A wan flicker, somewhat like the wrecked ghost of a smile, seemed to pass over the old man’s distorted face at the words of the girl, the first I had heard her utter. It was idle to expect any help from her, as she could scarcely stand, and was in fact partly supporting herself with her hands on the boat. Following the daughter’s suggestion, I moved her father around until he lay thwartships, and then placing my feet on the gunwale and seizing him under the arms pulled him bodily up until his head and shoulders were out of the boat. Then jumping overboard I managed to get him fairly on my back, his back to my own with my two hands under his armpits. Though I accounted myself pretty strong, and the hardy life on the island had by no means diminished my muscular power, this lift was the very limit of my strength. With bare feet fairly gripping the yielding sand, and the water above my knees, I managed to stagger through it to the shore and up to the work-shed, where I sank on my knees and lowered him to the ground. The girl followed us. I turned to her as soon as my breath came, and said, “Go and stand by the fire, you are chilled almost to death. I shall be able to get your father into the house and into a warm, dry bed, where I can change these wet clothes.”
“I can be of some help, can I not?” said she with a piteous look. “Oh, sir, be careful and gentle with him, I beseech you.”
“No, I can manage better alone, and you need to warm yourself,” said I, and without waiting longer I stooped to the old man again, and now with much greater ease managed, by putting my arms around him, to lift him and carry him to the house, where I laid him down on the floor, and immediately went to the beacon-fire near which the girl was seated. I secured twohalf-burned pieces of wood, and returning to the house built a rousing good fire in the chimney, and lighted a candle. Then as rapidly as I could do so I stripped off his clothes and rolled him in a dry blanket on a couch of grass.
“Are you more comfortable now?”
For answer came the abortive flicker, as of a throttled smile, and he closed and opened his eyes once or twice as though assenting.
“Can’t you speak at all?”
A sort of struggle seemed to come over his face; then he closed his eyes and held them shut for a moment. It then dawned upon me that the man was suffering from a paralytic stroke. Up to this time, without giving the matter any particular attention, I had thought that perhaps he was merely suffering from chill and exhaustion, and several times during my tremendous struggle with his weight it had been on my tongue to urge him to exert himself for his own sake. Now the awful nature of his condition, his utter helplessness, the mental torture he must have endured and be yet enduring, came upon me and must have shown itself in my face; for as he looked at me he closed his eyes again in the same manner as before. There he lay swathed in the blanket, his intelligence intact, perfectly able to see all that went on around him, and to realize his situation and condition, doubtless also fully alive, so far as sensation went, to every pain and discomfort, and yet utterly unable to stir hand or foot or speak a word. Even distorted as his face was, there was the stamp of a noble, generous nature upon it, and a venerable benevolence yet shone forth from every feature. What a terrible fate was this. I was moved to deepest pity by the contemplation of it.
I placed my hand upon his forehead and said gently,“Be assured and rest easy now. I will go and bring your daughter here and see that she is made comfortable. Here are food and shelter for you both, and you are most heartily welcome to it and to my best assistance.”
I found the daughter sitting on the sand before the fire, her wet garments already steaming from the heat. I told her that her father was as comfortable as it was possible to make him, and that she had better go to him and see if she could not get off some of her wet garments. In the mean time I would get some food warm for them both.
“For pity’s sake,” said she in a tremulous and vibrant voice, “let me have some water. We have been three days without water except what you gave us.”
Without waiting to reproach myself for not doing sooner what I should have known from personal experience was the thing to do, I ran to my boat and got a gourd full and held it for her to drink. I then went with her to the house and gave the old man a long drink.
The girl then said to me that on board there was a trunk containing her clothing, and that she would be glad if she could have it; that as there were several chests and trunks stowed under the deck forward, I would know hers by such and such marks and peculiarities. I went down and got the trunk, and moreover took out a chest and another trunk, which I put under the work-shed, bringing her trunk up to the house. I had afterward to be again called to get it open for her, as the key could not be turned by her slender fingers.
Getting out of my boat a pan of baked pork and beans, I proceeded to extemporize a hot soup by mashing up some of the beans and adding half of a pepperpod and some water, and setting the preparation on thefire to come to a boil. This made a good hot porridge soup, and did not take long in preparation. When it was ready I went up to the house with the kettle and knocked at the door; it was opened by the girl, her dress changed for a dry one and much of the distress seemingly gone from her pale, beautiful face.
“Here,” said I, “is some hot bean porridge for your father and you; and here are a couple of cocoanut-shells from which to eat it. I will take some for myself down at the shed.”
“But,” replied she, “we cannot drive you out of your house, sir; why do you not come here and eat with us?”
“Very well, if you like,” said I. “There will be some corn-bread also and plenty of water to drink.”
We ate heartily of the soup and bread, the old man taking only the soup.
I then brought up my hammock and swung it as low down as possible for the girl, and took back the mainsail, that had once formed a tent at Farm Cove, to use for my own bed at the shed. I explained as well as I could how she should sleep in the hammock, and gave her one of the blankets. She assured me she had often slept in a hammock and thought she could manage it. She was then about to explain how she and her father came to be adrift in the boat; but I stopped her by saying, “No, let us wait until to-morrow. You are both exhausted and need sleep and rest. You shall tell me all about it in the morning.” And then I wished them both good-night.
“Good-night, and God bless you, sir, for your kindness,” answered the girl.
When I reached the shed, built up a fire close by, and lay down it was after nine o’clock, and as the wind had gone down, and the rain was over, it was not so chilly as to make wet garments especially dangerous,though sufficiently disagreeable. However, rolled up in the sail with my feet to the fire, I soon felt warm enough to sleep. The rescue of the two people on the island seemed likely to prove at least a temporary hindrance to the execution of my plans; for I could not see how it was possible, for a few days at least, to leave the island, as the old man was in no condition to undertake such a voyage in an open boat, and probably would not survive it. Indeed, that the hardships which he had already undergone had not killed him was a sufficient matter for wonder. No, I could not leave these people now, and at present, for days and perhaps for weeks, it would be impracticable and cruel to attempt to carry him away either in my boat or his own. Doubtless, if I were to suggest departure, they would agree to it, and undertake the voyage; but I saw it would be little less than murder. However, if he should be no better in a week or two, then, provided he still retained his present vitality, it might be wise to attempt to get him where a physician could see him.
It was no use repining over this enforced delay. Humanity, and the commonest sense of duty to my fellows, demanded that I should stand by these helpless ones so long as they stood so absolutely in need of my aid. The food question, which had long since ceased to trouble me, might now, by reason of the increase in the number of mouths to fill, become something to require considerable exertion, planning, and thought. The weak spot in the larder was likely to be the supply of breadstuffs and vegetables. There would be no lack of pork and fish. Judging from the appearance of several boxes and gunny sacks on board the strangers’ boat, there was a supply of food there which might be relied upon to tide over any present necessity that might arise, though my own supply was still considerable.
Then too I must rig up as soon as possible in the house, perhaps by hanging a curtain which could be temporarily drawn at night, a place of privacy for the girl. At night the old man would require somebody to watch him more or less, or at least be near him. I could not expect his daughter to take this all upon herself, as that would be physically impossible. How to manage about this puzzled me considerably. For a short stay of a week or two I did not like to go to the considerable trouble of enlarging my house, and yet the requirements of the situation seemed actually to demand three separate rooms.
At last, as a compromise, I hit upon the idea of cutting down the back wall of the house, between the house proper and the lean-to addition wherein my provisions were stored, and which had been used upon occasion as a smoke house. The provisions could be stored if necessary on board the boats, or under the work-shed. And a wide doorway cut between the two compartments would, with a curtain dividing the larger one, give me the necessary room. I myself would take as my sleeping-place the added room, and by arranging a couple of bunks, the thing would be done.
THE next morning, when shortly after dawn I awoke from a sound, refreshing sleep, my clothes were dried upon me, the storm had passed, and there was promise of a calm, clear day. Raking together the few coals that remained, I soon had my fire burning brightly, and then went down to look at the two boats lying in the creek. The stranger I found had the name “Alice” painted on either bow. The “Alice” proved upon closer examination a much larger boat than the “Mohawk.” She was fully four feet longer, and much broader and deeper. A flush deck extended aft from the bows about one third of her whole length, and as in my own boat, was carried clear aft at each side of a well which was protected by an upright washboard. She was provided with an iron centre-board, hinged at the forward end on a pivot. A very considerable rise or sheer fore and aft indicated that she would be pretty safe in heavy weather and high seas. There was a good boat’s-compass swung in gimballs, and mounted near the after part of the well, where it would be in sight of the steersman, and an extinguished lantern lying near it, as though to be used when needed, for a binnacle light. The boat was very strongly built, and evidently intended as a sea-going craft. An oiled tarpaulin, buttoned over pins on the washboard, partly covered the well-hole forward, and evidently could be drawn over the whole opening in case of heavy seas.
Of course I was much interested in the examination of the boat, and in the minutest detail of her construction and condition, as I expected when I came to leave the island to use her instead of my own boat, an exchange of vessels greatly to my advantage. On the deck just forward of the foremast a water cask had been lashed. The two hollowed skids nailed to the deck were still there in place. There was a ringbolt let into the deck at each side originally, designed to take the cask lashings. One of these ringbolts was pulled through the deck and the water cask was gone. This condition told the story almost as plainly as words. A heavy sea had struck the port bow and coming on board had washed away the cask, tearing out the bolt. The tarpaulin had saved the vessel from filling.
I looked to the mooring-lines to see that both boats were secure, and then waded over the creek to a place above the willows, where there was a clear, bright-bottomed pool, sheltered from view and well adapted for the fresh-water bath which I needed. Here, too, was a gourd of soap, placed there on former occasions for the bath.
I was in the very midst of the soap-and-water refreshment when I saw on a log at the bank and among the leaves what I took for the head of a huge python or boa constrictor. A hideous head, thrust out toward me through the foliage, bright eyes gleaming like jewels, a wrinkled, pouchy throat,—the unmistakable reptilian characteristics,—caused a shiver of horror to pass through me for a moment. My first impulse was to fly and leave my clothing on the bank. Up to this time I had not seen a single snake, great or small, venomous or harmless, on the island. Backing and edging slowly away, I soon reached a point where I could plainly see that my terrible snake had feet, Ah! it was nothingmore nor less than an iguana, a great, harmless species of lizard that loves to haunt the banks of the streams; not only harmless but edible, a delicate morsel for an epicure, hunted as zealously as the Marylanders seek for diamond-back terrapin.
Instantly from fancying myself the hunted I became the hunter. I had tasted iguana-stew at Martinique, and had a distinct recollection of the delicate white meat, with a flavor apparently compounded of those of spring chicken, green turtle, and frogs’ legs.
The reptile remained perfectly motionless, with the exception of a sort of regular waving of the folds of the pouched throat. I quietly lowered myself into the water and went a few rods down stream to the boats, where I got a strong cord and a stout ten-foot cane pole. I made a running noose in the cord and hung it upon the pole. With this apparatus I returned and found the lizard still pumping slowly away with his throat, in precisely the same place and attitude. Slowly and cautiously I waded up at one side, until I was distant the length of the pole, and then by infinite degrees advanced the noose, watching the pumping in the wrinkled throat, until the loop was fairly over the head, but of course without touching the reptile.
Just then the pumping action abruptly stopped. But I did not wait for him to be off. On the contrary, I hauled aft on my line like lightning, the noose closed around the ugly neck and jerked a fifty-pound iguana splashing into the creek. As I had no mind to feel his sharp claws, I drove the end of the pole into his mouth and thus between cord and pole held him firmly in the water. He swam like a fish, but he was too securely caught to get away. I dragged him up to the bank where my clothing lay, and getting hold of my knife dispatched him; then I hurriedly clothed myself andcleaned the iguana, taking off the skin and cutting him up ready for the pot. And in fifteen minutes a good portion of him was in my iron kettle and on the fire.
Though snaring big lizards is not perhaps within the strict limits of what may properly be called true sport, still I must say that for real excitement, eager earnestness of pursuit, and genuine pleasure at the capture, I have never experienced before nor since anything approaching the hunter’s joy excited by this morning’s pot hunt for an iguana.
As I stood by the fire the door of the house opened, and the girl came out. She had on some sort of light dress, and all trace of the bedraggled condition of the previous evening was gone; her brown hair was smoothly swept back from a face still pale, and a bit of bright ribbon at the neck gave the effect of a flower. She came down toward me with a kindly smile and a good-morning greeting, which I returned. Somehow a senseless, foolish embarrassment came over me, which like an idiot I attributed to the fact that I did not know her name. Actuated by a ridiculous impulse, I pulled out my pocketbook and extracted therefrom a stained and withered visiting-card, whereon in the mostrecherchéstyle of the copperplate engraver’s art appeared my name, “William Morgan.” This precious document I handed to her with a deliberate bow, hat in hand. A smile ran over her countenance as she bent to receive it, so very expressive that I could not fail to understand it. She was undoubtedly laughing at me. Like a flash the full absurdity and incongruity of my act came over me. I pictured my own appearance,—barefoot, clad in pantaloons of moleskin stained to a thousand tints of autumn brown and rolled up half-way to the knee, a blue flannel shirt with sleeves rolled up and throat open, and a hat of bungling rushes; my skin, where exposed,tanned and peeled; a great bush and shock of hair, the growth of nine months, tangled and unkempt, faded by the sun at the ends, and reaching down to my shoulders; the cavalier air; the limp, red-stained, dirty visiting card. I felt the hot blood surge for a moment into my face, and then the absurdity of it all overpowered me and I laughed aloud. She also, after a little struggle, and looking at me again to see, perhaps, whether I was hurt, joined in the chorus, my visiting-card in her hand.
“Mr. Morgan,” said she presently, “both my father and I are deeply grateful to you. You saved our lives, and your kindness and tenderness to a helpless old man I shall never forget. I thank you for him and for myself. My father’s name,” here there was a faint indication of a return of the smile, “is Caleb Millward, and mine is Alice.”
I asked her how her father had passed the night, and was informed that he had slept almost continuously, and was still slumbering peacefully. Then I told her that I thought her father was suffering from paralysis, produced, probably, by cerebral hemorrhage; that some small blood vessel had burst in the brain, and that if this could become absorbed in a reasonably short period he would probably recover the use of his faculties either wholly or partially; that we could only await results, keeping him warm, well nourished and quiet; that I believed this was all the best of doctors could do for him, and that we must put our trust in his good constitution and the favor of the Almighty, and hope for the best.
I learned from her account that her father, Caleb Millward, was a missionary, whose work for the past five years had been among the coolie laborers, of whom large numbers from Hindostan and the lower provincesof China had been imported into various of the West India Islands, under what has been known as the contract-labor system, only another name for slavery. Her mother had died several years before, during a yellow fever epidemic, and since her death the Rev. Mr. Millward had broken up his permanent home station, and had travelled in a regular circuit from point to point in his little schooner, making a complete round in a period of about six months. It was on one of these trips, while sailing from one small island to another, that the series of mishaps took place which resulted in their being cast away. There was on board only her father, herself, and a young Jamaican of English descent, who was employed to help sail the boat, and to take care of the vessel when in port. The voyage they were at the time engaged upon, was a traverse of about twenty miles. The wind was fair with no appearance of bad weather. Suddenly a tremendous wave was seen approaching, not parallel with the swell but at an angle thereto. All three saw it coming down. Her father called out to the Jamaican to lower some sail, and the Jamaican was forward at this work, when the sea struck the boat with tremendous force and dashed him overboard, and also tore loose the water cask and carried it away. The Jamaican never rose to the surface. Her father, she said, appeared to be wonderfully affected by the accident, and soon grew faint and half stupid. Presently partially recovering, he set the sails so that the boat was hove to under the sail that she subsequently bore, then almost immediately sank down unconscious. He remained thus all day breathing heavily, and then came to, but was unable to move. So they drifted without water, until the storm came and they were drenched with spray. After a long period of suffering they were rescued as we have seen.This was the story of their disaster. Leaving Miss Millward to watch the stew, I went up to the house, and finding the old man now awake gave him a thorough rubbing with my hands,—a sort of massage treatment,—until the circulation of the blood was evident on the surface. This seemed to do him good. Then I put on his clothes, now dry, and returned to the fire.
Miss Millward had gone down to the “Alice” and rummaged out some spoons and knives and forks, a small tablecloth, some salt and some black pepper, three bowls, three plates, and some glass tumblers, and had them at the fire in a hand basket, and the kettle containing the stew had been removed from the fire.
“Now, Mr. Morgan,” said she, as I came up, “Let us understand each other. I intend while we stay here to make myself useful. I have been taught to work, and the cooking and housekeeping are woman’s work. You will let me do that work as far as I am able, will you not?”
“Certainly I will, Miss Millward. There will be plenty of work for both of us. It will relieve me, and frankly, I think you will be better contented and happier for it.”
“Very well, then. Please give me a lift with this kettle to the house. Our breakfast is ready as soon as the cloth can be laid.”
That breakfast of delicious iguana-stew, toasted pilot-bread, and cool, pure water sparkling in glass, set on a clean, white cloth, and eaten from real dishes with the table implements of civilization, will linger long in my memory. I picture the scene before me even now; the cool white interior, the old man stretched on the couch, the table presenting to my long unaccustomed eyes an appearance of elegance, though plain and common enough in reality, the savory fragrance of the stew, the beautiful girl seated opposite me, the open doorway, and the glimpse through it of the sunlit sea,—all return to me as a happy, pleasant dream. It seemed to me then like a dream, and as though it all might fade away on awakening.
Heretofore I had eaten my food in a perfunctory fashion, spending no unnecessary time over it, with no special enjoyment except the satisfaction due to hunger allayed. Now all was different. Meals were about to become, I foresaw, delightful domestic episodes, enlivened by talk and rendered social by companionship. This was life, and not a mere struggle for existence.
We discussed the proposed changes to be made in the interior by cutting an enlarged opening through to the store-room, the hanging of a sail-cloth curtain, and the building of bunks. I explained how I was cast upon the island, and my experiences since then. But I did not mention the purpose of my voyage nor say anything about the wreck of the galleon.
When finally we had finished, and I had reluctantly risen, she said: “Mr. Morgan, I should like it very much if you would get me a broom.”
“Nothing will be easier, Miss Housekeeper,” replied I, and immediately brought in a cedar-bough. This she eyed ruefully, but accepted as the only available substitute for the familiar domestic weapon.
All that day I devoted to the work of clearing out the store-house, cutting the opening, rigging up the curtain, and building a bunk for myself in the new apartment. I did not build the second bunk, as I had intended, for a new plan had occurred to me; namely, to construct a movable couch for Mr. Millward to lie upon, and on which I could convey him on occasion out into the sun or on the porch, and upon which hemight be propped up in a sitting posture. But before the day was over I had arranged some shelving at each side of the fireplace for Miss Millward’s dishes and domestic appliances. It was simply delightful to be called to a dinner that I had no hand in preparing, and to witness the air of homelike comfort given to the little house by this girl. The whole atmosphere seemed changed. Not that one could note any great or marked alteration; but in little details here and there, were evidences of a woman’s hand,—a bit of white cloth disposed over the windows as a curtain, my nautilus shell set on the mantel-shelf with a spray of flowers, and a hundred similar trifles; perhaps most of all, the unaccustomed presence of others, the sound of a woman’s voice, her light footstep, and the rustle of her garments. I did not attempt to analyze my feelings, but at any rate the place seemed like a home, and I began in advance to regret the day of leaving it.
That night I slept again at the shed. Before I retired, however, Miss Millward asked me to wait until she read a chapter in the Bible to her father. And when this was done she gently lifted the old man’s helpless hands together in an attitude of prayer, and then prayed aloud herself, in such a pathetic and tender manner that the tears came to my eyes in spite of myself.
The next day, after getting a stock of cedar, I started to fashion the couch for Mr. Millward. This with the making of another armchair occupied two days. The couch I made like a great chair, with a back pivoted to fold down or prop up, and wove an upholstery of rushes. It occurred to me that I could easily saw some wheels out of a round limb and mount them as rollers on which to move the couch more easily over the smooth floor; and this improvement I added. When the couch wasfinished there was then a bunk for each of the well ones and the couch for the invalid, and I therefore took up my quarters in the house, which I was glad to do, as I could then give Miss Millward a needed relief in helping watch the sick man at night. By wheeling his couch beside my own this was an easy matter.
In the morning we wheeled the old gentleman out upon the porch and propped him up for a rest, until he would sign with his eyes to be lowered again. I kept up the rubbing daily. At the end of about a week I noticed that he could move the fingers of his right hand. This was a most promising sign; and I then began to rub him regularly three times a day. In the course of two days more he could use this hand and arm quite freely, and recovered some power in the muscles of his neck so that he could turn his head. But though he could utter some unintelligible sounds he could not yet articulate anything. He kept making signs as though he wanted something, which I could not understand. I got out a pencil and some paper, which he took and attempted to write, but I could not read the characters. His daughter, however, coming out just then, was able to comprehend his wants at once, and going in to where his coat hung, brought out his spectacles and placed them on his eyes. The old man then wrote plainly the word “Bible,” and the book was brought to him. Propped up on his couch he turned the leaves and began to read with an air of perfect contentment. The distorted appearance of his face had gradually been passing away, and when his daughter gave him the book his countenance was lighted up with a singularly sweet smile.
In the present condition of the old man I felt that if he could have a little generous wine, as port or Madeira, to drink it would be a benefit to him. Some alcoholicstimulant in small amount was evidently what he needed. But such a thing could not be had. Why should I not make whiskey? I remembered that the negroes frequently made what they called palm wine from the juice of the cocoanut palm. And I had drunk both the sweetish, fresh preparation and the same in the sour, fermented stage, the latter being quite alcoholic in its nature. Moreover, I knew the whole process of obtaining this drink; for I had watched the negro boys climb the palms at Martinique, bind and cut the unopened flower spathes, and attach the small gourds or little earthen chatties to catch the juice as it trickled out.
Without explaining my purpose either to the old man or his daughter, I climbed six palms that evening, bound the flower spathes to prevent them from opening, tied them in a bent position, and cut off the point, attaching to each spathe a gourd to receive the liquid drippings. The next morning I collected from these trees nearly two gallons of sweet sap, and cutting each spathe to a fresh surface left them to flow again. When I brought the sap down it was already beginning to ferment, and had somewhat the taste of sweet cider with a slight sparkle. I put half a pint of it in a bottle, corked it tight, and tied the cork. Some of it I set in an open gourd in the shade; and about a gallon I set on the fire in a pan, intending to boil this latter portion down into syrup, or into “jaggery,” as the gummy, sweet preparation is called. In about three hours after collecting it that portion which was left in the open gourd had changed to such condition as to have a sharp, sub-acid taste, something like hock. I immediately drank a tumbler full of it, and found in a few minutes that it had indeed already developed sufficient alcohol to make that amount all that a person of sober habits wouldcare to imbibe at one time. It was pleasant to the taste and very refreshing, and had a sparkle and a slight hum like new ale, when poured into the glass. I gave the old man a tumbler full, and also his daughter, and for company’s sake took an additional half-tumbler myself. It did him good, apparently, at least he seemed greatly to relish it, and held out his glass to be filled again.
“Why, this is like wine!” exclaimed Miss Millward, “where did you get it?”
“We have wine trees on our island, Miss Millward, and I have been tapping them, as you will see,” pointing to the suspended gourds, some of which could be seen from the porch where we sat in the shade. I then explained to her the whole process, and my purpose in making the wine. I showed her the pan of boiling sap, and she at once undertook to attend to the treacle-making. That evening at supper I opened the bottle which I had filled, and the cork flew out with a report like a pistol, the wine bubbling and frothing like champagne. This the invalid drank alone. The sap left in the open gourd turned quite sour, like vinegar; but I did not have any use for it in that condition and so poured it out. The result of the boiling was about a pint of thick, dark-colored sweet syrup, or treacle, of a rather pleasant taste. By carrying the boiling still farther it could of course be reduced to the condition of the sugar called jaggery. But it was more convenient for use in its treacly state.
The unusual and remarkable rapidity of the fermentative change in this palm-sap had the attendant inconvenience that it would require to be gathered fresh every day, if used for wine. I therefore concluded that I would make a still and distil a brandy from the fermented sap, which I could subsequently use as a checkto the fermentation in the wine, after the manner that port-wine, sherry, Madeira, and other similar wines are prepared. I took a large earthen jar which would hold three or four gallons, and luted to the mouth of it with clay a gourd cut with an opening to correspond with the jar mouth. I then procured a long, straight cane about three inches in diameter at the butt, tapering in a length of twenty feet to less than an inch. I split this cane throughout the whole length and cut away the septum or partition which occurs at each joint. I then joined the two split halves together, pitched the joint, and wound the whole length with cord to hold it solid, and afterwards wound over all a grass rope of rather loose texture. In the neck of the gourd I inserted the butt of this cane tube and luted the joint with clay, but so that it could be removed. The cane tube led away in a nearly horizontal direction, having a slight fall from the gourd outward.
I now collected palm-sap enough to fill the jar, and when it had undergone a full fermentation, and just before it turned sour, I set it on in the still to boil over a fire. The gourd and tube were in place and the joints well luted. Then as soon as the fermented sap began to boil and throw off vapor, I wet the grass rope that surrounded the tube, and set a vessel to receive what came dripping from the end of the tube in drops. Very soon the brandy began to come over in a warm, thin, trickling stream. When I had collected a little over a quart I stopped the process for fear of getting some other product over. It was good, strong brandy, and had no disagreeable flavor, being quite clear, with a slight yellow tint.
I had now what I needed for my wine-making, and made use of it in the following manner: I collected a fresh supply of the sap and permitted fermentation toproceed in it until it was, as I thought, at the precise point where it had the best sub-acid flavor. I then added some of the palm syrup to sweeten it a little, and also enough of the brandy—about half a pint to the gallon—to stop the further fermentation. The wine so prepared had a rough resemblance to port. It was quite pleasant to the taste, and would keep any length of time. Having now a supply of about two gallons I made no more, as there was enough for the invalid, and nobody else needed it, or cared particularly for it.
DAY by day the old man slowly improved in condition until at the end of three weeks he was able to sit in the armchair with comfort. He startled us one morning by uttering his daughter’s name, and little by little recovered the use of his tongue. He was not yet able to stand or walk, and it was still doubtful whether he would recover the use of his lower limbs. I felt reasonably confident, however, that he would do so ultimately.
As soon as he could talk, almost his first words were a request to me to get the Jamaican sailor’s chest from the boat and use the clothing for myself. I was glad enough to do this, as almost any sort of change was acceptable. I found in the chest a number of good shirts, both woollen and cotton, a good, serviceable suit of dark tweed, and two complete suits of white duck; also socks and underwear, and a good straw hat. These things fitted me very well, but a pair of dancing pumps were so small that I could not get them on my feet; however, my own shoes were still very good. The kind-hearted old man then said that if I wished it he would cut my hair; he thought he could use his daughter’s scissors well enough. But I did not fancy having him clipping about my ears with uncertain fingers, and resolutely declined. My hair, which now reached to my shoulders, was as long as it was likelyto grow. The ends, exposed freely, would naturally wear and fray away as fast as it grew, and I concluded to let it go as it was until I reached civilization.
Thinking about my plans one day, it occurred to me that it would not be a bad idea to plant a garden for use when I should return to the island. Potatoes and yams, and fresh green corn would not be a bad provision to have ready at hand in plenty while working at the sunken galleon. There was a patch of good, rich soil near the creek, now covered with dry grass, beneath which the new grass had sprung since the rains. By burning it over the ground might be readily cleared for a couple of acres in extent. I put fire to it at several places on the windward side and it was soon black and bare. I began at once with the shovel to break up the soil in spots, and to make hills for the potatoes and yams, and to form a place in which to plant the corn. With the hoe I could subsequently go over the ground between the hills and cut up the grass when it started. After I had been working a couple of days at this severe labor, Mr. Millward asked me why I thought it necessary to prepare to plant so extensively, as we should soon be leaving the island.
“I shall be well enough in a week or two longer to go. You are making provision there as though you expected we were all to remain here for six months longer,” said he.
I looked at him a moment before answering, debating with myself what reply to make. At last I said, “Mr. Millward, I expect to return to this island after we have reached Martinique.”
“And why should you do that?” he asked, with an air of surprise.
“I may tell you the reason why, and think perhaps I shall,” I answered, and continued after a pause, “Ibelieve I may trust you, and that you will not betray me. It is now a secret known only to me.”
The old man said no more, and we changed the subject of conversation.
That afternoon while at work in the new garden I considered carefully the propriety of telling the Millwards about the galleon. It would be a great comfort to have some one to talk to and advise with concerning the matter, and I already knew enough of these people to feel confident they would not betray me. On the other hand was it best to tell any one of my secret? But I finally decided to give them my confidence. And that evening, as we sat in front of the fire,—a chill rain having set in,—I told to the father and the daughter the whole story of my coming to the island, the search for the wreck, the successful location of the sunken hulk, and also what my plans for the future were. Mr. Millward after listening to it all said, “Now, Mr. Morgan, I am better able to appreciate the sacrifice you are making in remaining here with us, and the great inconvenience to which we are putting you. Is it not better that you should start at once? I think I shall now be able to stand the voyage.”
“As soon as you are strong enough to stand the voyage, Mr. Millward,” said I, “we will start; but not before that time.”
Mr. Millward now asked to see the pearls of which I had told him in the course of my statement. When I had handed them to him, he said, “These pearls are highly valuable. I am sufficiently familiar with the value of such gems to be able to assure you that you have ten thousand dollars’ worth here, at a very low estimate, and perhaps double that amount in value.”
I asked him where I could find a market for them. He thought that it would not be wise to attempt to sellthem anywhere in the islands, unless at Havana, but that Havana would probably prove as good a market as I could find anywhere. He further told me that he had heard a rumor of a valuable pearl fishery having been found and secretly worked somewhere among the islands. No doubt this island was the place. If so we might expect the pearl fishers to return at any time. Now this was a prospect which was very far from pleasant to contemplate; not because they might lay claim to my pearls,—I had no fear of that,—nor because I could not substantiate my right to the abandoned property, or if necessary give them up without a murmur. The situation was more serious than that. These pearl fishers, if they came, would be out in their boats and prowling about, and would be sure to find out what I was doing. Moreover, they would doubtless be a well armed, lawless, and adventurous set. If they found us on the island, and knew that we had discovered their secret, there was no telling what they might do. It made me feel very uneasy. If by any accident they should run across my buoy, the first thing would be to send a diver down and my own secret would be disclosed.
“I shall go to-morrow morning and remove that buoy,” said I.
The old man agreed with me that this would be advisable.
That night I slept very little till toward morning. All night I lay thinking about the galleon and the treasure that it contained. If I only had a diving-apparatus I could see my way clear. The old man and his daughter would be all the help I should need. I began to dislike the idea of leaving the island even temporarily, until I had secured the treasure. But probably I could not procure a submarine helmet and diver’s dress, with air-tubes and pump, short of Kingston, Jamaica,or Havana in Cuba, and possibly not nearer than New York. Ah! the loss of my diving-apparatus was a vexing misfortune. It might, and probably would be more than six months before I could get back with these appliances. This line of cogitation finally brought me around to the thought that possibly I might be able to make a diving-apparatus myself which would answer my purpose. Why not? There must be some way to do it. And why shall I not find that way? I began to think it over by fairly stating the problem to myself, and before I went to sleep I had convinced myself that I could make all the needed apparatus except the air-pump. But this was a device I could see no way to supply. “Never mind,” thought I, “it will suggest itself as I go along, if I keep my mind upon it. I will stay and try it.” With this resolve I felt better contented, and soon dropped to sleep.
At dawn I was up, and immediately took out my boat and went to the buoy. The wind was light and I had no difficulty in getting fast to it. Instead of taking up the buoy, as I had at first intended, I merely shortened the anchor line so that the buoy was held under water about two feet. I knew that the gourds would remain in this condition for a long time, and with my sights on shore would enable me to find the neighborhood, while they would not be likely to be seen by others not looking for them.
When this was done I sailed back to the creek in time for breakfast, congratulating myself on the additional peace of mind this act had brought me. Now nobody would be likely to stumble on the galleon, and I could give my thoughts to the problem before me.
As I rounded into the creek before the wind, I saw the graceful figure of Alice Millward, who was coming down from the house to look after her fire for breakfast.When I came up I found her lamenting that not a single spark could be found alight, and that the breakfast must needs be late, or cold. But the sun was already well up above the sea,—at least an hour and a half high,—and I found no difficulty in procuring a blaze with the burning-glass, and the fire was soon burning bravely.
I sat down in the shade of the shed, while she busied herself with the simple cookery, and thought as I looked on, what a beautiful girl this was, with her clean-cut profile, her floating tendrils of silken, brown hair, her well rounded form, the graceful poise of her shapely head, the elastic step, the sweet voice humming bits of song, the cheerful, musical laugh. She was fair indeed, and more than that I knew she was pure and true in everything, a lovely and lovable woman. I then and there confessed to myself that she had become a part of my life. I was in love, and the strange delight of her presence thrilled my heart with new emotion. Up to this time my thoughts had been bent solely on getting a treasure buried in the sea; I now realized that here was a treasure recovered from the sea, which if I could hope to call it my own, would far exceed in value all the gold and jewels ever carried by the richest fleet that ever floated on the Spanish seas. It was all so new and strange and sudden to me that I was afraid to stay longer near her, lest I might be obliged to speak to her, and thus betray myself. So I got up and wandered away to the edge of the forest. But the leaves trembling in the gentle morning breeze seemed to whisper my secret; the rasping locust, which had been noisily droning all night long, seemed to play it in every trill; the birds sang it.
So this was love,—love that makes the world go round; that comes once at least into each life, and fillsit with light and sweetness, or with gloom and sorrow. When did I begin to love this girl? I could not tell. Yesterday I did not know it, but it must be that I loved her then as now; and before that and ever since I had first seen her. And even before I had seen her had not my heart been waiting for her? But now I felt that somehow our relations had changed. Could I have again the sense of comradeship that I had felt toward her? Would she not see a change in me? I could not analyze this new sensation nor predict what would happen. A dreadful doubt and uncertainty oppressed my heart simultaneously with its new-born gladness. Could I hope that this sweet maid would ever find anything to love in me?
A hot, despairing wave of self-depreciation came over me. I looked at myself in imagination,—my great hulking frame, my tanned skin, my bearded face, my long, unkempt hair. Oh, William Morgan, what a poor fool you are to fall in love with this fair vision of beauty, this domestic goddess, this Hebe, this sum of grace and loveliness. And then a tender desire welled up and filled my heart to love and cherish and protect this helpless waif that had floated in to me from the wild sea.
After a little I plucked a spray of orchids that hung from a half-rotten limb,—one of those strange, rare flowers that seem rather the dreamy vagary of a flower painter than a natural production. They were white, but beautifully marked with spots of rich purple and ribs of golden yellow. This spray I carried to the house, and gave it to her. Such an act could have no particular significance, but to my distempered fancy it seemed a homage paid, a tribute given, a declaration of fealty.
At the breakfast table I broached the subject of thegalleon, and stated that I had almost determined to remain upon the island and to undertake the recovery of the treasure by aid of such apparatus as could be made here, provided they were willing to delay their departure a sufficient time. The truth was that since the last hour my mind was fully made up to stay if possible, and the presence of Alice Millward was doubtless a moving cause for that determination. I felt very anxious that they should both fall in with my plan.
“I think,” said I to the old man, “that if you go on improving as you have done, you will soon be able yourself to give me the aid I need. And remember, in that case there will probably be treasure enough for all. In the mean time, while you are getting well your daughter and I can be making preparations for the work. There is a great deal to be done. Now what do you say?”
“But let me know exactly your plan of work,” replied he, “in order that I may be better able to judge of its feasibility.”
Thereupon I detailed my proposed scheme, so far as it was formulated in my mind, confessing that I had as yet thought of no practical method of making an air-pump. “Still,” said I, “there is no doubt in my mind that some method of supplying that deficiency will occur to me.”
“Well, Mr. Morgan, let me think this over for a little while. There is no hurry required of me in making up my mind, for I should not like to leave the island for a week or so anyhow. Give me, say three days; but during this time there is no reason why you should be idle. If in the mean time some practicable method of completing the apparatus should occur to you I am free to say that fact would have great weight in determining my course of action.”
After breakfast we all went out on the porch and sat down, Duke lying in the sun at the old man’s feet. We discussed at great length the whole art and mystery of wrecking and diving, and the apparatus for such work.
In this discussion Alice Millward took an active part. She seemed so anxious to learn and know all about it that I went over, for her benefit, all the book knowledge I had pertaining to the subject. While this was not very extensive, the brief descriptions of apparatus familiar to me helped us all wonderfully to get a clearer idea of the problem before us. There was one method of raising sunken vessels about which I had read somewhere that was specially interesting and suggestive. This method is to attach to the hull barges partly filled with water, and pump the water out of the barges little by little, until by reason of their rise in the water the hull is lifted clear of the ground. Then barges and hull are towed into shallower water and the operation is repeated until finally the shore is reached. But this operation would require diving-apparatus for attaching the hawsers or ropes to the sunken hulk, and it brought us, therefore, no nearer a complete solution of the problem.
The talk was interesting and animated, and was kept up until the old man gave signs of weariness. Finally, in the midst of a discussion as to the best method of making an air-tube, he dropped to sleep. The practical benefit which I derived from this conversation was the familiarity obtained by holding up before the mind all the conditions and necessities of the problem, in the effort to make others understand these requirements. It is by steady and continuous thought that all problems are solved, and the first requisite of every solution is this very faculty of holding all the conditions withouteffort simultaneously in the mind. By continued effort mental process becomes finally so far a matter of mere habit, in any particular case, that the mind is left wholly free to act. It is a familiar saying with regard to mathematics, that a problem clearly stated is already half solved. This is true with regard to everything depending upon human thought. But problems are not solved by a mere effort of the will. The mind of man does not so operate. One must jostle various thoughts about in the brain, until finally by an unconscious process of selection the fitting thought is found, and its fitness perceived. One thing suggests another and that a third, link by link in a continuous chain, until the mind finally sees in the procession the needed thing, and immediately seizing upon it ignores all else.
I wanted to be alone that I might, by revolving the riddle over and over, finally seize the key and unlock it.
CALLING Duke I took my lasso and the axe, and started out for a long tramp to the woods, where I might think undisturbed.
That the walk might not be wholly aimless, I decided to go up the beach to the north a little way, and then strike over to that part of the creek which ran down parallel with the beach and follow it up to its head-waters. Poor Duke thought this was a hunting expedition pure and simple. His delight was extravagant to witness. For each foot I travelled he went at least six. Forward and back, ranging to and fro into every nook and corner, with his sensitive nose investigating everything, he made the most of his holiday. The gulls were out as usual, but Duke ignored them completely. Ne had already learned that this fowl was not game, and as he measured all things by that single standard, these birds had sunk to a point in his estimation that was beneath the contempt of a well-bred dog. We routed up an armadillo just after we crossed the creek, and captured it. Being so near home, I carried it back and instructed Miss Alice how to bake it in the oven, in the afternoon, for supper, and filled the oven with wood for her to light at the proper time. Then telling her I might not return much before nightfall, I started anew.
After we had crossed the creek again and had walked about a mile, we came on about a half-dozen pigs on the beach, most probably varying their diet with a few clams. When they saw us the little herd dashed across the sands and into the tangled jungle. Following them I found they had here a beaten path, which showed that this was one of their regular run-ways. I conjectured that this path would lead to the stream at some point, and so took advantage of it. In and out it went, well defined, through the thicket and the jungle; here through dense brakes of fern, there under great trees, until finally the stream was reached at a point higher up than I had ever before ascended. All about were great numbers of calabash trees full of gourds, literally thousands of them in all stages of growth, some fallen to the ground from over-ripeness. The inhabitants of this island need never want for such utensils as could be made of this vegetable product. What greatly surprised me was the size of the stream at this point. It had not seemingly diminished either in depth or width, though I had naturally expected it would be considerably less; for we were over three miles by its winding course from the mouth.
The path, without the aid of which I could not have penetrated the dense growth, led along the bank of the stream close to the water. About a quarter of a mile further on the course of the stream changed, coming around a bend from the west, straight from the cliffs. I pressed on and soon found myself in a deep, narrow gorge, the path still running alongside the stream on a narrow margin of rocky shore, the cliff towering straight up on either hand. On the top of the rocks, at the level of the central plateau, was a dense forest, the trees of which, growing close to the gorge at each side, interlaced in a mass of foliage above, at times shutting outthe sky. I followed the stream along the path entirely through the central plateau, and came out on the other side in what I have before spoken of as the north valley.
I was now in a bowl-shaped depression, walled in on the east by the cliffs of the central plateau, through which I had just come by way of the stream-cut gorge; on the west by the western rise or ridge which formed the shore cliffs, and which circled around to the north; and on the south by the connecting ridge between the plateau and the cliffs. The stream wound away in lazy curves through the flat bottom, and its head-waters seemed as far away as ever. To the right hand the sunlit gleam of water caught my eye at a distance, and I passed through the bushes until I discovered a narrow cleft in the rocks to the northwest, through which came a glimpse of the distant sea. There was a park-like appearance to some portion of this enclosure that was delightful. Across the middle, east and west, ran a little knoll, which formed the water-shed. All the water which fed the stream evidently came from the drainage of the valley south of this knoll. What water drained from the north slope probably had to find its way to the sea through the distant cleft.
I followed the stream until the path at its edge faded away to nothing, and then turned off toward the centre of the valley through the open grassy glades which were interspersed among the beautiful groves and clumps of trees. Very soon I came upon decided evidence of the hand of man. An old orange grove was here, planted regularly in rows; the trees broad and spreading, and at least fifty years old, were loaded with the golden, russet-tinted globes. The fruit was sweet and delicious. One variety, a tree with gnarled branches and mossy trunk, bore literally thousands of the small, yellow mandarinoranges, with a skin loose and thin as paper. Here too were rows of red-berried coffee-trees, thorny limes, and low-growing lemons, with here and there a dark-leafed grape-fruit. The whole plantation was more or less choked with weeds and undergrowth, clearly indicating abandonment, perhaps for years.
Near by were the great banner-like leaves of the banana and plantain, in abundance. This was a most valuable find, and it removed from my mind all fear of lack of food. Man can live almost upon the plantain alone. And it has been said that this valuable fruit furnishes food to more millions than any other vegetable product, not even excepting rice. Pushing on through the luxuriant growth that cumbered the earth, I came out finally into a little clearing on the top of the rise and found before me several low buildings. The weeds that grew all about, choking the paths and overflowing in all directions, too plainly told the tale of long desertion and abandonment. There was a principal dwelling-house of a single story, built of adobes, with a wide veranda; also three smaller houses at a little distance,—servants’ quarters probably; a large, low shed about which were scattered great heaps of old bagasse, or crushed sugar-cane, which indicated a sugar plantation; a tobacco-curing shed, in which still hung some shreds and fragments of withered tobacco; and other outhouses. There was an air of desolation about the place that was most depressing, as I stood waist-deep among the thrifty growth of weeds in the clear, hot sunshine, looking in astonishment at the scene.
I opened the front door and went into the house. All was vacancy and desolation,—dust, cobwebs, stains of water that had leaked in and pooled in spots upon the floor, dead flies, bugs, and spiders. There was a broken window-pane in one room, and through thesmall opening thus made had entered a great litter of dead leaves, which lay strewn about, indicating by their number the considerable time that must have elapsed while one by one they chanced to blow through the narrow opening. I was glad to get out again into the open air.
Here had been at one time a considerable plantation. Hundreds of acres had doubtless been under cultivation, and the busy sounds of life had been heard where now, save for the mournful complaint of a dove cooing from the orange grove for its mate, all was still.
That this plantation should have been unknown to me all this time seemed surprising to me at the moment. But in truth, had I not followed up the course of the creek, it is quite probable I never should have discovered it; for all about on every hand were rocky walls and dense foliage, both hiding it from view and rendering it difficult of access. There were really but two roads to this place from the outer world, one by the way I had just come, and the other by way of the sea through the distant cleft above spoken of.
Traces of a broad road led from the buildings toward this cleft, and I followed it down past the remains of sugar, corn, and tobacco fields, until I stood on the margin of a deep, rock-walled cove, open on one side to the valley, where was a rude landing-pier, and on the other by a narrow gate or passage to the sea. This was the harbor and port of the old plantation. The cove, though so small, would have floated a man-of-war, and was almost land-locked, the narrow entrance not being above thirty feet in width at the water level.
I remembered that when I made the circuit of the island on foot I waded across the mouth of this cove at low water. There must therefore be a bar, with barely water enough at low tide to get a boat over;but at high tide there would probably be twelve or fifteen feet. That I did not see the wooden pier at that time was due to the fact that the cove took a bend to the left after entering from the sea. Had the rocks been less abrupt, I should doubtless have turned in at that time and endeavored to cross the island here instead of going a mile farther north, beyond the limits of the valley.
I wandered over the abandoned plantation in all directions for several hours, but found nothing of special interest except a flock of half-wild domestic chickens, descendants doubtless of some left by the former residents here. I gathered a dozen leaves of tobacco, thinking that Mr. Millward might like to have a cigar. After eating the frugal lunch I had brought, supplemented with some fruit, I sat down under an orange-tree and rolled me a cigar of some of the dried leaf, which I lighted with the burning-glass, and proceeded to enjoy a quiet smoke of the fragrant tobacco. While I sat thus slowly and placidly cogitating over the means of reaching the treasure, and varying that line of thought from time to time with speculations as to the former inhabitants of the island, suddenly the whole plan which had been floating unformed in my mind took concrete shape, apparently of its own accord and without effort. The riddle was read and the problem was solved.
The day had worn away, and the afternoon was half over when I concluded it was high time to be gone. So I got me a great banana-leaf, gathered a goodly lot of fruit, taking samples of all, including some of the coffee-berries, and tying the whole securely in a bundle with the banana-leaf and some bark strips, started for home, which I safely reached an hour before sunset.
As I came in sight of the house I saw standing poised on a rock near the creek the graceful figure ofAlice Millward, evidently on the lookout up the beach to see if the wanderers were coming. I waved my hand, and she at once jumped down and began to put the supper in readiness. And when I reached the house I found the table all spread beneath the porch, and the hot baked armadillo smoking on the board. I untied my great bundle and spread out before them the supply of oranges, lemons, plantains, bananas, etc., in a tempting heap.
As soon as Mr. Millward caught sight of the red berries, he cried, “Ah, delightful! you have found coffee! That was the chief thing your island lacked, friend Morgan. Now we can have our morning cup of coffee. But where did you find all this?”
“Come, father, let us have our supper, while it is hot,” interrupted Alice Millward, “and the fruit will be a dessert for us. And I am sure while we are at table Mr. Morgan will tell us his adventures, and where he has been to-day.”
This was too plainly desirable on all hands to be gainsaid, at least so far as the first part of the proposal was concerned.
Of course I had to go over the whole ground and describe the old, abandoned plantation as minutely and completely as I could, and to answer a hundred inquiries about it. The question was raised whether we had better not go there to live while we remained on the island, but it was decided that for the present we had better remain where we were, for several reasons; one reason was the trouble of removal, another the fact that we would there lose the refreshing sea breeze, and there were others quite sufficient to determine the matter in favor of staying. But at any rate we would as soon as possible sail around in the boat to the plantation cove and make a visit to the plantation. Speculation was indulged in as to who had lived there, and when and why the place had been abandoned. The explanation offered by Mr. Millward was quite satisfactory. He had frequently known of plantations being made on the outlying islands, and stated that they were always subsequently abandoned because of the difficulty of reaching a market for the products, the necessity for frequent voyages in the sloops and small vessels, and also the difficulty of keeping workmen and assistants long in such places, except as slaves.
After the supper was over I rolled a dry tobacco-leaf into a couple of ungainly cigars and handed one to the old man. The pleasure he expressed at this simple offering was quite extravagant.
“Indeed, young man, you have made here a wonderful find,—quite equal in every respect to the coffee. This is the true solace and comfort of the contemplative man. I thank you most sincerely.”
But he would not light the cigar; he had other views of the proper use to make of it. Drawing from his coat pocket a venerable brown pipe, he proceeded to break up my cigar and fill the bowl with the fragments.
“Now,” said he when he had finished, “if you will give me a light I will warm the heart of this old companion, and my own at the same time.”
“Mr. Millward,” said I, after we had the smoking fairly started, “I have found the way to the treasure in the sunken galleon.”
“Ah, then you have hit upon a plan of making the air-pump. Well, I am in a mood just now to believe you can do it. Pray let us know about it.”
“No, sir, I have not found any way to build an air-pump. But I have found, I think, that we shall not need one.”
“But how can you get air to breathe under water unless it is pumped to you?” said Miss Alice.
“I do not expect to go under water,” said I in reply. And continuing, “I am inclined to enjoy your perplexity a little, for perplexity is what I have been enduring myself until a very simple idea occurred to me this very afternoon. But it is not fair to expect you will understand without explanation in a moment what another could not understand for months. The simple fact is this: if I cannot go under water to the ship, why should I not bring the ship out of water to me? It is the old case, you see, of the mountain and Mahomet.”
“Yes, I see it is,” said the old man,—“with this difference, that you propose to have the mountain come to Mahomet.”
Thereupon I laid my whole plan before them, which was briefly this: to attach to the hulk, one at a time, sinking them under water, enough empty calabashes to raise it and float it gradually in to shore, where at low tide it would be above water. The mechanical principle was the common one belonging to every device which converts speed into power; as, for example, the lever, the screw, or the inclined plane. Little by little with slight exertion of power each calabash or gourd could be pulled down under water to the wreck, and would continue thereafter to lift as many pounds as were required to pull it down. When this lifting power was multiplied by enough of the calabashes, the wreck would surely be raised. It was, after all, only a modification of the method of raising hulks by sinking and attaching barges partly full of water and then pumping the water out and causing them to rise and lift the wreck. In that case the slow application of the power was accomplished by pumping. In the proposedmethod it consisted in pulling down the calabashes one at a time.
Mr. Millward likened the operation to the lifting of an entire building by the hod carrier who carried a few bricks at a load up the ladder.
“But how will you attach your numerous calabashes to the hull?” said the old man after a little thought. “It will take a great number.”
“That I will explain to you in detail,” said I, and thereupon set forth minutely the entire plan of operation. The explanation was satisfactory to his mind. He at once said to me that he thought the thing feasible, and was satisfied that it would probably succeed.
What those minute details were and how successfully they were carried out will appear when we come to the account of the attempt which was subsequently made.
“Now,” said I, “we have a great quantity of rope to make, some hawsers, and a huge supply of small rope and cord. To do this will take a long time, and I have a notion that some sort of a spinning or twisting machine will be necessary. We must establish a regular rope-walk here in a small way.”
This immediately led to a long discussion and a consideration of rope-making machinery in general, at the conclusion of which I thought I could see a way of making a sort of spinning-machine for twisting rope-yarn out of the cocoa husks, and also a reel for laying such strands up into rope. Having worked out the plan in my own mind I resolved to set about it at once. Mr. Millward had given his hearty assent to remain on the island long enough to make a full effort to recover the treasure, and I began now to look forward to a successful completion of my task.
The full moon that evening was shining over the calm sea out of a clear sky with a pure silvery radiance, and a cool, gentle breath of air, scarcely enough to ripple the surface of the sea, fanned our faces as we three sat looking out upon the water from under the little porch. It was a lovely night, almost too beautiful to put to such commonplace use as sleep. In a little while Mr. Millward asked me to push his couch into the house, as he thought he would retire. After that Alice Millward and I sat for an hour longer, enjoying the moonlight and talking low so as not to disturb him.
She told me much about the wandering life she and her father had led; of the many kind and thoughtful acts of the poor benighted laborers who formed his audiences; of her own efforts to learn Hindostanee that she might help him in his work; of the hardships and sorrows of these people, and of the strange characteristics of the various races, Hindoo, Chinese, and negro that made up the heterogeneous mass to which her dear father had undertaken to teach the word of God.
“How do you like the idea, Miss Millward,” said I, “of staying several months longer on the island?”
“I am delighted,” answered she. “It is pleasant to see my father improving so rapidly; and the days pass quickly with the work we have to do. You know I like such housework, and have never had much chance to do it. Now here I am in sole charge of all the housekeeping arrangements, nobody to say I must not do this, or must do that. I feel quite as though I were empress, with none to dispute my sway. Ought I not to be contented?”
“I am very glad you are contented,” said I, “and hope you may continue so. For I want to see youhappy. Indeed, Miss Millward,” I continued, with a slight tremor in my voice in spite of myself, “having done myself the honor to save you from the sea, I feel somehow responsible for your comfort and welfare, at least, I mean, while you remain on this island, and until you and your father reach civilization and your friends again. And even then I shall—I shall not like entirely to lose sight of you. It gives me pain to think that our ways may then perhaps lie far apart from each other.”
Now there was a twang of maudlin sentimentality in this, which I recognized as I spoke the words, and this was magnified and intensified by the moonlight, and the trembling voice, so that I felt somehow as though I wanted to knock my head against something hard. I somehow felt too that she ought in all consistency to laugh at me. But she did not laugh. And though I could see her clear-cut beautiful profile in the moonlight, there was no sign of even a smile upon it. God bless me! how wonderfully pure and sweet she did look that night.
After a short silence I added, “I hope after we leave the island we shall not become wholly strangers, you and I and your father.”
“Why, Mr. Morgan,” said she, smiling now, and turning her candid eyes to me, “I thought we had just decided not to leave the island for some months. I am very sure that we,—my father and I and you can never become strangers. We must always be the best of friends whatever happens. It is not so easy to forget a good friend as you seem to imagine. And you have surely been one to us,—and especially to my poor father in his helplessness. But the dew is falling fast, and I must now go in. Good night, my friend, my good friend.”
I sat long after that, alone in the moonlight, with the dew sparkling on each leaf in silvery lustre, thinking of my new found love, and hoping and despairing by turns, until the regular and peaceful breathing of the old man reminded me that I was uselessly dissipating precious hours that should be devoted to sleep.