Alone on an Island

by William Henry Giles Kingston

A draught of pure water greatly refreshed him. He returned to the camp with his saucepan filled. He put it on at once with a small piece of meat in it, recollecting that salted beef requires a long time to boil, and he hoped to have better success in his second attempt at cooking.

He now made a survey of the articles his shipmates had left with him. There was enough beef and pork to serve him for many months, but he regretted to find that the bread would not last him nearly so long.

“I must try and find some substitute for it,” he said, “and economise it in the meantime. I would rather have had much more bread and less meat, as I hope to catch some fish and kill some birds. However, I need not go hunting till I have put my home to rights.”

Then he thought of his seeds. He had no spade, however, to dig the ground; so going to the wood he shaped one, which he hoped would answer the purpose, out of the stem of a small tree. It did better than nothing, but he would have been very glad of an iron spade. He at once began to dig up the ground. It was covered thickly with grass with long roots, but the soil was rather sand than earth. “I must dig all this up,” he said, “or they will soon sprout up again, and destroy the seed.” So he marked out a small plot, carefully throwing the roots and grass into a heap. It then struck him that if they were scattered about on the ground in the sun they would more quickly dry, and he might then burn them, and the ashes would contribute to fertilise the ground.

He worked away till he felt quite weary. He then went back to his fire to see how the beef was boiling. As it was not yet done, after resting a short time he returned to his digging. It was a very long operation, but after labouring for four or five hours he found that he had dug up almost ten square yards of ground. “It is thoroughly done, though there is not much of it, and that’s a satisfaction,” he said. He thought, however, even when the ashes of the grass were mixed with it, it would scarcely be sufficiently fertile for the seeds. “I will go into the woods and collect rotten leaves, and with the ashes of my fire I hope in time to make the soil good.” This was a wise thought, but the sun was already getting low, and he determined to wait till the next day to do so. “It will be better to have a small piece of good ground than to dig up the whole plot, and I will only put in a few seeds at first, to see how they answer; so that if some fail, I may try a different way of cultivating them. I shall, at all events, have work enough. How sad it would have been if I had had nothing to do but to sit still and bemoan my hard fate. I may not, after all, find my life so miserable alone as I had expected, that’s another comfort.”

With these reflections he went back to his fire, and now, to his satisfaction, he found that his beef was thoroughly boiled. Ned had forgotten to put in any salt or mustard, but as the beef was salt in itself, that did not signify. It reminded him, however, that if he shot any birds or caught fish, he should require some. That made him resolve to try and look for it amongst the rocks, or to try and manufacture it from salt water, as he had read of being done. He had been accustomed to read a good many books of travels before he came to sea, and he now found the advantage of having done so, by being reminded of the various ways people, when placed in situations similar to his, had been enabled to support existence. This contributed to keep up his spirits, as it made him have no doubts of obtaining food. His only dread was that he might meet with an accident, or might fall ill, when there would be no one to help him.

“Well, well, I ought not to trouble myself about that either,” he said. “I must pray to God to preserve me, and do my best not to run any unnecessary risk.”

He then recollected the dreadful complaint, the scurvy, which had already attacked some of the crew of the Wolf.

“That is brought on by people living too exclusively on salt provisions. I must try to find some roots or herbs till the seeds come up: and then, if they produce vegetables, as I hope they will, I need not be anxious about that.”

Such were his cogitations during his meal. Having finished, he hung up the remainder of his beef in his tent, to serve as breakfast for the next morning, and then went back to the fountain to enjoy a draught of pure water.