The "B. O. W. C.": A Book For Boys / Illustrated

by James De Mille

After the others had departed, Phil occupied himself with making arrangements to while away the time. First of all, he set to work to try and make an omelet. After a long search on the beach, he found some clam shells, which he took up to the platform; and then, selecting some flat stones, he threw them into the fire. Then he mixed some eggs in one of the shells, and tried to beat them with his jackknife. His success was not exactly dazzling; but he was satisfied to a certain extent, and intensely interested. At length, drawing forth one of the stones, which, by this time, was red hot, he poured the mixture on its surface. There was a fizzle, a steam, a hiss, and then a horrible smell of burnt egg. Phil made an awful face, and giving the stone a kick, sent it flying down to the beach, omelet and all.

Not at all discouraged, he began again ab ovo. Drawing out another stone, he determined to give it time to cool. So he mixed up some more eggs in the shell; and after waiting patiently for a long time for the stone, he at length thought it was cool enough, and poured the mixture upon it. It certainly had grown cool this time in fact, somewhat too cool, as Phil gradually learned, when, after waiting patiently, he found that there was no appearance of any progress whatever in the cookery. So this, too, was a failure, and Phil disdainfully hurled it after its predecessor.

But he was not discouraged even yet. Once more he took his shell and made another mixture, and then drew forth the stone, and carefully watched it, trying it from time to time with the tip of his finger, to see if it was of the proper temperature. Having singed the tips of all his fingers, he concluded that it was time to stop that mode of testing, and run the risk of an actual trial. So he once more poured the mixture on the stone. Aha! this time there was no mistake. A pleasant steam came up, which was grateful to a famished boy. The only trouble was, the lower part was done before the upper was in the least affected; and worse still, it began to burn while the upper part was raw. Phil was not yet disheartened, however; and drawing his knife, he made desperate efforts to insert it under the omelet, so as to turn it over. But these efforts were not successful. He only succeeded in intermixing all together in a mess, and mangling it into a general mush. In trying to taste some of it, he found in his mouth nothing but a very unpleasant mixture of raw and burnt egg. With a sigh he relinquished his experiments, and sent this stone after the others.

He now contented himself with roasting two of them; and having partaken of them, he sauntered up the hill to the signal station. Here he lay down, and looked lazily out at the water.

Scarcely had he done so, than he gave a start. An object was before his eyes which he had not been able to see from the platform. The other end of the island could not be seen from there, because a projecting bank shut it out from view; but from here there was a fair view of the other islands. And there, just coming out from behind Pinnacle Island, was a schooner of the size and rig of the Antelope, and he did not doubt for a moment but that it was their schooner. She was now sailing along, and was not far from that very anchorage where he had seen her last.

With a shout and a wild beating of his heart, he sprang to his feet, and stared, with eager eyes, upon the schooner.

She was coming on very well, with a good breeze, and was coming in his direction. Would she continue on her course? If so, she would soon be there. Would she turn aside, and pass through the channel that separated the islands, or sail away to the main land opposite? The thought was intolerable. He had grown weary of desert life; he longed to leave the island,—or, rather, he longed to get something to eat.

So he rushed away to the pile of brush, and lighting his matches,—a whole card at a time,—he touched up the kindling wood, and in a few moments the blaze was spreading through the mass of dry brush. Soon the flames rose high into the air, bearing with them vast volumes of black smoke.

Would they see that signal? They could not help seeing it. Would they understand it? Ah! that was another question. Still it came on in the same direction, without showing any signs of turning either to the right hand or the left. And now it had passed the channel between the islands, and was coming along in a line with the beach below, and not more than half a mile out.

The brush fire was burning briskly, and could last for half an hour without replenishing; but something more was needed. What could he do? At first he thought of running down to the beach and shouting. But then he feared that he might not be seen on the beach, and that his voice might not be heard. So that plan was rejected. One only remained, and that was, to climb the signal-staff. In an instant all this had passed through his mind, and in another instant it was acted upon. He tore off his red shirt, tied the sleeves together loosely, and hung it around his neck, and then, with wonderful agility, climbed the tree till he reached the top. The stumps of the branches, which remained on the trunk of the tree, formed a good foothold, and he was able to stand securely, clasping the tree with one arm, while with the other he took his shirt from around his neck, and waved it to and fro in the air. Below, and about thirty feet on one side, the fire blazed; and there, fifty feet in the air, on that solitary tree, stood the boy, waving, wildly and incessantly, the brilliant scarlet cloth. He felt that he had done the best, and if this would not attract attention, nothing would.