Chapter Twenty Two.
I now resolved to speak to her relative to the belt which contained the diamonds; and I was first obliged to narrate to her in a few words what Jackson had told me. She heard me with great interest, now and then asking a question. When I had told her all, I said—
“Now, as they talk of not taking my chest, what shall I do? Shall I wear the belt myself, or shall I put it in the bundle? Or will you wear it for me, as my mother would have done, if she had been alive?”
She did not reply for some time, at last she said, as if talking to herself, and not to me—
“How unsearchable are thy ways, O God!”
Indeed, although I did not feel it at the time, I have afterwards thought, and she told me herself, how great her surprise was at finding in the unshorn little savage, thus living alone upon a desolate rock, a lad of good birth, and although he did not know it, with a fortune in his charge, which would, in all probability, be ultimately his own. This is certain, that the interest she felt towards me increased every hour, as by degrees I disclosed my history.
“Well,” replied she, “if you will trust me, I will take charge of your belt. To-morrow we will select out of the chest what will be best to take with you, and then we will arrange as you wish.”
After about an hour’s more conversation, she went into the cabin, and retired behind the screen which had been fixed up, telling me that she did not mind Nero, and that I might go to bed when I pleased. As I was not much inclined to go down to the seamen, I followed her advice and went to bed; but I could not sleep for a long time from the noise which the men made, who were carousing at the bathing-pool. The idea of parting with Nero also lay heavy upon my heart, though the woman had almost satisfied me that as soon as I was gone, the animal would resume its natural habits, and care nothing for me.
I was up the next morning early, and went down with Nero to obtain the fish which we required. I left some on the rocks for the seamen’s breakfast (for they were all sound asleep), and then returned to the cabin, and prepared for our own. Mrs Reichardt, as I shall now call her, soon came out to me, and when breakfast was over, proposed that we should plant the remainder of the potatoes, before we packed up the things in the chest. As soon as they were all cut, we set off to the ravine, and had finished our task before noon, at which time there were but few of the seamen stirring, they had remained up so long the night before, drinking. The mate was one of those who were on their legs, and he asked me if I thought we should have smooth water to launch the boat on the following day. I replied in the affirmative, and went with Mrs Reichardt to the cabin, and putting down the shovel, I hauled my chest out on the platform to select what articles I should take.
While we were thus employed, and talking at times, the men came up for the dried birds to take down ready for putting them in the boat on the following day, and in two trips they had cleared out the whole of them.
“Have you used all the potatoes you brought up?” said one of the men; “for we shall be short of provisions.”
Mrs Reichardt replied that we had none left.
“Well then,” said the man, “the mate says you had better bring down that brute of yours to catch the rest of the fish in the pond, that we may cook them before we start, as they will make two days’ meals at least.”
“Very well,” replied I; “I will come down directly.” I did so, and Nero, in a quarter of an hour, had landed all the fish, and I then returned with him to the cabin. Mrs R had selected the best of the clothes, and made them up in a tight bundle, which she sewed up with strong thread. My books she had left out, as well as the spy-glass, and the tools I had, as they might be useful. I asked her whether I should carry them down to the bathing-pool, but she replied that on the morning when we embarked would be quite time enough. I then went to the hole under Jackson’s bed-place, and brought out the belt and the few articles that were with it. Mrs R, after having examined them, said that she would take care of them all; the watch and other trinkets she put in her basket; the belt she took to the bed-place, and secreted it.
She appeared very silent and thoughtful, and on my asking her whether I should not take down the shovel, and the pail, and hammer, she replied, “No, leave all till we are ready to go to the boat. It will be time enough.”
Shortly afterwards, the mate brought us up some of the fish which they had cooked for supper, and when we had eaten it we went to bed.
“This is the last night we shall sleep together, Nero,” said I, kissing my favourite, and the thought brought tears into my eyes. “But it can’t be helped.” I was, however, soon fast asleep, with my arm round the animal.
When I went out the next morning, I found that the weather was beautifully fine, the water smooth, and only rippled by a light breeze. As Mrs R had not yet made her appearance, I went down to the bathing-pool, where I found all the men up and in full activity. The boat had been emptied out, the oars, masts, and sails, were on the rocks; and the men were turning the bows to the seaward in readiness for launching her over the ledge of rocks. The dried birds lay in a heap by the side of the cask of rum, and the fish which had been baked were in the large kid. The six breakers were also piled up together, and the mate and some of the men were disputing as to how many of them should be filled with water. The mate wanted them all filled; the men said that three would be sufficient, as the boat would be so loaded. At last the mate gained his point, and the men each took a breaker, and went up to the cabin for the water. I went with them to fill the breakers, and also to see that they did no mischief, for they appeared very unruly and out of temper; and I was afraid that they would hurt Nero, who was at the cabin, if I was not there to prevent them; but with the exception of examining the cabin, and forcing themselves in upon Mrs Reichardt, they did nothing. When the breakers were full, which took at least half an hour, they did indeed try to catch the birds, and would have wrung their necks, but the males flew away, and the females I put into the bed-place that was screened off in the cabin, and near which Mrs Reichardt was sitting. They all appeared to have a great awe and respect for this woman, and a look from her was more effectual than were any words of the mate.
“We don’t want you,” said one of the men, as they went down to the bathing-pool with the breakers on their shoulders. “Why don’t you keep up with the lady? You’re quite a lady’s man, now you’ve white trousers on.”
The others who followed him laughed at this latter remark.
“I’m of no use up there, at present,” said I; “and I may be down below.”
The men set down the breakers on the rocks by the pool, and then, under the directions of the mate, prepared to launch the boat over the ledge. The masts of the boat were placed athwartships, under her keel, for her to run upon, and being now quite empty, she was very light. She was what they call a whale-boat, fitted for the whale-fishery, pointed at both ends, and steered by an oar; she was not very large, but held seven people comfortably, and she was remarkably well fitted with sails and masts, having two lugs and a mizen. As soon as they were all ready, the men went to the side of the boat, and in a minute she was launched into the sea without injury. The mate said to me, as they brought her broadside to the ledge:
“Now, my lad, we don’t want you any more; you may go up to the cabin till we are ready, and then we will send for you and the lady.”
“Oh! But I can be of use here,” replied I; “and I am of none up there.”
The mate did not reply, and the men then went to the rum-cask, and rolled it towards the boat; and when they had it on the ledge, they parbuckled it, as they term it, into the boat with a whale-line that they happened to have, and which was of great length. After the cask of rum was got in amidships (and it took up a great deal of space, reaching from one gunwale to the other, and standing high above the thwarts), they went for the breakers of water, which they put in, three before and three behind the cask, upon the floor of the boat.
“She will be too heavy,” said one of the men, “with so much water.”
“We can easily get rid of it,” replied the mate. “If you had said she would be too heavy with so much liquor on board, you had better explained the matter; however, you must have your own ways, I suppose.”
The next articles that they brought to stow away were the provisions. The kid of fish was put amidships on the breakers, and the dried bird; which they carried down in their arms, were packed up neatly in the stern-sheets. They were soon up to the gunwale, and the mate said:
“You had better stow away forward now—there will be little room for the lady as it is.”
“No, no, stow them all aft,” replied one of the men, in a surly tone; “the lady must sit where she can. She’s no better than we.”
“Shall this go in?” said I, pointing to the coil of whale-line, and addressing the mate.
“No, no; we must leave that,” replied one of the men in the boat; “we shall be wedged enough as it is; and I say, Jim, throw that old saw and the bag of nails out of the boat—we can have no use for them.”
The masts were then stepped, and the rigging set up to the gunnel of the boat, the yards and sails handed in, and hooked on the halyards ready for hoisting. In fact the boat was now all ready for starting; they had only the iron kettle and two or three other articles to put in.
“Shall we have the mizen?” inquired one of the men, pointing to the mast, which lay on the rocks.
“No, she steers quite as well without it,” replied the mate. “We’ll leave it. And now, lad; hand the oars in.”
They were brought to the boat, but owing to the puncheon of rum in the centre, they could not lie flat, and after a good deal of arguing and disputing, four oars and a boat-hook were lashed to the gunnel outside, and the rest were left on the rocks.
At this time there was some consultation between the mate and some of the men—the mate being evidently opposed by the others. I could not hear what it was about, but the mate appeared very angry and very much annoyed. At last he dashed his hat down on the rocks in a great passion, saying:
“No good will come of it. Mark my words. No good ever did or ever will. Be it so, you are too many for me; but I tell you again, no good will come of it.”
The mate then sat down on the rocks by himself, and put his head down on his knees, covering it with his hands.
The man with whom he had been disputing went to the others in the boat, and spoke to them in a low tone, looking round at me, to ascertain if I was within hearing.
After a minute or two they all separated, and then one of them said to me—“Now, my lad, we’re all ready. Go up to the cabin and bring down your bundle and her basket, and tell the lady we are waiting for her.”
“There’s the shovel,” said I, “and the boat’s sail—must I bring them down?”
“Oh, yes, bring them down, and also two or three seal-skins for the lady to sit upon.”
Off I went on my errand, for I was delighted with the idea of leaving the island, and my patience had been almost exhausted at the time they had taken in the stowage of the boat. As I hastened up the path, I heard loud contention, and the mate’s voice speaking very angrily, and I stopped for a short time to listen, but the noise ceased, and I went on again. I found Nero on the platform, and I stopped a minute to caress him. “Good-bye, my poor Nero, we shall never see one another again,” said I. “You must go back to the sea, and catch fish for yourself;” and the tears started in my eyes as I gave the animal a farewell kiss.
I then went into the cabin, where I found Mrs Reichardt sitting very quietly.
“They are all ready,” said I, “and have sent me up for you; but I am to bring down the boat’s sail and some seal-skins for you to sit upon. I can carry both if you can carry my bundle. Have you put the belt on?”
“Yes,” replied she, “I am quite ready. I will carry the bundle, and the books and spy-glass, as well as my basket; but we must pack them close,” added she, “and roll the sail up round the yard, or you will not be able to carry it.”
We took the sail down, and got it ready for carrying, and I rolled up the two best seal-skins, and tied them with a piece of fishing-line, and then we were all ready. I shouldered my burden, and Mrs Reichardt took the other articles, as proposed, and we left the cabin to go down the path to the bathing-pool.
“Good-bye, Nero—good-bye, birds—good-bye, cabin—and good-bye, garden,” said I, as I went along the platform; and having so done, and ordered Nero back with a tremulous voice, I turned my head in the direction of the bathing-pool. I stared and then screamed, dropping my burden, as I lifted up my hands in amazement—
“Look!” cried I to my companion. “Look!” repeated I, breathless.
She did look, and saw as I did—the boat under all sail, half a mile from the pool, staggering under a fresh breeze, which carried her away at the rate of seven or eight miles an hour.
They had left us—they had deserted us. I cried out, like a madman, “Stop! Stop! Stop!” and then, seeing how useless it was, I dashed myself on the rock, and for a minute or two was insensible.
“Oh!” groaned I, at last, as I came to my senses.
“Frank Henniker,” said a sweet firm voice.
I opened my eyes, and saw Mrs Reichardt standing by me.
“It is the will of Heaven, and you must submit to it patiently,” continued she.
“But so cruel, so treacherous!” replied I, looking at the fast-receding boat.
“I grant, most cruel, and most treacherous; but we must leave them to the judgment of God. What can they expect from Him in the way of mercy when they have shown none? I tell you candidly, that I think we are better in our present forlorn state upon this rock, than if in that boat. They have taken with them the seeds of discord, of recklessness, and intemperance, in an attempt which requires the greatest prudence, calmness, and unanimity, and I fear there is little chance of their ever being rescued from their dangerous position. It is my opinion, and I thought so when I first knew they had found the cask, that liquor would prove their ruin, and I say again, that boat will never arrive at its destination, and they will all perish miserably. It has pleased God that they should leave us here, and depend upon it, it has been so decided for the best.”
“But,” replied I, looking again at the boat, “I was tired of being here—I was so anxious to get off—and now to be left! And they have taken all our provisions, everything, even the fish in the pool. We shall starve.”
“I hope not,” replied she, “and I think not; but we must exert ourselves, and trust to Heaven.”
But I could not heed her—my heart was bursting. I sobbed, as I sat with my hands covering up my face.
“All gone;” cried I. “No one left but you and I.”
“Yes,” replied she, “one more.”
“Who?” cried I, looking up.
“God!—who is with us always.”