The Rival Crusoes

by William Henry Giles Kingston

In a very different position was Richard Hargrave. With wholesome food and abundance of employment, he retained his health and strength, and his mind had no time to dwell on his forlorn condition. At break of day he rose from his comfortable bed, and kneeling down, said his prayers as he had been wont to do at his mother’s knees when a child. He then got up, and considered to what he had best first turn his hand.

Not far off from the hut was the log which he was anxious to shape into a canoe, and on his bench in the verandah lay his crossbow, nearly finished, only requiring a few touches to make it perfect, the most important being the arrangement of the lock, that he might let the bolt fly immediately he touched the spring. This done he set to work to form some bolts. The shafts were easily manufactured, but the bolt heads required more time. Hunting in the carpenter’s chest he discovered a ladle and a quantity of lead. He then searched about for some clay for forming moulds. He remembered the white appearance of the bank of the stream at a certain spot, and hastening to it, he found, greatly to his satisfaction, that it was composed of exactly the clay suited for his purpose. He soon returned with a sufficient supply to form a mould, hoping to be able to make it of a proper shape with a stem to fit into the shaft. By boring a hole into the stem he was able to secure it with wire firmly to the wood. To give the bolt a sharp point he fixed a large nail ground fine, in the centre of the lead, thus obtaining sufficient weight and sharpness for his object. Although this bolt might be blunted should it strike a bone, yet it was well calculated to pierce the thin skin of a deer, which, from the size of the island, should it only be wounded, he would be certain to find again by tracing the blood stains on the grass.

Having formed half a dozen bolts in the way which has been described, he set off on his first hunting expedition. He had not gone far, when a herd of small deer—the only species which existed in the island—came in sight. He had observed on former occasions that when he got to the windward of them they invariably scampered off to a distance, and although no hunter, suspecting the cause, he determined to try and get near them by creeping up from an opposite direction. Hiding himself as much as possible behind the trees and bushes, he made his way towards the herd, making a long circuit until he got well to leeward. Then stooping down he crawled gradually forward, stopping every now and then when he saw their heads turned towards him, but they still continued cropping the grass and the leaves of the bushes and lower branches of the trees. At last he got to within thirty yards of one of the herd, which had separated from its companions. He stood almost breathless, eager to shoot, and yet afraid of missing. He let fly his bolt, which entered the breast of the animal. It staggered for a moment, then turning round, set off with the rest of the herd along the valley. He was provoked at not having killed it at once, for he knew that if often hunted the creatures would grow wild, and he would have great difficulty in getting up to them. He, however, eager to secure the deer, set off running, keeping it in sight. At first the wounded deer went almost as fast as its companions, until it gradually slackened its speed, leaving a long red trail, which grew thicker and thicker, to mark its course. It was soon left behind by the rest of the herd; still it struggled on, until at length Dick saw it stagger, then turn round and finally sink to the ground. He hurried forward, and with a seaman’s sheath-knife, which he had found among the things in the carpenter’s chest, he quickly put an end to its sufferings.

The deer was so small that Dick, whose shoulders were pretty broad, was able to carry home his prize. His wish was to preserve as much of it as possible. He reflected that, as there were only a certain number of deer on the island, were he and Lord Reginald to remain there any length of time, the whole might be destroyed. Had he possessed salt, he would have been able to pickle the venison, for there were plenty of tubs for the purpose. Though he knew very well that he could obtain salt, yet the flesh of the deer would have become uneatable long before he could get a sufficient quantity. He had read somewhere of a mode of preserving the flesh of animals by drying it in the sun, and he had also seen his mother smoke bacon, so he determined to try both these ways. The preserved meat might also be of the greatest use, should he determine to sail away from the island in the canoe he was about to build.

On reaching home, for such his hut was to him, he set to work to skin and cut up the deer. He then lighted a fire, and put a shoulder and leg on to roast, that he might at all events preserve this much, should his experiments fail. A portion of the remainder he cut into thin strips, which he hung up to a cross-pole, supported on two forked sticks. He had great faith, however, in his plan for smoking venison. As there was clay near at hand, he mixed a quantity with grass, and quickly built up a square tower, with an entrance below and rafters across it, and a wooden roof. As he knew that it would be necessary to have a draught to keep up the fire, he formed tunnels under the tower.

He had now his curing-house complete. He worked very hard, as he was aware that the flesh would very rapidly become uneatable. Having hung up the remainder, he placed a fire inside, piled up with green wood, which burnt slowly, producing a large amount of smoke. Not until he had done this did he—hungry as he was—fall to on the venison. Scarcely had he put a morsel in his mouth than he thought of Lord Reginald.

“I wonder whether he has been able to procure any food like this,” he said to himself. “If not it will go hard with him, for although shell-fish may do very well for a short time, with nothing else to live on they would prove very unwholesome. However, I suppose he will come to his senses by-and-by. If he makes his appearance, I shall be glad to offer some to him. Fancy the proud young gentleman coming, hat in hand, and asking for a slice of venison! I wonder poor Nep doesn’t show himself, as before, to get a meal. I should have thought his instinct would have induced him to come. Surely his master cannot be so cruel as to keep him back, unless he has found plenty of food for him.”

Such thoughts occupied Dick’s mind while he ate a hearty meal, the most abundant he had enjoyed since the shipwreck. He had just finished, and having hung up the remainder of the roast meat, was about to add more fuel to the fire in his curing-house, when by chance looking up the valley, he saw Neptune scampering rapidly along towards him.

“Oh, oh! knowing old fellow! He’s found out there’s something to eat in this direction,” said Dick. “He shall have it, too, and willingly would I give it to his master.”

As Neptune drew near, Dick was surprised to observe a piece of rope round his neck, and a part trailing on the ground two or three feet in length. In a minute Nep was up to him, licking his hand. Dick was at once struck with his woebegone, starved appearance; the very countenance of the dog seemed changed; there was even an expression of melancholy in his eye, which spoke as much as words could have done. Dick examined the rope, which was a pretty thick one, such as Neptune, strong as he might be, could not have broken. The end, he was convinced, had been gnawed through.