“Perhaps not,” replied Jackson; “his foot may have slipped, who knows? We only could guess; the line was gone as well as he, which made us think what I said. Still we searched everywhere, but without hope; and our search—that is, the captain’s and mine, for your poor mother remained with you in her arms distracted—was the cause of another disaster—no less than the death of the captain. They say misfortunes never come single, and surely this was an instance of the truth of the proverb.”
“How did he die?” replied I, gravely; for somehow or other I felt doubts as to the truth of what he was saying. Jackson did not reply till after a pause, when he said—
“He was out with me up the ravine collecting firewood, and he fell over the high cliff. He was so injured that he died in half an hour.”
“What did you do?”
“What did I do—what could I do but go back and break the news to your mother, who was distracted when she heard it; for the captain was her friend, and she could not bear me.”
“Well, go on, pray,” said I.
“I did all that I could to make your mother comfortable, as there how were but her, you; and I, left on the island. You were then about three years old; but your mother always hated me, and appeared now to hate me more and more. She never recovered the loss of your father, to whom she was devotedly attached; she pined away, and after six months she died, leaving you and me only on the island. Now you know the whole history, and pray do not ask me any more about it.”