“And how big do you suppose the island to be?” I asked.
“How big?” repeated Billy. “Oh, really I don’t know; quite a big place, I’d say. It stretches athwart our bows as far as you can see, both ways.”
“The dickens it does!” I exclaimed. “That is very extraordinary. I cannot understand it. At that rate the island must be at least thirty miles long! Yet there is no such island shown on the chart; no island of any sort, indeed, large or small, just where we are. Yet I have been under the impression that these seas have been thoroughly surveyed. The main fact, however, and the one most important to us is that we are here, with very little prospect, I fear, of getting away again for some time. I must turn out and begin to get busy; there is evidently no time to waste. Billy, please find me my clothes.”
Billy regarded me gravely; then shook his head.
“That’s all very well, Mr Blackburn,” he said, “but what’s the good of talkin’ about turnin’ out, when you haven’t even got strength enough to lift yourself up in bed? No, sir, please don’t attempt to do anything so foolish; you’d only fall, and hurt yourself worse. What you’ve got to do is to get well as quick as ever you can; and the best way to do that is to stay where you are until you’ve got your strength again. And I’ll help you all I can; I’ll feed you up, and look after you, and tell you everything that happens; but please—please don’t be in too great a hurry; this is a case of ‘the more hurry, the less speed’; I’m sure of it. Only trust yourself to me, Mr Blackburn, and I’ll get you well as quick as ever I can.”
“By Jove, Billy,” said I, “I believe you will. You have done marvellously well, thus far. Why, boy, you must have been born to become a great physician; and you talk more wisely than many lads of twice your age. Yes; I will trust myself absolutely to you. But, now that I come to look at you, your eyes are so heavy with sleeplessness that you seem scarcely able to keep them open. How have you managed for sleep while I have been ill?”
“Oh,” answered Billy, “I’ve done pretty well. When you’ve been quiet for a bit I’ve stretched myself out on the sofa and slept until you woke me with your ravin’; but now that you’ve come to your senses I expect I shall be able to get a really good rest.”
“I hope you will,” said I. “And there’s no time like the present; so, as I am feeling very comfortable just now, and much inclined to sleep, go and turn in, and get that really good rest that you spoke of. Leave open the door of my state-room, and that of your own, and if I need anything I’ll call out for you.”
Thanks to the tireless attention with which Billy tended me, and the meticulous care with which he followed the instructions set forth in the book of directions attached to the ship’s medicine-chest, for such a case as mine, I was not again troubled with delirium, nor did I experience any other set-back of any kind; on the contrary, I made such excellent progress that within the fortnight I was able to be up and about again, although it was something of a task to climb the companion stairway to the deck, even with the help of Billy. But, that task once achieved, I made rapid headway, and was soon my old self again. Upon my first visit to the deck after my illness I sustained something of a shock. My last view of the brigantine had shown her all ataunto, and although what Billy had told me ought to have prepared me for the change that met my gaze, I must confess that I was distinctly taken aback when upon my first emergence from the companion I beheld both masts gone by the board, all the bulwarks swept away, and the deck hampered by a confused mass of raffle consisting of the mainmast with all attached stretched fore and aft, while the foremast had gone over the bows, its head resting upon the coral while its splintered lower extremity projected some ten feet above the knightheads. The fore topmast had carried away close to the cap and, with the yards, was afloat under the bows, fast to the wreck by the standing and running rigging. The life-boat that had served me so well had practically disappeared, only the keel and a fragment of the sternpost remaining; but, by a miracle, the galley remained intact, and was in regular use by Billy for the preparation of our meals. Almost my first care was to sound the well, in the hope that by some stroke of marvellous good fortune the hull might have, so far, escaped serious damage and be capable of being floated again; but, of course, that was too much to expect. I found nearly two and a half feet of water in the well, which was about the depth alongside; the inference therefore was that, upon striking the reef, the ship had been bilged, or some of her planks had been started, and that therefore, if it depended upon my efforts alone, she would never float again.
I next turned my attention to externals. Helped by Billy, I tottered to the skylight and seated myself upon the cover, from which I obtained a clear view of the whole reef, from horizon to horizon. It appeared to be a typical example of a coral barrier reef, running roughly parallel to the shore of the island, from north to south; but it seemed to vary greatly in width, for while in some places I judged it to be not more than five or six yards wide, it was nearly or quite three hundred yards wide where the brigantine lay. And most fortunate was it for us that it was so; for if, after striking, the ship had been driven over the inner edge of the reef to the comparatively deep water of the lagoon, she would assuredly have gone down, taking us with her. As it was, there was a space of only about a fathom between our forefoot and the inner edge of the reef, as I ascertained later. The great wall of surf, fifty feet high, breaking perpetually upon the outer face of the reef, and stretching mile after mile to north and south of us, was a wonderful sight, especially in the early morning, when the sun’s rays struck the great cloud of spray, creating a most beautiful and perfect rainbow. That same wall of spray, by the way, effectually excluded all view of the ocean outside, so that even if a whole navy happened to be passing, we should never catch the smallest glimpse of it, so long as we remained aboard the wreck. It was evident, therefore, that the first step toward an escape from our present predicament must be the transfer of ourselves and everything of value to the island.