Dick Leslie's Luck: A Story of Shipwreck and Adventure

by Harry Collingwood

But when, having attended to these matters, he at length made his way to the camp, and not only found the tent in darkness, but the cooking-stove in its rear unlighted, he began for the first time to feel uneasy. He whistled and called for the dog, knowing that if the animal were within hearing he would at once bark in response, even if he did not come bounding joyously to him, as was generally the case—for Sailor was almost as devotedly attached to Dick as he was to Flora. But on this occasion no Sailor appeared, nor did he afford any other manifestation of his near presence. Then Dick began to shout loudly for Flora, hoping to hear her sweet voice raised in reply.

He now began to feel seriously alarmed, knowing that she must have wandered away into the bush, and perhaps have lost herself in the darkness. Yet against this theory was to be set his knowledge of the sagacity of Sailor, who, he believed, was quite intelligent enough to find his way back to the camp from the uttermost extremity of the island in the darkest night. He entered the tent and, lighting the lamps, looked round the living-room compartment, thinking it possible that Flora might have left a note explaining her absence, or saying where she was going. But he knew that, had she written such a note, she would have left it in some conspicuous situation—as on the table—where it would at once be found. There was no letter, either on the table or elsewhere, so far as he could see. Then he instituted a thoroughly systematic search of the tent in quest of some sign or indication that might furnish him with a clue as to what had happened to her, or what had induced her to go off in this mysterious fashion, but without success. He even ventured to peep into her sleeping apartment, wondering whether perchance she had felt unwell and become unconscious. But a single glance sufficed to show him that nothing of that kind had happened. Finally, he hunted up a lantern, trimmed and lighted it, provided himself with a small flask of brandy, to meet a possible emergency, armed himself with a brace of revolvers and a small, keen tomahawk, and without remembering or being conscious of the fact that he was by this time fairly hungry—conscious of nothing, indeed, but an ever-growing feeling of keen anxiety and alarm—set out in search of the lost one.

The first question that now confronted him was, In which direction was he to search? There was no especially favourite spot, so far as he knew, to which she would be predisposed to wend her way; there were no roads or paths, or anything in the remotest degree approaching thereto, on the island: she would therefore be just as likely to head in one direction as another. The grass in the immediate neighbourhood of the tent was to some extent trodden down, it is true, by frequent traffic round it, and a path had gradually been worn into visibility between the tent and the cook-house; but beyond that everything was as fresh and trackless as upon the day of their landing. Then it occurred to Leslie to seek for traces of Flora’s footprints in the grass, and he started to carefully quarter the ground beyond the worn area in the neighbourhood of the tent, carefully examining it with the aid of the lantern. And in this way he presently discovered one or two imprints of the heels of her boots, but it proved impossible to follow the track for more than half a dozen yards; moreover, upon a further search he found so many, leading in such a number of different directions, that he soon realised the impossibility of determining which of them he ought to follow. And all the time that he was thus engaged he never ceased to whistle and call Sailor, varying the proceedings occasionally by shouting the name of Flora, until he was so hoarse that he could scarcely articulate.

In this laborious and painfully unsatisfactory fashion he spent the entire night, carefully quartering the ground until he had covered the whole area between Mermaid Head on the one hand and Cape Flora on the other, and extending rearward toward the mountain to about a quarter of its height. The magnitude of such an enterprise as this, and its exhausting nature, can only be appreciated by those who have attempted a similar feat in a country overgrown with bush.

By the time that the sun had risen and Leslie was able to dispense with the aid of the lantern, he was so utterly weary that he could scarcely drag one leg after the other; his lips were so dry that he could no longer whistle, and his throat so sore that he could no longer shout, while he was sinking with exhaustion from hunger and thirst. Yet he pressed doggedly on, still prosecuting his search with grim determination and the same concentration as before until, close upon midday—when he was working over toward the eastern side of the island, he paused suddenly and listened as intently as though his life depended upon it. Yes; there it was again—the distant but faintly heard bark of a dog—he was sure of it! Gathering himself together, he once more strove to whistle, but failed; then he attempted to shout.

“Sailor! Sailor!! Sailor!!!”

He lifted up his voice in a steady crescendo until the last cry became a hoarse, cracked yell that was as unlike his own full, rich, mellow tone as any sound could well be. Yet the dog heard it, ay, and recognised it, for he immediately replied vigorously. Leslie continued to shout, dashing recklessly forward in the direction of the barking as he did so, and Sailor continued to reply; nay, more; now that he actually heard Leslie’s voice calling him, he uttered a whining howl of excitement, hesitated for a few seconds, and finally bounded off to meet him in response to Flora’s feebly uttered commands. Five minutes later he came dashing madly up to Leslie, looked up into his face, barked, wagged his tail energetically, and then dashed off back in the direction from which he had come, stopping at every few yards to assure himself that he was being followed. And in this way he led Dick forward, for about a quarter of an hour, over the rough, broken ground that Flora had traversed some twenty-four hours before, until the pair stood together on the spot from which the girl had fallen.

By this time Flora had become quite invisible from this spot; for she had continued her struggles at intervals all through the night until she had worked herself down into the very heart of the clump of scrub and creeper into which she had fallen, and which had now closed over her head. But there was a sort of indentation or sinkage in the surface of the scrub, presenting an appearance suggestive of some tolerably heavy body having fallen there, and at this indentation Sailor first steadfastly gazed, and then looked up into Leslie’s face, barking continuously. And, peering intently down into this, Dick presently became aware of what appeared to be some tiny shreds of clothing clinging here and there to the bushes.

“Are you there, Flora?” he shouted.

There was no reply; for the moment that the sound of Dick’s voice fell upon her ear, encouraging and talking to the dog, and she knew that rescue was at hand, the long-endured tension of her nerves relaxed, and she fainted. But Sailor’s actions were not to be misunderstood; he continued to look alternately into Leslie’s face and then down at the bushes, barking excitedly all the while and making as though he would leap down into the depression; so that even a very much less intelligent individual than Leslie could not have failed to understand that it was there that the missing girl would be found. He called once more, and, still failing to obtain an answer, wasted no further time in hesitation, but, seeing that the base of the declivity was the proper point to attack, scrambled down as best he could, closely followed by Sailor, and attempted to force a way into the heart of the bushes from that point. He soon found, however, that the tough tangle of creepers was not to be conquered by his unaided hands alone, and so set to work vigorously with his tomahawk, cutting away at the tangled and knotted mass, and dragging the severed ends apart and aside until after about ten minutes of arduous work he suddenly found himself at the mouth of what appeared to be a spacious cavern under the rock from which Flora had fallen; and there, prone upon the rocky floor, with her light clothing almost torn from her body by her long-continued efforts to free herself, he found his sweetheart lying insensible.