The Coxswain's Bride; also, Jack Frost and Sons; and, A Double Rescue

by R. M. Ballantyne

Next morning the poor man was smitten with a raging fever. From the first the doctor had little hope of his recovery. With a constitution fatally injured by dissipation and drink, his chance was very small; but of course every effort was made to save him. He was laid on a soft bed of moss in the warmest corner of the hut, and the women took their turn in nursing him, night and day—the coxswain’s wife, however, being the chief nurse; for, besides being sympathetic and tender by nature, she had been trained in a rough school where self-reliance and capacity were constantly called into action in circumstances of difficulty, so that she was better fitted for the post than either of her companions. But their efforts were of no avail. After a week, Black Ned died, with a smile of gratitude on his dark face as he gazed in Hayward’s eyes, and held his hand until the spirit returned to God who gave it.

The gloom cast over the little community by this sudden appearance of the King of Terrors lasted for many days, and had the good effect of turning the thoughts of all of them to those subjects which are obviously and naturally distasteful to fallen man—the soul and the world to come. But gradually the gloom passed away, though it left in the party a greater longing than ever to escape from their island prison.

One day, while some of them were at breakfast, Terrence O’Connor rushed into the hut with the news that a ship was in sight! Instantly the boat was manned, and they rowed with all their might towards the vessel, which was seen like a white speck on the horizon. They rowed to within four miles of her, with an oar set up as a mast, and a jacket attached thereto as a flag, but a breeze sprang up, and the strange sail actually passed on without taking the slightest notice of them—though the people on board could not have failed to see the boat!

Profound was the disappointment, and violent the indignation, that filled the thoughts of the castaways as they rowed slowly back to land.

“Sure it’s devils that must live in the bodies o’ some men,” growled O’Connor, in the bitterness of his soul.

“You’re too hard on the devils, Terrence,” said Bob Massey. “Some men in this world do the worst that they can, an’ surely devils can do no more than that.”

This incident, however, aroused the hopes and expectations of the party to a high pitch, so that the beacon-fire was kept burning more steadily and brightly than before, and the look-out hill was more frequently visited; still, weeks and months passed by, and no deliverance came to them.

During this period, the seal-hunting, fishing, clothes-mending, etcetera, were carried on with unflagging energy, and the nightly entertainments became more and more entertaining, by reason of use and effort developing new capacities and talents that might in less favourable circumstances have lain altogether dormant. All this was due very much to their leader; for, besides being a God-fearing man, Hayward was pre-eminently cheery, and full of fun as well as vigour. The coxswain, too, was like-minded, and of great capacity in every way; while his wife’s voice was so charming that the party became almost dependent on it. They could scarcely have gone to rest at last without Nellie’s hymn or song as a lullaby! We must state, however, that Tomlin did not share in this pleasure. That poor man had been born musically deaf, as some people are born physically blind. There was no musical inlet to his soul! There was, indeed, a door for sound to enter, and music, of course, sought an entrance by that door; but it was effectually destroyed, somehow, in passing through the doorway, so that poor Tomlin showed no symptom of pleasure. What he heard, and how he heard it, is known only to himself!

Once or twice during this time they visited the cavern of the wreck, with the view, if possible, of recovering something from the sunk vessel, but though most of the men could swim, none of them could dive, therefore the result was failure.

They succeeded, however, in making soap by boiling wood-ash and seal’s fat in their cast-iron pot. Those who are accustomed to the celebrated “Pears” can scarcely understand what an addition to cleanliness and comfort resulted from this coarsely manufactured article.