“Exactly. Then Nero would be of some use.”
“I will soon teach him,” replied I; “to-morrow I will send him into the sea after the piece of spar. I’ve no fear that he will go away now.”
“I was thinking last night, Frank, whether they had taken the pail with them in the boat.”
“The pail,” said I; “I know where it is, but I quite forgot it. We left it up the ravine the last day we planted the potatoes.”
“We did so, now I recollect. I will go for it while you get the breakfast ready.”
We had now been for many weeks on a fish diet and I must confess that I was tired of it, which was not the case when I lived upon the dried birds during the whole of the year. Why so I cannot tell; but I was soon to learn to relish fish, if I could obtain them.
It was not often that the wind blew direct on the shore, but coming from the northward and eastward, it was in a slanting direction; but occasionally, and chiefly about the time of the equinoxes, the gales came on very heavy from the eastward, and then the wash of the seas upon the rocky coast was tremendous. Such was the case about this time. A fierce gale of wind from the eastward raised a sea which threw the surf and spray high over the loftiest of the rocks, and the violence of the wind bore the spray far inland. The gale had come on in the evening, and my mother and I, when we rose in the morning, were standing on the platform before the cabin, admiring the grandeur of the scene, but without the least idea that it was to be productive of so much misery to ourselves. My mother pointed out to me some passages in the Psalms and Old Testament bearing strongly upon the scene before us; after a time I called Nero, and went down with him to take fish out of the pool for our day’s consumption. At that time we had a large supply in the pool—more than ever, I should say. When I arrived at the pool, I found the waves several feet in height rolling in over the ledges, and the pool one mass of foam, the water in it being at least two or three feet higher than usual; still it never occurred to me that there was any mischief done, until I had sent Nero in for the fish, and found that, after floundering and diving for some time, he did not bring out one. My mind misgave me; and I ordered him in again. He remained some time and then returned without a fish, and I was then satisfied that from the rolling in of the waves, and the unusual quantity of the water in the pool, the whole of the fish had escaped, and that we were now without any provisions or means of subsistence, until the weather should settle, and enable us to catch some more.
Aghast at the discovery, I ran up to the cabin, and called to my mother, who was in her bedroom.
“Oh, mother, all the fish have got out of the pool, and we have nothing to eat. I told you we should be starved.”
“Take time, Frank, and take breath,” replied she, “and then tell me what has happened to cause this alarm and dismay, that you appear to be in.”