Chapter Seventeen.

Chapter Seventeen.Life on the Sandbank—Ailie takes Possession of Fairyland—Glynn and Bumble Astonish the Little Fishes.In order that the reader may form a just conception of the sandbank on which the crew of theRed Erichad been wrecked, we shall describe it somewhat carefully.It lay in the Southern Ocean, a little to the west of the longitude of the Cape of Good Hope, and somewhere between 2000 and 3000 miles to the south of it. As has been already remarked, the bank at its highest point was little more than a few feet above the level of the ocean, the waves of which in stormy weather almost, and the spray of which altogether, swept over it. In length it was barely fifty yards, and in breadth about forty. Being part of a coral reef, the surface of it was composed of the beautiful white sand that is formed from coral by the dashing waves. At one end of the bank—that on which the ship had struck—the reef rose into a ridge of rock, which stood a few feet higher than the level of the sand, and stretched out into the sea about twenty yards, with its points projecting here and there above water. On the centre of the bank at its highest point one or two very small blades of green substance were afterwards discovered. So few were they, however, and so delicate, that we feel justified in describing the spot as being utterly destitute of verdure. Ailie counted those green blades many a time after they were discovered. There were exactly thirty-five of them; twenty-six were, comparatively speaking, large; seven were of medium size, and two were extremely small—so small and thin that Ailie wondered they did not die of sheer delicacy of constitution on such a barren spot. The greater part of the surface of the bank was covered with the fine sand already referred to, but there were one or two spots which were covered with variously-sized pebbles, and an immense number of beautiful small shells.On such a small and barren spot one would think there was little or nothing to admire. But this was not the case. Those persons whose thoughts are seldom allowed to fix attentively on any subject, are apt to fall into the mistake of supposing that in this world there are a great many absolutely uninteresting things. Many things are, indeed, uninteresting to individuals, but there does not exist a single thing which has not a certain amount of interest to one or another cast of mind, and which will not afford food for contemplation, and matter fitted to call forth our admiration for its great and good Creator.We know a valley so beautiful that it has been for generations past, and will probably be for generations to come, the annual resort of hundreds of admiring travellers. The valley cannot be seen until you are almost in it. The country immediately around it is no way remarkable; it is even tame. Many people would exclaim at first sight in reference to it, “How uninteresting.”It requires a close view, a minute inspection, to discover the beauties that lie hidden there.So was it with our sandbank. Ailie’s first thoughts were, “Oh! how dreary; how desolate!” and in some respects she was right; but she dwelt there long enough to discover things that charmed her eye and her imagination, and caused her sometimes to feel as if she had been transported to the realms of Fairyland.We do not say, observe, that the crew of theRed Ericwere ever blessed with such dreams. Jim Scroggles, for instance, had no eye for the minute beauties or wonders of creation. Jim, according to his own assertion, could see about as far through a millstone as most men. He could apostrophise his eye, on certain occasions, and tell it—as though its own power of vision were an insufficient medium of information—that “thatwosa stunnin’ iceberg;” or that “thatwosa gale and a half, fit to tear the masts out o’ the ship a’most.” But for any less majestic object in nature, Jim Scroggles had nothing to say either to his eye, or his nose, or his shipmates.As was Jim Scroggles, so were most of the other men. Hence they grumbled a good deal at their luckless condition. But upon the whole they were pretty cheerful—especially at meal-times—and, considering their circumstances, they behaved very well.Glynn Proctor was a notable exception to the prevailing rule of indifference to small things. By nature he was of a superior stamp of mind to his comrades; besides, he had been better educated; and more than all, he was at that time under the influence of Ailie Dunning. She admired what she admired; he liked what she liked; he looked with interest at the things which she examined. Had Ailie sat down beside the stock of an old anchor and looked attentively at it, Glynn would have sat down and stared at it too, in the firm belief that there was something there worth looking at! Glynn laughed aloud sometimes at himself, to think how deeply interested he had become in the child, for up to that time he had rather avoided than courted the society of children; and he used to say to Ailie that the sailors would begin to call her his little sweetheart, if he spent so much of his time with her; to which Ailie would reply by asking what a sweetheart was; whereat Glynn would laugh immoderately; whereupon Ailie would tell him not to be stupid, but to come and play with her!All the sailors, even including the taciturn Tarquin, had a tender feeling of regard for the little girl who shared their fortunes at that time, but with the exception of Glynn, none were capable of sympathising with her in her pursuits. Tim Rokens, her father, and Dr Hopley did to some extent, but these three had their minds too deeply filled with anxiety about their critical position to pay her much attention, beyond the kindest concern for her physical wants. King Bumble, too, we beg his pardon, showed considerable interest in her. The sable assistant of Nikel Sling shone conspicuous at this trying time, for his activity, good-humour, and endurance, and in connection with Phil Briant, Gurney, and Jacko, kept up the spirits of the shipwrecked men wonderfully.Close under the rocks, on the side farthest removed from the spot where the rude tent was pitched, there was a little bay or creek, not more than twenty yards in diameter, which Ailie appropriated and called Fairyland! It was an uncommonly small spot, but it was exceedingly beautiful and interesting. The rocks, although small, were so broken and fantastically formed, that when Ailie crept close in amongst them, and so placed herself that the view of the sandbank was entirely shut out, and nothing was to be seen but little pools of crystal water and rocklets, with their margin of dazzling white sand, and the wreck of the ship in the distance, with the deep blue sea beyond, she quite forgot where she actually was, and began to wander in the most enchanting daydreams. But when, as often happened, there came towering thick masses of snowy clouds, like mountain peaks and battlements in the bright blue sky, her delight was so great that she could find no words to express it.At such times—sometimes with Glynn by her side, sometimes alone—she would sit in a sunny nook, or in a shady nook if she felt too warm, and invite innumerable hosts of fairies to come and conduct her through interminable tracts of pure-white cloud region, and order such unheard-of wild creatures (each usually wanting a tail, or a leg, or an ear) to come out of the dark caves, that had they been all collected in one garden for exhibition to the public, that zoological garden would have been deemed, out of sight, the greatest of all the wonders of the world!When a little wearied with those aerial journeys she would return to “Fairyland,” and, leaning over the brinks of the pools, peer down into their beautiful depths for hours at a time.Ailie’s property of Fairyland had gardens, too, of the richest possible kind, full of flowers of the most lovely and brilliant hues. But the flowers were scentless, and, alas! she could not pluck them, for those gardens were all under water; they grew at the bottom of the sea!Yes, reader, if the land was barren on that ocean islet, the pools there made up for it by presenting to view the most luxuriant marine vegetation. There were forests of branching coral of varied hues; there were masses of fan-shaped sponges; there were groves of green and red sea-weeds; and beds of red, and white, and orange, and striped creatures that stuck to the rocks, besides little fish with bright coloured backs that played there as if they really enjoyed living always under water—which is not easy for us, you know, to realise! And above all, the medium of water between Ailie and these things was so pure and pellucid when no breeze fanned the surface, that it was difficult to believe, unless you touched it, there was any water there at all.While Ailie thus spent her time, or at least her leisure time, for she was by no means an idler in that busy little isle, the men were actively engaged each day in transporting provisions from theRed Ericto the sandbank, and in making them as secure as circumstances would admit of. For this purpose a raft had been constructed, and several trips a day were made to and from the wreck, so that in the course of a few days a considerable stock of provisions was accumulated on the bank. This was covered with tarpaulin, and heavy casks of salt junk were placed on the corners and edges to keep it down.“I’ll tell ye wot it is, messmates,” remarked Gurney, one day, as they sat down round their wood fire to dine in front of their tent, “we’re purvisioned for six months at least, an’ if the weather only keeps fine I’ve no objection to remain wotiver.”“Maybe,” said Briant, “ye’ll have to remain that time whether ye object or not.”“By no means, Paddy,” retorted Gurney; “I could swum off to sea and be drownded if I liked.”“No ye couldn’t, avic,” said Briant.“Why not?” demanded Gurney.“’Cause ye haven’t the pluck,” replied Phil.“I’ll pluck the nose off yer face,” said Gurney, in affected anger.“No ye won’t,” cried Phil, “’cause av ye do I’ll spile the soup by heavin’ it all over ye.”“Oh!” exclaimed Gurney, with a look of horror, “listen to him, messmates, he calls it ‘soup’—the nasty kettle o’ dirty water! Well, well, it’s lucky we hain’t got nothin’ better to compare it with.”“But, I say, lads,” interposed Jim Scroggles, seriously, “wot’ll we do if it comes on to blow a gale and blows away all our purvisions?”“Ay, boys,” cried Dick Barnes, “that ’ere’s the question, as Hamlet remarked to his grandfather’s ghost; wot is to come on us supposin’ it comes on to blow sich a snorin’ gale as’ll blow the whole sandbank away, carryin’ us and our prog overboard along with it?”“Wot’s that there soup made of?” demanded Tim Rokens.“Salt junk and peas,” replied Nikel Sling.“Ah! I thought there was somethin’ else in it,” said Tim, carelessly, “for it seems to perdooce oncommon bad jokes in them wot eats of it.”“Now, Tim, don’t you go for to be sorcostic, but tell us a story.”“Me tell a story? No, no, lads; there’s Glynn Proctor, he’s the boy for you. Where is he?”“He’s aboard the wreck just now. The cap’n sent him for charts and quadrants, and suchlike cooriosities. Come, Gurney, tell you one if Tim won’t. How wos it, now, that you so mistook yer trade as to come for to go to sea?”“I can’t very well tell ye,” answered Gurney, who, having finished dinner, had lit his pipe, and was now extended at full length on the sand, leaning on one arm. “Ye see, lads, I’ve had more or less to do with the sea, I have, since ever I comed into this remarkable world—not that I ever, to my knowledge, knew one less coorous, for I never was up in the stars; no more, I s’pose, was ever any o’ you. I was born at sea, d’ye see? I don’t ’xactly know how I comed for to be born there, but I wos told that I wos, and if them as told me spoke truth, I s’pose I wos. I was washed overboard in gales three times before I comed for to know myself at all. When I first came alive, so to speak, to my own certain knowledge, I wos a-sitting on the top of a hen-coop aboard an East Indiaman, roarin’ like a mad bull as had lost his senses; ’cause why? the hens wos puttin’ their heads through the bars o’ the coops, and pickin’ at the calves o’ my legs as fierce as if they’d suddenly turned cannibals, and rather liked it. From that time I began a life o’ misery. My life before that had bin pretty much the same, it seems, but I didn’t know it, so it didn’t matter. D’ye know, lads, when ye don’t know a thing it’s all the same as if it didn’t exist, an’ so, in coorse, it don’t matter.”“Oh!” exclaimed the first mate, who came up at the moment, “’ave hany o’ you fellows got a note-book in which we may record that horacular and truly valuable hobserwation?”No one happening to possess a note-book, Gurney was allowed to proceed with his account of himself.“Ships has bin my houses all along up to this here date. I don’t believe, lads as ever I wos above two months ashore at a time all the coorse of my life, an’ mostly not as long as that. The smell o’ tar and the taste o’ salt water wos the fust things I iver comed across—’xcept the Line, I comed across that jist about the time I wos born, so I’m told—and the smell o’ tar and taste o’ salt water’s wot I’ve bin used to most o’ my life, and moreover, wot I likes best. One old gentleman as took a fancy to me w’en I wos a boy, said to me, one fine day, w’en I chanced to be ashore visitin’ my mother—says he, ‘My boy, would ye like to go with me and live in the country, and be a gardner?’ ‘Wot,’ says I, ‘keep a garding, and plant taters, and hoe flowers an’ cabidges?’ ‘Yes,’ says he, ‘at least, somethin’ o’ that sort.’ ‘No, thankee,’ says I; ‘I b’long to the sea, I do; I wouldn’t leave that ’ere no more nor I would quit my first love if I had one. I’m a sailor, I am, out and out, through and through—true blue, and no mistake, an’ no one need go for to try to cause me for to forsake my purfession, and live on shore like a turnip’—that’s wot I says to that old gen’lemen. Yes, lads, I’ve roamed the wide ocean, as the song says, far an’ near. I’ve bin tattooed by the New Zealanders, and I’ve danced with the Hottentots, and ate puppy dogs with the Chinese, and fished whales in the North Seas, and run among the ice near the South Pole, and fowt with pirates, and done service on boord of men-o’-war and merchantmen, and junks, and bumboats; but I never,” concluded Gurney, looking round with a sigh, “I never came for to be located on a sandbank in the middle of the ocean.”“No more did any on us,” added Rokens, “Moreover, if we’re not picked up soon by a ship o’ some sort, we’re not likely to be located here long, for we can’t live on salt junk for ever; we shall all die o’ the scurvy.”There was just enough of possible and probable truth in the last remark to induce a feeling of sadness among the men for a few minutes, but this was quickly put to flight by the extraordinary movements of Phil Briant. That worthy had left the group round the fire, and had wandered out to the extreme end of the rocky point, where he sat down to indulge, possibly in sad, or mayhap hopeful reflections. He was observed to start suddenly up, and gaze into the sea eagerly for a few seconds; then he cut a caper, slapped his thigh, and ran hastily towards the tent.“What now? where away, Phil?” cried one of the men.Briant answered not, but speedily reappeared at the opening of the tent door with a fishing-line and hook. Hastening to the point of rock, he opened a small species of shell-fish that he found there, wherewith he baited his hook, and then cast it into the sea. In a few minutes he felt a twitch, which caused him to return a remarkably vigorous twitch, as it were in reply.The fish and the sailor for some minutes acted somewhat the part of electricians in a telegraph office; when the fish twitched, Briant twitched; when the fish pulled and paused, Briant pulled and paused, and when the fish held on hard, Briant pulled hard, and finally pulled him ashore, and a very nice plump rock-codling he was. There were plenty of them, so in a short time there was no lack of fresh fish, and Rokens’ fear that they would have to live on salt junk was not realised.Fishing for rock-codlings now became one of the chief recreations of the men while not engaged in bringing various necessaries from the wreck. But for many days at first they found their hands fully occupied in making their new abode habitable, in enlarging and improving the tent, which soon by degrees came to merit the name of a hut, and in inventing various ingenious contrivances for the improvement of their condition. It was not until a couple of weeks had passed that time began to hang heavy on their hands and fishing became a general amusement.They all fished, except Jacko. Even Ailie tried it once or twice, but she did not like it and soon gave it up. As for Jacko, he contented himself with fishing with his hands, in a sly way, among the provision casks, at which occupation he was quite an adept; and many a nice tit-bit did he fish up and secrete in his private apartment for future use. Like many a human thief, Jacko was at last compelled to leave the greater part of his ill-gotten and hoarded gains behind him.One day Glynn and Ailie sat by the margin of a deep pool in Fairyland, gazing down into its clear depths. The sun’s rays penetrated to the very bottom, revealing a thousand beauties in form and colour that called forth from Ailie the most extravagant expressions of admiration. She wound up one of those eloquent bursts by saying—“Oh, Glynn, how very,verymuch I do wish I could go down there and play with the dear, exquisite, darling little fishes!”“You’d surprise them, I suspect,” said Glynn. “It’s rather too deep a pool to play in unless you were a mermaid.”“How deep is it, Glynn?”“’Bout ten feet, I think.”“So much? It does not look like it. What a very pretty bit of coral I see over there, close to the white rock; do you see it? It is bright pink. Oh, I would likesomuch to have it.”“Would you?” cried Glynn, jumping up and throwing off his jacket; “then here goes for it.”So saying he clasped his hands above his head, and bending forward, plunged into the pool and went straight at the piece of pink coral, head-foremost, like an arrow!Glynn was lightly clad. His costume consisted simply of a pair of white canvas trousers and a blue striped shirt, with a silk kerchief round his neck, so that his movements in the water were little, if at all, impeded by his clothes. At the instant he plunged into the water King Bumble happened to approach, and while Ailie stood, petrified with fear as she saw Glynn struggling violently at the bottom of the pool, her sable companion stood looking down with a grin from ear to ear that displayed every one of his white teeth.“Don’t be ’fraid, Missie Ally,” said the negro; “him’s know wot him’s doin’, ho yis!”Before Ailie could reply, Glynn was on the surface spluttering and brushing the hair from his forehead with one hand, while with the other he hugged to his breast the piece of pink coral.“Here—it—ha!—is. My breath—oh—is a’most gone—Ailie—catch hold!” cried he, as he held out the coveted piece of rock to the child, and scrambled out of the pool.“Oh, thank you, Glynn; but why did you go down so quick and stay so long? I gotsucha fright.”“You bin pay your ’spects to de fishes,” said Bumble, with a grin.“Yes, I have, Bumble, and they say that if you stare at them any longer with your great goggle eyes they’ll all go mad with horror and die right off. Have you caught any codlings, Bumble?”“Yis, me hab, an’ me hab come for to make a preeposol to Missie Ally.”“A what, Bumble?”“A preeposol—a digestion.”“I suppose you mean a suggestion, eh?”“Yis, dat the berry ting.”“Well, out with it.”“Dis am it. Me ketch rock-coddles; well, me put ’em in bucket ob water an’ bring ’em to you, Missie Ally, an’ you put ’em into dat pool and tame ’em, an’ hab great fun with ’em. Eeh! wot you tink?”“Oh, it will besonice. How good of you to think about it, Bumble; do get them as quick as you can.”Bumble looked grave and hesitated.“Why, what’s wrong?” inquired Glynn.“Oh, noting. Me only tink me not take the trouble to put ’em into dat pool where de fishes speak so imperently ob me. Stop, me will go an’ ask if dey sorry for wot dey hab say.”So saying the negro uttered a shout, sprang straight up into the air, doubled his head down and his heels up, and cleft the water like a knife. Glynn uttered a cry something between a yell and a laugh, and sprang after him, falling flat on the water and dashing the whole pool into foam, and there the two wallowed about like two porpoises, to the unbounded delight of Ailie, who stood on the brink laughing until the tears ran down her cheeks, and to the unutterable horror, no doubt, of the little fish.The rock-codlings were soon caught and transferred to the pool, in which, after that, neither Glynn nor Bumble were suffered to dive or swim, and Ailie succeeded, by means of regularly feeding them, in making the little fish less afraid of her than they were at first.But while Ailie and Glynn were thus amusing themselves and trying to make the time pass as pleasantly as possible, Captain Dunning was oppressed with the most anxious forebodings. They had now been several weeks on the sandbank. The weather had, during that time, been steadily fine and calm, and their provisions were still abundant, but he knew that this could not last. Moreover, he found on consulting his charts that he was far out of the usual course of ships, and that deliverance could only be expected in the shape of a chance vessel.Oppressed with these thoughts, which, however, he carefully concealed from every one except Tim Rokens and the doctor, the captain used to go on the point of rocks every day and sit there for hours, gazing out wistfully over the sea.

In order that the reader may form a just conception of the sandbank on which the crew of theRed Erichad been wrecked, we shall describe it somewhat carefully.

It lay in the Southern Ocean, a little to the west of the longitude of the Cape of Good Hope, and somewhere between 2000 and 3000 miles to the south of it. As has been already remarked, the bank at its highest point was little more than a few feet above the level of the ocean, the waves of which in stormy weather almost, and the spray of which altogether, swept over it. In length it was barely fifty yards, and in breadth about forty. Being part of a coral reef, the surface of it was composed of the beautiful white sand that is formed from coral by the dashing waves. At one end of the bank—that on which the ship had struck—the reef rose into a ridge of rock, which stood a few feet higher than the level of the sand, and stretched out into the sea about twenty yards, with its points projecting here and there above water. On the centre of the bank at its highest point one or two very small blades of green substance were afterwards discovered. So few were they, however, and so delicate, that we feel justified in describing the spot as being utterly destitute of verdure. Ailie counted those green blades many a time after they were discovered. There were exactly thirty-five of them; twenty-six were, comparatively speaking, large; seven were of medium size, and two were extremely small—so small and thin that Ailie wondered they did not die of sheer delicacy of constitution on such a barren spot. The greater part of the surface of the bank was covered with the fine sand already referred to, but there were one or two spots which were covered with variously-sized pebbles, and an immense number of beautiful small shells.

On such a small and barren spot one would think there was little or nothing to admire. But this was not the case. Those persons whose thoughts are seldom allowed to fix attentively on any subject, are apt to fall into the mistake of supposing that in this world there are a great many absolutely uninteresting things. Many things are, indeed, uninteresting to individuals, but there does not exist a single thing which has not a certain amount of interest to one or another cast of mind, and which will not afford food for contemplation, and matter fitted to call forth our admiration for its great and good Creator.

We know a valley so beautiful that it has been for generations past, and will probably be for generations to come, the annual resort of hundreds of admiring travellers. The valley cannot be seen until you are almost in it. The country immediately around it is no way remarkable; it is even tame. Many people would exclaim at first sight in reference to it, “How uninteresting.”

It requires a close view, a minute inspection, to discover the beauties that lie hidden there.

So was it with our sandbank. Ailie’s first thoughts were, “Oh! how dreary; how desolate!” and in some respects she was right; but she dwelt there long enough to discover things that charmed her eye and her imagination, and caused her sometimes to feel as if she had been transported to the realms of Fairyland.

We do not say, observe, that the crew of theRed Ericwere ever blessed with such dreams. Jim Scroggles, for instance, had no eye for the minute beauties or wonders of creation. Jim, according to his own assertion, could see about as far through a millstone as most men. He could apostrophise his eye, on certain occasions, and tell it—as though its own power of vision were an insufficient medium of information—that “thatwosa stunnin’ iceberg;” or that “thatwosa gale and a half, fit to tear the masts out o’ the ship a’most.” But for any less majestic object in nature, Jim Scroggles had nothing to say either to his eye, or his nose, or his shipmates.

As was Jim Scroggles, so were most of the other men. Hence they grumbled a good deal at their luckless condition. But upon the whole they were pretty cheerful—especially at meal-times—and, considering their circumstances, they behaved very well.

Glynn Proctor was a notable exception to the prevailing rule of indifference to small things. By nature he was of a superior stamp of mind to his comrades; besides, he had been better educated; and more than all, he was at that time under the influence of Ailie Dunning. She admired what she admired; he liked what she liked; he looked with interest at the things which she examined. Had Ailie sat down beside the stock of an old anchor and looked attentively at it, Glynn would have sat down and stared at it too, in the firm belief that there was something there worth looking at! Glynn laughed aloud sometimes at himself, to think how deeply interested he had become in the child, for up to that time he had rather avoided than courted the society of children; and he used to say to Ailie that the sailors would begin to call her his little sweetheart, if he spent so much of his time with her; to which Ailie would reply by asking what a sweetheart was; whereat Glynn would laugh immoderately; whereupon Ailie would tell him not to be stupid, but to come and play with her!

All the sailors, even including the taciturn Tarquin, had a tender feeling of regard for the little girl who shared their fortunes at that time, but with the exception of Glynn, none were capable of sympathising with her in her pursuits. Tim Rokens, her father, and Dr Hopley did to some extent, but these three had their minds too deeply filled with anxiety about their critical position to pay her much attention, beyond the kindest concern for her physical wants. King Bumble, too, we beg his pardon, showed considerable interest in her. The sable assistant of Nikel Sling shone conspicuous at this trying time, for his activity, good-humour, and endurance, and in connection with Phil Briant, Gurney, and Jacko, kept up the spirits of the shipwrecked men wonderfully.

Close under the rocks, on the side farthest removed from the spot where the rude tent was pitched, there was a little bay or creek, not more than twenty yards in diameter, which Ailie appropriated and called Fairyland! It was an uncommonly small spot, but it was exceedingly beautiful and interesting. The rocks, although small, were so broken and fantastically formed, that when Ailie crept close in amongst them, and so placed herself that the view of the sandbank was entirely shut out, and nothing was to be seen but little pools of crystal water and rocklets, with their margin of dazzling white sand, and the wreck of the ship in the distance, with the deep blue sea beyond, she quite forgot where she actually was, and began to wander in the most enchanting daydreams. But when, as often happened, there came towering thick masses of snowy clouds, like mountain peaks and battlements in the bright blue sky, her delight was so great that she could find no words to express it.

At such times—sometimes with Glynn by her side, sometimes alone—she would sit in a sunny nook, or in a shady nook if she felt too warm, and invite innumerable hosts of fairies to come and conduct her through interminable tracts of pure-white cloud region, and order such unheard-of wild creatures (each usually wanting a tail, or a leg, or an ear) to come out of the dark caves, that had they been all collected in one garden for exhibition to the public, that zoological garden would have been deemed, out of sight, the greatest of all the wonders of the world!

When a little wearied with those aerial journeys she would return to “Fairyland,” and, leaning over the brinks of the pools, peer down into their beautiful depths for hours at a time.

Ailie’s property of Fairyland had gardens, too, of the richest possible kind, full of flowers of the most lovely and brilliant hues. But the flowers were scentless, and, alas! she could not pluck them, for those gardens were all under water; they grew at the bottom of the sea!

Yes, reader, if the land was barren on that ocean islet, the pools there made up for it by presenting to view the most luxuriant marine vegetation. There were forests of branching coral of varied hues; there were masses of fan-shaped sponges; there were groves of green and red sea-weeds; and beds of red, and white, and orange, and striped creatures that stuck to the rocks, besides little fish with bright coloured backs that played there as if they really enjoyed living always under water—which is not easy for us, you know, to realise! And above all, the medium of water between Ailie and these things was so pure and pellucid when no breeze fanned the surface, that it was difficult to believe, unless you touched it, there was any water there at all.

While Ailie thus spent her time, or at least her leisure time, for she was by no means an idler in that busy little isle, the men were actively engaged each day in transporting provisions from theRed Ericto the sandbank, and in making them as secure as circumstances would admit of. For this purpose a raft had been constructed, and several trips a day were made to and from the wreck, so that in the course of a few days a considerable stock of provisions was accumulated on the bank. This was covered with tarpaulin, and heavy casks of salt junk were placed on the corners and edges to keep it down.

“I’ll tell ye wot it is, messmates,” remarked Gurney, one day, as they sat down round their wood fire to dine in front of their tent, “we’re purvisioned for six months at least, an’ if the weather only keeps fine I’ve no objection to remain wotiver.”

“Maybe,” said Briant, “ye’ll have to remain that time whether ye object or not.”

“By no means, Paddy,” retorted Gurney; “I could swum off to sea and be drownded if I liked.”

“No ye couldn’t, avic,” said Briant.

“Why not?” demanded Gurney.

“’Cause ye haven’t the pluck,” replied Phil.

“I’ll pluck the nose off yer face,” said Gurney, in affected anger.

“No ye won’t,” cried Phil, “’cause av ye do I’ll spile the soup by heavin’ it all over ye.”

“Oh!” exclaimed Gurney, with a look of horror, “listen to him, messmates, he calls it ‘soup’—the nasty kettle o’ dirty water! Well, well, it’s lucky we hain’t got nothin’ better to compare it with.”

“But, I say, lads,” interposed Jim Scroggles, seriously, “wot’ll we do if it comes on to blow a gale and blows away all our purvisions?”

“Ay, boys,” cried Dick Barnes, “that ’ere’s the question, as Hamlet remarked to his grandfather’s ghost; wot is to come on us supposin’ it comes on to blow sich a snorin’ gale as’ll blow the whole sandbank away, carryin’ us and our prog overboard along with it?”

“Wot’s that there soup made of?” demanded Tim Rokens.

“Salt junk and peas,” replied Nikel Sling.

“Ah! I thought there was somethin’ else in it,” said Tim, carelessly, “for it seems to perdooce oncommon bad jokes in them wot eats of it.”

“Now, Tim, don’t you go for to be sorcostic, but tell us a story.”

“Me tell a story? No, no, lads; there’s Glynn Proctor, he’s the boy for you. Where is he?”

“He’s aboard the wreck just now. The cap’n sent him for charts and quadrants, and suchlike cooriosities. Come, Gurney, tell you one if Tim won’t. How wos it, now, that you so mistook yer trade as to come for to go to sea?”

“I can’t very well tell ye,” answered Gurney, who, having finished dinner, had lit his pipe, and was now extended at full length on the sand, leaning on one arm. “Ye see, lads, I’ve had more or less to do with the sea, I have, since ever I comed into this remarkable world—not that I ever, to my knowledge, knew one less coorous, for I never was up in the stars; no more, I s’pose, was ever any o’ you. I was born at sea, d’ye see? I don’t ’xactly know how I comed for to be born there, but I wos told that I wos, and if them as told me spoke truth, I s’pose I wos. I was washed overboard in gales three times before I comed for to know myself at all. When I first came alive, so to speak, to my own certain knowledge, I wos a-sitting on the top of a hen-coop aboard an East Indiaman, roarin’ like a mad bull as had lost his senses; ’cause why? the hens wos puttin’ their heads through the bars o’ the coops, and pickin’ at the calves o’ my legs as fierce as if they’d suddenly turned cannibals, and rather liked it. From that time I began a life o’ misery. My life before that had bin pretty much the same, it seems, but I didn’t know it, so it didn’t matter. D’ye know, lads, when ye don’t know a thing it’s all the same as if it didn’t exist, an’ so, in coorse, it don’t matter.”

“Oh!” exclaimed the first mate, who came up at the moment, “’ave hany o’ you fellows got a note-book in which we may record that horacular and truly valuable hobserwation?”

No one happening to possess a note-book, Gurney was allowed to proceed with his account of himself.

“Ships has bin my houses all along up to this here date. I don’t believe, lads as ever I wos above two months ashore at a time all the coorse of my life, an’ mostly not as long as that. The smell o’ tar and the taste o’ salt water wos the fust things I iver comed across—’xcept the Line, I comed across that jist about the time I wos born, so I’m told—and the smell o’ tar and taste o’ salt water’s wot I’ve bin used to most o’ my life, and moreover, wot I likes best. One old gentleman as took a fancy to me w’en I wos a boy, said to me, one fine day, w’en I chanced to be ashore visitin’ my mother—says he, ‘My boy, would ye like to go with me and live in the country, and be a gardner?’ ‘Wot,’ says I, ‘keep a garding, and plant taters, and hoe flowers an’ cabidges?’ ‘Yes,’ says he, ‘at least, somethin’ o’ that sort.’ ‘No, thankee,’ says I; ‘I b’long to the sea, I do; I wouldn’t leave that ’ere no more nor I would quit my first love if I had one. I’m a sailor, I am, out and out, through and through—true blue, and no mistake, an’ no one need go for to try to cause me for to forsake my purfession, and live on shore like a turnip’—that’s wot I says to that old gen’lemen. Yes, lads, I’ve roamed the wide ocean, as the song says, far an’ near. I’ve bin tattooed by the New Zealanders, and I’ve danced with the Hottentots, and ate puppy dogs with the Chinese, and fished whales in the North Seas, and run among the ice near the South Pole, and fowt with pirates, and done service on boord of men-o’-war and merchantmen, and junks, and bumboats; but I never,” concluded Gurney, looking round with a sigh, “I never came for to be located on a sandbank in the middle of the ocean.”

“No more did any on us,” added Rokens, “Moreover, if we’re not picked up soon by a ship o’ some sort, we’re not likely to be located here long, for we can’t live on salt junk for ever; we shall all die o’ the scurvy.”

There was just enough of possible and probable truth in the last remark to induce a feeling of sadness among the men for a few minutes, but this was quickly put to flight by the extraordinary movements of Phil Briant. That worthy had left the group round the fire, and had wandered out to the extreme end of the rocky point, where he sat down to indulge, possibly in sad, or mayhap hopeful reflections. He was observed to start suddenly up, and gaze into the sea eagerly for a few seconds; then he cut a caper, slapped his thigh, and ran hastily towards the tent.

“What now? where away, Phil?” cried one of the men.

Briant answered not, but speedily reappeared at the opening of the tent door with a fishing-line and hook. Hastening to the point of rock, he opened a small species of shell-fish that he found there, wherewith he baited his hook, and then cast it into the sea. In a few minutes he felt a twitch, which caused him to return a remarkably vigorous twitch, as it were in reply.

The fish and the sailor for some minutes acted somewhat the part of electricians in a telegraph office; when the fish twitched, Briant twitched; when the fish pulled and paused, Briant pulled and paused, and when the fish held on hard, Briant pulled hard, and finally pulled him ashore, and a very nice plump rock-codling he was. There were plenty of them, so in a short time there was no lack of fresh fish, and Rokens’ fear that they would have to live on salt junk was not realised.

Fishing for rock-codlings now became one of the chief recreations of the men while not engaged in bringing various necessaries from the wreck. But for many days at first they found their hands fully occupied in making their new abode habitable, in enlarging and improving the tent, which soon by degrees came to merit the name of a hut, and in inventing various ingenious contrivances for the improvement of their condition. It was not until a couple of weeks had passed that time began to hang heavy on their hands and fishing became a general amusement.

They all fished, except Jacko. Even Ailie tried it once or twice, but she did not like it and soon gave it up. As for Jacko, he contented himself with fishing with his hands, in a sly way, among the provision casks, at which occupation he was quite an adept; and many a nice tit-bit did he fish up and secrete in his private apartment for future use. Like many a human thief, Jacko was at last compelled to leave the greater part of his ill-gotten and hoarded gains behind him.

One day Glynn and Ailie sat by the margin of a deep pool in Fairyland, gazing down into its clear depths. The sun’s rays penetrated to the very bottom, revealing a thousand beauties in form and colour that called forth from Ailie the most extravagant expressions of admiration. She wound up one of those eloquent bursts by saying—

“Oh, Glynn, how very,verymuch I do wish I could go down there and play with the dear, exquisite, darling little fishes!”

“You’d surprise them, I suspect,” said Glynn. “It’s rather too deep a pool to play in unless you were a mermaid.”

“How deep is it, Glynn?”

“’Bout ten feet, I think.”

“So much? It does not look like it. What a very pretty bit of coral I see over there, close to the white rock; do you see it? It is bright pink. Oh, I would likesomuch to have it.”

“Would you?” cried Glynn, jumping up and throwing off his jacket; “then here goes for it.”

So saying he clasped his hands above his head, and bending forward, plunged into the pool and went straight at the piece of pink coral, head-foremost, like an arrow!

Glynn was lightly clad. His costume consisted simply of a pair of white canvas trousers and a blue striped shirt, with a silk kerchief round his neck, so that his movements in the water were little, if at all, impeded by his clothes. At the instant he plunged into the water King Bumble happened to approach, and while Ailie stood, petrified with fear as she saw Glynn struggling violently at the bottom of the pool, her sable companion stood looking down with a grin from ear to ear that displayed every one of his white teeth.

“Don’t be ’fraid, Missie Ally,” said the negro; “him’s know wot him’s doin’, ho yis!”

Before Ailie could reply, Glynn was on the surface spluttering and brushing the hair from his forehead with one hand, while with the other he hugged to his breast the piece of pink coral.

“Here—it—ha!—is. My breath—oh—is a’most gone—Ailie—catch hold!” cried he, as he held out the coveted piece of rock to the child, and scrambled out of the pool.

“Oh, thank you, Glynn; but why did you go down so quick and stay so long? I gotsucha fright.”

“You bin pay your ’spects to de fishes,” said Bumble, with a grin.

“Yes, I have, Bumble, and they say that if you stare at them any longer with your great goggle eyes they’ll all go mad with horror and die right off. Have you caught any codlings, Bumble?”

“Yis, me hab, an’ me hab come for to make a preeposol to Missie Ally.”

“A what, Bumble?”

“A preeposol—a digestion.”

“I suppose you mean a suggestion, eh?”

“Yis, dat the berry ting.”

“Well, out with it.”

“Dis am it. Me ketch rock-coddles; well, me put ’em in bucket ob water an’ bring ’em to you, Missie Ally, an’ you put ’em into dat pool and tame ’em, an’ hab great fun with ’em. Eeh! wot you tink?”

“Oh, it will besonice. How good of you to think about it, Bumble; do get them as quick as you can.”

Bumble looked grave and hesitated.

“Why, what’s wrong?” inquired Glynn.

“Oh, noting. Me only tink me not take the trouble to put ’em into dat pool where de fishes speak so imperently ob me. Stop, me will go an’ ask if dey sorry for wot dey hab say.”

So saying the negro uttered a shout, sprang straight up into the air, doubled his head down and his heels up, and cleft the water like a knife. Glynn uttered a cry something between a yell and a laugh, and sprang after him, falling flat on the water and dashing the whole pool into foam, and there the two wallowed about like two porpoises, to the unbounded delight of Ailie, who stood on the brink laughing until the tears ran down her cheeks, and to the unutterable horror, no doubt, of the little fish.

The rock-codlings were soon caught and transferred to the pool, in which, after that, neither Glynn nor Bumble were suffered to dive or swim, and Ailie succeeded, by means of regularly feeding them, in making the little fish less afraid of her than they were at first.

But while Ailie and Glynn were thus amusing themselves and trying to make the time pass as pleasantly as possible, Captain Dunning was oppressed with the most anxious forebodings. They had now been several weeks on the sandbank. The weather had, during that time, been steadily fine and calm, and their provisions were still abundant, but he knew that this could not last. Moreover, he found on consulting his charts that he was far out of the usual course of ships, and that deliverance could only be expected in the shape of a chance vessel.

Oppressed with these thoughts, which, however, he carefully concealed from every one except Tim Rokens and the doctor, the captain used to go on the point of rocks every day and sit there for hours, gazing out wistfully over the sea.

Chapter Eighteen.Matters Grow Worse and Worse—The Mutiny—Commencement of Boat-Building, and Threatening Storms.One afternoon, about three weeks after theRed Erichad been wrecked on the sandbank, Captain Dunning went out on the point of rocks, and took up his accustomed position there. Habit had now caused him to go to the point with as much regularity as a sentinel. But on the present occasion anxiety was more deeply marked on his countenance than usual, for dark, threatening clouds were seen accumulating on the horizon, an unnatural stillness prevailed in the hot atmosphere and on the glassy sea, and everything gave indication of an approaching storm.While he sat on a low rock, with his elbows on his knees, and his chin resting in his hands, he felt a light touch on his shoulder, and looking round, found Ailie standing by his side. Catching her in his arms, he pressed her fervently to his heart, and for the first time spoke to her in discouraging tones.“My own darling,” said he, parting the hair from her forehead, and gazing at the child with an expression of the deepest sadness, “I fear we shallneverquit this dreary spot.”Ailie looked timidly in her father’s face, for his agitated manner, more than his words, alarmed her.“Won’t we leave it, dear papa,” said she, “to go up yonder?” and she pointed to a gathering mass of clouds overhead, which, although heavy with dark shadows, had still a few bright, sunny points of resemblance to the fairy realms in which she delighted to wander in her daydreams.The captain made no reply; but, shutting his eyes, and drawing Ailie close to his side, he uttered a long and fervent prayer to God for deliverance, if He should see fit, or for grace to endure with Christian resignation and fortitude whatever He pleased to send upon them.When he concluded, and again looked up, Dr Hopley was standing beside them, with his head bowed upon his breast.“I fear, doctor,” said the captain, “that I have broken my resolution not to alarm my dear Ailie by word or look. Yet why should I conceal from her the danger of our position? Her prayers for help ought to ascend, as well as ours, to Him who alone can deliver us from evil at any time, but who makes us tofeel, as well asknow, the fact at such times as these.”“But I am not afraid, papa,” said Ailie quickly. “I’m never afraid when you are by me; and I’ve known we were in danger all along, for I’ve heard everybody talking about it often and often, and I’vealwaysprayed for deliverance, and surely it must come; for has not Jesus said if we ask anything in His name He will give it to us?”“True, darling; but He means only such things as will do us good.”“Of course, papa, if I asked for a bad thing, I would not expect Him to give me that.”“Deliverance from death,” said the doctor, “is a good thing, yet we cannot be sure that God will grant our prayer for that.”“There are worse things than death, doctor,” replied the captain; “it may be sometimes better for men to die than to live. It seems to me that we ought to use the words, ‘if it please the Lord,’ more frequently than we do in prayer. Deliverance from sin needs no such ‘if,’ but deliverance from death does.”At this point the conversation was interrupted by Tim Rokens, who came up to the captain, and said respectfully—“If ye please, sir, it ’ud be as well if ye wos to speak to the men; there’s somethin’ like mutiny a-goin’ on, I fear.”“Mutiny! why, what about?”“It’s about the spirits. Some on ’em says as how they wants to enjoy theirselves here as much as they can, for they won’t have much chance o’ doin’ so ashore any more. It’s my belief that fellow Tarquin’s at the bottom o’t.”“There’s not much spirits aboard the wreck to fight about,” said the captain, somewhat bitterly, as they all rose, and hurried towards the hut. “I only brought a supply for medicine; but it must not be touched, however little there is.”When the captain came up, he found the space in front of their rude dwelling a scene of contention and angry dispute that bade fair to end in a fight. Tarquin was standing before the first mate, with his knife drawn, and using violent language and gesticulations towards him, while the latter stood by the raft, grasping a handspike, with which he threatened to knock the steward down if he set foot on it. The men were grouped round them, some with looks that implied a desire to side with Tarquin, while others muttered “Shame!”“Shame!” cried Tarquin, looking fiercely round on his shipmates, “who cried shame? We’re pretty sure all on us to be starved to death on this reef; and it’s my opinion, that since we haven’t got to live long, we should try to enjoy ourselves as much as we can. There’s not much spirits aboard, more’s the pity; but what there is I shall have. So again I say, who cried ‘Shame?’”“I did,” said Glynn Proctor, stepping quickly forward; “and I invite all who think with me to back me up.”“Here ye are, me boy,” said Phil Briant, starting forward, and baring his brawny arms, as was his invariable custom in such circumstances. “It’s meself as’ll stick by ye, lad, av the whole crew should go with that half-caste crokidile.”Gurney and Dick Barnes immediately sided with Glynn also, but Jim Scroggles and Nikel Sling, and, to the surprise of every one, Markham, the second mate, sided with the steward. As the opposing parties glanced at each other, Glynn observed that, although his side was superior in numbers, some of the largest and most powerful men of the crew were among his opponents, and he felt that a conflict between such men must inevitably be serious. Matters had almost come to a crisis when Dr Hopley and the captain approached the scene of action. The latter saw at a glance the state of affairs, and stepping up to the steward, ordered him at once into the hut.Tarquin seemed to waver for a moment under the stern gaze of his commander; but he suddenly swore a terrible oath, and said that he would not obey.“You’re no longer in command of us,” he said gruffly, “now that you have lost your ship. Every man may do what he pleases.”“May he?” replied the captain; “then it pleases me to do that!” and, launching out his clenched right hand with all his might, he hit the steward therewith right between the eyes.Tarquin went down as if he had been shot, and lay stunned and at full length upon the sand.“Now, my lads,” cried the captain, turning towards the men, “what he said just now is so far right. Having lost my ship, I am no longer entitled to command you; but my command does not cease unless a majority of you choose that it should. Tarquin has taken upon himself to decide the question, without asking your opinion, which amounts to mutiny, and mutiny, under the circumstances in which we are placed, requires to be promptly dealt with. I feel it right to say this, because I am a man of peace, as you well know, and do not approve of a too ready appeal to the fists for the settlement of a dispute.”“Ah, then, more’s the pity!” interrupted Briant, “for ye use them oncommon well.”A suppressed laugh followed this remark.“Silence, men, this is no time for jesting. One of our shipmates has, not long since, been taken suddenly from us; it may be that we shall all of us be called into the presence of our Maker before many days pass over us. We have much to do that will require to be done promptly and well, if we would hope to be delivered at all, and the question must be decidednowwhether I am to command you, or every one is to do what he pleases.”“I votes for Cap’en Dunning,” exclaimed Gurney.“So does I,” cried Jim Scroggles; who, being somewhat weather-cockish in his nature, turned always with wonderful facility to the winning side.“Three cheers for the cap’en,” cried Dick Barnes, suiting the action to the word.Almost every voice joined in the vociferous cheer with which this proposal was received.“An’ wan more for Miss Ailie,” shouted Phil Briant.Even Jacko lent his voice to the tremendous cheer that followed, for Briant in his energy chanced to tread on that creature’s unfortunate tail, which always seemed to be in his own way as well as in that of every one else, and the shriek that he uttered rang high above the laughter into which the cheer degenerated, as some one cried, “Ah, Pat, trust you, my boy, for rememberin’ the ladies!”Order having been thus happily restored, and Captain Dunning having announced that the late attempt at mutiny should thenceforth be buried in total oblivion, a council was called, in order to consider seriously their present circumstances, and to devise, if possible, some means of escape.“My lads,” said the captain, when they were all assembled, “I’ve been ponderin’ over matters ever since we were cast away on this bank, an’ I’ve at last come to the conclusion that our only chance of gettin’ away is to build a small boat and fit her out for a long voyage. I need not tell you that this chance is a poor one—well-nigh a forlorn hope. Had it been better I would have spoken before now, and began the work sooner; but I have lived from day to day in the hope of a ship heaving in sight. This is a vain hope. We are far out of the usual track of all ships here. None come this way, except such as may chance to be blown out of their course, as we were; and even if one did come within sight, it’s ten chances to one that we should fail to attract attention on such a low bank as this.“I’ve had several reliable observations of late, and I find that we are upwards of two thousand miles from the nearest known land, which is the Cape of Good Hope. I propose, therefore, that we should strip off as much of the planking of the wreck as will suit our purpose, get the carpenter’s chest landed, and commence work at once. Now, what say you? If anyone has a better plan to suggest, I’ll be only to glad to adopt it, for such a voyage in so slim a craft as we can build here will be one necessarily replete with danger.”“I’ll tell ye wot it is, cap’en,” said Tim Rokens, rising up, taking off his cap, and clearing his throat, as if he were about to make a studied oration. “We’ve not none on us got no suggestions to make wotsomdiver. You’ve only got to give the word and we’ll go to work; an’ the sooner you does so the better, for it’s my b’lief we’ll have a gale afore long that’ll pretty well stop work altogether as long as it lasts.”The indications in the sky gave such ample testimony to the justness of Rokens’ observations that no more time was wasted in discussion. Dick Barnes, who acted the part of ship’s carpenter when not otherwise engaged, went out to the wreck on the raft, with a party of men under command of Mr Millons, to fetch planking and the necessary material for the construction of a boat, while the remainder of the crew, under the captain’s superintendence, prepared a place near Fairyland for laying the keel.This spot was selected partly on account of the convenient formation of the shore for the launching of the boat when finished, and partly because that would be the lee side of the rocky point when the coming storm should burst. For the latter reason the hut was removed to Fairyland, and poor Ailie had the mortification in a few hours of seeing her little paradise converted into an unsightly wreck of confusion. Alas! how often this is the case in human affairs of greater moment; showing the folly of setting our hearts on the things of earth. It seems at first sight a hard passage, that, in the Word of God. “What?” the enthusiastic but thoughtless are ready to exclaim, “not love the world! the bright, beautiful world that was made by God to be enjoyed? Not love our fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, wives? not give our warmest affections to all these?” Truly, ye hasty ones, if you would but earnestly consider it, you would find that God not only permits, but requires us to love all that is good and beautiful here, as much as we will, as much as we can; but we ought to love Himselfmore. If this be our happy condition, then our hearts are not “set on the world”; on the contrary, they are set free to love the world and all that is lovable in it—of which there is very, very much—more, probably than the best of men suppose. Else, wherefore does the Father love it and care for it so tenderly?But Ailie had not set her heart on her possessions on the sandbank. She felt deep regret for a time, it is true, and in feeling thus she indulged a right and natural impulse, but that impulse did not lead to the sin of murmuring. Her sorrow soon passed away, and she found herself as cheerful and happy afterwards in preparing for her long, long voyage as ever she had been in watching the gambols of her fish, or in admiring the lovely hues of the weeds and coral rocks in the limpid pools of Fairyland.It was a fortunate circumstance that Captain Dunning set about the preparations for building the boat that afternoon, for the storm burst upon them sooner than had been expected, and long before all the requisite stores and materials had been rafted from the wreck.The most important things, however, had been procured—such as the carpenter’s chest, a large quantity of planking, oakum, and cordage, and several pieces of sail cloth, with the requisite thread and needles for making boat sails. Still, much was wanting when the increasing violence of the wind compelled them to leave off work.Some of the men were now ordered to set about securing such materials as had been collected, while others busied themselves in fixing ropes to the hut and rolling huge masses of coral rock against its fragile walls to steady it.“Av ye plaze, sir,” said Briant to the Captain, wiping his forehead as he approached with a lump of tarry canvas which he used in default of a better pocket-handkerchief, “av ye plaze, sir, wot’ll I do now?”“Do something useful, lad, whatever you do,” said the captain, looking up from the hole which he was busily engaged in digging for the reception of a post to steady the hut. “There’s lots of work; you can please yourself as to choice.”“Then I comed fur to suggist that the purvisions and things a-top o’ the sandbank isn’t quite so safe as they might be.”“True, Briant; I was just thinking of that as you came up. Go and see you make a tight job of it. Get Rokens to help you.”Briant hurried off, and calling his friend, walked with him to the top of the sandbank, leaning heavily against the gale, and staggering as they went. The blast now whistled so that they could scarcely hear each other talk.“We’ll be blowed right into the sea,” shouted Tim, as the two reached a pile of casks and cases.“Sure, that’s me own belaif entirely,” roared his companion.“What d’ye say to dig a hole and stick the things in it?” yelled Rokens.“We’re not fit,” screamed Phil.“Let’s try,” shrieked the other.To this Briant replied by falling on his knees on the lee side of the goods, and digging with his hands in the sand most furiously. Tim Rokens followed his example, and the two worked like a couple of sea-moles (if such creatures exist) until a hole capable of holding several casks was formed. Into this they stowed all the biscuit casks and a few other articles, and covered them up with sand. The remainder they covered with tarpaulin, and threw sand and stones above it until the heap was almost buried out of sight. This accomplished, they staggered back to the hut as fast as they could.Here they found everything snugly secured, and as the rocks effectually sheltered the spot from the gale, with the exception of an occasional eddying blast that drove the sand in their faces, they felt comparatively comfortable. Lighting their pipes, they sat down among their comrades to await the termination of the storm.

One afternoon, about three weeks after theRed Erichad been wrecked on the sandbank, Captain Dunning went out on the point of rocks, and took up his accustomed position there. Habit had now caused him to go to the point with as much regularity as a sentinel. But on the present occasion anxiety was more deeply marked on his countenance than usual, for dark, threatening clouds were seen accumulating on the horizon, an unnatural stillness prevailed in the hot atmosphere and on the glassy sea, and everything gave indication of an approaching storm.

While he sat on a low rock, with his elbows on his knees, and his chin resting in his hands, he felt a light touch on his shoulder, and looking round, found Ailie standing by his side. Catching her in his arms, he pressed her fervently to his heart, and for the first time spoke to her in discouraging tones.

“My own darling,” said he, parting the hair from her forehead, and gazing at the child with an expression of the deepest sadness, “I fear we shallneverquit this dreary spot.”

Ailie looked timidly in her father’s face, for his agitated manner, more than his words, alarmed her.

“Won’t we leave it, dear papa,” said she, “to go up yonder?” and she pointed to a gathering mass of clouds overhead, which, although heavy with dark shadows, had still a few bright, sunny points of resemblance to the fairy realms in which she delighted to wander in her daydreams.

The captain made no reply; but, shutting his eyes, and drawing Ailie close to his side, he uttered a long and fervent prayer to God for deliverance, if He should see fit, or for grace to endure with Christian resignation and fortitude whatever He pleased to send upon them.

When he concluded, and again looked up, Dr Hopley was standing beside them, with his head bowed upon his breast.

“I fear, doctor,” said the captain, “that I have broken my resolution not to alarm my dear Ailie by word or look. Yet why should I conceal from her the danger of our position? Her prayers for help ought to ascend, as well as ours, to Him who alone can deliver us from evil at any time, but who makes us tofeel, as well asknow, the fact at such times as these.”

“But I am not afraid, papa,” said Ailie quickly. “I’m never afraid when you are by me; and I’ve known we were in danger all along, for I’ve heard everybody talking about it often and often, and I’vealwaysprayed for deliverance, and surely it must come; for has not Jesus said if we ask anything in His name He will give it to us?”

“True, darling; but He means only such things as will do us good.”

“Of course, papa, if I asked for a bad thing, I would not expect Him to give me that.”

“Deliverance from death,” said the doctor, “is a good thing, yet we cannot be sure that God will grant our prayer for that.”

“There are worse things than death, doctor,” replied the captain; “it may be sometimes better for men to die than to live. It seems to me that we ought to use the words, ‘if it please the Lord,’ more frequently than we do in prayer. Deliverance from sin needs no such ‘if,’ but deliverance from death does.”

At this point the conversation was interrupted by Tim Rokens, who came up to the captain, and said respectfully—

“If ye please, sir, it ’ud be as well if ye wos to speak to the men; there’s somethin’ like mutiny a-goin’ on, I fear.”

“Mutiny! why, what about?”

“It’s about the spirits. Some on ’em says as how they wants to enjoy theirselves here as much as they can, for they won’t have much chance o’ doin’ so ashore any more. It’s my belief that fellow Tarquin’s at the bottom o’t.”

“There’s not much spirits aboard the wreck to fight about,” said the captain, somewhat bitterly, as they all rose, and hurried towards the hut. “I only brought a supply for medicine; but it must not be touched, however little there is.”

When the captain came up, he found the space in front of their rude dwelling a scene of contention and angry dispute that bade fair to end in a fight. Tarquin was standing before the first mate, with his knife drawn, and using violent language and gesticulations towards him, while the latter stood by the raft, grasping a handspike, with which he threatened to knock the steward down if he set foot on it. The men were grouped round them, some with looks that implied a desire to side with Tarquin, while others muttered “Shame!”

“Shame!” cried Tarquin, looking fiercely round on his shipmates, “who cried shame? We’re pretty sure all on us to be starved to death on this reef; and it’s my opinion, that since we haven’t got to live long, we should try to enjoy ourselves as much as we can. There’s not much spirits aboard, more’s the pity; but what there is I shall have. So again I say, who cried ‘Shame?’”

“I did,” said Glynn Proctor, stepping quickly forward; “and I invite all who think with me to back me up.”

“Here ye are, me boy,” said Phil Briant, starting forward, and baring his brawny arms, as was his invariable custom in such circumstances. “It’s meself as’ll stick by ye, lad, av the whole crew should go with that half-caste crokidile.”

Gurney and Dick Barnes immediately sided with Glynn also, but Jim Scroggles and Nikel Sling, and, to the surprise of every one, Markham, the second mate, sided with the steward. As the opposing parties glanced at each other, Glynn observed that, although his side was superior in numbers, some of the largest and most powerful men of the crew were among his opponents, and he felt that a conflict between such men must inevitably be serious. Matters had almost come to a crisis when Dr Hopley and the captain approached the scene of action. The latter saw at a glance the state of affairs, and stepping up to the steward, ordered him at once into the hut.

Tarquin seemed to waver for a moment under the stern gaze of his commander; but he suddenly swore a terrible oath, and said that he would not obey.

“You’re no longer in command of us,” he said gruffly, “now that you have lost your ship. Every man may do what he pleases.”

“May he?” replied the captain; “then it pleases me to do that!” and, launching out his clenched right hand with all his might, he hit the steward therewith right between the eyes.

Tarquin went down as if he had been shot, and lay stunned and at full length upon the sand.

“Now, my lads,” cried the captain, turning towards the men, “what he said just now is so far right. Having lost my ship, I am no longer entitled to command you; but my command does not cease unless a majority of you choose that it should. Tarquin has taken upon himself to decide the question, without asking your opinion, which amounts to mutiny, and mutiny, under the circumstances in which we are placed, requires to be promptly dealt with. I feel it right to say this, because I am a man of peace, as you well know, and do not approve of a too ready appeal to the fists for the settlement of a dispute.”

“Ah, then, more’s the pity!” interrupted Briant, “for ye use them oncommon well.”

A suppressed laugh followed this remark.

“Silence, men, this is no time for jesting. One of our shipmates has, not long since, been taken suddenly from us; it may be that we shall all of us be called into the presence of our Maker before many days pass over us. We have much to do that will require to be done promptly and well, if we would hope to be delivered at all, and the question must be decidednowwhether I am to command you, or every one is to do what he pleases.”

“I votes for Cap’en Dunning,” exclaimed Gurney.

“So does I,” cried Jim Scroggles; who, being somewhat weather-cockish in his nature, turned always with wonderful facility to the winning side.

“Three cheers for the cap’en,” cried Dick Barnes, suiting the action to the word.

Almost every voice joined in the vociferous cheer with which this proposal was received.

“An’ wan more for Miss Ailie,” shouted Phil Briant.

Even Jacko lent his voice to the tremendous cheer that followed, for Briant in his energy chanced to tread on that creature’s unfortunate tail, which always seemed to be in his own way as well as in that of every one else, and the shriek that he uttered rang high above the laughter into which the cheer degenerated, as some one cried, “Ah, Pat, trust you, my boy, for rememberin’ the ladies!”

Order having been thus happily restored, and Captain Dunning having announced that the late attempt at mutiny should thenceforth be buried in total oblivion, a council was called, in order to consider seriously their present circumstances, and to devise, if possible, some means of escape.

“My lads,” said the captain, when they were all assembled, “I’ve been ponderin’ over matters ever since we were cast away on this bank, an’ I’ve at last come to the conclusion that our only chance of gettin’ away is to build a small boat and fit her out for a long voyage. I need not tell you that this chance is a poor one—well-nigh a forlorn hope. Had it been better I would have spoken before now, and began the work sooner; but I have lived from day to day in the hope of a ship heaving in sight. This is a vain hope. We are far out of the usual track of all ships here. None come this way, except such as may chance to be blown out of their course, as we were; and even if one did come within sight, it’s ten chances to one that we should fail to attract attention on such a low bank as this.

“I’ve had several reliable observations of late, and I find that we are upwards of two thousand miles from the nearest known land, which is the Cape of Good Hope. I propose, therefore, that we should strip off as much of the planking of the wreck as will suit our purpose, get the carpenter’s chest landed, and commence work at once. Now, what say you? If anyone has a better plan to suggest, I’ll be only to glad to adopt it, for such a voyage in so slim a craft as we can build here will be one necessarily replete with danger.”

“I’ll tell ye wot it is, cap’en,” said Tim Rokens, rising up, taking off his cap, and clearing his throat, as if he were about to make a studied oration. “We’ve not none on us got no suggestions to make wotsomdiver. You’ve only got to give the word and we’ll go to work; an’ the sooner you does so the better, for it’s my b’lief we’ll have a gale afore long that’ll pretty well stop work altogether as long as it lasts.”

The indications in the sky gave such ample testimony to the justness of Rokens’ observations that no more time was wasted in discussion. Dick Barnes, who acted the part of ship’s carpenter when not otherwise engaged, went out to the wreck on the raft, with a party of men under command of Mr Millons, to fetch planking and the necessary material for the construction of a boat, while the remainder of the crew, under the captain’s superintendence, prepared a place near Fairyland for laying the keel.

This spot was selected partly on account of the convenient formation of the shore for the launching of the boat when finished, and partly because that would be the lee side of the rocky point when the coming storm should burst. For the latter reason the hut was removed to Fairyland, and poor Ailie had the mortification in a few hours of seeing her little paradise converted into an unsightly wreck of confusion. Alas! how often this is the case in human affairs of greater moment; showing the folly of setting our hearts on the things of earth. It seems at first sight a hard passage, that, in the Word of God. “What?” the enthusiastic but thoughtless are ready to exclaim, “not love the world! the bright, beautiful world that was made by God to be enjoyed? Not love our fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, wives? not give our warmest affections to all these?” Truly, ye hasty ones, if you would but earnestly consider it, you would find that God not only permits, but requires us to love all that is good and beautiful here, as much as we will, as much as we can; but we ought to love Himselfmore. If this be our happy condition, then our hearts are not “set on the world”; on the contrary, they are set free to love the world and all that is lovable in it—of which there is very, very much—more, probably than the best of men suppose. Else, wherefore does the Father love it and care for it so tenderly?

But Ailie had not set her heart on her possessions on the sandbank. She felt deep regret for a time, it is true, and in feeling thus she indulged a right and natural impulse, but that impulse did not lead to the sin of murmuring. Her sorrow soon passed away, and she found herself as cheerful and happy afterwards in preparing for her long, long voyage as ever she had been in watching the gambols of her fish, or in admiring the lovely hues of the weeds and coral rocks in the limpid pools of Fairyland.

It was a fortunate circumstance that Captain Dunning set about the preparations for building the boat that afternoon, for the storm burst upon them sooner than had been expected, and long before all the requisite stores and materials had been rafted from the wreck.

The most important things, however, had been procured—such as the carpenter’s chest, a large quantity of planking, oakum, and cordage, and several pieces of sail cloth, with the requisite thread and needles for making boat sails. Still, much was wanting when the increasing violence of the wind compelled them to leave off work.

Some of the men were now ordered to set about securing such materials as had been collected, while others busied themselves in fixing ropes to the hut and rolling huge masses of coral rock against its fragile walls to steady it.

“Av ye plaze, sir,” said Briant to the Captain, wiping his forehead as he approached with a lump of tarry canvas which he used in default of a better pocket-handkerchief, “av ye plaze, sir, wot’ll I do now?”

“Do something useful, lad, whatever you do,” said the captain, looking up from the hole which he was busily engaged in digging for the reception of a post to steady the hut. “There’s lots of work; you can please yourself as to choice.”

“Then I comed fur to suggist that the purvisions and things a-top o’ the sandbank isn’t quite so safe as they might be.”

“True, Briant; I was just thinking of that as you came up. Go and see you make a tight job of it. Get Rokens to help you.”

Briant hurried off, and calling his friend, walked with him to the top of the sandbank, leaning heavily against the gale, and staggering as they went. The blast now whistled so that they could scarcely hear each other talk.

“We’ll be blowed right into the sea,” shouted Tim, as the two reached a pile of casks and cases.

“Sure, that’s me own belaif entirely,” roared his companion.

“What d’ye say to dig a hole and stick the things in it?” yelled Rokens.

“We’re not fit,” screamed Phil.

“Let’s try,” shrieked the other.

To this Briant replied by falling on his knees on the lee side of the goods, and digging with his hands in the sand most furiously. Tim Rokens followed his example, and the two worked like a couple of sea-moles (if such creatures exist) until a hole capable of holding several casks was formed. Into this they stowed all the biscuit casks and a few other articles, and covered them up with sand. The remainder they covered with tarpaulin, and threw sand and stones above it until the heap was almost buried out of sight. This accomplished, they staggered back to the hut as fast as they could.

Here they found everything snugly secured, and as the rocks effectually sheltered the spot from the gale, with the exception of an occasional eddying blast that drove the sand in their faces, they felt comparatively comfortable. Lighting their pipes, they sat down among their comrades to await the termination of the storm.

Chapter Nineteen.The Storm.A storm in almost all circumstances is a grand and solemnising sight, one that forces man to feel his own weakness and his Maker’s might and majesty. But a storm at sea in southern latitudes, where the winds are let loose with a degree of violence that is seldom or never experienced in the temperate zones, is so terrific that no words can be found to convey an adequate idea of its appalling ferocity.The storm that at this time burst upon the little sandbank on which the shipwrecked crew had found shelter, was one of the most furious, perhaps, that ever swept the seas. The wind shrieked as if it were endued with life, tore up the surface of the groaning deep into masses and shreds of foam, which it whirled aloft in mad fury, and then dissipated into a thin blinding mist that filled the whole atmosphere, so that one could scarcely see a couple of yards beyond the spot on which he stood. The hurricane seemed to have reached its highest point soon after sunset that night, and a ray of light from the moon struggled ever and anon through the black hurtling clouds, as if to reveal to the cowering seamen the extreme peril of their situation. The great ocean was lashed into a wide sheet of foam, and the presence of the little isle in the midst of that swirling waste of water was indicated merely by a slight circle of foam that seemed whiter than the rest of the sea.The men sat silently in their frail hut, listening to the howling blast without. A feeling of awe crept over the whole party, and the most careless and the lightest of heart among the crew of theRed Ericceased to utter his passing jest, and became deeply solemnised as the roar of the breakers filled his ear, and reminded him that a thin ledge of rock alone preserved him from instant destruction.“The wind has shifted a point,” said the captain, who had just risen and opened a chink of the rude door of the hut in order to look out. “I see that the keel of the boat is all fast and the planking beside it. The coral rock shelters it just now; but if the wind goes on shifting I fear it will stand a poor chance.”“We’d better go out and give it a hextra fastening,” suggested Mr Millons.“Not yet. There’s no use of exposing any of the men to the risk of being blown away. The wind may keep steady, in which case I’ve no fear for it.”“I dun know,” said Rokens, who sat beside Ailie, close to the embers of their fire, with a glowing cinder from which he re-lighted his pipe for at least the twentieth time that night. “You never can tell wot’s a-goin’ to turn up. I’ll go out, cap’en, if ye like, and see that all’s fast.”“Perhaps you’re right, Tim; you may make a bolt across to it, and heave another rock or two on the planking if it seems to require it.”The seaman rose, and putting aside his pipe, threw off his coat, partly in order that he might present as small a surface to the wind as possible, and partly that he might have a dry garment to put on when he returned. As he opened the little door of the hut a rude gust of wind burst in, filling the apartment with spray, and scattering the embers of the fire.“I feared as much,” said the captain, as he and the men started up to gather together the pieces of glowing charcoal; “that shows the wind’s shifted another point; if it goes round two points more it’ll smash our boat to pieces. Look sharp, Tim.”“Lean well against the wind, me boy,” cried Briant, in a warning voice.Thus admonished, Rokens issued forth, and dashed across the open space that separated the hut from the low ledge of coral rock behind which the keel of the intended boat and its planking were sheltered. A very few minutes sufficed to show Tim that all was fast, and to enable him to place a few additional pieces of rock above the heap in order to keep it down. Then he prepared to dart back again to the hut, from the doorway of which his proceedings, were watched by the captain and as many of the men as could crowd round it.Just as the harpooner sprang from the shelter of the rock the blast burst upon the bank with redoubled fury, as if it actually were a sentient being, and wished to catch the sailor in its rude grasp and whirl him away. Rokens bent his stout frame against it with all his might, and stood his ground for a few seconds like a noble tree on some exposed mountain side that has weathered the gales of centuries. Then he staggered, threw his arms wildly in the air, and a moment after was swept from the spot and lost to view in the driving spray that flew over the island.The thing was so instantaneous that the horrified onlookers could scarcely credit the evidence of their eyes, and they stood aghast for a moment or two ere their feelings found vent in a cry of alarm. Next instant Captain Dunning felt himself rudely pushed aside, and Briant leaped through the doorway, shouting, as he dashed out—“If Tim Rokens goes, it’s Phil Briant as’ll go along with him.”The enthusiastic Irishman was immediately lost to view, and Glynn Proctor was about to follow, when the captain seized him by the collar, dragged him back, and shut the door violently.“Keep back, lads,” he cried, “no one must leave the hut. If these two men cannot save themselves by means of their own strong muscles, no human power can save them.”Glynn, and indeed all of the men, felt this remark to be true, so they sat down round the fire, and looked in each other’s faces with the expression of men who half believed they must be dreaming. Little was said during the next ten or fifteen minutes; indeed, it was difficult to make their voices heard, owing to the noise of the wind and dashing waves. The captain stood at the door, looking out from time to time with feelings of the deepest anxiety, each moment expecting to see the two sailors struggling back towards the hut; but they did not return. Soon the gale increased to such a degree that every one felt, although no one would acknowledge it even to himself, that there was now no hope of their comrades ever returning.The wind shifted another point; and now their lost shipmates were for a time forgotten in the anxieties of their own critical position, for their rocky ledge formed only a partial shelter, and every now and then the hut was shaken with a blast so terrible that it threatened to come down about their ears.“Don’t you think our house will fall, dear papa?” inquired Ailie, as a gust more furious than any that had hitherto passed swept round the rocks, and shook the hut as if it had been made of pasteboard.“God knows, my darling; we are in His hands.”Ailie tried to comfort herself with the thought that her Heavenly Father was indeed the ruler of the storm, and could prevent it from doing them harm if He pleased; but as gust after gust dashed against the frail building, and almost shook it down, while the loud rattling of the boards which composed it almost stunned her, an irresistible feeling of alarm crept over her, despite her utmost efforts to control herself.The captain now ordered the men to go out and see that the fastenings to windward and the supports to leeward of the hut remained firm, and to add more of them if possible. He set the example by throwing off his coat and leading the way.This duty was by no means so difficult or dangerous as that which had been previously performed by Rokens, for it must be remembered the hut as yet was only exposed to partial gusts of eddying wind, not to the full violence of the storm. It involved a thorough wetting, however, to all who went. In ten minutes the men re-entered, and put on their dry coats, but as no one knew how soon he might again be called upon to expose himself, none thought of changing his other garments.“Now, Ailie, my pet,” said Captain Dunning, sitting down beside his child on the sandy floor of the hut, “we’ve done all we can. If the wind remains as it is our house will stand.”“But have you not seen Rokens or Briant?” inquired Ailie with an anxious face, while the tears rolled over her cheeks.The captain shook his head, but made no reply, and the men looked earnestly at each other, as if each sought to gather a ray of hope from the countenance of his friend. While they sat thus, a terrible blast shook the hut to its foundation. Again and again it came with ever-increasing violence, and then it burst on them with a continuous roar like prolonged thunder.“Look out,” cried the captain, instinctively clasping Ailie in his arms, while the men sprang to their feet. The stout corner-posts bent over before the immense pressure, and the second mate placed his shoulder against one of those on the windward side of the hut, while Dick Barnes and Nikel Sling did the same to the other.“It’s all up with us,” cried Tarquin, as part of the roof blew off, and a deluge of water and spray burst in upon them, extinguishing the fire and leaving them in total darkness. At that moment Ailie felt herself seized round the waist by a pair of tiny arms, and putting down her hand, she felt that Jacko was clinging to her with a tight but trembling grasp.Even in that hour of danger, the child experienced a sensation of pleasure at the mere thought that there was one living creature there which looked up to and clung to her for protection; and although she knew full well that if the stout arm of her father which encircled her were removed, her own strength, in their present circumstances, could not have availed to protect herself, yet she felt a gush of renewed strength and courage at her heart when the poor little monkey put its trembling arms around her.“Lay your shoulders to the weather-wall, lads,” cried the captain, as another rush of wind bore down in the devoted hut.The men obeyed, but their united strength availed nothing against the mighty power that raged without. The wind, as the captain had feared, went round another point, and they were now exposed to the unbroken force of the hurricane. For a few minutes the stout corner-posts of the hut held up, then they began to rend and crack.“Bear down with the blast to the lee of the rocks, lads,” cried the captain; “it’s your only chance; don’t try to face it.”Almost before the words left his lips the posts snapped with a loud crash; the hut was actually lifted off the ground by the wind, and swept completely away, while most of the men were thrown violently to the ground by the wreck as it passed over their heads. The captain fell like the rest, but he retained his grasp of Ailie, and succeeded in rising, and as the gale carried him away with irresistible fury he bore firmly down to his right, and gained the eddy caused by the rocks which until now had sheltered the hut. He was safe; but he did not feel secure until he had staggered towards the most sheltered part, and placed his child in a cleft of the rock.Here he found Gurney and Tarquin before him, and soon after Glynn came staggering in, along with one or two others. In less than three minutes after the hut had been blown away, all the men were collected in the cleft, where they crouched down to avoid the pelting, pitiless spray that dashed over their heads.It is difficult to conceive a more desperate position than that in which they were now placed, yet there and at that moment a thrill of joy passed through the hearts of most, if not all of them, for they heard a shout which was recognised to be the voice of Tim Rokens. It came from the rocks a few yards to their right, and almost ere it had died away, Rokens himself staggered into the sheltering cleft of rock, accompanied by Phil Briant.Some of the men who had faced the dangers to which they had been exposed with firm nerves and unblanched cheeks, now grew pale, and trembled violently, for they actually believed that the spirits of their lost shipmates had come to haunt them. But these superstitious fears were soon put to flight by the hearty voice of the harpooner, who shook himself like a great Newfoundland dog as he came up, and exclaimed—“Why, wot on airth has brought ye all here?”“I think we may say, what has broughtyouhere?” replied the captain, as he grasped them each by the hand and shook them with as much energy as if he had not met them for ten years past.“It’s aisy to tell that,” said Briant, as he crouched down in the midst of the group; “Tim and me wos blow’d right across the bank, an’ we should no doubt ha’ bin blow’d right into the sea, but Tim went full split agin one o’ the casks o’ salt junk, and I went slap aginhim, and we lay for a moment all but dead. Then we crep’ in the lee o’ the cask, an’ lay there till a lull came, when we clapped on all sail, an’ made for the shelter o’ the rocks, an’ shure we got there niver a taste too soon, for it came on to blow the next minit, fit to blow the eyelids off yer face, it did.”“It’s a fact,” added Rokens. “Moreover, we tried to git round to the hut, but as we wos twice nearly blowed away w’en we tried for to double the point, we ’greed to stay where we wos till the back o’ the gale should be broke. But, now, let’s hear wot’s happened.”“The hut’s gone,” said Gurney, in reply. “Blowed clean over our heads to—I dun know where.”“Blowed away?” cried Rokens and Briant, in consternation.“Not a stick left,” replied the captain.“An’ the boat?” inquired Briant.“It’s gone too, I fancy; but we can’t be sure.”“Then it’s all up, boys,” observed Briant; “for nearly every morsel o’ the prog that wos on the top o’ the bank is washed away.”This piece of news fell like a thunderbolt on the men, and no one spoke for some minutes. At last the captain said—“Well, lads, we must do the best we can. Thank God, we are still alive; so let us see whether we can’t make our present quarters more comfortable.”Setting his men the example, Captain Dunning began to collect the few boards, and bits of canvas that chanced to have been left on that side of the rocky ledge when the hut was removed to the other side, and with these materials a very partial and insufficient shelter was put up. But the space thus inclosed was so small that they were all obliged to huddle together in a mass. Those farthest from the rock were not altogether protected from the spray that flew over their heads, while those nearest to it were crushed and incommoded by their companions.Thus they passed that eventful night and all the following day, during which the storm raged with such fury that no one dared venture out to ascertain how much, if any, of their provisions and stores were left to them.During the second night, a perceptible decrease in the violence of the gale took place, and before morning it ceased altogether. The sun rose in unclouded splendour, sending its bright and warm beams up into the clear blue sky and down upon the ocean, which glittered vividly as it still swelled and trembled with agitation. All was serene and calm in the sky, while below the only sound that broke upon the ear was the deep and regular dash of the great breakers that fell upon the shores of the islet, and encircled it with a fringe of purest white.On issuing from their confined uneasy nest in the cleft of the rock, part of the shipwrecked crew hastened anxiously to the top of the bank to see how much of their valuable store of food was left, while others ran to the spot in Fairyland where the keel of the new boat had been laid. The latter party found to their joy that all was safe, everything having been well secured; but a terrible sight met the eyes of the other men. Not a vestige of all their store remained! The summit of the sandbank was as smooth as on the day they landed there. Casks, boxes, barrels—all were gone; everything had been swept away into the sea!Almost instinctively the men turned their eyes towards the reef on which theRed Erichad grounded, each man feeling that in the wrecked vessel all his hope now remained. It, too, was gone! The spot on which it had lain was now washed by the waves, and a few broken planks and spars on the beach were all that remained to remind them of their ocean home!The men looked at each other with deep despondency expressed in their countenances. They were haggard and worn from exposure, anxiety, and want of rest; and as they stood there in their wet, torn garments, they looked the very picture of despair.“There’s one chance for us yet, lads,” exclaimed Tim Rokens, looking carefully round the spot on which they stood.“What’s that?” exclaimed several of the men eagerly, catching at their comrade’s words as drowning men are said to catch at straws.“Briant an’ me buried some o’ the things, by good luck, when we were sent to make all snug here, an’ I’m of opinion they’ll be here yet, if we could only find the place. Let me see.”Rokens glanced round at the rocks beside which their hut had found shelter, and at the reef where the ship had been wrecked, in order to find the “bearin’s o’ the spot,” as he expressed it. Then walking a few yards to one side, he struck his foot on the sand and said, “It should be hereabouts.”The blow of his heel returned a peculiar hollow sound, very unlike that produced by stamping on the mere sand.“Shure ye’ve hit the very spot, ye have,” cried Briant, falling on his knees beside the place; and scraping up the sand with both hands. “It sounds uncommon like a bread-cask. Here it is. Hurrah! boys, lind a hand, will ye. There now, heave away; but trate it tinderly! Shure it’s the only friend we’ve got in the wide world.”“You’re all wrong, Phil,” cried Gurney, who almost at the same moment began to scrape another hole close by. “It’s not our only one; here’s another friend o’ the same family. Bear a hand, lads!”“And here’s another!” cried Ailie, with a little scream of delight, as she observed the rim of a small keg just peeping out above the sand.“Well done, Ailie,” cried Glynn, as he ran to the spot and quickly dug up the keg in question, which, however, proved to be full of nails, to Ailie’s great disappointment, for she expected it to have turned out a keg of biscuits.“How many casks did you bury?” inquired the captain.“It’s meself can’t tell,” replied Briant; “d’ye know, Tim?”“Three, I think; but we was in sich a hurry that I ain’t sartin exactly.”“Well, then, boys, look here!” continued the captain, drawing a pretty large circle on the sand, “set to work like a band of moles an’ dig up every inch o’ that till you come to the water.”“That’s your sort,” cried Rokens, plunging elbow-deep into the sand at once.“Arrah! then, here’s at ye; a fair field an’ no favour at any price,” shouted Briant, baring his arms, straddling his legs, and sending a shower of sand behind him that almost overwhelmed Gurney, before that stout little individual could get out of the way.The spirits of the men were farther rejoiced by the coming up of the other party, bearing the good news that the keel of the boat was safe, as well as all her planking and the carpenter’s tools, which fortunately happened to have been secured in a sheltered spot. From the depths of despair they were all suddenly raised to renewed and sanguine hope, so that they wrought with the energy of gold-diggers, and soon their toil was rewarded by the discovery of that which, in their circumstances, they would not have exchanged for all the golden nuggets that ever were or will be dug up from the prolific mines of Australia, California, or British Columbia, namely, three casks of biscuit, a small keg of wine, a cask of fresh water, a roll of tobacco, and a barrel of salt junk.

A storm in almost all circumstances is a grand and solemnising sight, one that forces man to feel his own weakness and his Maker’s might and majesty. But a storm at sea in southern latitudes, where the winds are let loose with a degree of violence that is seldom or never experienced in the temperate zones, is so terrific that no words can be found to convey an adequate idea of its appalling ferocity.

The storm that at this time burst upon the little sandbank on which the shipwrecked crew had found shelter, was one of the most furious, perhaps, that ever swept the seas. The wind shrieked as if it were endued with life, tore up the surface of the groaning deep into masses and shreds of foam, which it whirled aloft in mad fury, and then dissipated into a thin blinding mist that filled the whole atmosphere, so that one could scarcely see a couple of yards beyond the spot on which he stood. The hurricane seemed to have reached its highest point soon after sunset that night, and a ray of light from the moon struggled ever and anon through the black hurtling clouds, as if to reveal to the cowering seamen the extreme peril of their situation. The great ocean was lashed into a wide sheet of foam, and the presence of the little isle in the midst of that swirling waste of water was indicated merely by a slight circle of foam that seemed whiter than the rest of the sea.

The men sat silently in their frail hut, listening to the howling blast without. A feeling of awe crept over the whole party, and the most careless and the lightest of heart among the crew of theRed Ericceased to utter his passing jest, and became deeply solemnised as the roar of the breakers filled his ear, and reminded him that a thin ledge of rock alone preserved him from instant destruction.

“The wind has shifted a point,” said the captain, who had just risen and opened a chink of the rude door of the hut in order to look out. “I see that the keel of the boat is all fast and the planking beside it. The coral rock shelters it just now; but if the wind goes on shifting I fear it will stand a poor chance.”

“We’d better go out and give it a hextra fastening,” suggested Mr Millons.

“Not yet. There’s no use of exposing any of the men to the risk of being blown away. The wind may keep steady, in which case I’ve no fear for it.”

“I dun know,” said Rokens, who sat beside Ailie, close to the embers of their fire, with a glowing cinder from which he re-lighted his pipe for at least the twentieth time that night. “You never can tell wot’s a-goin’ to turn up. I’ll go out, cap’en, if ye like, and see that all’s fast.”

“Perhaps you’re right, Tim; you may make a bolt across to it, and heave another rock or two on the planking if it seems to require it.”

The seaman rose, and putting aside his pipe, threw off his coat, partly in order that he might present as small a surface to the wind as possible, and partly that he might have a dry garment to put on when he returned. As he opened the little door of the hut a rude gust of wind burst in, filling the apartment with spray, and scattering the embers of the fire.

“I feared as much,” said the captain, as he and the men started up to gather together the pieces of glowing charcoal; “that shows the wind’s shifted another point; if it goes round two points more it’ll smash our boat to pieces. Look sharp, Tim.”

“Lean well against the wind, me boy,” cried Briant, in a warning voice.

Thus admonished, Rokens issued forth, and dashed across the open space that separated the hut from the low ledge of coral rock behind which the keel of the intended boat and its planking were sheltered. A very few minutes sufficed to show Tim that all was fast, and to enable him to place a few additional pieces of rock above the heap in order to keep it down. Then he prepared to dart back again to the hut, from the doorway of which his proceedings, were watched by the captain and as many of the men as could crowd round it.

Just as the harpooner sprang from the shelter of the rock the blast burst upon the bank with redoubled fury, as if it actually were a sentient being, and wished to catch the sailor in its rude grasp and whirl him away. Rokens bent his stout frame against it with all his might, and stood his ground for a few seconds like a noble tree on some exposed mountain side that has weathered the gales of centuries. Then he staggered, threw his arms wildly in the air, and a moment after was swept from the spot and lost to view in the driving spray that flew over the island.

The thing was so instantaneous that the horrified onlookers could scarcely credit the evidence of their eyes, and they stood aghast for a moment or two ere their feelings found vent in a cry of alarm. Next instant Captain Dunning felt himself rudely pushed aside, and Briant leaped through the doorway, shouting, as he dashed out—

“If Tim Rokens goes, it’s Phil Briant as’ll go along with him.”

The enthusiastic Irishman was immediately lost to view, and Glynn Proctor was about to follow, when the captain seized him by the collar, dragged him back, and shut the door violently.

“Keep back, lads,” he cried, “no one must leave the hut. If these two men cannot save themselves by means of their own strong muscles, no human power can save them.”

Glynn, and indeed all of the men, felt this remark to be true, so they sat down round the fire, and looked in each other’s faces with the expression of men who half believed they must be dreaming. Little was said during the next ten or fifteen minutes; indeed, it was difficult to make their voices heard, owing to the noise of the wind and dashing waves. The captain stood at the door, looking out from time to time with feelings of the deepest anxiety, each moment expecting to see the two sailors struggling back towards the hut; but they did not return. Soon the gale increased to such a degree that every one felt, although no one would acknowledge it even to himself, that there was now no hope of their comrades ever returning.

The wind shifted another point; and now their lost shipmates were for a time forgotten in the anxieties of their own critical position, for their rocky ledge formed only a partial shelter, and every now and then the hut was shaken with a blast so terrible that it threatened to come down about their ears.

“Don’t you think our house will fall, dear papa?” inquired Ailie, as a gust more furious than any that had hitherto passed swept round the rocks, and shook the hut as if it had been made of pasteboard.

“God knows, my darling; we are in His hands.”

Ailie tried to comfort herself with the thought that her Heavenly Father was indeed the ruler of the storm, and could prevent it from doing them harm if He pleased; but as gust after gust dashed against the frail building, and almost shook it down, while the loud rattling of the boards which composed it almost stunned her, an irresistible feeling of alarm crept over her, despite her utmost efforts to control herself.

The captain now ordered the men to go out and see that the fastenings to windward and the supports to leeward of the hut remained firm, and to add more of them if possible. He set the example by throwing off his coat and leading the way.

This duty was by no means so difficult or dangerous as that which had been previously performed by Rokens, for it must be remembered the hut as yet was only exposed to partial gusts of eddying wind, not to the full violence of the storm. It involved a thorough wetting, however, to all who went. In ten minutes the men re-entered, and put on their dry coats, but as no one knew how soon he might again be called upon to expose himself, none thought of changing his other garments.

“Now, Ailie, my pet,” said Captain Dunning, sitting down beside his child on the sandy floor of the hut, “we’ve done all we can. If the wind remains as it is our house will stand.”

“But have you not seen Rokens or Briant?” inquired Ailie with an anxious face, while the tears rolled over her cheeks.

The captain shook his head, but made no reply, and the men looked earnestly at each other, as if each sought to gather a ray of hope from the countenance of his friend. While they sat thus, a terrible blast shook the hut to its foundation. Again and again it came with ever-increasing violence, and then it burst on them with a continuous roar like prolonged thunder.

“Look out,” cried the captain, instinctively clasping Ailie in his arms, while the men sprang to their feet. The stout corner-posts bent over before the immense pressure, and the second mate placed his shoulder against one of those on the windward side of the hut, while Dick Barnes and Nikel Sling did the same to the other.

“It’s all up with us,” cried Tarquin, as part of the roof blew off, and a deluge of water and spray burst in upon them, extinguishing the fire and leaving them in total darkness. At that moment Ailie felt herself seized round the waist by a pair of tiny arms, and putting down her hand, she felt that Jacko was clinging to her with a tight but trembling grasp.

Even in that hour of danger, the child experienced a sensation of pleasure at the mere thought that there was one living creature there which looked up to and clung to her for protection; and although she knew full well that if the stout arm of her father which encircled her were removed, her own strength, in their present circumstances, could not have availed to protect herself, yet she felt a gush of renewed strength and courage at her heart when the poor little monkey put its trembling arms around her.

“Lay your shoulders to the weather-wall, lads,” cried the captain, as another rush of wind bore down in the devoted hut.

The men obeyed, but their united strength availed nothing against the mighty power that raged without. The wind, as the captain had feared, went round another point, and they were now exposed to the unbroken force of the hurricane. For a few minutes the stout corner-posts of the hut held up, then they began to rend and crack.

“Bear down with the blast to the lee of the rocks, lads,” cried the captain; “it’s your only chance; don’t try to face it.”

Almost before the words left his lips the posts snapped with a loud crash; the hut was actually lifted off the ground by the wind, and swept completely away, while most of the men were thrown violently to the ground by the wreck as it passed over their heads. The captain fell like the rest, but he retained his grasp of Ailie, and succeeded in rising, and as the gale carried him away with irresistible fury he bore firmly down to his right, and gained the eddy caused by the rocks which until now had sheltered the hut. He was safe; but he did not feel secure until he had staggered towards the most sheltered part, and placed his child in a cleft of the rock.

Here he found Gurney and Tarquin before him, and soon after Glynn came staggering in, along with one or two others. In less than three minutes after the hut had been blown away, all the men were collected in the cleft, where they crouched down to avoid the pelting, pitiless spray that dashed over their heads.

It is difficult to conceive a more desperate position than that in which they were now placed, yet there and at that moment a thrill of joy passed through the hearts of most, if not all of them, for they heard a shout which was recognised to be the voice of Tim Rokens. It came from the rocks a few yards to their right, and almost ere it had died away, Rokens himself staggered into the sheltering cleft of rock, accompanied by Phil Briant.

Some of the men who had faced the dangers to which they had been exposed with firm nerves and unblanched cheeks, now grew pale, and trembled violently, for they actually believed that the spirits of their lost shipmates had come to haunt them. But these superstitious fears were soon put to flight by the hearty voice of the harpooner, who shook himself like a great Newfoundland dog as he came up, and exclaimed—

“Why, wot on airth has brought ye all here?”

“I think we may say, what has broughtyouhere?” replied the captain, as he grasped them each by the hand and shook them with as much energy as if he had not met them for ten years past.

“It’s aisy to tell that,” said Briant, as he crouched down in the midst of the group; “Tim and me wos blow’d right across the bank, an’ we should no doubt ha’ bin blow’d right into the sea, but Tim went full split agin one o’ the casks o’ salt junk, and I went slap aginhim, and we lay for a moment all but dead. Then we crep’ in the lee o’ the cask, an’ lay there till a lull came, when we clapped on all sail, an’ made for the shelter o’ the rocks, an’ shure we got there niver a taste too soon, for it came on to blow the next minit, fit to blow the eyelids off yer face, it did.”

“It’s a fact,” added Rokens. “Moreover, we tried to git round to the hut, but as we wos twice nearly blowed away w’en we tried for to double the point, we ’greed to stay where we wos till the back o’ the gale should be broke. But, now, let’s hear wot’s happened.”

“The hut’s gone,” said Gurney, in reply. “Blowed clean over our heads to—I dun know where.”

“Blowed away?” cried Rokens and Briant, in consternation.

“Not a stick left,” replied the captain.

“An’ the boat?” inquired Briant.

“It’s gone too, I fancy; but we can’t be sure.”

“Then it’s all up, boys,” observed Briant; “for nearly every morsel o’ the prog that wos on the top o’ the bank is washed away.”

This piece of news fell like a thunderbolt on the men, and no one spoke for some minutes. At last the captain said—

“Well, lads, we must do the best we can. Thank God, we are still alive; so let us see whether we can’t make our present quarters more comfortable.”

Setting his men the example, Captain Dunning began to collect the few boards, and bits of canvas that chanced to have been left on that side of the rocky ledge when the hut was removed to the other side, and with these materials a very partial and insufficient shelter was put up. But the space thus inclosed was so small that they were all obliged to huddle together in a mass. Those farthest from the rock were not altogether protected from the spray that flew over their heads, while those nearest to it were crushed and incommoded by their companions.

Thus they passed that eventful night and all the following day, during which the storm raged with such fury that no one dared venture out to ascertain how much, if any, of their provisions and stores were left to them.

During the second night, a perceptible decrease in the violence of the gale took place, and before morning it ceased altogether. The sun rose in unclouded splendour, sending its bright and warm beams up into the clear blue sky and down upon the ocean, which glittered vividly as it still swelled and trembled with agitation. All was serene and calm in the sky, while below the only sound that broke upon the ear was the deep and regular dash of the great breakers that fell upon the shores of the islet, and encircled it with a fringe of purest white.

On issuing from their confined uneasy nest in the cleft of the rock, part of the shipwrecked crew hastened anxiously to the top of the bank to see how much of their valuable store of food was left, while others ran to the spot in Fairyland where the keel of the new boat had been laid. The latter party found to their joy that all was safe, everything having been well secured; but a terrible sight met the eyes of the other men. Not a vestige of all their store remained! The summit of the sandbank was as smooth as on the day they landed there. Casks, boxes, barrels—all were gone; everything had been swept away into the sea!

Almost instinctively the men turned their eyes towards the reef on which theRed Erichad grounded, each man feeling that in the wrecked vessel all his hope now remained. It, too, was gone! The spot on which it had lain was now washed by the waves, and a few broken planks and spars on the beach were all that remained to remind them of their ocean home!

The men looked at each other with deep despondency expressed in their countenances. They were haggard and worn from exposure, anxiety, and want of rest; and as they stood there in their wet, torn garments, they looked the very picture of despair.

“There’s one chance for us yet, lads,” exclaimed Tim Rokens, looking carefully round the spot on which they stood.

“What’s that?” exclaimed several of the men eagerly, catching at their comrade’s words as drowning men are said to catch at straws.

“Briant an’ me buried some o’ the things, by good luck, when we were sent to make all snug here, an’ I’m of opinion they’ll be here yet, if we could only find the place. Let me see.”

Rokens glanced round at the rocks beside which their hut had found shelter, and at the reef where the ship had been wrecked, in order to find the “bearin’s o’ the spot,” as he expressed it. Then walking a few yards to one side, he struck his foot on the sand and said, “It should be hereabouts.”

The blow of his heel returned a peculiar hollow sound, very unlike that produced by stamping on the mere sand.

“Shure ye’ve hit the very spot, ye have,” cried Briant, falling on his knees beside the place; and scraping up the sand with both hands. “It sounds uncommon like a bread-cask. Here it is. Hurrah! boys, lind a hand, will ye. There now, heave away; but trate it tinderly! Shure it’s the only friend we’ve got in the wide world.”

“You’re all wrong, Phil,” cried Gurney, who almost at the same moment began to scrape another hole close by. “It’s not our only one; here’s another friend o’ the same family. Bear a hand, lads!”

“And here’s another!” cried Ailie, with a little scream of delight, as she observed the rim of a small keg just peeping out above the sand.

“Well done, Ailie,” cried Glynn, as he ran to the spot and quickly dug up the keg in question, which, however, proved to be full of nails, to Ailie’s great disappointment, for she expected it to have turned out a keg of biscuits.

“How many casks did you bury?” inquired the captain.

“It’s meself can’t tell,” replied Briant; “d’ye know, Tim?”

“Three, I think; but we was in sich a hurry that I ain’t sartin exactly.”

“Well, then, boys, look here!” continued the captain, drawing a pretty large circle on the sand, “set to work like a band of moles an’ dig up every inch o’ that till you come to the water.”

“That’s your sort,” cried Rokens, plunging elbow-deep into the sand at once.

“Arrah! then, here’s at ye; a fair field an’ no favour at any price,” shouted Briant, baring his arms, straddling his legs, and sending a shower of sand behind him that almost overwhelmed Gurney, before that stout little individual could get out of the way.

The spirits of the men were farther rejoiced by the coming up of the other party, bearing the good news that the keel of the boat was safe, as well as all her planking and the carpenter’s tools, which fortunately happened to have been secured in a sheltered spot. From the depths of despair they were all suddenly raised to renewed and sanguine hope, so that they wrought with the energy of gold-diggers, and soon their toil was rewarded by the discovery of that which, in their circumstances, they would not have exchanged for all the golden nuggets that ever were or will be dug up from the prolific mines of Australia, California, or British Columbia, namely, three casks of biscuit, a small keg of wine, a cask of fresh water, a roll of tobacco, and a barrel of salt junk.

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