Pearce's tragical narrative, that this skull was in some way or other connected with it. Possibly it might be that the unhappy young woman, who it appears was the victim of an inordinate passion for the murdered man, bereft of her senses by his tragical death, went to his grave at night and dug up his body, and being unable to carry it away at once, perhaps she cut it to pieces, and carried it by degrees up to her secret place of wailing in the mountains,where she could mourn over his remains without fear of discovery. It was not an unreasonable conjecture, he thought, considering the woman was insane. In some hour of despondency she had probably made those mysterious designs which had led to the discovery—the sketch of the dead body of her lover; the ship that left the island without saving him; some pet goat that doubtless accompanied her in her wanderings; the children that were strangled, and all those vague marks, which indicated the character of her thoughts.
During the narration of these adventures, which I must confess astonished me not a little, well as I knew the enthusiastic character of my friend (and he never was more in earnest in his life), I observed that Pearce had doubled himself up almost into a knot, covering his face with his hands, and heaving convulsively, as if moved by some internal earthquake. There was no sound escaped him, but it was quite evident that he was strangely affected by Abraham's narrative. The rest of the party were so deeply interested in the whole disclosure that they took no notice of him. Could it be that Pearce himself was implicated in the murder? That it was all a fiction his being in Valparaiso at the time? That he was in any way attached to this unfortunate female, whose sad fate had aroused all our sympathies?
"I'd like to see that skull," said the Doubter.
"Here it is—or what remains of it," said Abraham, drawing forth the pieces from his pocket; "you can all see it if you wish."
The pieces were handed round and examined with intense interest and curiosity.
"You call this a man's skull?" said the Doubter, looking incredulously at a piece which he held in his hand.
"I do, sir," said Abraham, sharply; "have you any objection to my calling it a man's skull, sir?"
"No, none at all; you may call it a dog's skull if you like.I'dcall it Robinson Crusoe's skull if I owned it. For all I know to the contrary, itishis; but I'd like tohave a certificate from himself to that effect before I'd place much confidence in my own opinion, if I thought so."
The biting satire of these remarks touched Abraham to the quick. Nothing in the world would have prevented him from springing upon the Doubter at that moment, and taking summary vengeance upon his person, but the sudden exit of Pearce, who, rising from his goatskin, hurriedly left the cabin. This produced a general murmur of disapprobation. It was the unanimous opinion that a course of conduct, resulting as this did—compelling a man, as it were, to leave his own castle for personal security, was very unbecoming; and that Abraham, being the chief, although perhaps unintentional cause of it, was in honor bound to go after him and bring him back.
I take pride in saying that my friend was not the kind of man to resist such an appeal as this. He immediately left the hut and went in search of Pearce. Meanwhile we took occasion to administer a well-merited rebuke to the Doubter; and to declare that if he again interrupted the harmony of the evening, we would leave him ashore when we started for the ship. His only reply to this was, that he hoped, if he should unfortunately die in a cave in consequence of our cruelty, that his head would make a better-looking skull than the one Abraham had found.
In about ten minutes Abraham and Pearce returned, both having a very strange expression upon their features. Pearce looked unnaturally serious about the mouth, but I fancied more knowing than usual about the eyes. In sitting down he dropped a dollar, which he hastily picked up and put in his pocket. As to my friend, I thought there was something confused and dejected in his look; but he immediately said with assumed spirits when he came in, "All right, gentlemen; all right. The whole thing is settled; let there be nothing more about it."
Some few questions, however, were asked concerning the skull, but all the satisfaction Abraham could give was, "You have the particulars, gentlemen; you must judge for yourselves." Pearce professed to know nothing about it.
Harmony and good-humor being again restored, there were numerous calls for some farther reminiscences of the island.
Pearce said he didn't know whether any of us had ever heard of the governor's vision; if we hadn't, maybe we'd like to hear something about it. He couldn't promise that it was all true, but the Chilians here believed every word of it; "and, likely enough," he added, looking quietly at Abraham, "there may be some of you that can account for it."
"Let us have it!" exclaimed every body in a breath; "the governor's vision, by all means."
Pearce then fixed himself comfortably on his goatskin, and, putting some fagots on the fire, gave us in substance the following history of
the governor's vision.
THE GOVERNOR'S VISION.
The highest peak on the island of Juan Fernandez is called the Peak of Yonka. It forms an abrupt precipice all round, of several hundred feet. Various attempts have been made from time to time, by sailors and others, to ascend to the summit, but this feat has never been accomplished except in a single instance. A cross still stands upon it, which was erected by two Chilians many years ago, under very strange circumstances. It appears that the Chilian governor at the time of the penal settlement in Cumberland Bay went out riding one day near this mountain. On his return he related to his people astrange vision which he had seen in the course of his ramble. He said that, while looking at the peak, he saw down in the valley that lay between a tall man dressed in black, with a black hat on, mounted on a horse of the purest white. The strange rider turned toward him, showing a face of ghastly paleness. He looked at him steadfastly, with "eyes of fire," as the governor declared, the glare of which made the air hot all around. The governor, trembling with awe, made the sign of the cross, upon which the strange horseman put spurs to his horse, and rode straight up the precipice to the summit of the peak, where he stopped a moment to look back. He then, upon seeing the sign of the cross made again, waved his hands wildly, as if in despair, and plunged out of sight on the other side. Being a devout man, and withal a believer in spirits, the governor considered this to be an omen of some impending calamity, which could only be averted by planting a cross on the peak. For this purpose he selected two criminals, under sentence of death for the murder of a soldier, and offered them their liberty if they would make the ascent and erect the cross. In the one case there was the certainty of death, in the other a chance of life. The criminals therefore resolved to make the attempt. Ropes, ladders, and tools were furnished them by the governor, and they were allowed such provisions as they required, with injunctions that at the expiration of ten days, in case of failure, they would be executed. For eight days they toiled incessantly. They drove spikes into the walls of rock, and day by day went up a little higher, letting themselves down again at night by ropes to the base of the precipice. On the eighth day they reached the summit, ready to die of fright, and worn to skeletons at the terrible ordeal through which they had passed. It took them all the next day to recover sufficiently to be able to resume their labors. The table on the top was of solid rock, not more than fifty feet in diameter. In the centre was a spring of clear water bubbling up and running over therocks. One of them bathed in this water, and was so refreshed that he thought it must have some magical properties. He went over to the edge on the western side, and looked down to see where it fell. Directly beneath him, he saw a line stretched from two points of rock over the precipice, nearly covered with linen shirts, as white as the driven snow, and apparently of the finest texture. He called to his comrade to come and witness this wonderful sight. While the two men were looking over, there came a tremendous hurricane, that compelled them to throw themselves flat on their backs to avoid being blown over into the abyss. After the hurricane had passed they again looked over, but the line and shirts had disappeared, and they saw nothing but the bare rocks. They then fell upon their knees and prayed, and the vision of an angel appeared to them, telling them to put up the cross near the spring. As soon as they had planted the cross, they let themselves down by the ropes, and hastened to tell the governor of the strange adventures that had befallen them. So impressed was he by their wonderful narrative, that he immediately gave them their freedom, as he had promised, and sent them home laden with presents; and he had crosses erected on various parts of the island, and masses performed by the soldiers for a long time after.
"I wouldn't swear to it all," added Pearce, looking again toward Abraham. "But likely some of you gentlemen, who have more schoolin' than I have, may be able to account for it."
Abraham reddened a little and looked confused, but said nothing. A voice from the corner broke in,
"I know exactly how it happened; nothing is easier than to account for it. In the first place, it didn't happen at all. The governor was dyspeptic. I'm rayther dyspeptic myself, gentlemen, and I know what sights a man sees when he gets the horrors from dyspepsia. I've seen stranger sights than that when it was bad on me—once, in particular, I was troubled a good deal worse than the governor."
"Impossible," said Abraham, scornfully, "utterly impossible, sir, that you could ever have seen any thing half so strange as the governor's vision."
"I didn't see a house made of glue," retorted the Doubter. "I didn't ride on wild horses; neither did I find a castle with a skull in it. I didn't carry the skull six miles, and then find out that it came off the head of a four-legged man; and that the four-legged man was cut to pieces by his lady-love; but I'll tell you what I did see."
"Hold, sir, hold!" cried Abraham, now perfectly furious. "By heavens, gentlemen, I can't stand such insults as these! You must suffer me to chastise this wretch. Miserable poltroon! do you dare to taunt me in that manner? I'll see you, sir—I'll see you to-morrow morning!"
"Likely you will," said the Doubter, coolly, at the same time shrinking back a little. "Likely you will, if you look in the right direction. Keep your dander down till then, and you'll see a good deal better. In the mean time, gentlemen, if you like to listen, I'll tell you what happened when the dyspepsia was bad on me."
Of course, any proposition calculated to restore harmony was heartily approved, and thereupon we were forced to listen to—
THE DOUBTER'S DYSPEPTIC STORY.
The DoubterTHE DOUBTER.
THE DOUBTER.
Once, when the dyspepsia was bad on me, I went to bed rayther low-spirited, and began to think I was going to die. I thought I couldn't live till morning. My stomach was as hard as a brick-bat, and I was cold all over. The more cover I piled on, the colder I got. The minute I shut my eyes, I was scared to death at the darkness. I felt as if something dreadful was going tohappen, and didn't know exactly what it was. Sometimes I thought robbers were under the bed, and sometimes I heard strange noises about the house. My heart stopped beating altogether; I felt for my pulse, but couldn't find it in my wrists or any where else. Every bit of blood seemed to have oozed out of me in some mysterious way, and to all intents and purposes my body was dead. There was no dream about it. I could move my limbs the same as ever, and was as wide awake as I am this minute; but there was no sign of life about me except that my mind had power to move the dead flesh; for it was cold and clammy as that of a corpse. Any body else would have given up, and concluded he was a genuine corpse; but you see I was not the sort of man to believe such a thing as that without farther proof. I therefore lay still a while, in hopes I'd get warm by-and-by, and feel better; but I kept growing colder and colder, and at last was so cold that I felt like ice all over. I had the most dreadful and gloomy reflections. Every thing I thought about seemed blue, and dreary, and hopeless; every body unhappy; and the whole future a desert waste, without one ray of light. Despair was upon me; I cared for nothing; it was all the same to me whether I lived or died. I wanted neither help, nor pity, nor love, nor life—all, all was wrapped in despair. The gloom of this state brought on a kind of lethargy; a total unconsciousness of every thing external. My mind only existed and operated, as it were, in perfect darkness. The body was nothing but a type of intense darkness and coldness wrapped around the spirit. In this state I at length heard whisperings in the air, outside of me asI thought. They drew nearer; the voices were strange and unnatural; I was conscious of a singular sensation, for a time, as if whirled rapidly through space; then I heard the voices say, in low tones, "How cold he is! how miserably cold he is! but we'll soon warm him!" I now became sensible of strong gases in the air, but they produced no farther impression than the mere consciousness of their existence. Wild shrieks and moans, and dreadful hissing sounds arose around me. "Here we are," said the voices; "glad of it, for he's terribly cold." "Put him there in that big furnace; it'll soon warm him," said another voice, in a tone of authority. I was then tossed, as I thought, some distance, and became suddenly still; but the same cold and impenetrable darkness was around my spirit. "There, that fire's out!" said the voice, angrily; "put him in another, and keep him well stirred up." Again there was a movement, and again I was still, but not so still as before, for I was conscious of a jarring sensation. "Out again!" roared the same voice, fiercely. "Out again! you don't keep him well stirred up!" "He's as cold as ice," said the other voices; "we can't do any thing with him." "Try him in the middle furnace!" said the chief voice, sternly; "that'll melt the ice out of him!" Again I was whirled through the gases and deposited in some imperceptible place; but all this time I was growing colder and colder. There was a pause, and then the voices said, "He won't burn, sir; don't you see he's putting the fire out." "Out again, by all the demons!" roared the chief voice, furiously. "Take him away! Carry him back to where you got him. The man's dyspeptic. We can't have such a miserable wretch here! By Pluto! he'd put out every fire we've got in a week. Bear a hand, you rascals! for may I be blessedif I ain't freezing myself!" Here the Doubter paused.
"Well, sir, well," said Abraham, ironically, "have you any thing further to say on the same subject? any thing equally reliable? Perhaps you can inform us how you got warm again?"
"Well, that doesn't properly belong to the story," said the Doubter, looking around meaningly upon the company. "I meant that it should end there; but, if you insist upon it, I'll answer your question."
"Of course, sir; the matter requires explanation. It comes to rather an abrupt conclusion."
"The way I got warm, then, was this: I picked up a skull when I was leaving the premises. It was full of hot glue. The fellows that were carrying me got their hands frostbitten and had to let go at last. I fell on an island. The first thing I struck was the top of a mountain. I slid down for three miles without stopping. On the way I broke the skull, and spilled the glue all over me, which made me slip so fast that I was quite warm by the time I got to the bottom."
To this Abraham made no reply. Turning away from the Doubter with ferocity and indignation depicted in every feature, he looked silently around upon the company; his breast heaved convulsively; his hands grasped nervously at the hair upon his goatskin; he deliberately tore it out by the roots; he suppressed a rising smile upon the face of every individual in the party by one more look at the Doubter—one terrible, scathing, foreboding look of vengeance on the morrow; and then said, in a suppressed voice, "Gentlemen, suppose we turn in; it must be twelve o'clock."
BAD DREAM CONCERNING THE DOUBTER.
As well as we could judge, Abraham was right in regard to the time; and being all tired, after the story of the dyspeptic man we set about arranging our quarters for the night. I must admit, however, take it all in all, not omitting even the drawbacks to our enjoyment occasioned by the unfortunate state of things between myfriend and the Doubter, and the probability of a hostile meeting in the morning, that from the time of leaving home, four months before, I had not spent so pleasant an evening. It was something to look back to with gratification and enjoyment all the rest of the voyage, should we indeed ever be able to resume our voyage.