Chapter Eight.
The Wreck of the Mermaid.
At length, however, the inevitable change came; the wind died away to a breathless calm; the ocean took on the semblance of a sea of gently undulating glass; and the hitherto cloudless sky imperceptibly lost its intensity of blue as a thin, streaky haze gradually veiled it, through which the sun shone feebly, a rayless disc of throbbing white fire. The heat and closeness of the atmosphere were intense, even on deck, while the temperature below was practically unendurable. The brig lost steerage-way about two o’clock in the afternoon; and when the sun sank beneath the western horizon that night, looming through the haze red as blood, distorted in shape, and magnified to thrice his normal dimensions, there was little if any perceptible change in the atmospheric conditions, although the mercury in the barometer had been falling slowly but steadily all day.
The brig was now within the tropic of Capricorn, and not very far to the eastward of the Paumotu Archipelago, in which region night succeeds day with such astounding rapidity that the stars become visible within ten minutes of the sun’s disappearance. Yet no stars appeared on this particular night; on the contrary, a darkness that could be felt settled down upon the brig almost with the suddenness of a drawn curtain. The darkness was as profound as that of the interior of a coal-mine; it was literally impossible to see one’s hand held close to one’s eyes; and movement about the deck was accomplished blindly and gropingly, with hands outspread to avoid collision with the most familiar objects, whose positions could now be only roughly guessed at. And the silence was as profound as the darkness; for the swell had subsided with almost startling rapidity, and the brig was so nearly motionless that there was none of the creaking of timbers or spars, none of the “cheeping” of blocks and gear that is usually to be heard under such circumstances. Even the men forward were silent, as though they were waiting and listening for something, they knew not what. So intense was the silence that even the striking of a match to light a pipe became almost startling; while its tiny flame burnt steadily and without a semblance of wavering in the stagnant air.
Gradually, however, a subtle and portentous change took place. The darkness slowly became less intense, giving place to a lurid ruddy twilight that appeared to emanate from the clouds, for by imperceptible degrees they grew visible and became streaked and blotched with patches of red that suggested the idea of their being on fire within, the incandescence showing through here and there in the thinner parts. This red light grew and spread until the whole surface of the sky was aglow with it; and it was an uncanny experience to stand on the stern grating, close up to the taffrail, and look forward along the brig’s deck to her bows, and note every detail of the craft and her equipment showing distinctly and black as ebony against that weird background of red-hot sky and its ruddy reflection in the polished surface of the water.
Leslie scarcely knew what to make of this lowering and portentously illuminated sky. He had never seen anything quite like it before; but he instinctively felt that it foreboded mischief; and he accordingly kept a sharp eye on the barometer. It was still falling, and now with considerably greater rapidity than at first. At eight bells in the second dog-watch he came to the conclusion that the time for action had arrived; and before allowing the watch to go below he ordered everything to be clewed up and furled, leaving only the fore staysail standing. Then he settled himself down to wait doggedly for developments, determined not to leave the deck until a breeze had come from somewhere. For he had a suspicion that when it arrived, it would prove to be something stronger than ordinary; and he wanted to satisfy himself as to the manner in which his jury rig would withstand such an outburst as appeared to be impending.
Hour after hour went by, however, and nothing happened; until at length Miss Trevor, whose stay on deck had been unusually prolonged by curiosity—and perhaps a dash of apprehension—bade Leslie good night and retired to her cabin, the port of which he particularly requested her to keep closed, despite the stifling heat. At length the strange and alarming glow in the heavens faded as imperceptibly as it had come, until the darkness had become as intense as before; and Leslie was beginning to think that after all nothing was going to happen, when the whole scene became suddenly illuminated by a vivid flash of sheet lightning that for an infinitesimal fraction of a second seemed to set the entire visible firmament ablaze, and caused every detail of the brig’s hull and equipment to imprint a clear and perfectly distinct picture of itself upon the retina. They all listened for thunder, but none came. Suddenly, however, a few heavy drops of rain pattered upon the deck, and an instant later down came a perfect deluge with the sound of millions of small shot roaring and rattling on the deck and hissing into the sea. The rain ceased as suddenly as it had come, as suddenly as the flow of water is stopped by the turning of a tap; and for about a quarter of an hour nothing further happened. Then the sheet lightning began to quiver and flicker among the clouds once more; and presently the pall immediately overhead was rent apart by a terrific flash of sun-bright lightning that struck straight down and seemed to hit the water only a few yards from the brig. Simultaneously with the flash came a crackling crash of thunder of absolutely appalling intensity; and before its echoes had died away another flash, and another, and another, tore athwart the heavens; until within the space of less than a minute the entire vault of heaven was ablaze with flickering and flashing lightnings, steel blue, baleful green, rosy red, and dazzling white, accompanied by a continuous crash and roar of thunder that was both deafening and terrifying. This tremendous manifestation continued for about ten minutes, when down came the rain again, in an even fiercer deluge than before; and in the very midst of it, while the thunder still crashed and boomed overhead, and the rain descended in such sheets and masses that everybody gasped for breath, as though drowning, away came the wind with a howling scream that in an instant drowned even the sound of the thunder. It struck the brig flat aback; and had she happened to have had any of her square canvas set she must undoubtedly have foundered stern first. As it was, Leslie, who happened to be the only man near the wheel, sprang to it and put the helm hard over, causing her to pay off as she gathered stern-way, and thus saving the craft. But even as he stood there, in the very act of putting the helm over, a crash reached his ears out of the midst of the terrific hubbub; he was conscious of receiving a violent blow on the head; and then he knew no more.
When Leslie again recovered consciousness, his first distinct sensation was that of racking, sickening, splitting headache, accompanied by a feeling of acute soreness and smarting. He also felt dazed, confused, and harassed by a vague but intense anxiety about something, he knew not what. Then he became aware that he was lying recumbent on his back, with his head propped high by pillows; and presently he also became aware that his head was heavily swathed in bandages. He stirred uneasily, and attempted to put his hand to his head; but was shocked to find that his hand and arm felt heavy as lead, so heavy, indeed, that after a feeble effort he abandoned the attempt. As he did so, a fluttering sigh, and a whispered “Oh, thank God; thank God!” fell upon his ear; a handkerchief saturated with eau-de-cologne was applied to his nostrils; and, as in a dream, he heard a voice murmur—
“Are you better, Mr Leslie? Tell me that you are feeling better.”
Feeling better! Had he been ill, then? He supposed he must have been; otherwise, why was he lying there—wherever he might be—on his back, with his head bandaged and racked with pain, and with no strength in him? Ill! of course he was; every nerve in his body bore testimony to the fact. But where was he? what was the matter with him? and whose was this gentle, tender voice—that somehow seemed so familiar—that questioned him? Everything was vague, confused, and incomprehensible, with a dominating impression that there was pressing, urgent need for him to be up and attending to something without an instant’s delay.
As he lay there, painfully cogitating in a vain endeavour to disentangle the threads of mingled thought that seemed to be inextricably wound together in his throbbing, struggling brain, two warm drops splashed upon his face, and the same low voice that he had heard before, cried—
“Spare him, O God; spare him; have mercy!” and the handkerchief was again applied to his nostrils.
The tide of life ebbed back for a moment; he again sank into oblivion; and presently revived to the consciousness that soft arms were supporting him—arms that quivered and shook with the violent sobbing that fell upon his ears—while a shower of hot tears bathed his face. And then, all in an instant, recollection, vivid, intense, complete, came to him, and he opened his eyes.
For a moment he could see nothing. Then he became aware that the sun was streaming brilliantly in through the open port-hole near the head of his bunk, while a soft, warm, yet refreshing breeze was playing about his temples; and that Miss Trevor was bending over him with streaming eyes that gazed down upon him wild with anxiety and grief.
“Why, what is this? what is the matter? and why am I lying here idle when I ought to be on deck looking after the ship?” he murmured, attempting at the same time to rise.
But the imprisoning arms held him firmly down; the streaming eyes met his in an intensity of gaze that seemed to devour him; and the tender voice gain cried with indescribable fervour—
“Thank God; oh, thank God for this great mercy! You are alive! And you will continue to live. Yes, you must live; promise me that you will. Here; drink this, quickly.” And she held to his lips a tumbler containing a liquid that, pungent to the taste, at once revived him.
“Thanks; a thousand thanks!” murmured Leslie, gratefully. “I feel better now. Please let me get up; I must go on deck at once.”
“No; no, you must not; indeed you must not; there is no need,” answered Miss Trevor; and Leslie thought he detected a tone of sadness mingled with relief in the accents of her voice.
“No need?” ejaculated Leslie; “but indeed there is need—” and then he paused abruptly; for it had suddenly dawned upon him that the brig had a distinct list to port, and that she was motionless; not with the buoyant motionlessness of a ship afloat in a calm, but with the absolute absence of all movement characteristic of a ship in dry dock, or stranded!
“Good heavens! what has happened?” he ejaculated. “Tell me, please, at once!” and he again attempted to rise.
But again his self-constituted nurse restrained him.
“Oh, please, please, do not move,” she entreated. “You must obey me, now; or you will never get better. I will tell you everything; but indeed you must not attempt to rise; for, as I said just now, there is no need. The ship is quite safe; I am sure that nothing further can happen to her, at least not for some time to come; and long ere that time arrives you will, please God, be well again, and in a fit state to do whatever seems best to you.”
“Nevertheless,” answered Leslie, “I should like to see the carpenter, if you will have the goodness to call him to me. I perceive that the brig is ashore—though where, I have not the remotest notion; and he will be able to tell me, far more clearly than you can, exactly what has happened.”
The girl leaned over Leslie, and looked down at him with eyes full of trouble.
“Mr Leslie,” she said, the tears welling up into her eyes again, “I must ask you to prepare yourself to hear bad news—very bad and very sad news. I cannot bring the carpenter to you; I cannot bring him, or any other of the crew to you; for, my poor friend, you and I—and Sailor—are the only living beings left on board this most unfortunate ship!”
“You and I—the only people left aboard?” gasped Leslie. “Then, in Heaven’s name, what has become of the real?”
“I cannot tell you—I do not know,” answered the girl. “But if you will let me tell my story in my own way, I have no doubt that your knowledge of seafaring matters will enable you to judge with sufficient accuracy just what has happened.
“You will remember, perhaps, that on the night before last there was a terribly violent storm of lightning and thunder—”
“The night before last?” interrupted Leslie. “You mean last night, surely?”
“No,” answered Miss Trevor; “I mean the night before last. You have lain here unconscious nearly thirty-six hours.”
“Thirty-six hours!” ejaculated Leslie, with a groan. “Well, go on, please.”
“That storm,” continued Miss Trevor, “was so violent and terrifying that I found it not only impossible to sleep through it, but even to remain in my cabin. I therefore rose, dressed, and stationed myself in the place you call the companion, at the head of the cabin stairs where, sheltered by the cover, I could at least watch what was going on. Crouched there, I saw everything that happened. I saw you spring to the wheel when the gale struck the ship; I saw you felled to the deck by the falling mast; and I was the first to spring to your assistance and drag you out from the midst of the tangle of ropes and broken spars. Then the carpenter and one or two other men came running up, and they helped me to bring you down here to your own cabin, where I have been attending to you ever since, and striving, oh, so earnestly and so hard, to restore you to consciousness.”
“My poor, brave girl,” murmured Leslie, “what courage, what devotion you have shown!”
The young lady resumed—
“The carpenter and the others left me immediately that we had got you laid comfortably on your bed, and the lamp lighted, explaining that it was necessary for them to be on deck to take care of the ship—as I could readily understand; for the frightful roar of the wind and the violent motion of the ship bore eloquent witness to the fury of the storm that was raging outside. They accordingly retired; and I heard them close the doors at the top of the stairs and draw over the cover—to keep the water from coming down into the cabin, I suppose; for I could hear it falling heavily on the deck with alarming frequency; while the hoarse shouts and calling of the men up above were truly terrifying.
“You were quite insensible, and bleeding freely from a wound in your head,” resumed the young lady; “and my first thought, naturally, was the medicine-chest that I had seen under the cabin table. I made my way to this as best I could; and, finding the book of directions, turned to the part treating of wounds, where I found full instructions how to proceed.
“Acting upon these, I carefully clipped away the hair from all around the gash; bathed the place, washing away the blood as well as I could; and then applied a dressing, as directed, securing it in place with plaster, and then swathing your head with a bandage to preserve the dressing from displacement.
“I had just completed this task, and was sitting on the box under your lamp, trying to discover some way of restoring you to consciousness, when the ship suddenly struck with awful violence against something, and I heard a crash as of a falling mast on deck, accompanied by a terrible outcry among the men. Then the ship was lifted up, to come down again with another crash, even worse than the first; then she was thrown violently over on her side, and I heard a fearful fall of water on the deck, accompanied by more rending and crashing of timber. This was continued for, I should say, quite half an hour, the shocks, however, becoming less and less violent until they ceased altogether, and the ship seemed to remain stationary, save for a slight rocking movement that eventually also ceased; and I have not since then felt the slightest movement or tremor of any kind. The gale, however, continued to rage with unabated fury until midday yesterday, when it quickly died away, and the sun came out.
“Meanwhile, I continued my efforts to restore you to consciousness, but without success. And finally, when at length the gale had passed away and the weather had again become fine, I ventured to go up on deck to see what had happened to the ship, and what had become of the men; for, to my great surprise and alarm, none of them had come near me, or made any attempt to inquire after you, from the moment when they had helped to bring you down into the cabin!”
“And what did you find?” demanded Leslie, anxiously.
“I found,” answered Miss Trevor, “that the ship is lying stranded on an immense reef of rocks, and is within about two miles of land—a large island, I take it to be, for I can see the sea beyond each end of it. But that is not the worst of it. The ship is a complete wreck, both her masts being broken and lying in the water beside her, most of her bulwarks broken and gone, and not one of the crew to be found!”
“I must get up; I really must!” insisted Leslie. “Please do not attempt to keep me here,” he continued, as his companion strove to dissuade him from his purpose. “I must go on deck and take a look round, if only for a few minutes, just to satisfy myself as to the actualities of our situation. If I cannot do that, I shall simply lie here and worry myself into a fever, thinking and fearing every imaginable thing.”
“Well,” remarked the girl, doubtfully, “if that is to be the result of confinement to your cabin, perhaps I had better yield to your wish and allow you to go on deck, just for a few minutes. But you must promise to be very good and obedient, to do exactly as I tell you, and—in short, to leave yourself entirely in my hands. Will you?”
“Oh, of course I will,” assented Leslie, with an eagerness and alacrity that were not altogether convincing to his companion, who saw, however, that she would have to yield somewhat to this headstrong patient of hers if she wished to retain any control at all over him.
She accordingly assisted him first to sit up in his berth and then to climb out of it—he still being dressed in the clothes that he was wearing when the accident happened to him—and eventually, with very considerable difficulty—Leslie finding himself curiously weak, and so giddy that he could not stand without support—she contrived to get him up the companion ladder and out on deck, where Sailor accorded them both a boisterous and effusive welcome.
Arrived there, Leslie sank upon the short seat that ran fore and aft alongside the companion cover, and cast his eyes about him. It was a melancholy sight that met his view. The brig, with a list of about four strakes to port, was hard and fast upon the inner edge of a reef that seemed to be about a mile wide, and stretched for many miles in either direction, ahead and astern, she lying broadside-on to the run of the reef. The jury mainmast had snapped short off immediately above the lashings that bound it to the stump of the original spar, and had gone over the stern, some of its gear having evidently struck Leslie down as the spar fell. The foremast was also over the side, having gone close to the deck; and all the wreckage was still floating alongside attached to the hull by the rigging. The bulwarks had all disappeared save some ten or twelve feet on either side extending from the taffrail, forward, and a few feet in the eyes of the ship. The decks had been swept clean of every movable thing, including the longboat and the jolly-boat that had been stowed on the main hatch; and both quarter-boats had also vanished from the davits, leaving only fragments of their stem and stern-posts hanging to the tackle blocks to show what had happened to them.
No part of the reef showed above water, but its extent and limits were very clearly defined by the ripples and agitation—gentle though this last was—of the surface of the water above it. The surf was breaking heavily on its outer margin in clouds of gleaming white that flashed and glittered in the brilliant sunshine; and an occasional undulation of swell came sweeping in across the reef, causing a thousand swirls and eddies to appear as it traversed the vast barrier of submerged rock—coral, Leslie judged it to be—but it did not affect the brig in the least, sending not even the faintest tremor through her, by which the sick man judged that she must have been deposited in her present position at a moment when the level of the sea was considerably higher than it was just then. The craft was lying so close to the inner edge of the reef that had she been carried another fifty yards she would have been swept right over it; in which case she would undoubtedly have at once sunk in the deep-water that lay between this outer barrier reef and the island some three miles away—not two miles, as Miss Trevor had estimated the distance.
But, oh, that island! When Miss Trevor had spoken of it Leslie pictured to himself some tiny, obscure, bare atoll of perhaps a mile in length, and not more than a dozen feet high at its highest point—knowing from his reckoning that, at the time of the fatal outbreak, the brig had not been near enough any known land to render wreck upon it possible. But the land upon which he gazed with wondering eyes measured fully three miles from one extremity to the other—with a promise of considerably more beyond the points in sight. And instead of being only a few feet in height above the sea-level, it rose in a gentle slope for about half a mile from the beach of dazzlingly white sand that fringed its margin immediately opposite where the brig lay, and then towered aloft to a bare truncated peak that soared some six thousand feet into the beautifully clear air. The whole island, except some two hundred feet of its summit, appeared to be densely clad with vegetation, among which many noble trees were to be seen, some of them being resplendent with brilliant scarlet blossoms.
The fresh air had exercised a distinctly revivifying effect upon Leslie who, after some quarter of an hour’s rest, felt strong enough to move about the deck, with Miss Trevor’s assistance and support; and he accordingly proceeded forward as far as the galley which, to his profound satisfaction, he found to be undamaged and with all its paraphernalia intact. Then he went on to the fore scuttle—the hatch of which was on and secured. Throwing back the cover, he peered down into the dark and evil-smelling place, and called several times, without eliciting any reply. He would fain have investigated further, to the extent of descending into its interior; but his companion considered that he had by this time done quite as much as was good for him, and flatly refused to render him the least assistance toward this further adventure. He was perforce compelled therefore to abandon his intention and retreat to his own end of the ship. Here, availing himself of the support of the short remaining length of the bulwarks, he leaned over and peered down into the clear, transparent water, through which he could clearly see the white surface of the reef upon which the brig rested; and its colour and the comparative smoothness of its surface convinced him that he had been right in his conjecture that it must be of coral formation.
“Well, sir,” demanded his companion, as she carefully assisted him to his former resting-place alongside the companion, “what think you of our surroundings, as a whole?”
“To be perfectly candid with you,” he replied, “I regard them as decidedly promising; although I quite admit that we are in a very distinctly awkward predicament. In the first place, I fear that we shall have to reconcile ourselves to the prospect of a somewhat lengthened sojourn, for unless I have made some very serious error in my calculations—which I do not believe—we are far out of the usual tracks of ships, and our only hope, therefore, of being seen and taken off rests in the possibility that some wandering whaler may put in here for water. That, however, is a prospect upon which it will be unwise for us to reckon overmuch; and we must consequently pin our faith upon our ability to devise a means of escape for ourselves. That, in a few words, means that I shall have to set to work forthwith upon the task of constructing some craft big enough and seaworthy enough to convey us to some spot from which we can take passage home again. I see that such a prospect appears sufficiently alarming to you, and I will not attempt to conceal from you the fact that it means—as I just now said—a rather lengthy stay here. But, fortunately for us, the materials for the construction of such a craft are all here to our hand; this brig will afford us all the timber that we require for such a purpose, with plenty to spare; and I am not altogether ignorant of the arts of naval architecture and ship-building. Then we shall probably find that there is a sufficient stock of provisions still left on board here to sustain us during the period of our detention here, to say nothing of the resources of the island itself, which looks as though it might be capable of affording us an ample subsistence of itself. Then there is a beach ashore there that looks quite good enough to serve as my shipyard; with a nice little plateau adjoining it upon which I purpose to erect a tent for our accommodation—for I do not think it would be wise to remain aboard here longer than may prove absolutely necessary.”
“Why,” exclaimed the girl, “you appear to have planned everything out already. How fortunate I am in having you as my companion! If you had not been hurt, I suppose you would have been on deck when this disaster occurred, and the chances are that you would then have been drowned with the rest of the poor fellows; and I should have been left alone here to die miserably.”
“Yes,” agreed Leslie, dryly, “my accident was certainly a blessing in disguise, from that point of view. If I can succeed in getting you safely away from here, and putting you in the way of returning to your friends, I shall at least have accomplished something useful before I die.”
“Oh, Mr Leslie,” exclaimed the girl, “you know I did not mean that! I simply meant—well—I mean—oh dear, how am I to express myself so that you will understand? Surely you do not believe me to be such an utterly selfish and heartless creature as to be glad that you have escaped the fate of the others merely because, by so doing, you are left alive to be my helper and protector?”
“No, indeed,” answered Leslie, heartily, “I assure you, Miss Trevor—” He paused abruptly, thought for a moment, and then resumed: “Look here, we have been thrown together—you and I—and our fates intermingled in a very extraordinary manner, and we are likely to remain together for some time longer in fairly intimate association, each of us the sole companion of the other. Do you not think that, under the circumstances, we might as well drop the formality of ‘Mr’ and ‘Miss?’ My name is Richard; but my friends call me Dick, and I should be glad if you would do the same.”
“Very well,” answered his companion, “I will willingly do so, if you really wish it; it would be only prudish to object—under the circumstances, as you put it. And you, in your turn, may call me Flora, if the name commends itself to your ear. And now, sir, please go on again from where you left off.”
“Let me see,” mused Leslie, “what was it we were talking about? Oh yes, I remember. You were explaining to me that you were glad I had escaped drowning not so much because of the use I could be to—”
“Ah,” interrupted his companion, “I can see that you are rapidly getting better, because you are beginning to tease. But, seriously, Mr Les—well, Dick, then—I want you to tell me something more of your plans. What do you propose to do first—when you are well enough to work again, I mean?”
“The first thing I propose to do,” answered Leslie, “is to overhaul the carpenter’s chest and satisfy myself as to what tools are at my command. That done, I shall at once begin to break up the brig, confining myself, in the first instance, to the removal from her of just sufficient material to admit of the construction of a raft. The next thing will be to convey ashore such canvas, rope, and other matters as may be needed for the erection of a comfortable and commodious tent for our accommodation ashore; together with all necessary furniture, the galley stove, pots and pans, and all the rest of it. I am rather anxious to carry out this much of my plans with as little delay as possible; because, you see, the weather is one of those things upon which one can never depend—another gale may spring up at any moment, and when it does the brig will most probably go to pieces. I am therefore exceedingly anxious to get you comfortably established ashore before this happens. Then, if all goes well, I shall at once proceed to pull the poor old Mermaid carefully to pieces, damaging the planking as little as may be in the process, because that is the material out of which I purpose to build my boat. I shall do this, transferring it, and everything on board that may be likely to be of use to us, to, the shore before I do anything else; because, should the brig break up of herself, much valuable material is certain to be lost. Then, when I have got everything safe ashore, I shall begin upon the boat.”
“I see,” remarked Flora, with animation, “that we have a kind of Crusoe existence before us—a sort of perpetual picnic. Very well; I shall undertake the house-keeping part of the work; keep the tent clean and tidy; prepare nice appetising meals for you when you come home tired from your work; keep your clothes in repair; do the washing; and generally look after domestic affairs. Oh, you may smile as much as you like. I dare say you think that I know nothing about such matters; but I do; and I flatter myself that I shall astonish you.”
“Yes,” laughed Leslie, “I expect you will; I am fully prepared to be astonished. No,” he continued, as he saw a pout rising to his companion’s lips, “I did not quite mean that. True, I have before me a vision of a very charming young lady, always somewhat haughty and unapproachable, and always most elegantly costumed; who used to be the awe and admiration of everybody aboard the Golden Fleece; and I have been endeavouring—I must confess with not altogether brilliant success—to picture her doing the cooking and washing, ashore there. But I know—or at least I have been told—that woman’s power of adaptability surpasses belief, and I have already seen that you possess it to a marvellous degree; therefore, despite what I said just now, I shall be astonished at nothing you do, or prove yourself able to achieve.”
“Thank you,” answered Flora, with a touch of annoyance in her tone. “I know I was perfectly horrid in those days—oh, how far away they seem, now—and I am afraid that I have not done much since then toward giving you a better opinion of me; but you shall see! Oh, Dick, please do not think badly of me! You have done so very much for me, and have been so invariably kind and considerate to me, that I cannot bear the idea that you should think ill of me. I owe my life to you. You must remember that I did not know you, then—”
“I know; I know,” answered Dick, laying his hand reassuringly upon hers. “You acted quite rightly in keeping us all at arm’s-length; for, as you say, you knew none of us then, and could not be expected to discriminate between one and another. For my own part, I would not have had you act otherwise than you did; so let us say no more about it. And now, if you will kindly help me, I think I had better go below and lie down for awhile. I must take care of myself for both our sakes.”
So they went below again; and after Flora had dressed Leslie’s wound afresh, the latter stretched himself out on the cabin lockers and sank into a refreshing sleep, while the girl busied herself in the preparation of such nourishing dishes, against his awakening, as the resources of the wreck afforded.
The following day found Leslie much stronger, and more like himself again; so much so, indeed, that, despite his fair companion’s protestations, he set to work and got the carpenter’s tool-chest on deck, and busied himself upon the light task of sharpening chisels, gouges, planes, adzes, axes, and so on; and generally putting everything in good order against the time when he would want to use them. This, with occasional periods of vest, occupied him through the whole of that day; at the end of which he declared himself to be none the worse but rather the better for his exertions.
The next day Leslie devoted to the task of lifting off the fore hatches and rigging a light pair of sheers over the hatchway by means of two pieces of the rail that he detached from the short length of bulwarks that still remained standing abaft. It was his purpose to give this part of the brig a thorough overhaul prior to attempting anything else; hoping that he might find therein something that would enable him to construct a raft without having recourse to the timber of the ship. And in this he was successful beyond his utmost hopes; for, among other matters, he found two stout packing-cases—measuring twenty feet long by three feet wide by two feet deep—containing long strips of gilt moulding, such as are used in house decoration. The moulding he carefully stowed away again—prudent man—not knowing whether in the future they might not, despite their gaudy appearance, come in useful for something. Then carefully taking the packing-cases apart, he shaped the bottom planking of each somewhat after the semblance of the bow and run of a ship—that is to say, he pointed the two square ends of each by sawing them to the required shape. Then he put the cases together again, curving the sides to fit the curves of the bottom planks; and when this was done he found himself in possession of two boat-like boxes, or flat-bottomed boats, of very respectable shape and size. These he next strengthened by nailing stout timbers, walings, and stringers to the bottom and sides, inside; when a careful caulking and paying of the seams completed them by rendering them watertight. So pleased was he with these two contrivances of his—the firstfruits of his labours—that although he had not originally intended to use them as boats, either of them was quite sufficiently large to convey himself and his companion across the tranquil waters of the lagoon that stretched between the brig and the island; and he accordingly determined that, before applying these structures to their ultimate purpose, he would make use of one of them in which to effect a preliminary exploration of the island. Accordingly he fitted the interior of one of them with a couple of seats—one in the middle for himself, and the other near the “stern” for Miss Trevor’s accommodation; secured to each side a stout cleat in a suitable position, and suitably bored for the reception of a pair of rowlocks; and a length of three-inch planking sawn down the middle and shaped with a spokeshave into a pair of paddles completed the equipment of what turned out to be a very serviceable and handy boat.
The construction of these two “pontoons,” as Leslie called them, together with the supplementary labour of fitting up one of them to serve as a boat, consumed nearly a week; but they were so thoroughly satisfactory when finished that their constructor regarded his time as well spent. The last item of his task, the making of the pair of paddles, or short oars, was completed as the sun was sinking below the horizon on the ninth day after the stranding of the Mermaid; and it was arranged that, if the weather held fine and the barometer continued steady, the next day should be devoted to a visit to the island.