Joshua Marvel

by B. L. Farjeon

CHAPTER XXXII.

SAVED FROM THE SEA.

The first among the passengers to completely give way was Stephen Homebush. He had observed no manner of discretion in eating his food, and had always swallowed it hastily, so that it did him but little good. Contrary to what might have been expected of him as a man of pious parts, he was the most selfish of all the passengers. Instead of praying for mercy, he rebelled in thought and speech against the misfortune which had overtaken him. He did not think of the others. It was his fate that was so hard. The prayers that he had so liberally offered up for other lost men were not for him now that he was lost. All other men were sinners, so he had preached. There was no grace in any of them. He came to impart it to them. Let them open their rebellious hearts, and receive it, while there was yet time. To all kinds of men had he preached this, striking at them hard, trying to frighten them with threatened penalties if they refused to believe as he believed. He came to give them grace; did he himself require none?

What kind of faith is that which believes all other faiths wrong and sinful? What is the test of faith? Sincerity? Ay, for me; but not for you. I am sincere; I am born in the grace of God. But you! Fall down and repent!

Such had been the preaching of Stephen Homebush. But now that the earth was crumbling from beneath his feet, and the New Life was before him, he prayed neither for others nor for himself. He maintained a sullen rebellious silence, faithful to his nature for the first time in his life. His mood, no less than the scanty supply of food and his manner of eating it, drove him mad; and within a fortnight of his sojourn on the raft, he was crawling and staggering about, uttering a dreadful jumble of prayers and blasphemies. His sister Rachel attended to him as well as her strength allowed her; but he struck at her often, and often cursed her and himself. It was terrible to see and hear. He did not suffer long. One day he ran from one part of the raft to another, raving that a sail was in sight. At first they thought that he might be right, but they soon discovered that he was raving. But he saw the ship coming nearer and nearer. His sister was the only one who had patience to bear with him. He described the ship to her, and described the men and women that were on the deck; and she shuddered as she recognized in his descriptions acquaintances and relatives every one of whom was dead.

"Here it comes," he said, standing up in his eagerness, "nearer--nearer! I shall be able to jump on board presently."

She strove to restrain him; but he broke from her wildly, and gave a leap on to the imaginary ship. He sank at once, and was seen no more.

The forlorn woman sat stupefied, and never moved. Hours afterwards, Rough-and-Ready, taking pity upon her condition, spoke to her, and bade her take comfort, The sense of what he said was lost to her, but she understood the sympathy that was expressed in his voice, and she looked at him gratefully while the tears rolled down her face. He placed his hand upon her shoulder, and said gently; "Poor woman! poor woman!" She took his hand in hers, and clung to it, as if her only hope of life was there. He could not disengage his hand except by force; so he sat by her for an hour and more, until she released him. Then he crept to where the women were lying; there was comfort in being close to them.

One of their most frightful experiences was the sight of the sharks snapping at the bodies as they were thrown into the sea. A great number of these creatures followed the raft day and night, scenting their prey. Each of the unfortunates thought, as he saw the sharks tearing at the body of his fellow creature, "Perhaps it is my turn next." About the twentieth day they caught at least a dozen rock cod, but after that they caught no fish for many days. Soon their fresh water was nearly gone; for some time past they had only half a pint a day; now the quantity was reduced to a quarter of a pint. Some tins of the preserved meat were also found to be putrid: the women could not touch it; but a few of the sailors Scadbolt and the Lascar among them, devoured it greedily. When another new moon rose, the courage of nearly every one of them was gone; hope had fled too. They looked upon themselves as doomed.

A curious conversation took place between the two friends, Harry Wall and James Heartsease. In the morning they had refused their portion of food.

"Save it for the women, sir," they said to the captain.

He expostulated with them, and tried to prevail upon them to take it, but he did not succeed.

"Sir," said James Heartsease, "we are going to lie down to die. We both of us feel that our time has come. To rob the poor women of any more food would be simple barbarity. I should like to shake hands with you."

Captain Liddle shook hands with them; and after that they crawled to the women, and shook hands with them, and kissed little Emma Pigeon. Then they crawled away, and lay down side by side.

"The end has come, Jim," said Harry.

"All right, Hal," said James; "it is only a matter of a few years--perhaps not so long as that. If we had had plenty to eat, it might have come just the same. After all, what is time? Draw a breath, and it is gone. It isn't so hard to give up a few years when you think of that. Besides"--But here he paused.

"Besides what, Jim?"

"We are alone; we have no women-ties--no wives, no sweethearts. If we had, I think we should both try to live as long as we could."

"I think so too. 'Tis a good job we are alone in the world."

"Did you notice the women, Hal? I don't think they'll last long."

"One of them won't," said Harry. "Mrs. Pigeon will soon go. Well, you know the reason of that."

"Yes; she gives all her food to her little girl. Women are good creatures, Hal."

"Such as she are. Jim, old boy, a sudden weakness has come over me. Put your face closer to mine--I want to kiss you. Good old boy--good old boy!"

They did not speak for some time after that. Heartsease was the first to break silence.

"Hal, old fellow," he said, "we shall meet somewhere by and by."

"Sure to," said Harry; "somewhere, somehow. It is awfully grand to think of--it is good to believe. I am glad I never did any great wrong to sting me now. Jim, depend upon it, there is only one true religion; that is, the religion of being kind and tender and unselfish--the religion of doing unto others as you would others should do unto you, and of living a good life. Give me the man who does that, and who believes in the goodness and greatness of God. All the rest is mummery. We have agreed upon that, haven't we old boy?"

"Ay, times out of mind."

"Now, I tell you what I am going to do. I don't want to quite starve to death--it would be too painful; it's frightful to bear even now. I don't want to commit suicide, although to throw one's self into the water just now would be, in a certain measure, justifiable. I am going to draw myself close to the edge of the raft; then I am going to sleep. If the waves should chance to wash me over in the night--good! Let them; then I shall know something."

"All right, Hal; I'll lie by your side. Goodnight, old fellow."

"Goodnight."

When the sun rose again, those two good friends had gone to their rest, to meet again. Somewhere--Somehow!

So day after day passed, and their numbers continued to grow fewer, until there were no more than eighteen on the raft. In the first quarter of the second new moon--that is, when they had been on the raft for more than thirty days--Mrs. Pigeon died. When the news went round, there were few dry eyes among the poor creatures. Every one loved her, even to Scadbolt and the Lascar, whose clothes she had mended. It was a wonder how she had lasted so long, for it was with the greatest difficulty she could be prevailed upon to take food; she gave it all to her little daughter. When, almost by force, a small portion had been put into her mouth, Joshua had seen her take it out to feed Little Emma. That is why the child lived while the mother starved to death. Between Mrs. Pigeon and Minnie a strong affection had sprung up. Minnie scarcely ever left the side of the dying woman, and what little she could do to ease her last hours--it was but little, God knows!--she did tenderly and cheerfully. Minnie knew that Mrs. Pigeon was starving herself, so that her little girl might live. The beauty of that sacrifice Minnie was well able to comprehend. She would have done the same. But she was terribly unhappy. She knew by Joshua's manner, and by the few words that he spoke to her--kind one day, constrained the next--that her conduct had added to his unhappiness. She had seen him look at her with such a look of fear and wild amazement in his eyes, as to convey to her the impression that she had done him a great wrong. But so blinded was she by her love, that she could not quite understand the meaning of this; indeed, she did not pause to consider. The night before Mrs. Pigeon died, Minnie lay by her side, talking in whispers. But few words were spoken at a time; Mrs. Pigeon was too weak. The mother lay with her child in her arms, and her husband sitting close to her, his hands clasping his knees, and with an expression of stony despair in his face. So he had sat for three or four days, answering his wife vacantly, and with the air of one whose mind was a blank. Little by little, Minnie had told Mrs. Pigeon her story; and the dying woman, notwithstanding her own great trouble, had wept with Minnie, and sympathized with her. But Mrs. Pigeon, as well as expressing her sympathy, had striven to make Minnie aware of the fault she had committed.

"You see, my dear," she gasped in her weak voice, "he has left a sweetheart at home, and he fears that if it were known that you were in the ship with him, she and his other friends might believe that he had played false with them."

"I never thought of that before," sobbed Minnie. "I only thought of one thing: I loved him, and I wanted to be near him. I didn't want him even to know; and those at home bad no idea of what I was going to do--they can't even suspect."

"But Mr. Marvel fears they may. Then think, my dear, was it not wrong to leave your father?"

"It was--I see it now; but I did not think of it then. But O Mrs. Pigeon if he would only forgive me! If I ask him, he will; but the answer would come out of the goodness of his heart, and while he forgave he would still condemn me. I know it, I know it, for he has never once called me by my name."

Soon after that, Mrs. Pigeon fell into a doze; and waking when it was near midnight, whispered, "Minnie!"

"Yes," answered Minnie. She had been sleeping too, but so lightly that a whisper was sufficient to awake her.

"I have not long to live, my dear," said Mrs. Pigeon; "and I should like to pass my last minutes alone with my husband and child, and to speak to no one but them--to think of no one but them. But before I go, I should be glad to say good-by to Joshua Marvel. Can you bring him to me? Say that I am dying."

Repressing her sobs, Minnie crept to where Joshua was standing on the lookout. He had grown thin and gaunt like the others; his feet were bare, the only pair of shoes he had possessed having been rotted by the salt water; his clothes hung about him in tatters; and his face was covered with hair, which, having not yet grown to a decent length, added to the wretchedness of his appearance. The moon had gone down, and Joshua, shading his eyes with his hand, was looking out to sea, possessed with the fancy that he saw a sail many miles away. This had now become a very common illusion; scarcely a man on board who did not see imaginary sails and ships a dozen times a day. With a weary sigh Joshua dropped his hand.

"It is folly," he muttered; "there's no hope."

Minnie timidly touched his sleeve, but did not succeed in attracting his attention. Then she called softly, "Joshua!" And he gave a gasp, and turned and saw her; but there was not light enough for him to see the tears upon her face.

"Mrs. Pigeon has sent me for you," said Minnie. "She is dying, and wants to wish you good-by."

He followed her in silence to where Mrs. Pigeon was lying.

"Is it so bad?" he asked gently, as he leaned over her close enough to see her poor thin face.

"Yes," she murmured. "Sit by me for a few minutes."

He sat down, and took her wasted hand in his: it was like the hand of a skeleton, thin and cold--a hand already dead, though it closed on Joshua's fingers.

"Every one speaks well of you," said Mrs. Pigeon in broken tones: "I have heard the captain speak many times of your courage and goodness and constancy."

"I have been glad to hear it, and am glad to hear it again," replied Joshua; "it is my best reward as a sailor."

"You have a kind heart, I am sure," continued the dying woman. "If it were in your power to lessen the bitter grief that even a mere acquaintance might suffer, you would do so."

"I think I would."

"I am sure you would; if only for the sake of those you love at home, and to whom you would wish that others might be kind when grief comes to them. You will forgive me for speaking thus; but I am dying, and I am a woman. I cannot say much more; I am too weak. If I could see you do one little thing, I should be glad."

"I will do any thing you ask."

"Because a dying woman asks you; but do it from your own kind impulse as well. That is what I wish. You know who it is that is sitting by us now."

"Yes," he answered with a troubled glance at Minnie.

"She has been very good to me, very kind, very, very patient. And she is so young! Soon you and she may follow me. Think of that."

"What is it you would have me to do?"

"I would have you be kind to this poor child; I would have you, at this awful time, show to her the love that a brother might show to a sister. She has committed a fault; forgive her for it; let her atone for it. Be not you the one to cast the stone at her. And when you speak to her, speak from your heart; for she can read and understand, as all loving women can, the music of the voice."

"Minnie," said Joshua, turning to her. Mrs. Pigeon had loosed his hand; and now be held out his two hands to Minnie. It was the first time he had called her by her name.

"Joshua," she said, with deep sobs, her hands in his, and bowing her head upon his shoulder until her lips almost touched his face.

Was it treasonable to Ellen that he should permit it? Surely not, surely not, at such a time.

"You have made me glad," said Mrs. Pigeon. "Now go. Good-by. Heaven send you peace!"

"And you!" they both said.

Mrs. Pigeon nestled her face close to that of her little daughter, and soon afterwards died peacefully.

Then, for the first time, Mr. Pigeon seemed to awake to the reality of things. Kneeling by the side of his wife, he called softly, "Emma! Emma!" And receiving no answer, shook her gently, and smoothed the hair from her white face.

"Be comforted," said Joshua to him.

"Comforted!" he repeated with a pondering look, as if he were considering what meaning there was in the word. He kissed her passionately, and whispered something in her ear, and waited for the answer that could not come. "My God!" he cried suddenly, "she is dead!"

Minnie placed Little Emma before him, thinking that the sight of his little girl might lessen his grief; but he took no notice of the child, and sat the whole day nursing, the dead body of his wife in his lap. One tin of preserved meat was all that remained now of their stock of provisions. They brought his small share to him; but he motioned them away impatiently and fretfully. They went to him, and endeavored to make him understand that, for the sake of the others, he should allow the remains of his wife to be placed in their poor shroud of sacking; but he met them savagely, and threatened to bite at them and strangle them if they did not let him alone.

"For the sharks to eat," he whispered to the inanimate form; "they want to throw you into the sea for the sharks to eat, my darling. But I'll tear their hearts out before they part us."

When the silver crescent looked down again upon the despairing group, Joshua tried once more to comfort the man, and said, with a heavy heart, that perhaps at the last moment a ship might pick them up. But though he uttered the words, he did not believe in them.

"And if it does," muttered Mr. Pigeon hoarsely, "what do I care now? You don't know what it is to lose the woman you love." He staggered to his feet with the beloved form in his arm. "You want to take her from me; that is why you speak the lying words. But nothing shall part us--nothing."

Her face was lying upon his shoulder, and her fair hair was hanging loosely down over his breast. He took some of the hair in his mouth; and as Joshua saw him standing thus in the moon's light, he thought he had never seen a picture so utterly despairing. Thus the man stood, motionless, for a time, until the captain's lady crept to his side, and tried to console him. Poor thing! she was terribly weak, and the words came from her lips slowly and wearily. He gazed at her vacantly while she spoke, then turned his eyes to his dead wife.

"Emma," he said, "don't fear; nothing that they say shall make me give you up. We will go together--we will go together."

He cast one last look at the peaceful heavens, and whispering, "Lord, receive us!" clasped his wife more closely to him, and jumped into the sea. Two or three heads turned at the plash; but no other notice was taken of the event. They were all too weak and despairing. The captain's wife gasped, with heart-broken sobs,--

"Poor dears! poor dears! Their troubles are over; they are happier than we are."

"Yes, my lady," said Joshua; "but I would not end my life like that. We are in the hands of the Lord; our lives belong to Him."

He stretched himself at full length upon the raft, and took Ellen's picture and the lock of hair from his breast, and kissed them again and again. They, and the Bible that Dan had given him, were his most precious possessions. When he looked up, Minnie and Little Emma were close to him. He took the child's hand; and they remained together during the long, long night.

A dreadful announcement was made the next day. The water that was served out was the last--one tablespoonful each exhausted the store; all the provisions were used up also. It seemed, indeed, as if the best thing they could do would be to die at once by their own hands. The rules made by the council were no longer thought of. Something to eat, something to drink: these were the only laws now. When the next man died, the sailors looked longingly at the body. The Lascar had his knife open, and was about to use it, when Captain Liddle called to him to stop.

"Why?" asked the Lascar, with a savage flourish of his knife.

"Why?" echoed the other men: there were only six of them left altogether.

"Because fish is better to eat than human flesh," said the captain.

"So it is," said one; "but we haven't any more fishing-line."

"Come now," said the captain, "even without that we can manage to catch a shark perhaps. Wait a few minutes. I'll think of a way."

And sure enough, very soon he devised a snare. First a running-bowling knot was made; then they cut a leg off the man that WAS dead (terrible to write, but true), and lashed it to the end of an oar; while on the end of another oar they hung the snare in such a way that the fish, to get at the bait, was compelled to come through it. There were plenty of sharks; and it was not long before one fell into the trap. It was dragged on to the raft; and a few blows from an axe soon killed it. After that, the man was sewed in sacking, and the funeral-service was read over him as it had been over all the others who had been buried in the sea.

During all this time it was evident that they were near the coast, and yet they never saw it. The captain said that they were in the vicinity of the north-east coast of Australia--a part of the continent which had been very little explored. Here came in Rough-and-Ready's experience. He knew something of the country, he said. It was inhabited by the most savage of the Australian natives, and no white man had as yet had the courage to penetrate far into the country.

"Yet we might make the coast," said Rough-and-Ready, "and not see a native for a long time, if we could manage to live; for I don't believe there are a great many of them. Cannibals they are; but, for all that, I should be glad to get among them. We might succeed in working our way down to a cattle-station."

"Would there be really a chance of that?" asked one or two.

"About a hundred to one against us," replied Rough-and-Ready carelessly; "but that would be better than nothing."

Rough-and-Ready gave them a description of some natives that he had seen, and told of their manner of living, their treachery and wildness. It was not very comforting to hear; the prospect of reaching land, and finding themselves in the midst of such savages, was very dismal.

The suffering that they had now to bear--that of thirst--was the most awful experience of all. Some of them grew delirious, and saw gardens and pools of fresh water. "My lady" was one of these. She whispered to her husband that a beautiful garden was within a few yards of them, and that they should reach it presently. She described the flowers and trees, and the cool fruit waiting to be plucked. And as the vision faded, she clutched him by the hand, and cried, "John, John! What are they doing? We are going the wrong way. O my God we have passed it--it is gone!" and lay exhausted. The words came from her parched throat with difficulty; and Joshua shuddered as he touched her face: it seemed to be on fire. Soon, however, the gardens dotted with clear-water fountains, and with trees laden with refreshing fruit, grew again for the delirious woman. She saw them in the water, in the air, in the heavens--so bright, so deliciously cool, that her heart almost burst in the vain attempt she made to reach them with her hand. A little rain fell mercifully, and yet mockingly; for nearly every thing on board was so impregnated with salt as to render the pieces of rags and canvas that were held out to catch heaven's tears no better when they were soaked than if they had been dipped into the sea. Rough-and-Ready took the lining out of his wide-awake hat; and he and Joshua held it out until it was soaked with the blessed drops. The first use they made of the piece of wet rag was to moisten the women's lips with it, and then the little girl's and their own. Little Emma lived still; and Minnie had taken charge of her. As Joshua moistened Mrs. Liddle's lips, the captain, who was lying beside her, motioned him.

"It is all over with me, Marvel," he gasped; "I haven't long to live. If by God's mercy you are rescued, report me at home and say I did all in my power to save the ship." Joshua pressed the dying captain's hand. "Mind, you are first in command now. In a few hours you will be captain. You have risen quickly," he said with a faint smile. "Beware of Scadbolt and that Lascar dog. When I am dead, take my boots--you have none--and what of my clothes may be useful to you; take the log-book too, and keep it safe. There is a record in it of Scadbolt's conduct, and your promotion. It will be necessary in case a ship picks you up. Scadbolt was your superior officer when we left the port of Sydney; and he might bring a charge against you, which, without the log-book, you would not be able to refute."

Joshua thanked the captain for his thoughtfulness, and expressed a hope that it was not so bad with him as he feared. Then the captain told Joshua how, a few days before, he had struck his head against a piece of iron, and how he had lost a quantity of blood. Joshua put his hand to the back of the captain's head, round which a piece of canvas was tied, and felt a great gash there.

"I did not tell any one; but it so weakened me, that I thought I was about to die then. This is a piteous sight!" pointing to his wife. She lay, pale as death, with her eyes wide open, gazing at the gardens in the air. The tears rolled down Joshua's face. "Bury us together," continued the captain. "There are two or three pieces of iron you might put into the canvas with us, so we may sink at once. You will do this?'"

"Yes."

Captain Liddle pressed Joshua's hand, and creeping close to his wife clasped her in his arms. In the mean time Rough-and-Ready was busy squeezing drops of fresh water into a bottle. He saved nearly a pint.

Shortly after that, Joshua was the first to see land. He went to tell the Captain, but could not arouse him; his heart still beat, but very faintly. Night came on soon; and when day dawned again the land was gone. Rough-and-Ready came to Joshua with a grave face. He said nothing; but Joshua understood him. They went to where the lifeless bodies of the captain and his wife lay, and sewed them in canvas, and placed inside the pieces of iron, as Joshua had promised. Joshua read the burial-service as the bodies were thrown into the sea. They sank at once.

"Not many of us left," observed Rough-and-Ready. "I should like to see land again. If we don't sight it soon, we may find that the worst has not yet come. It is as Scadbolt said when the rules were being read, 'Every man for himself now, and God for us all.' But come what may we'll stick to each other and to the women."

"It does my heart good to hear you speak so," said Joshua. "I know what you mean: the worst men are left against us; but we are a match for them, I think. See, here's the log-book, with the poor skipper's last words: 'I appoint Joshua Marvel captain of this raft, made out of the spars of the "Merry Andrew," and intrust to him the charge of the surviving passengers and crew.--John Liddle, Master of the "Merry Andrew."'"

Rough-and-Ready touched his hat in sailor fashion.

"While we are at sea, captain," he said, "I will obey your orders."

A thrill ran through Joshua as he heard himself called captain. Captain! But of what a crew! The promotion had come all too soon.

Before long he had to exercise his authority. They were being, driven on to a reef by a strong current. It was necessary to get the raft into deep water before dark. He gave his orders; and although both Scadbolt and the Lascar saw the wisdom of them, they refused to obey.

"I am captain," said Scadbolt. "You will obey my orders now."

Then Rough-and-Ready took a double-barrelled pistol from his belt, and gave its fellow to Joshua. They covered Scadbolt and the Lascar with them.

"Obey orders!" cried Rough-and-Ready in as loud a voice as he could command. "Obey orders! Speak another word of disobedience, and you are dead men!"

The rebellious men were cowed. With scowling faces they worked as Joshua directed: and with some trouble they got the raft clear over the reef, and floated it into deeper water. The night that followed was a night of great anxiety. Joshua knew that they were near land; and he and Rough-and-Ready kept watches of two hours' duration in turn. The reason of this was, that they did not deem it safe to sleep both at the same time; for they suspected that Scadbolt and the Lascar were only waiting for the opportunity to fall upon them and kill them.

"We have all the fire-arms, thank goodness," said Rough-and-Ready, "and all the powder and shot. We are masters while we can keep these."

He had kept a sharp guard over the firearms, and had indeed secretly dropped three guns into the sea. "Better there than in those rascals' hands," he wisely thought; "we mustn't cumber ourselves with too much lumber."

In the night Joshua whispered to Rachel Homebush and Minnie that to-morrow probably would decide their fate. They revived somewhat at the news, and Minnie directed Joshua's attention to little Emma Pigeon.

"She has not spoken all day," said Minnie anxiously.

Joshua placed his hand on the little girl's heart; it beat, but very faintly.

"She will live, Minnie," said Joshua, "if we can reach land; we are certain to find food then."

While they spoke, Minnie kept Joshua's hand in hers; it was her only comfort, poor child. He was kneeling by her side, and she saw in his face that he had no harsh thoughts for her. They had not exchanged a word about their friends at home, but Minnie said to-night,--

"Joshua, when you first came to our little room--do you remember?--what should we have thought if a wizard had told us this?"

"What, indeed!" replied Joshua; and then, after a pause, "Do you suffer much, Minnie?"

"Not now. Ah, Joshua, if I can only live to repay you!"

"Keep up your courage, Minnie, and pray that we may reach friendly land--any land--to-morrow," was his answer.

She did pray fervently, and when daylight came they saw land. It did not look very friendly. A long line of dark savage-looking rocks was what they saw; towering gloomily and threateningly for the most part, but with many a little inlet, which offered them a favorable chance of landing, as Joshua's seaman's eye discerned. There were only eight living persons now on the raft out of the thirty-five who first took shelter there. Five men--to wit, Joshua, Rough-and-Ready, Scadbolt, the Lascar, and the sailmaker; two women--Rachel Homebush and Minnie, and the little girl Emma. The men worked and watched with a will. Private animosities were for the time forgotten; but for all that, Rough-and-Ready was never off his guard. Every thing looked fair, when suddenly up sprang a land breeze, and they were driven to sea again; the hope that had been kindled died away. They caught a cod, but the women turned from it with loathing. Then Joshua thought of a fine thing. The sun was high in the heavens. He took a piece of rag and washed it and dried it; then he took a magnifying glass out of a telescope, and caught the sun's fire on to the rag. He had wood ready, and they made a fire on the raft. The sailors ate their portion of the fish raw; but Joshua put his and the women's and Rough-and-Ready's on the wood, and roasted it. Before they gave this delicious food to the women, they moistened their lips with a little of the water that was still left in Rough-and-Ready's bottle; the moistening and the food were new life to them all Minnie chewed a little of the fish and placed it in the child's mouth; the child swallowed it, with difficulty at first, and seemed to grow stronger soon afterwards; she had been better nourished than the others. As if in reward for this good thought of Joshua's, the wind shifted to a sea breeze, and a couple of hours before mid-night they were driven on to land. It required the greatest care and the most delicate handling to steer the raft safely through the rocks; but it was done. Scadbolt and the Lascar were about to scramble on to the rocks, when Rough-and-Ready, in a voice of thunder--he seemed suddenly to have recovered his full strength--commanded them to stand. Not his voice, but his pistol, enforced obedience.

"Why?" demanded Scadbolt.

"Because you are treacherous dogs," roared Rough-and-Ready; "because you are not men, but savages; because I know how such scum are to be treated. Ah! scowl as you will I but I have shot better men than you down before to-night, and I'll shoot you down if you dare to stir, as I would a brace of treacherous dingos or Blacks--they're much the same. The women and child are to be saved first. Why, if we allowed you to get ashore, you'd strike us from the rocks before we got a footing! I know you, you see, you skunks. Marvel, take the women and little girl ashore first, one by one. I'll keep guard here the while. Sailmaker, assist Mr. Marvel."

By this last masterly stroke Rough-and-Ready enlisted the sailmaker on his side, for a time at least. For the sailmaker and Joshua were man to man, and Joshua had fire-arms. So, with difficulty, the women and child were conveyed on to the rocks in safety; then Rough-and-Ready bade Joshua take ashore what things would be useful from the raft. Among other things, Joshua took ashore two axes, all the nails he could find, and some iron pots. The women also had some things they were anxious to preserve--needles and thread and such like. All this occupied nearly two hours, and was not accomplished without difficulty. Scadbolt and the Lascar stood sullenly by, the while. Rough-and-Ready was in his element; he absolutely revelled in the task he had set himself. It was as good as meat and drink to him to watch those two rascals and beat them through their fears. When Joshua and the sailmaker had completed their task, Rough-and-Ready joined them on the rocks. After him Scadbolt and the Lascar scrambled on to land, and began to look hungrily about them. It was a fine night; the moon was nearly at its full. The first thing Rough-and-Ready did was to cast a glance at the women lying helpless on the rocks; the next thing he did was to smooth his mustache with his hand in a thoughtful manner; the next, to send a dark look at Scadbolt and the Lascar, who were prowling about on the rocks in search of shell-fish; the next, to lay his hand in a familiar manner upon the sailmaker's shoulder.

"I say, mate," said Rough-and-Ready, "have you a wife at home?"

"Two."

Rough-and-Ready whistled loud and long, and followed up the whistle with a laugh.

"It's no joke," said the sailmaker.

"One isn't, much less two," replied Rough-and-Ready, with a wink; "but never mind them now."

"I'm content."

"You seem a good-hearted fellow, sailmaker, and as you have two wives, you must think a great deal of womankind."

"I love 'em,"--looking at the two poor creatures lying near them.

"I'm a bushman myself," said Rough-and-Ready, with assumed carelessness; "I'd as soon be where I am as in any part of the world. I am at home here. What do you say, mate? Shall we be friends?"

"Glad to be." And the two men shook hands, Rough-and-Ready hugging himself for his successful diplomacy.

"You're a man after my own heart," said Rough-and-Ready, really appreciating the crisp utterances of the sailmaker, who evidently was not a word-waster. "Seems to me that the first thing we've got to do is to bring the women round; mustn't let them die, eh?"

"Certainly not."

"There's a split in the camp," continued Rough-and-Ready. "Those two rascals prowling about in search of something to eat, would be glad of an opportunity to get rid of us; and then God help the women. At all events let us three stick together--you and me and Captain Marvel. Agreed?"

"Agreed."

"Good. What I want to do is to get fresh water for us and the women; I know how to look for it. Will you keep guard over the women with Captain Marvel till I return?"

"Yes."

Rough-and-Ready placed a loaded pistol in the sailmaker's hand--he did it without hesitation--and that act completed the conquest. Joshua, standing by, had heard the conversation and now shook hands with the sailmaker. Scadbolt and the Lascar had also seen the conference.

"They've bought him over," said the Lascar.

"Never mind," replied Scadbolt, "there will be plenty of opportunities."

In less than an hour Rough-and-Ready returned. He had taken two bottles with him, and brought them back filled with bright, clear, fresh water. He had his wide-awake hat in his hand; it evidently contained something good, he was so careful in carrying it. Joshua put his hand in, and started back with a cry; he had grasped a nettle.

"Careful, careful," said Rough-and-Ready, laughing at Joshua's grimaces; "don't be too eager to take hold of things. A great deal of the wood-growth round about-here is covered with thorns, and some of them are poisonous to the blood. This isn't, though; 'tis an old friend."

He took out of his hat two small branches with long spines upon them; the branches were covered with fruit resembling a small apple.

"Good to eat?" asked the sailmaker.

"Shouldn't have brought them otherwise," answered Rough-and-Ready, in unconscious imitation of the sailmaker's manner of speaking.

The sailmaker took some of the fruit and ate it, and would have taken more, but that Rough-and-Ready's hand restrained him.

"That's not the way for a man to eat who has been nearly starved for six weeks," he said, "unless he wants to kill himself right out. Here, make yourself useful; but take a little water to drink first."

Rough-and-Ready measured a small quantity of water, and gave the sailmaker and Joshua to drink. He had thrown down a couple of pieces of wood when he said "Make yourself useful," and the sailmaker, after drinking, asked him what the wood was for.

"A good job for you two that you have me for your mate," said Rough-and-Ready good-humoredly; "you might stand a chance of starving else. The enemy"--with a nod of his head in the direction of Scadbolt and the Lascar--"won't be half as well off as we shall be. Just watch me." He took his knife and cut from the wood two pieces, in one of which he made a kind of groove, which he placed upon the ground. "This is off the black fig-tree, and is the best wood there is for making fire. Now rub away into the groove, steadily, like this, and keep rubbing. It's hard work; but never mind; it's worth the labor."

He disappeared again, leaving the sailmaker at work, and returned with an armful of dry sticks and leaves. Soon fire came into the wood, the sparks dropped on to the dry leaves, and a blaze was kindled, that brought astonishment into the eyes of Scadbolt and the Lascar. Before the fire was made, the indefatigable bushman had gone down the rocks this time, and had returned with a hat full of mussels. These he put on the fire to cook; and then sat down and rubbed his hands in a high state of satisfaction. Joshua had not been idle; he had attended to the women and child, and had given them a little water, which was like nectar to them. They were too weak to exert themselves; so the men sat by them and ate supper, and gave them to eat, sparingly, under the direction of Rough-and-Ready, who was regarded by the others with unbounded admiration. The warmth of the fire was very comforting to them, for although summer was coming, their long sojourn on the raft had chilled their blood.

"Well now," said Rough-and-Ready, when supper was over, "I think we ought to be very grateful for our escape. It was touch-and-go with us. We sha'n't be very strong for a few days; and that's what we've got to do first: to get strong. Then we can look about us."

"Where are we?" whispered Minnie.

"As well as I can make out, my dear, we are somewhere on the north-east coast of the continent of Australia; where I don't believe a white man ever trod foot before. That's something, isn't it? We're the first bits of civilization that these rocks have ever seen."

"Is there any chance of a ship seeing us?"

"I doubt it; but for my part I don't want a ship to see me; I've had enough of ships. I feel at home here, or I shall feel so in a little while. I don't doubt but what we shall be able to get plenty to eat and drink, and that's our first great need. Try and sleep for an hour now. Strength is what we want, remember."

Rachel Homebush turned to him and held out her hand. She was grateful for being saved, but she did not speak. The three men arranged to get a little rest also, watch and watch in turn. It was Rough-and-Ready's watch first. Before Joshua lay down, he went to see if Minnie was asleep. Her eyes were closed, but she was aware of his approach.

"That is you, Joshua?"

"Yes, Minnie. Do you think you can sleep?"

"I don't know; I am strangely excited. I thank God that you are saved. Joshua," rising to a sitting posture and taking his hand, "you will not be unkind to me now that we are out of danger?"

"Surely not, Minnie. What makes you ask?"

"I was afraid, that was all."

Here the little child murmured something. Minnie placed her ear to the girl's lips.

"She asked who was talking to me, and I told her you," said Minnie, taking Little Emma upon her lap. "She wants you to kiss her."

Joshua stooped and kissed the little girl, and she put her arms round his neck, and asked where papa had gone to. Joshua turned away, and pressing Minnie's hand, was soon afterwards in the land of dreams. So, during the night, they slept and watched, and in their troubled dreams felt the rocks moving and swaying beneath them. Every now and then they started in terror, and clutched what was nearest to them, as if life was slipping away; they suffered over again the agonies of thirst, and moved their parched lips entreatingly. When it was Joshua's watch, he observed the sufferings of his sleeping companions; he guessed the cause, for he had suffered himself in like manner. With merciful thoughtfulness he moistened their lips with fresh water; the women smiled and grew more composed; perhaps at that moment they dreamed that an angel was bringing them life and health. Minnie's head was lying on her hand, and her face was exposed to the light. It was sun-burnt, but the gypsy stain was dying out of it. Her hair too was growing lighter and longer. Joshua looked up at the sky and round about him at the strange scene. Over his head the light of day was just breaking, but the dusky shadows still lay upon the waters. Behind him a faint light, heralding the sun, was quivering on distant wood and upland.

"Dan made me promise," he said softly to himself, as the wonderful strangeness of his position came upon him, "when I was seeing strange sights in strange places, to think, 'Dan is here with me, although I cannot see him.' Is Dan here with me now? Is it possible that he can have the vaguest idea of me as I stand, heart-wrecked, in this wild country? I will try to believe so; I will try to believe that he and Ellen see me as I am, know me as I am, and pity me. I could die here now contentedly, if that were a conviction. Ellen, dear wife! Dan, dear friend! dear mother and father! stand fast to me, and believe that I never wavered in my love and my truth!"

This was his theme that he thought of and mused upon, while all the others were asleep. The rocks were burnished with golden light before they awoke.