Mr. Crusoe had been sick eighteen days, when one afternoon, about four o’clock, I saw a sail. She was a brig, and was just hull down on the horizon and standing to the northward. I hurried up to the top of the hill and lighted my bonfire so that she could see the smoke of it. I had kept a tin can full of kerosene in the middle of the bonfire, so that it would blaze nicely whenever the kerosene caught fire, as it was sure to do almost as soon as the bonfire was lighted. Of course I didn’t expect the brig to see a blaze in the daytime, but burning kerosene makes a tremendous black smoke, and I felt sure that the brig would see the smoke.
I couldn’t stay on the hill and watch for the brig, for it was the time of day when I read to Mr. Crusoe, and I never was one to shirk any duty that belonged to me. However, I suppose I did read a little faster than usual, and as soon as I had finished I ran out to see the brig. She was about where she was when I saw her first, only a little more to the northward, but she wasn’t the least bit nearer the island.
I got together a big pile of wood and kept that fire going all night, and watched for the brig. It was perfectly certain that the people on board of her would see the flame even if they hadn’t noticed the smoke; but when the day broke the brig was out of sight, and I never saw her again.
I didn’t like being abandoned with a sick man on my hands, but there was no use in grumbling about it; and then I thought that if the captain of that brig could stand the recollection that he had refused to come to the rescue of a shipwrecked sailor, not to speak of Mr. Crusoe, I could stand being left on the island a while longer.
Unless I made a mistake in my calculations, Mr. Crusoe had been sick just four weeks when he woke up in the morning feeling a great deal better. His head seemed to be all right, for he spoke quietly and pleasantly, and said, “Would you please get me a little something to eat?” I was perfectly happy, for I saw that he was out of danger, and that he was perfectly rational, or at least as much so as I had ever known him to be.
I would have given something to know what medicine it was that had cured him; but it so happened that the last time I had served it out there wasn’t quite enough in one bottle, so I added a little more medicine from another bottle, and of course I couldn’t tell which was the medicine which did the work.
CHAPTER XIV.
I got Mr. Crusoe a little fried pork and some canned peaches, for I thought he must be well enough to eat the pork, but he wasn’t. He finished the peaches, however, and then he said, “Will you kindly tell me where I am?”
“You’re on the island, Mr. Crusoe, but you’ve been sick for a good while.”