Chapter Twenty Eight.
A Confidential Communication.
In spite of the abundance of their supply of rabbits, however, Mr Meldrum would not allow them to be prodigally wasted.
Wisely “providing for a rainy day,” he caused a considerable quantity to be split open and cleaned; and, after the skin was removed, had them rubbed over with dry salt, of which fortunately they had plenty. The carcasses were subsequently hung up on lines across the general room, adjacent to the fireplace, the warmth of which in a short time cured them like hams, so that they would keep for weeks, and even months if not required for culinary purposes earlier—as, it eventually turned out, they were.
It was a lucky thing that the shooting party went on their excursion when they did. Had they delayed it, as might have been the case, until they had turned their attention to the seals—which it had been Mr Meldrum’s intention first to have hunted, in order to obtain as many furs as possible before the severe cold weather, that he expected soon to set in—they might have starved; for, the very day that succeeded the one on which they brought home the rabbits, a heavy fall of snow commenced that completely blocked up all the approaches to the creek, and compelled them to remain indoors during the ensuing week. The wind blew so terribly keen and strong from the north-east, right over the cliffs on the opposite side of the bay, during the whole time the snow continued to fall, that it was painful in the extreme to be exposed to it; while, if the door of the house happened to be left open but for a few minutes, the driving snow-flakes made their way within and banked themselves up like a heap of frozen drift in their midst.
“Ah!” said Mr Meldrum, “I told you that the fine weather we had was very exceptional, and could not last. It was providential that we were prepared for this, or we should have been in a miserable plight.”
“You’re right, boss,” observed Mr Lathrope. “This air snow-storm is jest like one of them blizzards I told you about when we were aboard the old ship that I had noticed in Minnesota. I didn’t kinder think then that I should come across another o’ them this side of the globe! I’d ha’ bet agin it any day.”
“Aye,” responded the other, “it is a fortunate thing for all of us that we cannot foresee the future, and that our strength is apportioned by degrees to the burdens sent us to bear. The great majority of us would succumb at once if we only knew the struggle that lay before us, the griefs, the trials, the mental weariness, the physical pain!”
“Oh, papa,” said Kate, “don’t speak so sadly! Let us rather think of the joy and unlooked-for happiness which so frequently comes to our lot when we have the least cause to expect them; and—and—” but here the girl’s voice faltered.
Kate well knew the reason of her father taking so sombre a view of life, and she shared the sorrow that filled his heart, for her mother had but died a short period before they left England.
“Think, papa,” she added, after a pause, “of the glorious hope of eternity, and the city within the golden gates, where we shall all of us meet the loved ones who have gone before!”
“Thank you, my child,” replied Mr Meldrum, drawing her fondly to his side, and speaking as if they were alone together. “You have taught me a lesson, and I will repine no longer about the immutable. It is best to look forward, as you say. We ought to recollect that all our days must not necessarily be gloomy because for the moment they may happen to be overcast!”
“No, sirree,” interposed Mr Lathrope, “and I guess this air blizzard ain’t going to last for ever:— it looks now railly as if it wer’ goin’ to leave off snowing.”
“I think you are right,” said Frank Harness, who had been sitting on the other side of Kate, listening quietly to the conversation between her and her father. “I don’t see any flakes now coming through the chinks of the door, as they were doing a short time ago. It is either leaving off, or the wind has chopped round to the southward and westward again.”
So saying, Frank got up and went to peer without the portal, the others that were in the general room not stirring, for the greater number of the seamen were asleep in their dormitory. It was getting towards evening and most of the limited duties which it was possible to give the men to do, now that they were continuously confined indoors, had been already got through for the day.
Only Ben Boltrope and Karl Ericksen, amongst the hands, were up and awake; and they were engaged in playing a game of chequers with a set of counters which the Norwegian had skilfully carved out of black basalt and white pumice-stone, both of which had been found lying close together at the bottom of the creek. The board that they played on was made by the carpenter, but it had been divided into proper squares through the aid of Mr Meldrum’s compasses and parallel ruler, wielded by Mr Lathrope; so that all of them, so to speak, had a hand in the construction of the complete article.
Both Mr Lathrope and Frank were right as to the weather, for, although the snow-flakes came down more slowly and were much smaller than they had been, the shifting of the wind had created the change. This was now blowing into the bay straight from the sea; and while the gale was still as high and fierce as at the beginning of the snow-storm, it was not quite so cold.
The waves, however, were rolling against the cliffs just as they had done when the Nancy Bell struck on the reef, and the reverberation of their roar was fearfully grand out in the open. The piled-up snow against the sides of the house had so deadened the sound within, that the party ensconced there could hear little beyond the whistling of the wind round the eaves of the house.
Frank returned to those within, after carefully closing the door again behind him, just like the dove messenger came back to Noah and his imprisoned family in the ark!
Like the bearer of the olive branch, he too was a herald of glad tidings.
“There is a change,” said he, addressing himself to Mr Meldrum, “and I think, sir, we’ll soon be able to get out again.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” replied the other, getting up to look; but he came back even sooner than Frank, and did not seem quite so jubilant.
“I’m afraid the shift of the wind will not do us much good, as far as getting about is concerned,” he said. “It will only tend to drift the snow where it has not penetrated before; and may very probably shut us in more firmly than ever. I notice one good thing, however, that the snowstorm has done. It has covered over the house, and we will be all the warmer should it start freezing again!”
“But won’t it break down the roof?” said Mrs Major Negus, alarmed at this.
“Oh, no!” replied Mr Meldrum, “the roof is too strongly built for that; besides which, we’re under the lee of the cliff that protects us from this very wind. Still, I hope we’ll have a chance of getting some more Kerguelen cabbage before the snow commences to fall heavily again, as I’ve no doubt it will. I ought to have laid in a stock when we went rabbit shooting that time. In this sort of treacherous climate one should take advantage of every fine day and provide for the next.”
“You forget,” said Mrs Major Negus, “sufficient for the day is the evil thereof!”
“But it don’t say the good, only the evil, ma’rm; mind that,” put in Mr Lathrope. “Some folks seem to take a pleasure in twisting Scripture contrariwise, jest to suit theer own squintin’-one-eye-skimmin’-the-pot-and-t’other-lookin’-up-the-chimbley sort of conscience!”
“Some people,” retorted the lady, “never apply the parable of the mote and the beam, because they can’t see their own faults.”
“We should live and let live,” said Mr Meldrum, trying to put a stop to a sort of argument which was endlessly going on between the pair of combatants, much to his annoyance generally, when Florry created a diversion.
“Look!” she exclaimed. “Puss has caught another mouse!”
“Thar, boss,” said Mr Lathrope laughing, “is a case in pint, to illustrate yer saying about lettin’ folks be. I’m afeard me and Missis Meejur is unkimmon like the mouse and the cat!”
“Speak for yourself, please,” interposed the lady, thinking that he meant to designate her as the feline animal. “If you’ve a mind to liken yourself to one of those dreadful creatures that are always nibbling, I don’t choose to be called a cat.”
“I aren’t a bit pertickler what you call me, ma’rm,” replied the American very good-humouredly, “although I confess I am a bit partial to nibblin’ when thar’s anything good to eat!”
“That’s you all over,” said Mrs Major with much satisfaction; when, as she appeared pleased, Mr Lathrope allowed the conversation to rest there, which satisfied Mr Meldrum also, as he did not like these continual bickerings going on before the younger members of the party, besides their being, as has been said, especially distasteful to himself.
The next day it stopped snowing altogether; consequently a vegetable-hunting expedition was organised, a small party which started up the valley managing to bring back with some difficulty a few heads of cabbage, which with the dried rabbits alone now constituted their daily fare—both the beef and pork getting so low that Mr Meldrum had to stop their issue, although the men were not so hard pressed yet as to take to the salted sea-elephant.
Had the cabbage not been out of the line of drift, in a more secluded portion of the creek, the vegetable-seekers would have been unable to find it; for, the entire landscape was covered with a deep snow that was evenly distributed over hollow and hill alike—the lower lying land and the higher eminences so running into one another that they could not be distinguished. The tops of the loftiest peaks, indeed, seemed to be dwarfed down to the monotonous level of the plain; and, where elevated at all, they resembled more a cluster of little round mounds like sugar-loaves than anything else!
During the cessation of the snow-storm, the castaways contrived to secure another sea-elephant which visited the bay, Karl Ericksen harpooning him in the water. This time the men did not despise the flesh, but appeared to relish it very much when Snowball fried it fresh—a considerable portion of it being eaten in this way; while all the fat and blubber was melted down, and the remainder of the meat salted and packed in the cask with the other seal beef which was as yet untouched.
On one of these days, too, Ben Boltrope went fishing from the lower cliffs, just above the bay at the head of the creek—on account of the sea there being calmer, and no breakers ruffling the water near.
This pursuit would have been tried before, only that amongst the various articles that had been brought away from the ship there was not a single fish-hook The old man-o’-war’s man, however, had at length managed to overcome the difficulty, manufacturing in his leisure moments a very good substitute by beating out some small nails that he had previously made malleable by putting them in the fire. After spending some hours angling, Ben returned home with some half a dozen fish about the size of a small haddock. These had their heads armed with stout strong spines; but in spite of this peculiarity, they proved under Snowball’s manipulation to be very palatable, and Mr Lathrope, “for one,” as he himself said, regretted that the carpenter had not caught more; he “guessed” he would have “gone for ’em!”
The interregnum of fine weather did not last long; for, soon the snow set in falling again as if it would never stop. The days, consequently, grew unutterably dreary, from the misfortune of all being perforce confined, as before, to the house by the bitter cold wind; and, to make matters worse, the snow-flakes now seemed to penetrate through the tiniest crevices within the hut, so that the air in the interior of the dwelling was of the temperature of freezing, no matter how great a fire was kept up!
While this lasted, Mr Meldrum devised all sorts of amusements for the men.
Amongst other things tried was music, one of the crew having made a banjo, the strings of which were twisted from the smaller intestines of the last sea-elephant they had killed; and by the aid of this instrument harmonic meetings were organised in the evenings, Mr Lathrope developing an almost forgotten talent he possessed, and coming out as a comic singer. He absolutely bewitched even the “Major,” with his version of “Buffalo Gals,” and the “Cackle, cackle, flap your wings and crow,” chorus of the Christy Minstrels, who certainly, in his person, did perform on this occasion out of London!
It was at this period, when the days seemed as if they would never end and the nights longer, that a memorable event occurred for two, at least, of the party.
Ever since that night of the storm on board the Nancy Bell, when she had, as he firmly believed, saved his life by catching hold of him as he was on the point of being washed away by the sea, Frank had become deeply attached to Kate; and the more he saw of the true-hearted girl—her fond affection for her father, her anxious solicitude towards her little sister, her kind sympathy for everybody—the more his affection ripened, until at length he thought he could conceal his dawning love no longer.
Then came the wreck; and, in the trying scenes which subsequently arose, in which the two were each in their own way actors, the more Frank saw to admire in his fairy ideal, the prompt courageous woman of action. Subsequently they were thrown more closely together in the enforced companionship of the castaway community on the desolate shores of Kerguelen Land, when every moment increased their intimacy, while it enabled him to study more closely those salient points of her character which appeared to develop themselves as circumstances called them forth—her filial love, her devotion to her sister, her unconquerable faith, her unbounded hope and cheerfulness in the most despondent situations—but, above all, her innate sense of religion, a feeling that seemed to underlie her nature and yet which in no wise detracted from her superabundant animal spirits, which harmonised themselves to the moods and weaknesses of all. Seeing all this, and noting what he saw and reverenced, Frank could not but love Kate Meldrum with all the warmth and passion of his heart. So loving her, and dying for the want of some response to the wealth of affection he had so long treasured up in his breast, he could not refrain from seeking from her a word of hope.
It was one evening when, save to him and her, it appeared to be the dreariest of all the dreary ones they had already passed in their extemporised dwelling—“home” they called it, as people will style any shelter to which they can retreat from all the trials and exposures of the outside world, “no matter how homely!”
The seamen had all retired to their dormitory, as had likewise Mr McCarthy and Adams; while Mr Lathrope was nodding in one corner of the general room by the fireplace, and Mr Meldrum immersed in thought in the other.
Florry and Maurice Negus had both gone to sleep long since. Mrs “Major,” and the stewardess had also retreated to their sleeping chamber; and thus, Frank and Kate were, so to speak, alone. The opportunity was propitious.
They had been talking for some time in a low tone of voice, so as not to interrupt the others. In a desultory way, they had thus chatted about all sorts of things and had at last lapsed into silence—a silence that remained for some time unbroken.
At length Frank spoke.
By a strong effort, he at once went to the point
“Kate,” said he suddenly, in a voice rendered so thick by emotion that she could not help starting, although she made no reply.
“Kate, do you remember you promised to call me ‘Frank’ that night on the wreck when we expected every moment that the Nancy Bell would go down with us and every soul aboard?”
“Ye–es,” she murmured, very softly and in a hesitating way.
“Well, I want you to call me always so—that is to have the right—you know what I mean.”
Her tender blue eyes were raised to his inquiringly.
“I love you,” he cried passionately, “and I want you to promise—”
“Hush!” said she, putting her hand over his lips; but he only kissed the hand, and went on with what he was about to say when she had interrupted him.
“I want you, Kate, my darling, to promise to be my wife!” he said. “I love you more than I can tell—I have loved you since ever I first saw you—and I shall love you till my dying day; will you promise, Kate, to be my wife? but, if you can’t yet do all I ask, will you try to love me a little? Oh, Kate, I do love you so dearly!”
Her head bent lower and lower, so that he had to bend his too in order to see what her face said, for she would not speak; and, as the firelight danced upon the dear face and lightened up the blue eyes which so shyly looked into his, Frank seemed to read an answer there that was favourable to his hopes, for he passed his arm round her waist without another moment’s hesitation, and ventured to imprint a kiss upon her lips.
“My darling, my darling!” he murmured in an ecstasy of joy; but just then Mr Meldrum raised his head from between his clasped hands and looked at the pair.
He evidently realised what had happened, and, as evidently, he was not taken by surprise at the event. Nor, indeed, would anyone else have been in the whole community; for Frank’s love to Kate had been as palpable to all as the famed ostrich of the story was when it hid its head in the sand and imagined itself invisible to its pursuers!
“My children,” said he kindly, coming over to them and holding out his hand to Frank, who at once grasped it, “I expected this; and I cannot say I am displeased. I know you have an affection for each other—”
We love each other,” interrupted Frank eagerly.
“Well, you love each other, if you prefer it being so put; but you are both very young, and you must wait for some time even after we are released, as I hope we shall be by and by, from this desert isle. I have seen enough of you, Frank Harness, to feel confident that I can trust my daughter’s happiness to your keeping; but you must first secure a name and a competence for yourself before you can dream of asking her to be your wife. You see, my boys I may perhaps have overheard more of your whispered conversation than you thought! I can give Kate nothing, for I am a ruined man, and was going out to New Zealand to try and retrieve my lost fortune when this untoward disaster happened!”
“Mr Meldrum,” said Frank respectfully, standing up by the side of the other and facing him like a man, “I want nothing but Kate. She is the greatest fortune I could ever crave! My father is a rich man, one of the largest ship-owners in Liverpool, and my taking to the sea has been strongly against his wish, although he consented to it when he saw how bent I was upon being a sailor. He could make me independent to-morrow if I asked him.”
“I prefer you as you are, Frank,” responded Mr Meldrum; “and I’m sure so does Kate, eh?”
Yes,” said she shyly, and blushing as she looked up for an instant.
“Then keep as you are, my boy,”—continued her father—“and as soon as you are captain of a vessel of your own—and Mr McCarthy tells me you are quite competent to pass the Trinity-House examination for a first-mate’s certificate; why, you may come to me and claim Kate’s hand!”
“Is that a bargain?” asked Frank anxiously, looking from one to the other.
“It is,” replied Mr Meldrum, while Kate faintly whispered another “yes.”
“Then,” said Frank triumphantly, “she shall be my wife before another year goes over our heads; for, I can pass as soon as I go home for a first officer’s certificate, and get a ship to command immediately afterwards if I like. Look out for me to make my claim within that time, according to your promise!”
“And I guess I’m witness to that thaar agreement,” exclaimed Mr Lathrope, starting up.
The artful old fellow had been “playing ’possum,” as he termed it, all along; only waiting for the dénouement of the little drama before disclosing himself. However, he seemed so genuinely pleased with what had taken place that neither of the principal performers could be angry with him for listening.
“I’m downright real glad,” said he after a bit, congratulating them both and wringing poor Frank’s hand well nigh off in the exuberance of his delight. “Say, if yer don’t believe me, may I never eat another clam chowder agin—durn my boots if I ever will, thar!”