Chapter Thirty.
Another Mishap.
In another minute Eric arrived where his brother was lying; when, throwing himself on his knees, he bent over him anxiously. “Oh, Fritz, are you badly hurt?” he cried: and, still receiving no answer, he burst into a passion of sobs. “He’s dead, he’s dead!” he wailed in a broken voice—“dead, never to speak to me more!”
“No, laddie, not quite dead yet,” whispered Fritz faintly. The sudden blow in the back from the goat’s horns, striking him as it did at the base of the spine, had rendered him for the moment unconscious; the unexpected attack had injured him terribly—more so, indeed, than the bullet wound through his leg. Besides, he was lying face downwards, and so was unable to turn over, which fact prevented him from speaking more plainly when he recovered his senses.
“Not dead? Oh, I am so glad!” shouted out Eric joyously, in sudden revulsion of feeling. “I was afraid that you were killed!”
“I feel pretty near it,” said Fritz, although he spoke now in a stronger tone, Eric having partly raised him up, by putting his arm under his neck. “Gently, laddie, gently,” he called out, however, as his brother lifted him, “my poor back hurts fearfully!”
“I thought it was your leg, Fritz, for it is bleeding awfully. Your trousers are wet with blood!”
“That’s nothing, laddie—nothing to speak of,” said Fritz.
“Oh, isn’t it?” cried the other, who had been busily cutting away the trouser leg and stocking with his sheath knife. “Why, the bullet has gone through the fleshy part of your calf.”
“I wish it had gone through the horny part of that horrid old goat,” said Fritz grimly, smiling at his own joke, which made Eric laugh.
“The old brute! But, you would go after him, you know.”
“Yes; still, I am suffering now, and perhaps justly, for not leaving the poor animal alone. He never harmed me before I tried to harm him, so it only serves me right! It’s a bad job, Eric; I’m afraid I shan’t be able to get down to the hut again. You will have to rig me up some sort of shelter here.”
“Oh, no, that won’t be necessary,” said Eric, glad that his brother seemed to be getting more like his old calm self and able to look matters in the face.
“Why, how can I move? Do you think I shall be able to climb down that abominable tussock-grass ladder in this condition, especially when I was hardly able to manage it while sound in wind and limb—which I can’t say is the case at present?”
“I didn’t think of your getting down that way, old fellow,” said the lad, after a moment’s reflection. “I’ve got another plan in my noddle—a better one than yours I think.”
“And what is that?” asked Fritz.
“Why, you know where you are now, don’t you?”
“Yes, I should think I did; I haven’t quite lost my consciousness yet!”
“You are close to the western side of the coast, just near where the plateau slopes down to the sea by our sealing ground.”
“Well, what of that?”
“Why, don’t you see through my plan yet, brother? Can I not pull the whale-boat round from our bay, and then manage to lift you down the incline here into it—thus getting you back home easily in that way?”
“Himmel, Eric, you’re a grand fellow,” exclaimed Fritz, in honest admiration of the proposal. “I declare I never thought of such a simple thing as that. Of course it can be done. What a stupid I was, not to think of it! That old goat must have knocked all my seven senses out of my head; for, I declare I never recollected that there was any other way of getting down from here save by the waterfall gully!”
“Ah, well, there is another way,” said Eric, laughing joyously. “But, really we must now see about using it, for I don’t want you to remain up here all night when you may be so much more comfortable in the hut. I will scramble down and fetch round the boat at once, if there is nothing more I can do for you before I go—is there anything you wish?”
“No, nothing, now that you’ve raised my head and propped it up so nicely with your coat. I should be glad, though, if you will bring a can of water with you when you come back with the boat.”
“Stay, I’ll get some for you now!” cried the lad; and, flying across the plateau, he was soon half-way down a niche in the gully whence he could reach the cascade. In a few minutes more, he was up again on the tableland and by the side of Fritz, with his cap full of the welcome water, which tasted to the sufferer, already feverish from the bullet wound—which Eric had bandaged up to stop the bleeding—more delicious than nectar, more strengthening than wine. It at once brought the colour back to his cheek and the fire to his eye.
“Ha!” Fritz exclaimed, “that draught has made a new man of me, laddie. You may be off as soon as you please, now, to fetch the boat; while I will wait patiently here until you can bring it round the headland. How’s the wind?”
“South-east and by south,” cried the young sailor promptly.
“That will be all in your favour, then. Go now, laddie, and don’t be longer than you can help.”
“You may depend on that,” cried Eric, pressing his brother’s hand softly; and, in another moment, he was racing again across the plateau to the point where the two had ascended from the gully by the waterfall.
Ere long, Eric had brought round the whale-boat to the haunt of the seals on the west beach; when, after a good deal of labour, in which he could not help hurting Fritz somewhat, he succeeded in getting the sufferer down the sloping rocks. Thence, he lifted him bodily into the stern-sheets of the boat, where he had prepared a comfortable couch by piling up on the bottom grating all the blankets and rugs from the hut.
Eric had a hard pull back against the wind and tide round the headland, there being none to help him with an oar; but, naturally indomitable, he bravely accomplished the task at last, arriving back at the bay before sunset with his almost unconscious burden, who was now unable to move or assist him in the least.
Fortunately, the most arduous part of the transportation was now accomplished, the remainder being “all plain sailing,” as Eric said.
The lad certainly had a most inventive mind; for, as soon as they reached their own little bay, he once more astonished Fritz—who was glad enough to get so far, but puzzled as to how he would ever arrive at the hut, knowing that the lad would never be able to carry him there.
“Now, brother,” cried Eric, “you just stop quietly where you are a minute or two while I get the carriage ready.”
“The carriage?” cried Fritz, more puzzled than ever. “What do you mean, laddie?”
“The wheelbarrow, of course,” answered Eric, laughing. “See, I have put the door of our hut across it; and, with the bedding on top of this, I shall be able to wheel you, without the slightest jolting, right up to the cottage.”
“Donnerwetter!” exclaimed Fritz—“you’re a wonderful lad; you seem to think of everything.”
“Nonsense! Silence, now—you mustn’t talk; it might bring on fever perhaps!” exclaimed Eric, to stop his brother’s grateful expressions. Then, lifting him out carefully from the boat, he placed the invalid on the novel ambulance wagon he had so ingeniously improvised; and, rolling the wheelbarrow along the little pathway up the incline that led to the hut, he proceeded carefully to transport him home. Arrived here, Eric at once put Fritz to bed, so that he might be able to examine his injuries more closely and apply proper bandages to the wounded leg and back, in place of the temporary appliances he had made shift with when first attending to the wounded hero, who was now able to direct him what to do and how to do it.
Eric could not help thinking what an unlucky fellow that elder brother of his was!
The cliff seemed fatal to him; for, the first time he ascended it, he sprained his ankle, which laid him up for three weeks; and now he had hurt himself even worse. Really, the sailor lad wished there were no crags at all; but, should that devout consummation not be feasible, then he wished there were no means of getting to the summit, for then Fritz would never incur any danger through climbing there.
Little did Eric think, as these hasty reflections passed through his mind, that, in a very short while, his last wish would be gratified—and that in a way, too, which would seriously affect them both!
The very next morning, indeed, he was glad enough to go up the cliff by the tussock-grass ladder, in order to fetch the young goat he had shot the day before, which, in the excitement of Fritz’s accident, had been left behind on the plateau; and, as he was coming down the gully again, he saw the old goat “Kaiser Billy,” and shook his fist at him.
“You old rascal!” he cried—“had it not been for you and your nasty horns, poor Fritz would be now all right.”
He then fired a shot at the animal in the distance; but, the knowing fellow, who must have noticed the lad’s deadly aim the previous afternoon—when he had slain one of his family while she was galloping along beside him—now kept carefully out of the range of Eric’s rifle, so that the bullet did not fall any way near him, so the lad had to descend the tussock-grass ladder in a somewhat disappointed frame of mind.
He had not wished actually to hurt the old goat, but merely to give him a sort of mild lesson anent his impudent treatment of Fritz. However, the astute animal declined learning even from so gentle an instructor as Eric, despite the possibility of the lad having his welfare at heart!
This was the last time the sailor lad ever had the chance to climb up or down the face of the cliff by means of the much-abused ladder-way; for, within the next few days, a sudden mishap happened that cleared the tangled masses of grass away in a jiffy, leaving the precipitous pass through the gorge bare—the grim rocks thenceforth disclosing themselves in all their naked ruggedness, for, there were no friendly tendrils hanging down whereby to escalade the heights.
The accident occurred in this wise.
When clearing the land for the garden, a large amount of brushwood and weeds had to be removed from its surface. These, when cut down and dug up, made a large heap of rubbish, which, for the sake of neatness and being out of the way, was piled up at the bottom of the gorge adjoining the waterfall—the embrasure of the gully making a capital dust-hole, as Eric had suggested.
From the effects of the hot sun, this rubbish was now as dry as straw; so, one afternoon, when Fritz had so far recovered from his injuries as to be able to crawl out of the hut and sit on a bench outside, which the two had constructed under a rude sort of porch, Eric determined to signalise his brother’s convalescence by having a bonfire in honour of the event.
To the impulsive lad it was all one to think of such a thing and to carry out the idea. In a moment, rushing from Fritz’s side, he had drawn his inseparable box of matches from his pocket, struck a light, and ignited the pile of rubbish.
“Doesn’t it flare up splendidly?” he cried with glee as he watched the tongue-like flames darting upwards, the whole body of dry material being soon in a red fiery glow, so hot and scorching that the lad had to move away from the vicinity; and, returning to the front of the hut he stood for a time by the side of Fritz, gazing with great admiration at the blaze, which, mounting higher and higher, quickly enveloped the gorge with clouds of that light, pungent smoke which wood fires always give out.
“Yes, it burns well enough,” said the calm, methodical Fritz; “but, perhaps, laddie, it will spread farther than you intend. I fear it will burn up the little wood to the right of our garden, with all the poor thrushes and other birds in it. It is easy enough to start a fire, you know: the difficulty is to limit its action and put it out when you wish!”
“Oh, there’s no fear about that,” replied Eric with great nonchalance. “The wind is blowing from the north-east and will only carry the flames against the cliff, where there is nothing to harm.”
Was there not?
Higher and higher rose the smoke, ascending pyramidically up the chimney-like gorge; and, the quick-darting tongues of flame could be seen spreading through the hazy veil, while the crackle and roar of the fire sounded fiercer and fiercer. Presently, growing bolder in its strength, the fire advanced outwards from the cleft in the rock where it was first kindled, spreading to the right and left of the gully. Next, it began to clamber up the face of the cliff, burning away gaily even right under the waterfall, which seemed powerless to stay its rapid progress.
“Look, Eric,” cried Fritz, “it has caught the tussock grass now close to our ladder. I told you it would do mischief!”
“Bother it all, so it has!” exclaimed the lad, darting off with the vain intention of trying to stop the conflagration.
He might just as well have attempted to arrest the flow of the sea in the little bay below by the aid of his much-detested spade!
Crackle, crackle—puff—whish; and, in another few moments, the whole cliff seemed on fire, the flames licking every particle of herbage off the face of the rock.
The heat soon made the solid stone glow like molten iron; while the columns of white smoke, as they rose up, were swept by the wind over the tableland, frightening away several of the albatross, which hovered over the scene of devastation on poised wing, wondering apparently what all the fuss was about!
The fire gradually burnt itself out when there was nothing more to consume, only an angry pile of smouldering embers remaining below the waterfall, which still danced and tumbled itself over the blackened edges of the crags, no longer festooned with the tussock-grass and shrubs which had previously given the brothers handhold and foothold when climbing to the summit of the cliff.
The ladder up to Eric’s look-out station being now irremediably destroyed, henceforth the sphere of action of the brother crusoes would be limited to the confined valley in which they had landed and built their home; for, there was now no means of reaching the tableland, save by the pass on the western side near their sealing station, to reach which they would have to use the whale-boat and venture out to sea, round the eastern or western headland.
They were now really shut completely within their little valley, without a chance of escaping in any sudden emergency, except by taking to the water!
The destruction of the ladder-way was a sad calamity; but, that was not the worst of the damage done by Eric’s bonfire!
It was late in the afternoon when the lad first lit up the pile of rubbish and night came ere the fire had died out, its blazing light, reflected back by the glistening surface of the cliff, shining out to sea from the bay, like a beacon welcoming the passing mariner to friendly shores—instead of which, the cruel crags that encircled the island only grinned through the surf, like the pointed teeth of a pack of snarling wolves, waiting to rend and tear any hapless craft that should make for them!
In addition to this, there was yet another peril to any ship in the vicinity; for, the wind from the north-east had risen to a gale as the evening set in, bringing with it a heavy, rolling swell that thundered in upon the beach with a harsh, grating roar, throwing up columns of spray over the projecting peaks of the headlands on either hand.
“I hope no vessel will mistake your bonfire for a beacon,” said Fritz, as the darkness increased. “If so, and they should chance to approach the land, God help them, with this wind and sea on!”
“I trust not,” replied Eric sadly, already regretting his handiwork; “it would be a bad look-out for them!”
But, as he spoke the words, the sound of a cannon could be heard coming from seaward over the water; and the lad shuddered with apprehension.