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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/393-0.txt b/393-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6411142 --- /dev/null +++ b/393-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8249 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Blue Lagoon, by H. de Vere Stacpoole + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most +other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of +the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have +to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. + +Title: The Blue Lagoon + A Romance + +Author: H. de Vere Stacpoole + +Posting Date: August 26, 2016 [EBook #393] +Release Date: January 1995 +Last Updated: January 19, 2008 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BLUE LAGOON *** + + + + +Produced by Edward A. Malone. Corrections by Roger Frank. + + + + + + + + +The Blue Lagoon: A Romance + +by H. de Vere Stacpoole + + + + + +CONTENTS + + +BOOK I + +PART I + + I. WHERE THE SLUSH LAMP BURNS + II. UNDER THE STARS + III. THE SHADOW AND THE FIRE + IV. AND LIKE A DREAM DISSOLVED + V. VOICES HEARD IN THE MIST + VI. DAWN ON A WIDE, WIDE SEA + VII. STORY OF THE PIG AND THE BILLY-GOAT + VIII. “S-H-E-N-A-N-D-O-A-H” + IX. SHADOWS IN THE MOONLIGHT + X. THE TRAGEDY OF THE BOATS + + +PART II + + XI. THE ISLAND + XII. THE LAKE OF AZURE + XIII. DEATH VEILED WITH LICHEN + XIV. ECHOES OF FAIRY-LAND + XV. FAIR PICTURES IN THE BLUE + + +PART III + + XVI. THE POETRY OF LEARNING + XVII. THE DEVIL’S CASK + XVIII. THE RAT HUNT + XIX. STARLIGHT ON THE FOAM + XX. THE DREAMER ON THE REEF + XXI. THE GARLAND OF FLOWERS + XXII. ALONE + XXIII. THEY MOVE AWAY + + + +BOOK II + +PART I + + I. UNDER THE ARTU TREE + II. HALF CHILD-HALF SAVAGE + III. THE DEMON OF THE REEF + IV. WHAT BEAUTY CONCEALED + V. THE SOUND OF A DRUM + VI. SAILS UPON THE SEA + VII. THE SCHOONER + VIII. LOVE STEPS IN + IX. THE SLEEP OF PARADISE + + +PART II + + X. AN ISLAND HONEYMOON + XI. THE VANISHING OF EMMELINE + XII. THE VANISHING OF EMMELINE (CONTINUED) + XIII. THE NEWCOMER + XIV. HANNAH + XV. THE LAGOON OF FIRE + XVI. THE CYCLONE + XVII. THE STRICKEN WOODS + XVIII. A FALLEN IDOL + XIX. THE EXPEDITION + XX. THE KEEPER OF THE LAGOON + XXI. THE HAND OF THE SEA + XXII. TOGETHER + + +BOOK III + + I. MAD LESTRANGE + II. THE SECRET OF THE AZURE + III. CAPTAIN FOUNTAIN + IV. DUE SOUTH + + + + +THE BLUE LAGOON + + +BOOK I + +PART I + +CHAPTER I + +WHERE THE SLUSH LAMP BURNS + +Mr Button was seated on a sea-chest with a fiddle under his left ear. +He was playing the “Shan van vaught,” and accompanying the tune, +punctuating it, with blows of his left heel on the fo’cs’le deck. + + “O the _Frinch_ are in the bay, + Says the _Shan van vaught_.” + +He was dressed in dungaree trousers, a striped shirt, and a jacket +baize—green in parts from the influence of sun and salt. A typical old +shell-back, round-shouldered, hooked of finger; a figure with strong +hints of a crab about it. + +His face was like a moon, seen red through tropical mists; and as he +played it wore an expression of strained attention as though the fiddle +were telling him tales much more marvellous than the old bald statement +about Bantry Bay. + +“Left-handed Pat,” was his fo’cs’le name; not because he was +left-handed, but simply because everything he did he did wrong—or +nearly so. Reefing or furling, or handling a slush tub—if a mistake +was to be made, he made it. + +He was a Celt, and all the salt seas that had flowed between him and +Connaught these forty years and more had not washed the Celtic element +from his blood, nor the belief in fairies from his soul. The Celtic +nature is a fast dye, and Mr Button’s nature was such that though he +had been shanghaied by Larry Marr in ’Frisco, though he had got drunk +in most ports of the world, though he had sailed with Yankee captains +and been man-handled by Yankee mates, he still carried his fairies +about with him—they, and a very large stock of original innocence. + +Nearly over the musician’s head swung a hammock from which hung a leg; +other hammocks hanging in the semi-gloom called up suggestions of +lemurs and arboreal bats. The swinging kerosene lamp cast its light +forward, past the heel of the bowsprit to the knightheads, lighting here +a naked foot hanging over the side of a bunk, here a face from which +protruded a pipe, here a breast covered with dark mossy hair, here an +arm tattooed. + +It was in the days before double topsail yards had reduced ships’ +crews, and the fo’cs’le of the _Northumberland_ had a full company: a +crowd of packet rats such as often is to be found on a Cape Horner +“Dutchmen” Americans—men who were farm labourers and tending +pigs in Ohio three months back, old seasoned sailors like Paddy +Button—a mixture of the best and the worst of the earth, such as you +find nowhere else in so small a space as in a ship’s fo’cs’le. + +The _Northumberland_ had experienced a terrible rounding of the Horn. +Bound from New Orleans to ’Frisco she had spent thirty days battling +with head-winds and storms—down there, where the seas are so vast that +three waves may cover with their amplitude more than a mile of sea +space; thirty days she had passed off Cape Stiff, and just now, at the +moment of this story, she was locked in a calm south of the line. + +Mr Button finished his tune with a sweep of the bow, and drew his right +coat sleeve across his forehead. Then he took out a sooty pipe, filled +it with tobacco, and lit it. + +“Pawthrick,” drawled a voice from the hammock above, from which +depended the leg, “what was that yarn you wiz beginnin’ to spin ter +night ’bout a lip me dawn?” + +“A which me dawn?” asked Mr Button, cocking his eye up at the bottom of +the hammock while he held the match to his pipe. + +“It vas about a green thing,” came a sleepy Dutch voice from a bunk. + +“Oh, a Leprachaun you mane. Sure, me mother’s sister had one down in +Connaught.” + +“Vat vas it like?” asked the dreamy Dutch voice—a voice seemingly +possessed by the calm that had made the sea like a mirror for the last +three days, reducing the whole ship’s company meanwhile to the level of +wasters. + +“Like? Sure, it was like a Leprachaun; and what else would it be like?” + +“What like vas that?” persisted the voice. + +“It was like a little man no bigger than a big forked raddish, an’ as +green as a cabbidge. Me a’nt had one in her house down in Connaught in +the ould days. O musha! musha! the ould days, the ould days! Now, you +may b’lave me or b’lave me not, but you could have put him in your +pocket, and the grass-green head of him wouldn’t more than’v stuck out. +She kept him in a cupboard, and out of the cupboard he’d pop if it was +a crack open, an’ into the milk pans he’d be, or under the beds, or +pullin’ the stool from under you, or at some other divarsion. He’d +chase the pig—the crathur!—till it’d be all ribs like an ould +umbrilla with the fright, an’ as thin as a greyhound with the runnin’ +by the marnin; he’d addle the eggs so the cocks an’ hens wouldn’t know +what they wis afther wid the chickens comin’ out wid two heads on them, +an’ twinty-seven legs fore and aft. And you’d start to chase him, an’ +then it’d be mainsail haul, and away he’d go, you behint him, till +you’d landed tail over snout in a ditch, an’ he’d be back in the +cupboard.” + +“He was a Troll,” murmured the Dutch voice. + +“I’m tellin’ you he was a Leprachaun, and there’s no knowin’ the +divilments he’d be up to. He’d pull the cabbidge, maybe, out of the pot +boilin’ on the fire forenint your eyes, and baste you in the face with +it; and thin, maybe, you’d hold out your fist to him, and he’d put a +goulden soverin in it.” + +“Wisht he was here!” murmured a voice from a bunk near the knightheads. + +“Pawthrick,” drawled the voice from the hammock above, “what’d you do +first if you found y’self with twenty pound in your pocket?” + +“What’s the use of askin’ me?” replied Mr Button. “What’s the use of +twenty pound to a sayman at say, where the grog’s all wather an’ the +beef’s all horse? Gimme it ashore, an’ you’d see what I’d do wid it!” + +“I guess the nearest grog-shop keeper wouldn’t see you comin’ for +dust,” said a voice from Ohio. + +“He would not,” said Mr Button; “nor you afther me. Be damned to the +grog and thim that sells it!” + +“It’s all darned easy to talk,” said Ohio. “You curse the grog at sea +when you can’t get it; set you ashore, and you’re bung full.” + +“I likes me dhrunk,” said Mr Button, “I’m free to admit; an’ I’m the +divil when it’s in me, and it’ll be the end of me yet, or me ould +mother was a liar. ‘Pat,’ she says, first time I come home from say +rowlin’, ‘storms you may escape, an’ wimmen you may escape, but the +potheen ’ill have you.’ Forty year ago—forty year ago!” + +“Well,” said Ohio, “it hasn’t had you yet.” + +“No,” replied Mr Button, “but it will.” + + + + +CHAPTER II + +UNDER THE STARS + +It was a wonderful night up on deck, filled with all the majesty and +beauty of starlight and a tropic calm. + +The Pacific slept; a vast, vague swell flowing from far away down south +under the night, lifted the _Northumberland_ on its undulations to the +rattling sound of the reef points and the occasional creak of the +rudder; whilst overhead, near the fiery arch of the Milky Way, hung the +Southern Cross like a broken kite. + +Stars in the sky, stars in the sea, stars by the million and the +million; so many lamps ablaze that the firmament filled the mind with +the idea of a vast and populous city—yet from all that living and +flashing splendour not a sound. + +Down in the cabin—or saloon, as it was called by courtesy—were seated +the three passengers of the ship; one reading at the table, two playing +on the floor. + +The man at the table, Arthur Lestrange, was seated with his large, +deep-sunken eyes fixed on a book. He was most evidently in +consumption—very near, indeed, to reaping the result of that last and +most desperate remedy, a long sea voyage. + +Emmeline Lestrange, his little niece—eight years of age, a mysterious +mite, small for her age, with thoughts of her own, wide-pupilled eyes +that seemed the doors for visions, and a face that seemed just to have +peeped into this world for a moment ere it was as suddenly +withdrawn—sat in a corner nursing something in her arms, and rocking +herself to the tune of her own thoughts. + +Dick, Lestrange’s little son, eight and a bit, was somewhere under the +table. They were Bostonians, bound for San Francisco, or rather for the +sun and splendour of Los Angeles, where Lestrange had bought a small +estate, hoping there to enjoy the life whose lease would be renewed by +the long sea voyage. + +As he sat reading, the cabin door opened, and appeared an angular +female form. This was Mrs Stannard, the stewardess, and Mrs Stannard +meant bedtime. + +“Dicky,” said Mr Lestrange, closing his book, and raising the +table-cloth a few inches, “bedtime.” + +“Oh, not yet, daddy!” came a sleep-freighted voice from under the +table; “I ain’t ready. I dunno want to go to bed, I— Hi yow!” + +Mrs Stannard, who knew her work, had stooped under the table, seized him +by the foot, and hauled him out kicking and fighting and blubbering all +at the same time. + +As for Emmeline, she having glanced up and recognised the inevitable, +rose to her feet, and, holding the hideous rag-doll she had been +nursing, head down and dangling in one hand, she stood waiting till +Dicky, after a few last perfunctory bellows, suddenly dried his eyes +and held up a tear-wet face for his father to kiss. Then she presented +her brow solemnly to her uncle, received a kiss and vanished, led by +the hand into a cabin on the port side of the saloon. + +Mr Lestrange returned to his book, but he had not read for long when +the cabin door was opened, and Emmeline, in her nightdress, reappeared, +holding a brown paper parcel in her hand, a parcel of about the same +size as the book you are reading. + +“My box,” said she; and as she spoke, holding it up as if to prove its +safety, the little plain face altered to the face of an angel. + +She had smiled. + +When Emmeline Lestrange smiled it was absolutely as if the light of +Paradise had suddenly flashed upon her face: the happiest form of +childish beauty suddenly appeared before your eyes, dazzled them—and +was gone. + +Then she vanished with her box, and Mr Lestrange resumed his book. + +This box of Emmeline’s, I may say in parenthesis, had given more +trouble aboard ship than all of the rest of the passengers’ luggage put +together. + +It had been presented to her on her departure from Boston by a lady +friend, and what it contained was a dark secret to all on board, save +its owner and her uncle; she was a woman, or, at all events, the +beginning of a woman, yet she kept this secret to herself—a fact which +you will please note. + +The trouble of the thing was that it was frequently being lost. +Suspecting herself, maybe, as an unpractical dreamer in a world filled +with robbers, she would cart it about with her for safety, sit down +behind a coil of rope and fall into a fit of abstraction: be recalled +to life by the evolutions of the crew reefing or furling or what not, +rise to superintend the operations—and then suddenly find she had lost +her box. + +Then she would absolutely haunt the ship. Wide-eyed and distressed of +face she would wander hither and thither, peeping into the galley, +peeping down the forescuttle, never uttering a word or wail, searching +like an uneasy ghost, but dumb. + +She seemed ashamed to tell of her loss, ashamed to let any one know of +it; but every one knew of it directly they saw her, to use Mr Button’s +expression, “on the wandher,” and every one hunted for it. + +Strangely enough it was Paddy Button who usually found it. He who was +always doing the wrong thing in the eyes of men, generally did the +right thing in the eyes of children. Children, in fact, when they could +get at Mr Button, went for him _con amore_. He was as attractive to them +as a Punch and Judy show or a German band—almost. + +Mr Lestrange after a while closed the book he was reading, looked +around him and sighed. + +The cabin of the _Northumberland_ was a cheerful enough place, pierced +by the polished shaft of the mizzen mast, carpeted with an Axminster +carpet, and garnished with mirrors let into the white pine panelling. +Lestrange was staring at the reflection of his own face in one of these +mirrors fixed just opposite to where he sat. + +His emaciation was terrible, and it was just perhaps at this moment +that he first recognised the fact that he must not only die, but die +soon. + +He turned from the mirror and sat for a while with his chin resting +upon his hand, and his eyes fixed on an ink spot upon the table-cloth; +then he arose, and crossing the cabin climbed laboriously up the +companion-way to the deck. + +As he leaned against the bulwark rail to recover his breath, the +splendour and beauty of the Southern night struck him to the heart with +a cruel pang. He took his seat on a deck chair and gazed up at the +Milky Way, that great triumphal arch built of suns that the dawn would +sweep away like a dream. + +In the Milky Way, near the Southern Cross, occurs a terrible circular +abyss, the Coal Sack. So sharply defined is it, so suggestive of a void +and bottomless cavern, that the contemplation of it afflicts the +imaginative mind with vertigo. To the naked eye it is as black and as +dismal as death, but the smallest telescope reveals it beautiful and +populous with stars. + +Lestrange’s eyes travelled from this mystery to the burning cross, and +the nameless and numberless stars reaching to the sea-line, where they +paled and vanished in the light of the rising moon. Then he became +aware of a figure promenading the quarter-deck. It was the “Old Man.” + +A sea captain is always the “old man,” be his age what it may. Captain +Le Farges’ age might have been forty-five. He was a sailor of the Jean +Bart type, of French descent, but a naturalised American. + +“I don’t know where the wind’s gone,” said the captain as he drew near +the man in the deck chair. “I guess it’s blown a hole in the firmament, +and escaped somewheres to the back of beyond.” + +“It’s been a long voyage,” said Lestrange; “and I’m thinking, Captain, +it will be a very long voyage for me. My port’s not ’Frisco; I feel it.” + +“Don’t you be thinking that sort of thing,” said the other, taking his +seat in a chair close by. “There’s no manner of use forecastin’ the +weather a month ahead. Now we’re in warm latitoods, your glass will +rise steady, and you’ll be as right and spry as any one of us, before +we fetch the Golden Gates.” + +“I’m thinking about the children,” said Lestrange, seeming not to hear +the captain’s words. “Should anything happen to me before we reach +port, I should like you to do something for me. It’s only this: dispose +of my body without—without the children knowing. It has been in my +mind to ask you this for some days. Captain, those children know +nothing of death.” + +Le Farge moved uneasily in his chair. + +“Little Emmeline’s mother died when she was two. Her father—my +brother—died before she was born. Dicky never knew a mother; she died +giving him birth. My God, Captain, death has laid a heavy hand on my +family; can you wonder that I have hid his very name from those two +creatures that I love!” + +“Ay, ay,” said Le Farge, “it’s sad! it’s sad!” + +“When I was quite a child,” went on Lestrange, “a child no older than +Dicky, my nurse used to terrify me with tales about dead people. I was +told I’d go to hell when I died if I wasn’t a good child. I cannot tell +you how much that has poisoned my life, for the thoughts we think in +childhood, Captain, are the fathers of the thoughts we think when we +are grown up. And can a diseased father—have healthy children?” + +“I guess not.” + +“So I just said, when these two tiny creatures came into my care, that +I would do all in my power to protect them from the terrors of life—or +rather, I should say, from the terror of death. I don’t know whether I +have done right, but I have done it for the best. They had a cat, and +one day Dicky came in to me and said: ‘Father, pussy’s in the garden +asleep, and I can’t wake her.’ So I just took him out for a walk; there +was a circus in the town, and I took him to it. It so filled his mind +that he quite forgot the cat. Next day he asked for her. I did not tell +him she was buried in the garden, I just said she must have run away. +In a week he had forgotten all about her—children soon forget.” + +“Ay, that’s true,” said the sea captain. “But ’pears to me they must +learn some time they’ve got to die.” + +“Should I pay the penalty before we reach land, and be cast into that +great, vast sea, I would not wish the children’s dreams to be haunted +by the thought: just tell them I’ve gone on board another ship. You +will take them back to Boston; I have here, in a letter, the name of a +lady who will care for them. Dicky will be well off, as far as worldly +goods are concerned, and so will Emmeline. Just tell them I’ve gone on +board another ship—children soon forget.” + +“I’ll do what you ask,” said the seaman. + +The moon was over the horizon now, and the _Northumberland_ lay adrift in +a river of silver. Every spar was distinct, every reef point on the +great sails, and the decks lay like spaces of frost cut by shadows +black as ebony. + +As the two men sat without speaking, thinking their own thoughts, a +little white figure emerged from the saloon hatch. It was Emmeline. She +was a professed sleepwalker—a past mistress of the art. + +Scarcely had she stepped into dreamland than she had lost her precious +box, and now she was hunting for it on the decks of the _Northumberland_. + +Mr Lestrange put his finger to his lips, took off his shoes and +silently followed her. She searched behind a coil of rope, she tried to +open the galley door; hither and thither she wandered, wide-eyed and +troubled of face, till at last, in the shadow of the hencoop, she found +her visionary treasure. Then back she came, holding up her little +nightdress with one hand, so as not to trip, and vanished down the +saloon companion very hurriedly, as if anxious to get back to bed, her +uncle close behind, with one hand outstretched so as to catch her in +case she stumbled. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE SHADOW AND THE FIRE + +It was the fourth day of the long calm. An awning had been rigged up on +the poop for the passengers, and under it sat Lestrange, trying to +read, and the children trying to play. The heat and monotony had +reduced even Dicky to just a surly mass, languid in movement as a grub. +As for Emmeline, she seemed dazed. The rag-doll lay a yard away from +her on the poop deck unnursed; even the wretched box and its +whereabouts she seemed to have quite forgotten. + +“Daddy!” suddenly cried Dick, who had clambered up, and was looking +over the after-rail. + +“What?” + +“Fish!” + +Lestrange rose to his feet, came aft and looked over the rail. + +Down in the vague green of the water something moved, something pale +and long—a ghastly form. It vanished; and yet another came, neared the +surface, and displayed itself more fully. Lestrange saw its eyes, he +saw the dark fin, and the whole hideous length of the creature; a +shudder ran through him as he clasped Dicky. + +“Ain’t he fine?” said the child. “I guess, daddy, I’d pull him aboard +if I had a hook. Why haven’t I a hook, daddy?—why haven’t I a hook, +daddy?— Ow, you’re _squeezin’_ me!” + +Something plucked at Lestrange’s coat: it was Emmeline—she also wanted +to look. He lifted her up in his arms; her little pale face peeped over +the rail, but there was nothing to see: the forms of terror had +vanished, leaving the green depths untroubled and unstained. + +“What’s they called, daddy?” persisted Dick, as his father took him +down from the rail, and led him back to the chair. + +“Sharks,” said Lestrange, whose face was covered with perspiration. + +He picked up the book he had been reading—it was a volume of +Tennyson—and he sat with it on his knees staring at the white sunlit +main-deck barred with the white shadows of the standing rigging. + +The sea had disclosed to him a vision. Poetry, Philosophy, Beauty, Art, +the love and joy of life—was it possible that these should exist in +the same world as those? + +He glanced at the book upon his knees, and contrasted the beautiful +things in it which he remembered with the terrible things he had just +seen, the things that were waiting for their food under the keel of the +ship. + +It was three bells—half-past three in the afternoon—and the ship’s +bell had just rung out. The stewardess appeared to take the children +below; and as they vanished down the saloon companion-way Captain Le +Farge came aft, on to the poop, and stood for a moment looking over the +sea on the port side, where a bank of fog had suddenly appeared like +the spectre of a country. + +“The sun has dimmed a bit,” said he; “I can a’most look at it. Glass +steady enough—there’s a fog coming up—ever seen a Pacific fog?” + +“No, never.” + +“Well, you won’t want to see another,” replied the mariner, shading his +eyes and fixing them upon the sea-line. The sea-line away to starboard +had lost somewhat its distinctness, and over the day an almost +imperceptible shade had crept. + +The captain suddenly turned from his contemplation of the sea and sky, +raised his head and sniffed. + +“Something is burning somewhere—smell it? Seems to me like an old mat +or summat. It’s that swab of a steward, maybe; if he isn’t breaking +glass, he’s upsetting lamps and burning holes in the carpet. Bless _my_ +soul, I’d sooner have a dozen Mary Anns an’ their dustpans round the +place than one tomfool steward like Jenkins.” He went to the saloon +hatch. “Below there!” + +“Ay, ay, sir.” + +“What are you burning?” + +“I an’t burnin’ northen, sir.” + +“Tell you, I smell it!” + +“There’s northen burnin’ here, sir.” + +“Neither is there, it’s all on deck. Something in the galley, +maybe—rags, most likely, they’ve thrown on the fire.” + +“Captain!” said Lestrange. + +“Ay, ay.” + +“Come here, please.” + +Le Farge climbed on to the poop. + +“I don’t know whether it’s my weakness that’s affecting my eyes, but +there seems to me something strange about the main-mast.” + +The main-mast near where it entered the deck, and for some distance up, +seemed in motion—a corkscrew movement most strange to watch from the +shelter of the awning. + +This apparent movement was caused by a spiral haze of smoke so vague +that one could only tell of its existence from the mirage-like tremor +of the mast round which it curled. + +“My God!” cried Le Farge, as he sprang from the poop and rushed forward. + +Lestrange followed him slowly, stopping every moment to clutch the +bulwark rail and pant for breath. He heard the shrill bird-like notes +of the bosun’s pipe. He saw the hands emerging from the forecastle, +like bees out of a hive; he watched them surrounding the main-hatch. He +watched the tarpaulin and locking-bars removed. He saw the hatch +opened, and a burst of smoke—black, villainous smoke—ascend to the +sky, solid as a plume in the windless air. + +Lestrange was a man of a highly nervous temperament, and it is just +this sort of man who keeps his head in an emergency, whilst your +level-headed, phlegmatic individual loses his balance. His first +thought was of the children, his second of the boats. + +In the battering off Cape Horn the _Northumberland_ lost several of her +boats. There were left the long-boat, a quarter-boat, and the dinghy. +He heard Le Farge’s voice ordering the hatch to be closed and the pumps +manned, so as to flood the hold; and, knowing that he could do nothing +on deck, he made as swiftly as he could for the saloon companion-way. + +Mrs Stannard was just coming out of the children’s cabin. + +“Are the children lying down, Mrs Stannard?” asked Lestrange, almost +breathless from the excitement and exertion of the last few minutes. + +The woman glanced at him with frightened eyes. He looked like the very +herald of disaster. + +“For if they are, and you have undressed them, then you must put their +clothes on again. The ship is on fire, Mrs Stannard.” + +“Good God, sir!” + +“Listen!” said Lestrange. + +From a distance, thin, and dreary as the crying of sea-gulls on a +desolate beach, came the clanking of the pumps. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +AND LIKE A DREAM DISSOLVED + +Before the woman had time to speak a thunderous step was heard on the +companion stairs, and Le Farge broke into the saloon. The man’s face +was injected with blood, his eyes were fixed and glassy like the eyes +of a drunkard, and the veins stood on his temples like twisted cords. + +“Get those children ready!” he shouted, as he rushed into his own +cabin. “Get you all ready—boats are being swung out and victualled. +H--l! where are those papers?” + +They heard him furiously searching and collecting things in his +cabin—the ship’s papers, accounts, things the master mariner clings to +as he clings to his life; and as he searched, and found, and packed, he +kept bellowing orders for the children to be got on deck. Half mad he +seemed, and half mad he was with the knowledge of the terrible thing +that was stowed amidst the cargo. + +Up on deck the crew, under the direction of the first mate, were +working in an orderly manner, and with a will, utterly unconscious of +there being anything beneath their feet but an ordinary cargo on fire. +The covers had been stripped from the boats, kegs of water and bags of +biscuit placed in them. The dinghy, smallest of the boats and most +easily got away, was hanging at the port quarter-boat davits flush with +the bulwarks; and Paddy Button was in the act of stowing a keg of water +in her, when Le Farge broke on to the deck, followed by the stewardess +carrying Emmeline, and Mr Lestrange leading Dick. The dinghy was rather +a larger boat than the ordinary ships’ dinghy, and possessed a small +mast and long sail. Two sailors stood ready to man the falls, and Paddy +Button was just turning to trundle forward again when the captain +seized him. + +“Into the dinghy with you,” he cried, “and row these children and the +passenger out a mile from the ship—two miles—three miles—make an +offing.” + +“Sure, Captain dear, I’ve left me fiddle in the——” + +Le Farge dropped the bundle of things he was holding under his left +arm, seized the old sailor and rushed him against the bulwarks, as if +he meant to fling him into the sea _through_ the bulwarks. + +Next moment Mr Button was in the boat. Emmeline was handed to him, pale +of face and wide-eyed, and clasping something wrapped in a little +shawl; then Dick, and then Mr Lestrange was helped over. + +“No room for more!” cried Le Farge. “Your place will be in the +long-boat, Mrs Stannard, if we have to leave the ship. Lower away, +lower away!” + +The boat sank towards the smooth blue sea, kissed it and was afloat. + +Now Mr Button, before joining the ship at Boston, had spent a good +while lingering by the quay, having no money wherewith to enjoy himself +in a tavern. He had seen something of the lading of the _Northumberland_, +and heard more from a stevedore. No sooner had he cast off the falls +and seized the oars, than his knowledge awoke in his mind, living and +lurid. He gave a whoop that brought the two sailors leaning over the +side. + +“Bullies!” + +“Ay, ay!” + +“Run for your lives—I’ve just rimimbered—there’s two bar’ls of +blastin’ powther in the hould!” + +Then he bent to his oars, as no man ever bent before. + +Lestrange, sitting in the stern-sheets clasping Emmeline and Dick, +saw nothing for a moment after hearing these words. The children, +who knew nothing of blasting powder or its effects, though half +frightened by all the bustle and excitement, were still amused +and pleased at finding themselves in the little boat so close to +the blue pretty sea. + +Dick put his finger over the side, so that it made a ripple in the +water (the most delightful experience of childhood). Emmeline, with one +hand clasped in her uncle’s, watched Mr Button with a grave sort of +half pleasure. + +He certainly was a sight worth watching. His soul was filled with +tragedy and terror. His Celtic imagination heard the ship blowing up, +saw himself and the little dinghy blown to pieces—nay, saw himself in +hell, being toasted by “divils.” + +But tragedy and terror could find no room for expression on his +fortunate or unfortunate face. He puffed and he blew, bulging his +cheeks out at the sky as he tugged at the oars, making a hundred and +one grimaces—all the outcome of agony of mind, but none expressing it. +Behind lay the ship, a picture not without its lighter side. The +long-boat and the quarter-boat, lowered with a rush and seaborne by the +mercy of Providence, were floating by the side of the _Northumberland_. + +From the ship men were casting themselves overboard like water-rats, +swimming in the water like ducks, scrambling on board the boats anyhow. + +From the half-opened main-hatch the black smoke, mixed now with sparks, +rose steadily and swiftly and spitefully, as if driven through the +half-closed teeth of a dragon. + +A mile away beyond the _Northumberland_ stood the fog bank. It looked +solid, like a vast country that had suddenly and strangely built itself +on the sea—a country where no birds sang and no trees grew. A country +with white, precipitous cliffs, solid to look at as the cliffs of Dover. + +“I’m spint!” suddenly gasped the oarsman, resting the oar handles under +the crook of his knees, and bending down as if he was preparing to butt +at the passengers in the stern-sheets. “Blow up or blow down, I’m +spint—don’t ax me, I’m spint!” + +Mr Lestrange, white as a ghost, but recovered somewhat from his first +horror, gave the Spent One time to recover himself and turned to look +at the ship. She seemed a great distance off, and the boats, well away +from her, were making at a furious pace towards the dinghy. Dick was +still playing with the water, but Emmeline’s eyes were entirely +occupied with Paddy Button. New things were always of vast interest to +her contemplative mind, and these evolutions of her old friend were +eminently new. + +She had seen him swilling the decks, she had seen him dancing a jig, +she had seen him going round the main deck on all fours with Dick on +his back, but she had never seen him going on like this before. + +She perceived now that he was exhausted, and in trouble about +something, and, putting her hand in the pocket of her dress, she +searched for something that she knew was there. She produced a +Tangerine orange, and leaning forward she touched the Spent One’s head +with it. + +Mr Button raised his head, stared vacantly for a second, saw the +proffered orange, and at the sight of it the thought of “the childer” +and their innocence, himself and the blasting powder, cleared his +dazzled wits, and he took to the sculls again. + +“Daddy,” said Dick, who had been looking astern, “there’s clouds near +the ship.” + +In an incredibly short space of time the solid cliffs of fog had +broken. The faint wind that had banked it had pierced it, and was now +making pictures and devices of it, most wonderful and weird to see. +Horsemen of the mist rode on the water, and were dissolved; billows +rolled on the sea, yet were not of the sea; blankets and spirals of +vapour ascended to high heaven. And all with a terrible languor of +movement. Vast and lazy and sinister, yet steadfast of purpose as Fate +or Death, the fog advanced, taking the world for its own. + +Against this grey and indescribably sombre background stood the +smouldering ship with the breeze already shivering in her sails, and +the smoke from her main-hatch blowing and beckoning as if to the +retreating boats. + +“Why’s the ship smoking like that?” asked Dick. “And look at those +boats coming—when are we going back, daddy?” + +“Uncle,” said Emmeline, putting her hand in his, as she gazed towards +the ship and beyond it, “I’m ’fraid.” + +“What frightens you, Emmy?” he asked, drawing her to him. + +“Shapes,” replied Emmeline, nestling up to his side. + +“Oh, Glory be to God!” gasped the old sailor, suddenly resting on his +oars. “Will yiz look at the fog that’s comin’—” + +“I think we had better wait here for the boats,” said Mr Lestrange; “we +are far enough now to be safe if—anything happens.” + +“Ay, ay,” replied the oarsman, whose wits had returned. “Blow up or +blow down, she won’t hit us from here.” + +“Daddy,” said Dick, “when are we going back? I want my tea.” + +“We aren’t going back, my child,” replied his father. “The ship’s on +fire; we are waiting for another ship.” + +“Where’s the other ship?” asked the child, looking round at the horizon +that was clear. + +“We can’t see it yet,” replied the unhappy man, “but it will come.” + +The long-boat and the quarter-boat were slowly approaching. They looked +like beetles crawling over the water, and after them across the +glittering surface came a dullness that took the sparkle from the +sea—a dullness that swept and spread like an eclipse shadow. + +Now the wind struck the dinghy. It was like a wind from fairyland, +almost imperceptible, chill, and dimming the sun. A wind from Lilliput. +As it struck the dinghy, the fog took the distant ship. + +It was a most extraordinary sight, for in less than thirty seconds the +ship of wood became a ship of gauze, a tracery—flickered, and was gone +forever from the sight of man. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +VOICES HEARD IN THE MIST + +The sun became fainter still, and vanished. Though the air round the +dinghy seemed quite clear, the on-coming boats were hazy and dim, and +that part of the horizon that had been fairly clear was now blotted out. + +The long-boat was leading by a good way. When she was within hailing +distance the captain’s voice came. + +“Dinghy ahoy!” + +“Ahoy!” + +“Fetch alongside here!” + +The long-boat ceased rowing to wait for the quarter-boat that was +slowly creeping up. She was a heavy boat to pull at all times, and now +she was overloaded. + +The wrath of Captain Le Farge with Paddy Button for the way he had +stampeded the crew was profound, but he had not time to give vent to it. + +“Here, get aboard us, Mr Lestrange!” said he, when the dinghy was +alongside; “we have room for one. Mrs Stannard is in the quarter-boat, +and it’s overcrowded; she’s better aboard the dinghy, for she can look +after the kids. Come, hurry up, the smother is coming down on us fast. +Ahoy!”—to the quarter-boat—“hurry up, hurry up!” + +The quarter-boat had suddenly vanished. + +Mr Lestrange climbed into the long-boat. Paddy pushed the dinghy a few +yards away with the tip of a scull, and then lay on his oars waiting. + +“Ahoy! ahoy!” cried Le Farge. + +“Ahoy!” came from the fog bank. + +Next moment the long-boat and the dinghy vanished from each other’s +sight: the great fog bank had taken them. + +Now a couple of strokes of the port scull would have brought Mr Button +alongside the long-boat, so close was he; but the quarter-boat was in +his mind, or rather imagination, so what must he do but take three +powerful strokes in the direction in which he fancied the quarter-boat +to be. + +The rest was voices. + +“Dinghy ahoy!” + +“Ahoy!” + +“Ahoy!” + +“Don’t be shoutin’ together, or I’ll not know which way to pull. +Quarter-boat ahoy! where are yiz?” + +“Port your helm!” + +“Ay, ay!”—putting his helm, so to speak, to starboard—“I’ll be wid yiz +in wan minute—two or three minutes’ hard pulling.” + +“Ahoy!”—much more faint. + +“What d’ye mane rowin’ away from me?”—a dozen strokes. + +“Ahoy!”—fainter still. + +Mr Button rested on his oars. + +“Divil mend them—I b’lave that was the long-boat shoutin’.” + +He took to his oars again and pulled vigorously. + +“Paddy,” came Dick’s small voice, apparently from nowhere, “where are +we now?” + +“Sure, we’re in a fog; where else would we be? Don’t you be affeared.” + +“I ain’t affeared, but Em’s shivering.” + +“Give her me coat,” said the oarsman, resting on his oars and taking it +off. “Wrap it round her; and when it’s round her we’ll all let one big +halloo together. There’s an ould shawl som’er in the boat, but I can’t +be after lookin’ for it now.” + +He held out the coat and an almost invisible hand took it; at the same +moment a tremendous report shook the sea and sky. + +“There she goes,” said Mr Button; “an’ me old fiddle an’ all. Don’t be +frightened, childer; it’s only a gun they’re firin’ for divarsion. Now +we’ll all halloo togither—are yiz ready?” + +“Ay, ay,” said Dick, who was a picker-up of sea terms. + +“Halloo!” yelled Pat. + +“Halloo! Halloo!” piped Dick and Emmeline. + +A faint reply came, but from where, it was difficult to say. The old +man rowed a few strokes and then paused on his oars. So still was the +surface of the sea that the chuckling of the water at the boat’s bow as +she drove forward under the impetus of the last powerful stroke could +be heard distinctly. It died out as she lost way, and silence closed +round them like a ring. + +The light from above, a light that seemed to come through a vast +scuttle of deeply-muffed glass, faint though it was, almost to +extinction, still varied as the little boat floated through the strata +of the mist. + +A great sea fog is not homogeneous—its density varies: it is +honeycombed with streets, it has its caves of clear air, its cliffs of +solid vapour, all shifting and changing place with the subtlety of +legerdemain. It has also this wizard peculiarity, that it grows with +the sinking of the sun and the approach of darkness. + +The sun, could they have seen it, was now leaving the horizon. + +They called again. Then they waited, but there was no response. + +“There’s no use bawlin’ like bulls to chaps that’s deaf as adders,” +said the old sailor, shipping his oars; immediately upon which +declaration he gave another shout, with the same result as far as +eliciting a reply. + +“Mr Button!” came Emmeline’s voice. + +“What is it, honey?” + +“I’m—m—’fraid.” + +“You wait wan minit till I find the shawl—here it is, by the same +token!—an’ I’ll wrap you up in it.” + +He crept cautiously aft to the stern-sheets and took Emmeline in his +arms. + +“Don’t want the shawl,” said Emmeline; “I’m not so much afraid in your +coat.” The rough, tobacco-smelling old coat gave her courage somehow. + +“Well, thin, keep it on. Dicky, are you cowld?” + +“I’ve got into daddy’s great-coat; he left it behind him.” + +“Well, thin, I’ll put the shawl round me own shoulders, for it’s cowld +I am. Are y’ hungry, childer?” + +“No,” said Dick, “but I’m drefful—Hi—yow——” + +“Slapy, is it? Well, down you get in the bottom of the boat, and here’s +the shawl for a pilla. I’ll be rowin’ again in a minit to keep meself +warm.” + +He buttoned the top button of the coat. + +“I’m a’right,” murmured Emmeline in a dreamy voice. + +“Shut your eyes tight,” replied Mr Button, “or Billy Winker will be +dridgin’ sand in them. + + “’Shoheen, shoheen, shoheen, shoheen, + Sho-hu-lo, sho-hu-lo. + Shoheen, shoheen, shoheen, shoheen, + Hush a by the babby O.’” + +It was the tag of an old nursery folk-song they sing in the hovels of +the Achill coast fixed in his memory, along with the rain and the wind +and the smell of the burning turf, and the grunting of the pig and the +knickety-knock of a rocking cradle. + +“She’s off,” murmured Mr Button to himself, as the form in his arms +relaxed. Then he laid her gently down beside Dick. He shifted forward, +moving like a crab. Then he put his hand to his pocket for his pipe and +tobacco and tinder box. They were in his coat pocket, but Emmeline was +in his coat. To search for them would be to awaken her. + +The darkness of night was now adding itself to the blindness of the +fog. The oarsman could not see even the thole pins. He sat adrift mind +and body. He was, to use his own expression, “moithered.” Haunted by +the mist, tormented by “shapes.” + +It was just in a fog like this that the Merrows could be heard +disporting in Dunbeg bay, and off the Achill coast. Sporting and +laughing, and hallooing through the mist, to lead unfortunate fishermen +astray. + +Merrows are not altogether evil, but they have green hair and teeth, +fishes’ tails and fins for arms; and to hear them walloping in the +water around you like salmon, and you alone in a small boat, with the +dread of one coming floundering on board, is enough to turn a man’s +hair grey. + +For a moment he thought of awakening the children to keep him company, +but he was ashamed. Then he took to the sculls again, and rowed “by the +feel of the water.” The creak of the oars was like a companion’s voice, +the exercise lulled his fears. Now and again, forgetful of the sleeping +children, he gave a halloo, and paused to listen. But no answer came. + +Then he continued rowing, long, steady, laborious strokes, each taking +him further and further from the boats that he was never destined to +sight again. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +DAWN ON A WIDE, WIDE SEA + +“Is it aslape I’ve been?” said Mr Button, suddenly awaking with a start. + +He had shipped his oars just for a minute’s rest. He must have slept +for hours, for now, behold! a warm, gentle wind was blowing, the moon +was shining, and the fog was gone. + +“Is it dhraming I’ve been?” continued the awakened one. “Where am I at +all, at all? O musha! sure, here I am. O wirra! wirra! I dreamt I’d +gone aslape on the main-hatch and the ship was blown up with powther, +and it’s all come true.” + +“Mr Button!” came a small voice from the stern-sheets (Emmeline’s). + +“What is it, honey?” + +“Where are we now?” + +“Sure, we’re afloat on the say, acushla; where else would we be?” + +“Where’s uncle?” + +“He’s beyant there in the long-boat—he’ll be afther us in a minit.” + +“I want a drink.” + +He filled a tin pannikin that was by the beaker of water, and gave her +a drink. Then he took his pipe and tobacco from his coat pocket. + +She almost immediately fell asleep again beside Dick, who had not +stirred or moved; and the old sailor, standing up and steadying +himself, cast his eyes round the horizon. Not a sign of sail or boat +was there on all the moonlit sea. + +From the low elevation of an open boat one has a very small horizon, +and in the vague world of moonlight somewhere round about it was +possible that the boats might be near enough to show up at daybreak. + +But open boats a few miles apart may be separated by long leagues in +the course of a few hours. Nothing is more mysterious than the currents +of the sea. + +The ocean is an ocean of rivers, some swiftly flowing, some slow, and a +league from where you are drifting at the rate of a mile an hour +another boat may be drifting two. + +A slight warm breeze was frosting the water, blending moonshine and +star shimmer; the ocean lay like a lake, yet the nearest mainland was +perhaps a thousand miles away. + +The thoughts of youth may be long, long thoughts, but not longer than +the thoughts of this old sailor man smoking his pipe under the stars. +Thoughts as long as the world is round. Blazing bar rooms in +Callao—harbours over whose oily surfaces the sampans slipped like +water-beetles—the lights of Macao—the docks of London. Scarcely ever +a sea picture, pure and simple, for why should an old seaman care to +think about the sea, where life is all into the fo’cs’le and out again, +where one voyage blends and jumbles with another, where after +forty-five years of reefing topsails you can’t well remember off which +ship it was Jack Rafferty fell overboard, or who it was killed who in +the fo’cs’le of what, though you can still see, as in a mirror darkly, +the fight, and the bloody face over which a man is holding a kerosene +lamp. + +I doubt if Paddy Button could have told you the name of the first ship +he ever sailed in. If you had asked him, he would probably have +replied: “I disremimber; it was to the Baltic, and cruel cowld weather, +and I was say-sick—till I near brought me boots up; and it was ‘O for +ould Ireland!’ I was cryin’ all the time, an’ the captin dhrummin me +back with a rope’s end to the tune uv it—but the name of the hooker—I +disremimber—bad luck to her, whoever she was!” + +So he sat smoking his pipe, whilst the candles of heaven burned above +him, and calling to mind roaring drunken scenes and palm-shadowed +harbours, and the men and the women he had known—such men and such +women! The derelicts of the earth and the ocean. Then he nodded off to +sleep again, and when he awoke the moon had gone. + +Now in the eastern sky might have been seen a pale fan of light, vague +as the wing of an ephemera. It vanished and changed back to darkness. + +Presently, and almost at a stroke, a pencil of fire ruled a line along +the eastern horizon, and the eastern sky became more beautiful than a +rose leaf plucked in May. The line of fire contracted into one +increasing spot, the rim of the rising sun. + +As the light increased the sky above became of a blue impossible to +imagine unless seen, a wan blue, yet living and sparkling as if born of +the impalpable dust of sapphires. Then the whole sea flashed like the +harp of Apollo touched by the fingers of the god. The light was music +to the soul. It was day. + +“Daddy!” suddenly cried Dick, sitting up in the sunlight and rubbing +his eyes with his open palms. “Where are we?” + +“All right, Dicky, me son!” cried the old sailor, who had been standing +up casting his eyes round in a vain endeavour to sight the boats. “Your +daddy’s as safe as if he was in hivin; he’ll be wid us in a minit, an’ +bring another ship along with him. So you’re awake, are you, Em’line?” + +Emmeline, sitting up in the old pilot coat, nodded in reply without +speaking. Another child might have supplemented Dick’s enquiries as to +her uncle by questions of her own, but she did not. + +Did she guess that there was some subterfuge in Mr Button’s answer, and +that things were different from what he was making them out to be? Who +can tell? + +She was wearing an old cap of Dick’s, which Mrs Stannard in the hurry +and confusion had popped on her head. It was pushed to one side, and +she made a quaint enough little figure as she sat up in the early +morning brightness, dressed in the old salt-stained coat beside Dick, +whose straw hat was somewhere in the bottom of the boat, and whose +auburn locks were blowing in the faint breeze. + +“Hurroo!” cried Dick, looking around at the blue and sparkling water, +and banging with a stretcher on the bottom of the boat. “I’m goin’ to +be a sailor, aren’t I, Paddy? You’ll let me sail the boat, won’t you, +Paddy, an’ show me how to row?” + +“Aisy does it,” said Paddy, taking hold of the child. “I haven’t a +sponge or towel, but I’ll just wash your face in salt wather and lave +you to dry in the sun.” + +He filled the bailing tin with sea water. + +“I don’t want to wash!” shouted Dick. + +“Stick your face into the water in the tin,” commanded Paddy. “You +wouldn’t be going about the place with your face like a sut-bag, would +you?” + +“Stick yours in!” commanded the other. + +Mr Button did so, and made a hub-bubbling noise in the water; then he +lifted a wet and streaming face, and flung the contents of the bailing +tin overboard. + +“Now you’ve lost your chance,” said this arch nursery-strategist, “all +the water’s gone.” + +“There’s more in the sea.” + +“There’s no more to wash with, not till to-morrow—the fishes don’t +allow it.” + +“I want to wash,” grumbled Dick. “I want to stick my face in the tin, +same’s you did; ’sides, Em hasn’t washed.” + +“_I_ don’t mind,” murmured Emmeline. + +“Well, thin,” said Mr Button, as if making a sudden resolve, “I’ll ax +the sharks.” He leaned over the boat’s side, his face close to the +surface of the water. “Halloo there!” he shouted, and then bent his +head sideways to listen; the children also looked over the side, deeply +interested. + +“Halloo there! Are y’aslape— Oh, there y’are! Here’s a spalpeen with a +dhirty face, an’s wishful to wash it; may I take a bailin’ tin of— Oh, +thank your ’arner, thank your ’arner—good day to you, and my respects.” + +“What did the shark say, Mr Button?” asked Emmeline. + +“He said: ‘Take a bar’l full, an’ welcome, Mister Button; an’ it’s +wishful I am I had a drop of the crathur to offer you this fine +marnin’.’ Thin he popped his head under his fin and went aslape agin; +leastwise, I heard him snore.” + +Emmeline nearly always “Mr Buttoned” her friend; sometimes she called +him “Mr Paddy.” As for Dick, it was always “Paddy,” pure and simple. +Children have etiquettes of their own. + +It must often strike landsmen and landswomen that the most terrible +experience when cast away at sea in an open boat is the total absence +of privacy. It seems an outrage on decency on the part of Providence to +herd people together so. But, whoever has gone through the experience +will bear me out that in great moments of life like this the human mind +enlarges, and things that would shock us ashore are as nothing out +there, face to face with eternity. + +If so with grown-up people, how much more so with this old shell-back +and his two charges? + +And indeed Mr Button was a person who called a spade a spade, had no +more conventions than a walrus, and looked after his two charges just +as a nursemaid might look after her charges, or a walrus after its +young. + +There was a large bag of biscuits in the boat, and some tinned +stuff—mostly sardines. + +I have known a sailor to open a box of sardines with a tin-tack. He was +in prison, the sardines had been smuggled into him, and he had no +can-opener. Only his genius and a tin-tack. + +Paddy had a jack-knife, however, and in a marvellously short time a box +of sardines was opened, and placed on the stern-sheets beside some +biscuits. + +These, with some water and Emmeline’s Tangerine orange, which she +produced and added to the common store, formed the feast, and they fell +to. + +When they had finished, the remains were put carefully away, and +they proceeded to step the tiny mast. + +The sailor, when the mast was in its place, stood for a moment resting +his hand on it, and gazing around him over the vast and voiceless blue. + +The Pacific has three blues: the blue of morning, the blue of midday, +and the blue of evening. But the blue of morning is the happiest: the +happiest thing in colour—sparkling, vague, newborn—the blue of heaven +and youth. + +“What are you looking for, Paddy?” asked Dick. + +“Say-gulls,” replied the prevaricator; then to himself: “Not a sight or +a sound of them! Musha! musha! which way will I steer—north, south, +aist, or west? It’s all wan, for if I steer to the aist, they may be in +the west; and if I steer to the west, they may be in the aist; and I +can’t steer to the west, for I’d be steering right in the wind’s eye. +Aist it is; I’ll make a soldier’s wind of it, and thrust to chance.” + +He set the sail and came aft with the sheet. Then he shifted the +rudder, lit a pipe, leaned luxuriously back and gave the bellying sail +to the gentle breeze. + +It was part of his profession, part of his nature, that, steering, +maybe, straight towards death by starvation and thirst, he was as +unconcerned as if he were taking the children for a summer’s sail. His +imagination dealt little with the future; almost entirely influenced by +his immediate surroundings, it could conjure up no fears from the scene +now before it. The children were the same. + +Never was there a happier starting, more joy in a little boat. During +breakfast the seaman had given his charges to understand that if Dick +did not meet his father and Emmeline her uncle in a “while or two,” it +was because he had gone on board a ship, and he’d be along presently. +The terror of their position was as deeply veiled from them as eternity +is veiled from you or me. + +The Pacific was still bound by one of those glacial calms that can only +occur when the sea has been free from storms for a vast extent of its +surface, for a hurricane down by the Horn will send its swell and +disturbance beyond the Marquesas. De Bois in his table of amplitudes +points out that more than half the sea disturbances at any given space +are caused, not by the wind, but by storms at a great distance. + +But the sleep of the Pacific is only apparent. This placid lake, over +which the dinghy was pursuing the running ripple, was heaving to an +imperceptible swell and breaking on the shores of the Low Archipelago, +and the Marquesas in foam and thunder. + +Emmeline’s rag-doll was a shocking affair from a hygienic or artistic +standpoint. Its face was just inked on, it had no features, no arms; +yet not for all the dolls in the world would she have exchanged this +filthy and nearly formless thing. It was a fetish. + +She sat nursing it on one side of the helmsman, whilst Dick, on the +other side, hung his nose over the water, on the look-out for fish. + +“Why do you smoke, Mr Button?” asked Emmeline, who had been watching +her friend for some time in silence. + +“To aise me thrubbles,” replied Paddy. + +He was leaning back with one eye shut and the other fixed on the luff +of the sail. He was in his element: nothing to do but steer and smoke, +warmed by the sun and cooled by the breeze. A landsman would have been +half demented in his condition, many a sailor would have been taciturn +and surly, on the look-out for sails, and alternately damning his soul +and praying to his God. Paddy smoked. + +“Whoop!” cried Dick. “Look, Paddy!” + +An albicore a few cables lengths to port had taken a flying leap from +the flashing sea, turned a complete somersault and vanished. + +“It’s an albicore takin’ a buck lep. Hundreds I’ve seen before this; +he’s bein’ chased.” + +“What’s chasing him, Paddy?” + +“What’s chasin’ him?—why, what else but the gibly-gobly-ums!” + +Before Dick could enquire as to the personal appearance and habits of +the latter, a shoal of silver arrow heads passed the boat and flittered +into the water with a hissing sound. + +“Thim’s flyin’ fish. What are you sayin’—fish can’t fly! Where’s the +eyes in your head?” + +“Are the gibblyums chasing them too?” asked Emmeline fearfully. + +“No; ’tis the Billy balloos that’s afther thim. Don’t be axin’ me any +more questions now, or I’ll be tellin’ you lies in a minit.” + +Emmeline, it will be remembered, had brought a small parcel with her +done up in a little shawl; it was under the boat seat, and every now +and then she would stoop down to see if it were safe. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +STORY OF THE PIG AND THE BILLY-GOAT + +Every hour or so Mr Button would shake his lethargy off, and rise and +look round for “sea-gulls,” but the prospect was sail-less as the +prehistoric sea, wingless, voiceless. When Dick would fret now and +then, the old sailor would always devise some means of amusing him. He +made him fishing-tackle out of a bent pin and some small twine that +happened to be in the boat, and told him to fish for “pinkeens”; and +Dick, with the pathetic faith of childhood, fished. + +Then he told them things. He had spent a year at Deal long ago, where a +cousin of his was married to a boatman. + +Mr Button had put in a year as a longshoreman at Deal, and he had got a +great lot to tell of his cousin and her husband, and more especially of +one, Hannah; Hannah was his cousin’s baby—a most marvellous child, who +was born with its “buck” teeth fully developed, and whose first +unnatural act on entering the world was to make a snap at the +“docther.” “Hung on to his fist like a bull-dog, and him bawlin’ +‘Murther!’” + +“Mrs James,” said Emmeline, referring to a Boston acquaintance, “had a +little baby, and it was pink.” + +“Ay, ay,” said Paddy; “they’re mostly pink to start with, but they fade +whin they’re washed.” + +“It’d no teeth,” said Emmeline, “for I put my finger in to see.” + +“The doctor brought it in a bag,” put in Dick, who was still steadily +fishing—“dug it out of a cabbage patch; an’ I got a trow’l and dug all +our cabbage patch up, but there weren’t any babies—but there were no +end of worms.” + +“I wish I had a baby,” said Emmeline, “and _I_ wouldn’t send it back to +the cabbage patch.” + +“The doctor,” explained Dick, “took it back and planted it again; and +Mrs James cried when I asked her, and daddy said it was put back to +grow and turn into an angel.” + +“Angels have wings,” said Emmeline dreamily. + +“And,” pursued Dick, “I told cook, and she said to Jane, daddy +was always stuffing children up with—something or ’nother. And I asked +daddy to let me see him stuffing up a child—and daddy said cook’d have +to go away for saying that, and she went away next day.” + +“She had three big trunks and a box for her bonnet,” said Emmeline, +with a far-away look as she recalled the incident. + +“And the cabman asked her hadn’t she any more trunks to put on his cab, +and hadn’t she forgot the parrot cage,” said Dick. + +“I wish _I_ had a parrot in a cage,” murmured Emmeline, moving slightly +so as to get more in the shadow of the sail. + +“And what in the world would you be doin’ with a par’t in a cage?” +asked Mr Button. + +“I’d let it out,” replied Emmeline. + +“Spakin’ about lettin’ par’ts out of cages, I remimber me grandfather +had an ould pig,” said Paddy (they were all talking seriously together +like equals). “I was a spalpeen no bigger than the height of me knee, +and I’d go to the sty door, and he’d come to the door, and grunt an’ +blow wid his nose undher it; an’ I’d grunt back to vex him, an’ hammer +wid me fist on it, an’ shout ‘Halloo there! halloo there!’ and ‘Halloo +to you!’ he’d say, spakin’ the pigs’ language. ‘Let me out,’ he’d say, +‘and I’ll give yiz a silver shilling.’ + +“‘Pass it under the door,’ I’d answer him. Thin he’d stick the snout of +him undher the door an’ I’d hit it a clip with a stick, and he’d yell +murther Irish. An’ me mother’d come out an’ baste me, an’ well I +desarved it. + +“Well, wan day I opened the sty door, an’ out he boulted and away and +beyant, over hill and hollo he goes till he gets to the edge of the +cliff overlookin’ the say, and there he meets a billy-goat, and he and +the billy-goat has a division of opinion. + +“‘Away wid yiz!’ says the billy-goat. + +“‘Away wid yourself!’ says he. + +“‘Whose you talkin’ to?’ says t’other. + +“‘Yourself,’ says him. + +“‘Who stole the eggs?’ says the billy-goat. + +“‘Ax your ould grandmother!’ says the pig. + +“‘Ax me ould _which_ mother?’ says the billy-goat. + +“‘Oh, ax me——’ And before he could complete the sintence ram, blam, +the ould billy-goat butts him in the chist, and away goes the both of +thim whirtlin’ into the say below. + +“Thin me ould grandfather comes out, and collars me by the scruff, and +‘Into the sty with you!’ says he; and into the sty I wint, and there +they kep’ me for a fortni’t on bran mash and skim milk—and well I +desarved it.” + +They dined somewhere about eleven o’clock, and at noon Paddy unstepped +the mast and made a sort of little tent or awning with the sail in the +bow of the boat to protect the children from the rays of the vertical +sun. + +Then he took his place in the bottom of the boat, in the stern, stuck +Dick’s straw hat over his face to preserve it from the sun, kicked +about a bit to get a comfortable position, and fell asleep. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +“S-H-E-N-A-N-D-O-A-H” + +He had slept an hour and more when he was brought to his senses by a +thin and prolonged shriek. It was Emmeline in a nightmare, or more +properly a day-mare, brought on by a meal of sardines and the haunting +memory of the gibbly-gobbly-ums. When she was shaken (it always took a +considerable time to bring her to, from these seizures) and comforted, +the mast was restepped. + +As Mr Button stood with his hand on the spar looking round him before +going aft with the sheet, an object struck his eye some three miles +ahead. Objects rather, for they were the masts and spars of a small +ship rising from the water. Not a vestige of sail, just the naked +spars. It might have been a couple of old skeleton trees jutting out of +the water for all a landsman could have told. + +He stared at this sight for twenty or thirty seconds without speaking, +his head projected like the head of a tortoise. Then he gave a wild +“Hurroo!” + +“What is it, Paddy?” asked Dick. + +“Hurroo!” replied Mr Button. “Ship ahoy! ship ahoy! Lie to till I be +afther boardin’ you. Sure, they are lyin’ to—divil a rag of canvas on +her—are they aslape or dhramin’? Here, Dick, let me get aft wid the +sheet; the wind’ll take us up to her quicker than we’ll row.” + +He crawled aft and took the tiller; the breeze took the sail, and the +boat forged ahead. + +“Is it daddy’s ship?” asked Dick, who was almost as excited as his +friend. + +“I dinno; we’ll see when we fetch her.” + +“Shall we go on her, Mr Button?” asked Emmeline. + +“Ay will we, honey.” + +Emmeline bent down, and fetching her parcel from under the seat, held +it in her lap. + +As they drew nearer, the outlines of the ship became more apparent. She +was a small brig, with stump topmasts, from the spars a few rags of +canvas fluttered. It was apparent soon to the old sailor’s eye what was +amiss with her. + +“She’s derelick, bad cess to her!” he muttered; “derelick and done +for—just me luck!” + +“I can’t see any people on the ship,” cried Dick, who had crept +forward to the bow. “Daddy’s not there.” + +The old sailor let the boat off a point or two, so as to get a view of +the brig more fully; when they were within twenty cable lengths or so +he unstepped the mast and took to the sculls. + +The little brig floated very low on the water, and presented a mournful +enough appearance; her running rigging all slack, shreds of canvas +flapping at the yards, and no boats hanging at her davits. It was easy +enough to see that she was a timber ship, and that she had started a +butt, flooded herself and been abandoned. + +Paddy lay on his oars within a few strokes of her. She was floating as +placidly as though she were in the harbour of San Francisco; the green +water showed in her shadow, and in the green water waved the tropic +weeds that were growing from her copper. Her paint was blistered and +burnt absolutely as though a hot iron had been passed over it, and over +her taffrail hung a large rope whose end was lost to sight in the water. + +A few strokes brought them under the stern. The name of the ship was +there in faded letters, also the port to which she belonged. +“_Shenandoah_. Martha’s Vineyard.” + +“There’s letters on her,” said Mr Button. “But I can’t make thim out. +I’ve no larnin’.” + +“I can read them,” said Dick. + +“So c’n I,” murmured Emmeline. + +“S-H-E-N-A-N-D-O-A-H,” spelt Dick. + +“What’s that?” enquired Paddy. + +“I don’t know,” replied Dick, rather downcastedly. + +“There you are!” cried the oarsman in a disgusted manner, pulling the +boat round to the starboard side of the brig. “They pritind to tache +letters to childer in schools, pickin’ their eyes out wid book-readin’, +and here’s letters as big as me face an’ they can’t make hid or tail of +them—be dashed to book-readin’!” + +The brig had old-fashioned wide channels, regular platforms; and she +floated so low in the water that they were scarcely a foot above the +level of the dinghy. + +Mr Button secured the boat by passing the painter through a channel +plate, then, with Emmeline and her parcel in his arms or rather in one +arm, he clambered over the channel and passed her over the rail on to +the deck. Then it was Dick’s turn, and the children stood waiting +whilst the old sailor brought the beaker of water, the biscuit, and the +tinned stuff on board. + +It was a place to delight the heart of a boy, the deck of the +_Shenandoah_; forward right from the main hatchway it was laden with +timber. Running rigging lay loose on the deck in coils, and nearly the +whole of the quarter-deck was occupied by a deck-house. The place had a +delightful smell of sea-beach, decaying wood, tar, and mystery. Bights +of buntline and other ropes were dangling from above, only waiting to +be swung from. A bell was hung just forward of the foremast. In half a +moment Dick was forward hammering at the bell with a belaying pin he +had picked from the deck. + +Mr Button shouted to him to desist; the sound of the bell jarred on his +nerves. It sounded like a summons, and a summons on that deserted craft +was quite out of place. Who knew what mightn’t answer it in the way of +the supernatural? + +Dick dropped the belaying pin and ran forward. He took the disengaged +hand, and the three went aft to the door of the deck-house. The door +was open, and they peeped in. + +The place had three windows on the starboard side, and through the +windows the sun was shining in a mournful manner. There was a table in +the middle of the place. A seat was pushed away from the table as if +some one had risen in a hurry. On the table lay the remains of a meal, a +teapot, two teacups, two plates. On one of the plates rested a fork +with a bit of putrifying bacon upon it that some one had evidently been +conveying to his mouth when—something had happened. Near the teapot +stood a tin of condensed milk, haggled open. Some old salt had just +been in the act of putting milk in his tea when the mysterious +something had occurred. Never did a lot of dead things speak so +eloquently as these things spoke. + +One could conjure it all up. The skipper, most likely, had finished his +tea, and the mate was hard at work at his, when the leak had been +discovered, or some derelict had been run into, or whatever it was had +happened—happened. + +One thing was evident, that since the abandonment of the brig she had +experienced fine weather, else the things would not have been left +standing so trimly on the table. + +Mr Button and Dick entered the place to prosecute enquiries, but +Emmeline remained at the door. The charm of the old brig appealed to +her almost as much as to Dick, but she had a feeling about it quite +unknown to him. A ship where no one was had about it suggestions of +“other things.” + +She was afraid to enter the gloomy deck-house, and afraid to remain +alone outside; she compromised matters by sitting down on the deck. +Then she placed the small bundle beside her, and hurriedly took the +rag-doll from her pocket, into which it was stuffed head down, pulled +its calico skirt from over its head, propped it up against the coaming +of the door, and told it not to be afraid. + +There was not much to be found in the deck-house, but aft of it were +two small cabins like rabbit hutches, once inhabited by the skipper and +his mate. Here there were great findings in the way of rubbish. Old +clothes, old boots, an old top-hat of that extraordinary pattern you +may see in the streets of Pernambuco, immensely tall, and narrowing +towards the brim. A telescope without a lens, a volume of Hoyt, a +nautical almanac, a great bolt of striped flannel shirting, a box of +fish hooks. And in one corner—glorious find!—a coil of what seemed to +be ten yards or so of black rope. + +“Baccy, begorra!” shouted Pat, seizing upon his treasure. It was +pigtail. You may see coils of it in the tobacconists’ windows of +seaport towns. A pipe full of it would make a hippopotamus vomit, yet +old sailors chew it and smoke it and revel in it. + +“We’ll bring all the lot of the things out on deck, and see what’s +worth keepin’ an’ what’s worth leavin’,” said Mr Button, taking an +immense armful of the old truck; whilst Dick, carrying the top-hat, +upon which he had instantly seized as his own special booty, led the +way. + +“Em,” shouted Dick, as he emerged from the doorway, “see what I’ve got!” + +He popped the awful-looking structure over his head. It went right down +to his shoulders. + +Emmeline gave a shriek. + +“It smells funny,” said Dick, taking it off and applying his nose to +the inside of it—“smells like an old hair brush. Here, you try it on.” + +Emmeline scrambled away as far as she could, till she reached the +starboard bulwarks, where she sat in the scupper, breathless and +speechless and wide-eyed. She was always dumb when frightened (unless +it were a nightmare or a very sudden shock), and this hat suddenly seen +half covering Dick frightened her out of her wits. Besides, it was a +black thing, and she hated black things—black cats, black horses; +worst of all, black dogs. + +She had once seen a hearse in the streets of Boston, an old-time hearse +with black plumes, trappings and all complete. The sight had nearly +given her a fit, though she did not know in the least the meaning of it. + +Meanwhile Mr Button was conveying armful after armful of stuff on deck. +When the heap was complete, he sat down beside it in the glorious +afternoon sunshine, and lit his pipe. + +He had searched neither for food or water as yet; content with the +treasure God had given him, for the moment the material things of life +were forgotten. And, indeed, if he had searched he would have found +only half a sack of potatoes in the caboose, for the lazarette was +awash, and the water in the scuttle-butt was stinking. + +Emmeline, seeing what was in progress, crept up, Dick promising not to +put the hat on her, and they all sat round the pile. + +“Thim pair of brogues,” said the old man, holding a pair of old boots +up for inspection like an auctioneer, “would fetch half a dollar any +day in the wake in any sayport in the world. Put them beside you, Dick, +and lay hold of this pair of britches by the ends of em’—stritch them.” + +The trousers were stretched out, examined and approved of, and laid +beside the boots. + +“Here’s a tiliscope wid wan eye shut,” said Mr Button, examining the +broken telescope and pulling it in and out like a concertina. “Stick +it beside the brogues; it may come in handy for somethin’. Here’s a +book”—tossing the nautical almanac to the boy. “Tell me what it says.” + +Dick examined the pages of figures hopelessly. + +“I can’t read ’em,” said Dick; “it’s numbers.” + +“Buzz it overboard,” said Mr Button. + +Dick did what he was told joyfully, and the proceedings resumed. + +He tried on the tall hat, and the children laughed. On her old friend’s +head the thing ceased to have terror for Emmeline. + +She had two methods of laughing. The angelic smile before mentioned—a +rare thing—and, almost as rare, a laugh in which she showed her little +white teeth, whilst she pressed her hands together, the left one tight +shut, and the right clasped over it. + +He put the hat on one side, and continued the sorting, searching all +the pockets of the clothes and finding nothing. When he had arranged +what to keep, they flung the rest overboard, and the valuables were +conveyed to the captain’s cabin, there to remain till wanted. + +Then the idea that food might turn up useful as well as old clothes in +their present condition struck the imaginative mind of Mr Button, and +he proceeded to search. + +The lazarette was simply a cistern full of sea water; what else it +might contain, not being a diver, he could not say. In the copper of +the caboose lay a great lump of putrifying pork or meat of some sort. +The harness cask contained nothing except huge crystals of salt. All +the meat had been taken away. Still, the provisions and water brought +on board from the dinghy would be sufficient to last them some ten days +or so, and in the course of ten days a lot of things might happen. + +Mr Button leaned over the side. The dinghy was nestling beside the brig +like a duckling beside a duck; the broad channel might have been +likened to the duck’s wing half extended. He got on the channel to see +if the painter was safely attached. Having made all secure, he climbed +slowly up to the main-yard arm, and looked round upon the sea. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +SHADOWS IN THE MOONLIGHT + +“Daddy’s a long time coming,” said Dick all of a sudden. + +They were seated on the baulks of timber that cumbered the deck of the +brig on either side of the caboose. An ideal perch. The sun was setting +over Australia way, in a sea that seemed like a sea of boiling gold. +Some mystery of mirage caused the water to heave and tremble as if +troubled by fervent heat. + +“Ay, is he,” said Mr Button; “but it’s better late than never. Now +don’t be thinkin’ of him, for that won’t bring him. Look at the sun +goin’ into the wather, and don’t be spakin’ a word, now, but listen and +you’ll hear it hiss.” + +The children gazed and listened, Paddy also. All three were mute as the +great blazing shield touched the water that leapt to meet it. + +You _could_ hear the water hiss—if you had imagination enough. Once +having touched the water, the sun went down behind it, as swiftly as a +man in a hurry going down a ladder. As he vanished a ghostly and golden +twilight spread over the sea, a light exquisite but immensely forlorn. +Then the sea became a violet shadow, the west darkened as if to a +closing door, and the stars rushed over the sky. + +“Mr Button,” said Emmeline, nodding towards the sun as he vanished, +“where’s over there?” + +“The west,” replied he, staring at the sunset. “Chainy and Injee and +all away beyant.” + +“Where’s the sun gone to now, Paddy?” asked Dick. + +“He’s gone chasin’ the moon, an’ she’s skedadlin’ wid her dress brailed +up for all she’s worth; she’ll be along up in a minit. He’s always +afther her, but he’s never caught her yet.” + +“What would he do to her if he caught her?” asked Emmeline. + +“Faith, an’ maybe he’d fetch her a skelp—an’ well she’d desarve it.” + +“Why’d she deserve it?” asked Dick, who was in one of his questioning +moods. + +“Because she’s always delutherin’ people an’ leadin’ thim asthray. +Girls or men, she moidhers thim all once she gets the comeither on +them; same as she did Buck M’Cann.” + +“Who’s he?” + +“Buck M’Cann? Faith, he was the village ijit where I used to live in +the ould days.” + +“What’s that?” + +“Hould your whisht, an’ don’t be axin’ questions. He was always wantin’ +the moon, though he was twinty an’ six feet four. He’d a gob on him +that hung open like a rat-trap with a broken spring, and he was as thin +as a barber’s pole, you could a’ tied a reef knot in the middle of ’um; +and whin the moon was full there was no houldin’ him.” Mr Button gazed +at the reflection of the sunset on the water for a moment as if +recalling some form from the past, and then proceeded. “He’d sit on the +grass starin’ at her, an’ thin he’d start to chase her over the hills, +and they’d find him at last, maybe a day or two later, lost in the +mountains, grazin’ on berries, an’ as green as a cabbidge from the +hunger an’ the cowld, till it got so bad at long last they had to +hobble him.” + +“I’ve seen a donkey hobbled,” cried Dick. + +“Thin you’ve seen the twin brother of Buck M’Cann. Well, one night me +elder brother Tim was sittin’ over the fire, smokin’ his dudeen an’ +thinkin’ of his sins, when in comes Buck with the hobbles on him. + +“‘Tim,’ says he, ‘I’ve got her at last!’ + +“‘Got who?’ says Tim. + +“‘The moon,’ says he. + +“‘Got her where?’ says Tim. + +“‘In a bucket down by the pond,’ says t’other, ‘safe an’ sound an’ not +a scratch on her; you come and look,’ says he. So Tim follows him, he +hobblin’, and they goes to the pond side, and there, sure enough, stood +a tin bucket full of wather, an’ on the wather the refliction of the +moon. + +“‘I dridged her out of the pond,’ whispers Buck. ‘Aisy now,’ says he, +‘an’ I’ll dribble the water out gently,’ says he, ‘an’ we’ll catch her +alive at the bottom of it like a trout.’ So he drains the wather out +gently of the bucket till it was near all gone, an’ then he looks into +the bucket expectin’ to find the moon flounderin’ in the bottom of it +like a flat fish. + +“‘She’s gone, bad ’cess to her!’ says he. + +“‘Try again,’ says me brother, and Buck fills the bucket again, and +there was the moon sure enough when the water came to stand still. + +“‘Go on,’ says me brother. ‘Drain out the wather, but go gentle, or +she’ll give yiz the slip again.’ + +“‘Wan minit,’ says Buck, ‘I’ve got an idea,’ says he; ‘she won’t give +me the slip this time,’ says he. ‘You wait for me,’ says he; and off he +hobbles to his old mother’s cabin a stone’s-throw away, and back he +comes with a sieve. + +“‘You hold the sieve,’ says Buck, ‘and I’ll drain the water into it; if +she ’scapes from the bucket we’ll have her in the sieve.’ And he pours +the wather out of the bucket as gentle as if it was crame out of a jug. +When all the wather was out he turns the bucket bottom up, and shook it. + +“‘Ran dan the thing!’ he cries, ‘she’s gone again;’ an’ wid that he +flings the bucket into the pond, and the sieve afther the bucket, when +up comes his old mother hobbling on her stick. + +“‘Where’s me bucket?’ says she. + +“‘In the pond,’ say Buck. + +“‘And me sieve?’ says she. + +“‘Gone afther the bucket.’ + +“‘I’ll give yiz a bucketin’!’ says she; and she up with the stick and +landed him a skelp, an’ driv him roarin’ and hobblin’ before her, and +locked him up in the cabin, an’ kep’ him on bread an’ wather for a wake +to get the moon out of his head; but she might have saved her thruble, +for that day month in it was agin—— There she comes!” + +The moon, argent and splendid, was breaking from the water. She was +full, and her light was powerful almost as the light of day. The +shadows of the children and the queer shadow of Mr Button were cast on +the wall of the caboose hard and black as silhouettes. + +“Look at our shadows!” cried Dick, taking off his broad-brimmed straw +hat and waving it. + +Emmeline held up her doll to see _its_ shadow, and Mr Button held up his +pipe. + +“Come now,” said he, putting the pipe back in his mouth, and making to +rise, “and shadda off to bed; it’s time you were aslape, the both of +you.” + +Dick began to yowl. + +“_I_ don’t want to go to bed; I aint tired, Paddy—les’s stay a little +longer.” + +“Not a minit,” said the other, with all the decision of a nurse; “not a +minit afther me pipe’s out!” + +“Fill it again,” said Dick. + +Mr Button made no reply. The pipe gurgled as he puffed at it—a kind of +death-rattle speaking of almost immediate extinction. + +“Mr Button!” said Emmeline. She was holding her nose in the air and +sniffing; seated to windward of the smoker, and out of the +pigtail-poisoned air, her delicate sense of smell perceived something +lost to the others. + +“What is it, acushla?” + +“I smell something.” + +“What d’ye say you smell?” + +“Something nice.” + +“What’s it like?” asked Dick, sniffing hard. “_I_ don’t smell anything.” + +Emmeline sniffed again to make sure. + +“Flowers,” said she. + +The breeze, which had shifted several points since midday, was bearing +with it a faint, faint odour: a perfume of vanilla and spice so faint +as to be imperceptible to all but the most acute olfactory sense. + +“Flowers!” said the old sailor, tapping the ashes out of his pipe +against the heel of his boot. “And where’d you get flowers in middle of +the say? It’s dhramin’ you are. Come now—to bed wid yiz!” + +“Fill it again,” wailed Dick, referring to the pipe. + +“It’s a spankin’ I’ll give you,” replied his guardian, lifting him down +from the timber baulks, and then assisting Emmeline, “in two ticks if +you don’t behave. Come along, Em’line.” + +He started aft, a small hand in each of his, Dick bellowing. + +As they passed the ship’s bell, Dick stretched towards the belaying pin +that was still lying on the deck, seized it, and hit the bell a mighty +bang. It was the last pleasure to be snatched before sleep, and he +snatched it. + +Paddy had made up beds for himself and his charges in the deck-house; +he had cleared the stuff off the table, broken open the windows to get +the musty smell away, and placed the mattresses from the captain and +mate’s cabins on the floor. + +When the children were in bed and asleep, he went to the starboard +rail, and, leaning on it, looked over the moonlit sea. He was thinking +of ships as his wandering eye roved over the sea spaces, little +dreaming of the message that the perfumed breeze was bearing him. The +message that had been received and dimly understood by Emmeline. Then +he leaned with his back to the rail and his hands in his pockets. He +was not thinking now, he was ruminating. + +The basis of the Irish character as exemplified by Paddy Button is a +profound laziness mixed with a profound melancholy. Yet Paddy, in his +left-handed way, was as hard a worker as any man on board ship; and as +for melancholy, he was the life and soul of the fo’cs’le. Yet there +they were, the laziness and the melancholy, only waiting to be tapped. + +As he stood with his hands thrust deep in his pockets, longshore +fashion, counting the dowels in the planking of the deck by the +moonlight, he was reviewing the “old days.” The tale of Buck M’Cann had +recalled them, and across all the salt seas he could see the moonlight +on the Connemara mountains, and hear the sea-gulls crying on the +thunderous beach where each wave has behind it three thousand miles of +sea. + +Suddenly Mr Button came back from the mountains of Connemara to find +himself on the deck of the _Shenandoah_; and he instantly became +possessed by fears. Beyond the white deserted deck, barred by the +shadows of the standing rigging, he could see the door of the caboose. +Suppose he should suddenly see a head pop out—or, worse, a shadowy form +go in? + +He turned to the deck-house, where the children were sound asleep, and +where, in a few minutes, he, too, was sound asleep beside them, whilst +all night long the brig rocked to the gentle swell of the Pacific, and +the breeze blew, bringing with it the perfume of flowers. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE TRAGEDY OF THE BOATS + +When the fog lifted after midnight the people in the long-boat saw the +quarter-boat half a mile to starboard of them. + +“Can you see the dinghy?” asked Lestrange of the captain, who was +standing up searching the horizon. + +“Not a speck,” answered Le Farge. “Damn that Irishman! but for him I’d +have got the boats away properly victualled and all; as it is I don’t +know what we’ve got aboard. You, Jenkins, what have you got forward +there?” + +“Two bags of bread and a breaker of water,” answered the steward. + +“A breaker of water be sugared!” came another voice; “a breaker half +full, you mean.” + +Then the steward’s voice: “So it is; there’s not more than a couple of +gallons in her.” + +“My God!” said Le Farge. “_Damn_ that Irishman!” + +“There’s not more than’ll give us two half pannikins apiece all round,” +said the steward. + +“Maybe,” said Le Farge, “the quarter-boat’s better stocked; pull for +her.” + +“She’s pulling for us,” said the stroke oar. + +“Captain,” asked Lestrange, “are you sure there’s no sight of the +dinghy?” + +“None,” replied Le Farge. + +The unfortunate man’s head sank on his breast. He had little time to +brood over his troubles, however, for a tragedy was beginning to unfold +around him, the most shocking, perhaps, in the annals of the sea—a +tragedy to be hinted at rather than spoken of. + +When the boats were within hailing distance, a man in the bow of the +long-boat rose up. + +“Quarter-boat ahoy!” + +“Ahoy!” + +“How much water have you?” + +“None!” + +The word came floating over the placid moonlit water. At it the fellows +in the long-boat ceased rowing, and you could see the water-drops +dripping off their oars like diamonds in the moonlight. + +“Quarter-boat ahoy!” shouted the fellow in the bow. “Lay on your oars.” + +“Here, you scowbanker!” cried Le Farge, “who are you to be giving +directions—” + +“Scowbanker yourself!” replied the fellow. “Bullies, put her about!” + +The starboard oars backed water, and the boat came round. + +By chance the worst lot of the _Northumberland’s_ crew were in the +long-boat—veritable “scowbankers,” scum; and how scum clings to life +you will never know, until you have been amongst it in an open boat at +sea. Le Farge had no more command over this lot than you have who are +reading this book. + +“Heave to!” came from the quarter-boat, as she laboured behind. + +“Lay on your oars, bullies!” cried the ruffian at the bow, who was +still standing up like an evil genius who had taken momentary command +over events. “Lay on your oars, bullies; they’d better have it now.” + +The quarter-boat in her turn ceased rowing, and lay a cable’s length +away. + +“How much water have you?” came the mate’s voice. + +“Not enough to go round.” + +Le Farge made to rise, and the stroke oar struck at him, catching him +in the wind and doubling him up in the bottom of the boat. + +“Give us some, for God’s sake!” came the mate’s voice; “we’re parched +with rowing, and there’s a woman on board.” + +The fellow in the bow of the long-boat, as if some one had suddenly +struck him, broke into a tornado of blasphemy. + +“Give us some,” came the mate’s voice, “or, by God, we’ll lay you +aboard!” + +Before the words were well spoken the men in the quarter-boat carried +the threat into action. The conflict was brief: the quarter-boat was +too crowded for fighting. The starboard men in the long-boat fought +with their oars, whilst the fellows to port steadied the boat. + +The fight did not last long, and presently the quarter-boat sheered +off, half of the men in her cut about the head and bleeding—two of +them senseless. + + * * * * * * + +It was sundown on the following day. The long-boat lay adrift. The last +drop of water had been served out eight hours before. + +The quarter-boat, like a horrible phantom, had been haunting and +pursuing her all day, begging for water when there was none. It was +like the prayers one might expect to hear in hell. + +The men in the long-boat, gloomy and morose, weighed down with a sense +of crime, tortured by thirst, and tormented by the voices imploring for +water, lay on their oars when the other boat tried to approach. + +Now and then, suddenly, and as if moved by a common impulse, they would +all shout out together: “We have none.” But the quarter-boat would not +believe. It was in vain to hold the breaker with the bung out to prove +its dryness, the half-delirious creatures had it fixed in their minds +that their comrades were withholding from them the water that was not. + +Just as the sun touched the sea, Lestrange, rousing himself from a +torpor into which he had sunk, raised himself and looked over the +gunwale. He saw the quarter-boat drifting a cable’s length away, lit by +the full light of sunset, and the spectres in it, seeing him, held out +in mute appeal their blackened tongues. + + * * * * * * + +Of the night that followed it is almost impossible to speak. Thirst +was nothing to what the scowbankers suffered from the torture of the +whimpering appeal for water that came to them at intervals during the +night. + + * * * * * * + +When at last the _Arago_, a French whale ship, sighted them, the crew of +the long-boat were still alive, but three of them were raving madmen. +Of the crew of the quarter-boat was saved—not one. + + + + +PART II + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE ISLAND + +“Childer!” shouted Paddy. He was at the cross-trees in the full dawn, +whilst the children standing beneath on deck were craning their faces +up to him. “There’s an island forenint us.” + +“Hurrah!” cried Dick. He was not quite sure what an island might be +like in the concrete, but it was something fresh, and Paddy’s voice was +jubilant. + +“Land ho! it is,” said he, coming down to the deck. “Come for’ard to +the bows, and I’ll show it you.” + +He stood on the timber in the bows and lifted Emmeline up in his arms; +and even at that humble elevation from the water she could see +something of an undecided colour—green for choice—on the horizon. + +It was not directly ahead, but on the starboard bow—or, as she would +have expressed it, to the right. When Dick had looked and expressed his +disappointment at there being so little to see, Paddy began to make +preparations for leaving the ship. + +It was only just now, with land in sight, that he recognised in some +fashion the horror of the position from which they were about to escape. + +He fed the children hurriedly with some biscuits and tinned meat, and +then, with a biscuit in his hand, eating as he went, he trotted about +the decks, collecting things and stowing them in the dinghy. The bolt +of striped flannel, all the old clothes, a housewife full of needles +and thread, such as seamen sometimes carry, the half-sack of potatoes, +a saw which he found in the caboose, the precious coil of tobacco, and +a lot of other odds and ends he transhipped, sinking the little dinghy +several strakes in the process. Also, of course, he took the breaker of +water, and the remains of the biscuit and tinned stuff they had brought +on board. These being stowed, and the dinghy ready, he went forward +with the children to the bow, to see how the island was bearing. + +It had loomed up nearer during the hour or so in which he had been +collecting and storing the things—nearer, and more to the right, which +meant that the brig was being borne by a fairly swift current, and that +she would pass it, leaving it two or three miles to starboard. It was +well they had command of the dinghy. + +“The sea’s all round it,” said Emmeline, who was seated on Paddy’s +shoulder, holding on tight to him, and gazing upon the island, the +green of whose trees was now visible, an oasis of verdure in the +sparkling and seraphic blue. + +“Are we going there, Paddy?” asked Dick, holding on to a stay, and +straining his eyes towards the land. + +“Ay, are we,” said Mr Button. “Hot foot—five knots, if we’re makin’ +wan; and it’s ashore we’ll be by noon, and maybe sooner.” + +The breeze had freshened up, and was blowing dead from the island, as +though the island were making a weak attempt to blow them away from it. + +Oh, what a fresh and perfumed breeze it was! All sorts of tropical +growing things had joined their scent in one bouquet. + +“Smell it,” said Emmeline, expanding her small nostrils. “That’s what I +smelt last night, only it’s stronger now.” + +The last reckoning taken on board the _Northumberland_ had proved the +ship to be south by east of the Marquesas; this was evidently one of +those small, lost islands that lie here and there south by east of the +Marquesas. Islands the most lonely and beautiful in the world. + +As they gazed it grew before them, and shifted still more to the right. +It was hilly and green now, though the trees could not be clearly made +out; here, the green was lighter in colour, and there, darker. A rim of +pure white marble seemed to surround its base. It was foam breaking on +the barrier reef. + +In another hour the feathery foliage of the cocoa-nut palms could be +made out, and the old sailor judged it time to take to the boat. + +He lifted Emmeline, who was clasping her luggage, over the rail on to +the channel, and deposited her in the stern-sheets; then Dick. + +In a moment the boat was adrift, the mast stepped, and the _Shenandoah_ +left to pursue her mysterious voyage at the will of the currents of the +sea. + +“You’re not going to the island, Paddy,” cried Dick, as the old man put +the boat on the port tack. + +“You be aisy,” replied the other, “and don’t be larnin’ your +gran’mother. How the divil d’ye think I’d fetch the land sailin’ dead +in the wind’s eye?” + +“Has the wind eyes?” + +Mr Button did not answer the question. He was troubled in his mind. +What if the island were inhabited? He had spent several years in the +South Seas. He knew the people of the Marquesas and Samoa, and liked +them. But here he was out of his bearings. + +However, all the troubling in the world was of no use. It was a case of +the island or the deep sea, and, putting the boat on the starboard +tack, he lit his pipe and leaned back with the tiller in the crook of +his arm. His keen eyes had made out from the deck of the brig an +opening in the reef, and he was making to run the dinghy abreast of the +opening, and then take to the sculls and row her through. + +Now, as they drew nearer a sound came on the breeze, a sound faint and +sonorous and dreamy. It was the sound of the breakers on the reef. The +sea just here was heaving to a deeper swell, as if vexed in its sleep +at the resistance to it of the land. + +Emmeline, sitting with her bundle in her lap, stared without speaking +at the sight before her. Even in the bright, glorious sunshine, and +despite the greenery that showed beyond, it was a desolate sight seen +from her place in the dinghy. A white, forlorn beach, over which the +breakers raced and tumbled, sea-gulls wheeling and screaming, and over +all the thunder of the surf. + +Suddenly the break became visible, and a glimpse of smooth, blue water +beyond. Mr Button unshipped the tiller, unstepped the mast, and took to +the sculls. + +As they drew nearer, the sea became more active, savage, and alive; the +thunder of the surf became louder, the breakers more fierce and +threatening, the opening broader. + +One could see the water swirling round the coral piers, for the tide +was flooding into the lagoon; it had seized the little dinghy and was +bearing it along far swifter than the sculls could have driven it. +Sea-gulls screamed around them, the boat rocked and swayed. Dick +shouted with excitement, and Emmeline shut her eyes _tight_. + +Then, as though a door had been swiftly and silently closed, the sound +of the surf became suddenly less. The boat floated on an even keel; she +opened her eyes and found herself in Wonderland. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE LAKE OF AZURE + +On either side lay a great sweep of waving blue water. Calm, almost as +a lake, sapphire here, and here with the tints of the aqua marine. Water +so clear that fathoms away below you could see the branching coral, the +schools of passing fish, and the shadows of the fish upon the spaces of +sand. + +Before them the clear water washed the sands of a white beach, the +cocoa-palms waved and whispered in the breeze; and as the oarsman lay +on his oars to look a flock of bluebirds rose, as if suddenly freed +from the tree-tops, wheeled, and passed soundless, like a wreath of +smoke, over the tree-tops of the higher land beyond. + +“Look!” shouted Dick, who had his nose over the gunwale of the boat. +“Look at the _fish_!” + +“Mr Button,” cried Emmeline, “where are we?” + +“Bedad, I dunno; but we might be in a worse place, I’m thinkin’,” +replied the old man, sweeping his eyes over the blue and tranquil +lagoon, from the barrier reef to the happy shore. + +On either side of the broad beach before them the cocoa-nut trees came +down like two regiments, and bending gazed at their own reflections in +the lagoon. Beyond lay waving chapparel, where cocoa-palms and +breadfruit trees intermixed with the mammee apple and the tendrils of +the wild vine. On one of the piers of coral at the break of the reef +stood a single cocoa-palm; bending with a slight curve, it, too, seemed +seeking its reflection in the waving water. + +But the soul of it all, the indescribable thing about this picture of +mirrored palm trees, blue lagoon, coral reef and sky, was the light. + +Away at sea the light was blinding, dazzling, cruel. Away at sea it had +nothing to focus itself upon, nothing to exhibit but infinite spaces of +blue water and desolation. + +Here it made the air a crystal, through which the gazer saw the +loveliness of the land and reef, the green of palm, the white of coral, +the wheeling gulls, the blue lagoon, all sharply outlined—burning, +coloured, arrogant, yet tender—heart-breakingly beautiful, for the +spirit of eternal morning was here, eternal happiness, eternal youth. + +As the oarsman pulled the tiny craft towards the beach, neither he nor +the children saw away behind the boat, on the water near the bending +palm tree at the break in the reef, something that for a moment +insulted the day, and was gone. Something like a small triangle of dark +canvas, that rippled through the water and sank from sight; something +that appeared and vanished like an evil thought. + +It did not take long to beach the boat. Mr Button tumbled over the side +up to his knees in water, whilst Dick crawled over the bow. + +“Catch hould of her the same as I do,” cried Paddy, laying hold of the +starboard gunwale; whilst Dick, imitative as a monkey, seized the +gunwale to port. Now then: + + “‘Yeo ho, Chilliman, + Up wid her, up wid her, + Heave O, Chilliman.’ + +“Lave her be now; she’s high enough.” + +He took Emmeline in his arms and carried her up on the sand. It was +from just here on the sand that you could see the true beauty of the +lagoon. That lake of sea water forever protected from storm and trouble +by the barrier reef of coral. + +Right from where the little clear ripples ran up the strand, it led the +eye to the break in the coral reef where the palm gazed at its own +reflection in the water, and there, beyond the break, one caught a +vision of the great heaving, sparkling sea. + +The lagoon, just here, was perhaps more than a third of a mile broad. I +have never measured it, but I know that, standing by the palm tree on +the reef, flinging up one’s arm and shouting to a person on the beach, +the sound took a perceptible time to cross the water: I should say, +perhaps, an almost perceptible time. The distant signal and the distant +call were almost coincident, yet not quite. + +Dick, mad with delight at the place in which he found himself, was +running about like a dog just out of the water. Mr Button was +discharging the cargo of the dinghy on the dry, white sand. Emmeline +seated herself with her precious bundle on the sand, and was watching +the operations of her friend, looking at the things around her and +feeling very strange. + +For all she knew all this was the ordinary accompaniment of a sea +voyage. Paddy’s manner throughout had been set to the one idea, not to +frighten the “childer”; the weather had backed him up. But down in the +heart of her lay the knowledge that all was not as it should be. The +hurried departure from the ship, the fog in which her uncle had +vanished, those things, and others as well, she felt instinctively were +not right. But she said nothing. + +She had not long for meditation, however, for Dick was running towards +her with a live crab which he had picked up, calling out that he was +going to make it bite her. + +“Take it away!” cried Emmeline, holding both hands with fingers +widespread in front of her face. “Mr Button! Mr Button! Mr Button!” + +“Lave her be, you little divil!” roared Pat, who was depositing the +last of the cargo on the sand. “Lave her be, or it’s a cow-hidin’ I’ll +be givin’ you!” + +“What’s a ‘divil,’ Paddy?” asked Dick, panting from his exertions. +“Paddy, what’s a ‘divil’?” + +“You’re wan. Ax no questions now, for it’s tired I am, an’ I want to +rest me bones.” + +He flung himself under the shade of a palm tree, took out his tinder +box, tobacco and pipe, cut some tobacco up, filled his pipe and lit it. +Emmeline crawled up, and sat near him, and Dick flung himself down on +the sand near Emmeline. + +Mr Button took off his coat and made a pillow of it against a cocoa-nut +tree stem. He had found the El Dorado of the weary. With his knowledge +of the South Seas a glance at the vegetation to be seen told him that +food for a regiment might be had for the taking; water, too. + +Right down the middle of the strand was a depression which in the rainy +season would be the bed of a rushing rivulet. The water just now was +not strong enough to come all the way to the lagoon, but away up there +“beyant” in the woods lay the source, and he’d find it in due time. +There was enough in the breaker for a week, and green “cuca-nuts” were +to be had for the climbing. + +Emmeline contemplated Paddy for a while as he smoked and rested his +bones, then a great thought occurred to her. She took the little shawl +from around the parcel she was holding and exposed the mysterious box. + +“Oh, begorra, the box!” said Paddy, leaning on his elbow interestedly; +“I might a’ known you wouldn’t a’ forgot it.” + +“Mrs James,” said Emmeline, “made me promise not to open it till I got +on shore, for the things in it might get lost.” + +“Well, you’re ashore now,” said Dick; “open it.” + +“I’m going to,” said Emmeline. + +She carefully undid the string, refusing the assistance of Paddy’s +knife. Then the brown paper came off, disclosing a common cardboard +box. She raised the lid half an inch, peeped in, and shut it again. + +“_Open_ it!” cried Dick, mad with curiosity. + +“What’s in it, honey?” asked the old sailor, who was as interested as +Dick. + +“Things,” replied Emmeline. + +Then all at once she took the lid off and disclosed a tiny tea service +of china, packed in shavings; there was a teapot with a lid, a cream +jug, cups and saucers, and six microscopic plates, each painted with a +pansy. + +“Sure, it’s a tay-set!” said Paddy, in an interested voice. “Glory be +to God! will you look at the little plates wid the flowers on thim?” + +“Heugh!” said Dick in disgust; “I thought it might a’ been soldiers.” + +“_I_ don’t want soldiers,” replied Emmeline, in a voice of perfect +contentment. + +She unfolded a piece of tissue paper, and took from it a sugar-tongs +and six spoons. Then she arrayed the whole lot on the sand. + +“Well, if that don’t beat all!” said Paddy. + +“And whin are you goin’ to ax me to tay with you?” + +“Some time,” replied Emmeline, collecting the things, and carefully +repacking them. + +Mr Button finished his pipe, tapped the ashes out, and placed it in his +pocket. + +“I’ll be afther riggin’ up a bit of a tint,” said he, as he rose to his +feet, “to shelter us from the jew to-night; but I’ll first have a look +at the woods to see if I can find wather. Lave your box with the other +things, Emmeline; there’s no one here to take it.” + +Emmeline left her box on the heap of things that Paddy had placed in +the shadow of the cocoa-nut trees, took his hand, and the three entered +the grove on the right. + +It was like entering a pine forest; the tall symmetrical stems of the +trees seemed set by mathematical law, each at a given distance from the +other. Whichever way you entered a twilight alley set with tree boles +lay before you. Looking up you saw at an immense distance above a pale +green roof patined with sparkling and flashing points of light, where +the breeze was busy playing with the green fronds of the trees. + +“Mr Button,” murmured Emmeline, “we won’t get lost, will we?” + +“Lost! No, faith; sure we’re goin’ uphill, an’ all we have to do is to +come down again, when we want to get back—ware nuts!” A green nut +detached from up above came down rattling and tumbling and hopped on +the ground. Paddy picked it up. “It’s a green cucanut,” said he, +putting it in his pocket (it was not very much bigger than a Jaffa +orange), “and we’ll have it for tay.” + +“That’s not a cocoa-nut,” said Dick; “cocoa-nuts are brown. I had five +cents once an’ I bought one, and scraped it out and y’et it.” + +“When Dr Sims made Dicky sick,” said Emmeline, “he said the wonder +t’im was how Dicky held it all.” + +“Come on,” said Mr Button, “an’ don’t be talkin’, or it’s the +Cluricaunes will be after us.” + +“What’s cluricaunes?” demanded Dick. + +“Little men no bigger than your thumb that make the brogues for the +Good People.” + +“Who’s they?” + +“Whisht, and don’t be talkin’. Mind your head, Em’leen, or the +branches’ll be hittin’ you in the face.” + +They had left the cocoa-nut grove, and entered the chapparel. Here was +a deeper twilight, and all sorts of trees lent their foliage to make +the shade. The artu with its delicately diamonded trunk, the great +breadfruit tall as a beech, and shadowy as a cave, the aoa, and the +eternal cocoa-nut palm all grew here like brothers. Great ropes of wild +vine twined like the snake of the laocoon from tree to tree, and all +sorts of wonderful flowers, from the orchid shaped like a butterfly to +the scarlet hibiscus, made beautiful the gloom. + +Suddenly Mr Button stopped. + +“Whisht!” said he. + +Through the silence—a silence filled with the hum and the murmur of +wood insects and the faint, far song of the reef—came a tinkling, +rippling sound: it was water. He listened to make sure of the bearing +of the sound, then he made for it. + +Next moment they found themselves in a little grass-grown glade. From +the hilly ground above, over a rock black and polished like ebony, fell +a tiny cascade not much broader than one’s hand; ferns grew around and +from a tree above where a great rope of wild convolvulus flowers blew +their trumpets in the enchanted twilight. + +The children cried out at the prettiness of it, and Emmeline ran and +dabbled her hands in the water. Just above the little waterfall sprang +a banana tree laden with fruit; it had immense leaves six feet long and +more, and broad as a dinner-table. One could see the golden glint of +the ripe fruit through the foliage. + +In a moment Mr Button had kicked off his shoes and was going up the +rock like a cat, absolutely, for it seemed to give him nothing to climb +by. + +“Hurroo!” cried Dick in admiration. “Look at Paddy!” + +Emmeline looked, and saw nothing but swaying leaves. + +“Stand from under!” he shouted, and next moment down came a huge bunch +of yellow-jacketed bananas. Dick shouted with delight, but Emmeline +showed no excitement: she had discovered something. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +DEATH VEILED WITH LICHEN + +“Mr Button,” said she, when the latter had descended, “there’s a little +barrel”; she pointed to something green and lichen-covered that lay +between the trunks of two trees—something that eyes less sharp than +the eyes of a child might have mistaken for a boulder. + +“Sure, an’ faith it’s an’ ould empty bar’l,” said Mr Button, wiping the +sweat from his brow and staring at the thing. “Some ship must have been +wathering here an’ forgot it. It’ll do for a sate whilst we have +dinner.” + +He sat down upon it and distributed the bananas to the children, who +sat down on the grass. + +The barrel looked such a deserted and neglected thing that his +imagination assumed it to be empty. Empty or full, however, it made an +excellent seat, for it was quarter sunk in the green soft earth, and +immovable. + +“If ships has been here, ships will come again,” said he, as he munched +his bananas. + +“Will daddy’s ship come here?” asked Dick. + +“Ay, to be sure it will,” replied the other, taking out his pipe. “Now +run about and play with the flowers an’ lave me alone to smoke a pipe, +and then we’ll all go to the top of the hill beyant, and have a look +round us. + +“Come ’long, Em!” cried Dick; and the children started off amongst the +trees, Dick pulling at the hanging vine tendrils, and Emmeline plucking +what blossoms she could find within her small reach. + +When he had finished his pipe he hallooed, and small voices answered +him from the wood. Then the children came running back, Emmeline +laughing and showing her small white teeth, a large bunch of blossoms +in her hand; Dick flowerless, but carrying what seemed a large green +stone. + +“Look at what a funny thing I’ve found!” he cried; “it’s got holes in +it.” + +“Dhrap it!” shouted Mr Button, springing from the barrel as if some one +had stuck an awl into him. “Where’d you find it? What d’you mane by +touchin’ it? Give it here.” + +He took it gingerly in his hands; it was a lichen-covered skull, with a +great dent in the back of it where it had been cloven by an axe or some +sharp instrument. He hove it as far as he could away amidst the trees. + +“What is it, Paddy?” asked Dick, half astonished, half frightened at +the old man’s manner. + +“It’s nothin’ good,” replied Mr Button. + +“There were two others, and I wanted to fetch them,” grumbled Dick. + +“You lave them alone. Musha! musha! but there’s been black doin’s here +in days gone by. What is it, Emmeline?” + +Emmeline was holding out her bunch of flowers for admiration. He took a +great gaudy blossom—if flowers can ever be called gaudy—and stuck its +stalk in the pocket of his coat. Then he led the way uphill, muttering +as he went. + +The higher they got the less dense became the trees and the fewer the +cocoa-nut palms. The cocoa-nut palm loves the sea, and the few they had +here all had their heads bent in the direction of the lagoon, as if +yearning after it. + +They passed a cane-brake where canes twenty feet high whispered +together like bulrushes. Then a sunlit sward, destitute of tree or +shrub, led them sharply upward for a hundred feet or so to where a +great rock, the highest point of the island, stood, casting its shadow +in the sunshine. The rock was about twenty feet high, and easy to +climb. Its top was almost flat, and as spacious as an ordinary +dinner-table. From it one could obtain a complete view of the island +and the sea. + +Looking down, one’s eye travelled over the trembling and waving +tree-tops, to the lagoon; beyond the lagoon to the reef, beyond the +reef to the infinite space of the Pacific. The reef encircled the whole +island, here further from the land, here closer; the song of the surf +on it came as a whisper, just like the whisper you hear in a shell; +but, a strange thing, though the sound heard on the beach was +continuous, up here one could distinguish an intermittency as breaker +after breaker dashed itself to death on the coral strand below. + +You have seen a field of green barley ruffled over by the wind, just so +from the hill-top you could see the wind in its passage over the sunlit +foliage beneath. + +It was breezing up from the south-west, and banyan and cocoa-palm, artu +and breadfruit tree, swayed and rocked in the merry wind. So bright and +moving was the picture of the breeze-swept sea, the blue lagoon, the +foam-dashed reef, and the rocking trees that one felt one had surprised +some mysterious gala day, some festival of Nature more than ordinarily +glad. + +As if to strengthen the idea, now and then above the trees would burst +what seemed a rocket of coloured stars. The stars would drift away in a +flock on the wind and be lost. They were flights of birds. All-coloured +birds peopled the trees below—blue, scarlet, dove-coloured, bright of +eye, but voiceless. From the reef you could see occasionally the +sea-gulls rising here and there in clouds like small puffs of smoke. + +The lagoon, here deep, here shallow, presented, according to its depth +or shallowness, the colours of ultra-marine or sky. The broadest parts +were the palest, because the most shallow; and here and there, in the +shallows, you might see a faint tracery of coral ribs almost reaching +the surface. The island at its broadest might have been three miles +across. There was not a sign of house or habitation to be seen, and not +a sail on the whole of the wide Pacific. + +It was a strange place to be, up here. To find oneself surrounded by +grass and flowers and trees, and all the kindliness of nature, to feel +the breeze blow, to smoke one’s pipe, and to remember that one was in a +place uninhabited and unknown. A place to which no messages were ever +carried except by the wind or the sea-gulls. + +In this solitude the beetle was as carefully painted and the flower as +carefully tended as though all the peoples of the civilised world were +standing by to criticise or approve. + +Nowhere in the world, perhaps, so well as here, could you appreciate +Nature’s splendid indifference to the great affairs of Man. + +The old sailor was thinking nothing of this sort. His eyes were fixed +on a small and almost imperceptible stain on the horizon to the +sou’-sou’-west. It was no doubt another island almost hull-down on the +horizon. Save for this blemish the whole wheel of the sea was empty and +serene. + +Emmeline had not followed them up to the rock. She had gone botanising +where some bushes displayed great bunches of the crimson arita berries +as if to show to the sun what Earth could do in the way of +manufacturing poison. She plucked two great bunches of them, and with +this treasure came to the base of the rock. + +“Lave thim berries down!” cried Mr Button, when she had attracted his +attention. “Don’t put thim in your mouth; thim’s the never-wake-up +berries.” + +He came down off the rock, hand over fist, flung the poisonous things +away, and looked into Emmeline’s small mouth, which at his command she +opened wide. There was only a little pink tongue in it, however, curled +up like a rose-leaf; no sign of berries or poison. So, giving her a +little shake, just as a nursemaid would have done in like +circumstances, he took Dick off the rock, and led the way back to the +beach. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +ECHOES OF FAIRY-LAND + +“Mr Button,” said Emmeline that night, as they sat on the sand near +the tent he had improvised, “Mr Button—cats go to sleep.” + +They had been questioning him about the “never-wake-up” berries. + +“Who said they didn’t?” asked Mr Button. + +“I mean,” said Emmeline, “they go to sleep and never wake up again. +Ours did. It had stripes on it, and a white chest, and rings all down +its tail. It went asleep in the garden, all stretched out, and showing +its teeth; an’ I told Jane, and Dicky ran in an’ told uncle. I went to +Mrs Sims, the doctor’s wife, to tea; and when I came back I asked Jane +where pussy was—and she said it was deadn’ berried, but I wasn’t to +tell uncle.” + +“I remember,” said Dick. “It was the day I went to the circus, and you +told me not to tell daddy the cat was deadn’ berried. But I told Mrs +James’s man when he came to do the garden; and I asked him where cats +went when they were deadn’ berried, and he said he guessed they went to +hell—at least he hoped they did, for they were always scratchin’ up +the flowers. Then he told me not to tell any one he’d said that, for it +was a swear word, and he oughtn’t to have said it. I asked him what +he’d give me if I didn’t tell, an’ he gave me five cents. That was the +day I bought the cocoa-nut.” + +The tent, a makeshift affair, consisting of two sculls and a tree +branch, which Mr Button had sawed off from a dwarf aoa, and the +stay-sail he had brought from the brig, was pitched in the centre of the +beach, so as to be out of the way of falling cocoa-nuts, should the +breeze strengthen during the night. The sun had set, but the moon had +not yet risen as they sat in the starlight on the sand near the +temporary abode. + +“What’s the things you said made the boots for the people, Paddy?” +asked Dick, after a pause. + +“Which things?” + +“You said in the wood I wasn’t to talk, else—” + +“Oh, the Cluricaunes—the little men that cobbles the Good People’s +brogues. Is it them you mane?” + +“Yes,” said Dick, not knowing quite whether it was them or not that he +meant, but anxious for information that he felt would be curious. “And +what are the good people?” + +“Sure, where were you born and bred that you don’t know the Good People +is the other name for the fairies—savin’ their presence?” + +“There aren’t any,” replied Dick. “Mrs Sims said there weren’t.” + +“Mrs James,” put in Emmeline, “said there were. She said she liked to +see children b’lieve in fairies. She was talking to another lady, who’d +got a red feather in her bonnet, and a fur muff. They were having tea, +and I was sitting on the hearthrug. She said the world was getting +too—something or another, an’ then the other lady said it was, and +asked Mrs James did she see Mrs Someone in the awful hat she wore +Thanksgiving Day. They didn’t say anything more about fairies, but Mrs +James——” + +“Whether you b’lave in them or not,” said Paddy, “there they are. An’ +maybe they’re poppin’ out of the wood behint us now, an’ listenin’ to +us talkin’; though I’m doubtful if there’s any in these parts, though +down in Connaught they were as thick as blackberries in the ould days. +O musha! musha! the ould days, the ould days! when will I be seein’ +thim again? Now, you may b’lave me or b’lave me not, but me own ould +father—God rest his sowl!—was comin’ over Croagh Patrick one night +before Christmas with a bottle of whisky in one hand of him, and a +goose, plucked an’ claned an’ all, in the other, which same he’d won in +a lottery, when, hearin’ a tchune no louder than the buzzin’ of a bee, +over a furze-bush he peeps, and there, round a big white stone, the +Good People were dancing in a ring hand in hand, an’ kickin’ their +heels, an’ the eyes of them glowin’ like the eyes of moths; and a chap +on the stone, no bigger than the joint of your thumb, playin’ to thim +on a bagpipes. Wid that he let wan yell an’ drops the goose an’ makes +for home, over hedge an’ ditch, boundin’ like a buck kangaroo, an’ the +face on him as white as flour when he burst in through the door, where +we was all sittin’ round the fire burnin’ chestnuts to see who’d be +married the first. + +“‘An’ what in the name of the saints is the mather wid yiz?’ says me +mother. + +“‘I’ve sane the Good People,’ says he, ‘up on the field beyant,’ says +he; ‘and they’ve got the goose,’ says he, ‘but, begorra, I’ve saved the +bottle,’ he says. ‘Dhraw the cork and give me a taste of it, for me +heart’s in me throat, and me tongue’s like a brick-kil.’ + +“An’ whin we come to prize the cork out of the bottle, there was +nothin’ in it; an’ whin we went next marnin’ to look for the goose, it +was gone. But there was the stone, sure enough, and the marks on it of +the little brogues of the chap that’d played the bagpipes—and who’d be +doubtin’ there were fairies after that?” + +The children said nothing for a while, and then Dick said: + +“Tell us about Cluricaunes, and how they make the boots.” + +“Whin I’m tellin’ you about Cluricaunes,” said Mr Button, “it’s the +truth I’m tellin’ you, an’ out of me own knowlidge, for I’ve spoken to a +man that’s held wan in his hand; he was me own mother’s brother, Con +Cogan—rest his sowl! Con was six fut two, wid a long, white face; he’d +had his head bashed in, years before I was barn, in some ruction or +other, an’ the docthers had japanned him with a five-shillin’ piece +beat flat.” + +Dick interposed with a question as to the process, aim, and object of +japanning, but Mr Button passed the question by. + +“He’d been bad enough for seein’ fairies before they japanned him, but +afther it, begorra, he was twiced as bad. I was a slip of a lad at the +time, but me hair near turned grey wid the tales he’d tell of the Good +People and their doin’s. One night they’d turn him into a harse an’ +ride him half over the county, wan chap on his back an’ another runnin’ +behind, shovin’ furze prickles under his tail to make him buck-lep. +Another night it’s a dunkey he’d be, harnessed to a little cart, an’ +bein’ kicked in the belly and made to draw stones. Thin it’s a goose +he’d be, runnin’ over the common wid his neck stritched out squawkin’, +an’ an old fairy woman afther him wid a knife, till it fair drove him +to the dhrink; though, by the same token, he didn’t want much dhrivin’. + +“And what does he do when his money was gone, but tear the +five-shillin’ piece they’d japanned him wid aff the top of his hed, and +swaps it for a bottle of whisky, and that was the end of him.” + +Mr Button paused to relight his pipe, which had gone out, and there was +silence for a moment. + +The moon had risen, and the song of the surf on the reef filled the +whole night with its lullaby. The broad lagoon lay waving and rippling +in the moonlight to the incoming tide. Twice as broad it always looked +seen by moonlight or starlight than when seen by day. Occasionally the +splash of a great fish would cross the silence, and the ripple of it +would pass a moment later across the placid water. + +Big things happened in the lagoon at night, unseen by eyes from the +shore. You would have found the wood behind them, had you walked +through it, full of light. A tropic forest under a tropic moon is green +as a sea cave. You can see the vine tendrils and the flowers, the +orchids and tree boles all lit as by the light of an emerald-tinted day. + +Mr Button took a long piece of string from his pocket. + +“It’s bedtime,” said he; “and I’m going to tether Em’leen, for fear +she’d be walkin’ in her slape, and wandherin’ away an’ bein’ lost in +the woods.” + +“I don’t want to be tethered,” said Emmeline. + +“It’s for your own good I’m doin’ it,” replied Mr Button, fixing the +string round her waist. “Now come ’long.” + +He led her like a dog in a leash to the tent, and tied the other end of +the string to the scull, which was the tent’s main prop and support. + +“Now,” said he, “if you be gettin’ up and walkin’ about in the night, +it’s down the tint will be on top of us all.” + +And, sure enough, in the small hours of the morning, it was. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +FAIR PICTURES IN THE BLUE + +“I don’t want my old britches on! I don’t want my old britches on!” + +Dick was darting about naked on the sand, Mr Button after him with a +pair of small trousers in his hand. A crab might just as well have +attempted to chase an antelope. + +They had been on the island a fortnight, and Dick had discovered the +keenest joy in life—to be naked. To be naked and wallow in the shallows +of the lagoon, to be naked and sit drying in the sun. To be free from +the curse of clothes, to shed civilisation on the beach in the form of +breeches, boots, coat, and hat, and to be one with the wind and the sun +and the sea. + +The very first command Mr Button had given on the second morning of +their arrival was, “Strip and into the water wid you.” + +Dick had resisted at first, and Emmeline (who rarely wept) had stood +weeping in her little chemise. But Mr Button was obdurate. The +difficulty at first was to get them in; the difficulty now was to keep +them out. + +Emmeline was sitting as nude as the day star, drying in the morning sun +after her dip, and watching Dick’s evolutions on the sand. + +The lagoon had for the children far more attraction than the land. +Woods where you might knock ripe bananas off the trees with a big cane, +sands where golden lizards would scuttle about so tame that you might +with a little caution seize them by the tail, a hill-top from whence +you might see, to use Paddy’s expression, “to the back of beyond”; all +these were fine enough in their way, but they were nothing to the +lagoon. + +Deep down where the coral branches were you might watch, whilst Paddy +fished, all sorts of things disporting on the sand patches and between +the coral tufts. Hermit crabs that had evicted whelks, wearing the +evicted ones’ shells—an obvious misfit; sea anemones as big as roses. +Flowers that closed up in an irritable manner if you lowered the hook +gently down and touched them; extraordinary shells that walked about on +feelers, elbowing the crabs out of the way and terrorising the whelks. +The overlords of the sand patches, these; yet touch one on the back +with a stone tied to a bit of string, and down he would go flat, +motionless and feigning death. There was a lot of human nature lurking +in the depths of the lagoon, comedy and tragedy. + +An English rock-pool has its marvels. You can fancy the marvels of this +vast rock-pool, nine miles round and varying from a third to half a +mile broad, swarming with tropic life and flights of painted fishes; +where the glittering albicore passed beneath the boat like a fire and a +shadow; where the boat’s reflection lay as clear on the bottom as +though the water were air; where the sea, pacified by the reef, told, +like a little child, its dreams. + +It suited the lazy humour of Mr Button that he never pursued the lagoon +more than half a mile or so on either side of the beach. He would bring +the fish he caught ashore, and with the aid of his tinder box and dead +sticks make a blazing fire on the sand; cook fish and breadfruit and +taro roots, helped and hindered by the children. They fixed the tent +amidst the trees at the edge of the chapparel, and made it larger and +more abiding with the aid of the dinghy’s sail. + +Amidst these occupations, wonders, and pleasures, the children lost all +count of the flight of time. They rarely asked about Mr Lestrange; +after a while they did not ask about him at all. Children soon forget. + + + + +PART III + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE POETRY OF LEARNING + +To forget the passage of time you must live in the open air, in a warm +climate, with as few clothes as possible upon you. You must collect and +cook your own food. Then, after a while, if you have no special ties to +bind you to civilisation, Nature will begin to do for you what she does +for the savage. You will recognise that it is possible to be happy +without books or newspapers, letters or bills. You will recognise the +part sleep plays in Nature. + +After a month on the island you might have seen Dick at one moment full +of life and activity, helping Mr Button to dig up a taro root or +what not, the next curled up to sleep like a dog. Emmeline the same. +Profound and prolonged lapses into sleep; sudden awakenings into a +world of pure air and dazzling light, the gaiety of colour all round. +Nature had indeed opened her doors to these children. + +One might have fancied her in an experimental mood, saying: “Let me put +these buds of civilisation back into my nursery and see what they will +become—how they will blossom, and what will be the end of it all.” + +Just as Emmeline had brought away her treasured box from the +_Northumberland_, Dick had conveyed with him a small linen bag that +chinked when shaken. It contained marbles. Small olive-green marbles +and middle-sized ones of various colours; glass marbles with splendid +coloured cores; and one large old grandfather marble too big to be +played with, but none the less to be worshipped—a god marble. + +Of course one cannot play at marbles on board ship, but one can play +_with_ them. They had been a great comfort to Dick on the voyage. He knew +them each personally, and he would roll them out on the mattress of his +bunk and review them nearly every day, whilst Emmeline looked on. + +One day Mr Button, noticing Dick and the girl kneeling opposite each +other on a flat, hard piece of sand near the water’s edge, strolled up +to see what they were doing. They were playing marbles. He stood with +his hands in his pockets and his pipe in his mouth watching and +criticising the game, pleased that the “childer” were amused. Then he +began to be amused himself, and in a few minutes more he was down on +his knees taking a hand; Emmeline, a poor player and an unenthusiastic +one, withdrawing in his favour. + +After that it was a common thing to see them playing together, the old +sailor on his knees, one eye shut, and a marble against the nail of his +horny thumb taking aim; Dick and Emmeline on the watch to make sure he +was playing fair, their shrill voices echoing amidst the cocoa-nut +trees with cries of “Knuckle down, Paddy, knuckle down!” He entered +into all their amusements just as one of themselves. On high and rare +occasions Emmeline would open her precious box, spread its contents and +give a tea-party, Mr Button acting as guest or president as the case +might be. + +“Is your tay to your likin’, ma’am?” he would enquire; and Emmeline, +sipping at her tiny cup, would invariably make answer: “Another lump of +sugar, if you please, Mr Button;” to which would come the stereotyped +reply: “Take a dozen, and welcome; and another cup for the good of your +make.” + +Then Emmeline would wash the things in imaginary water, replace them in +the box, and every one would lose their company manners and become +quite natural again. + +“Have you ever seen your name, Paddy?” asked Dick one morning. + +“Seen me which?” + +“Your name?” + +“Arrah, don’t be axin’ me questions,” replied the other. “How the divil +could I see me name?” + +“Wait and I’ll show you,” replied Dick. + +He ran and fetched a piece of cane, and a minute later on the +salt-white sand in face of orthography and the sun appeared these +portentous letters: + +B U T T E N + +“Faith, an’ it’s a cliver boy y’are,” said Mr Button admiringly, as he +leaned luxuriously against a cocoa-nut tree, and contemplated Dick’s +handiwork. “And that’s me name, is it? What’s the letters in it?” + +Dick enumerated them. + +“I’ll teach you to do it, too,” he said. “I’ll teach you to write your +name, Paddy—would you like to write your name, Paddy?” + +“No,” replied the other, who only wanted to be let smoke his pipe in +peace; “me name’s no use to me.” + +But Dick, with the terrible gadfly tirelessness of childhood, was not +to be put off, and the unfortunate Mr Button had to go to school +despite himself. In a few days he could achieve the act of drawing upon +the sand characters somewhat like the above, but not without prompting, +Dick and Emmeline on each side of him, breathless for fear of a mistake. + +“Which next?” would ask the sweating scribe, the perspiration pouring +from his forehead—“which next? an’ be quick, for it’s moithered I am.” + +“N. N.—that’s right—Ow, you’re making it crooked!—_that’s_ +right—there! it’s all there now—Hurroo!” + +“Hurroo!” would answer the scholar, waving his old hat over his own +name, and “Hurroo!” would answer the cocoa-nut grove echoes; whilst the +far, faint “Hi hi!” of the wheeling gulls on the reef would come over +the blue lagoon as if in acknowledgment of the deed, and encouragement. + +The appetite comes with teaching. The pleasantest mental exercise of +childhood is the instruction of one’s elders. Even Emmeline felt this. +She took the geography class one day in a timid manner, putting her +little hand first in the great horny fist of her friend. + +“Mr Button!” + +“Well, honey?” + +“I know g’ography.” + +“And what’s that?” asked Mr Button. + +This stumped Emmeline for a moment. + +“It’s where places are,” she said at last. + +“Which places?” enquired he. + +“All sorts of places,” replied Emmeline. “Mr Button!” + +“What is it, darlin’?” + +“Would you like to learn g’ography?” + +“I’m not wishful for larnin’,” said the other hurriedly. “It makes me +head buzz to hear them things they rade out of books.” + +“Paddy,” said Dick, who was strong on drawing that afternoon, “look +here.” He drew the following on the sand: + +[Illustration: A bad drawing of an elephant] + +“That’s an elephant,” he said in a dubious voice. + +Mr Button grunted, and the sound was by no means filled with +enthusiastic assent. A chill fell on the proceedings. + +Dick wiped the elephant slowly and regretfully out, whilst Emmeline +felt disheartened. Then her face suddenly cleared; the seraphic smile +came into it for a moment—a bright idea had struck her. + +“Dicky,” she said, “draw Henry the Eight.” + +Dick’s face brightened. He cleared the sand and drew the following +figure: + + l l + <[ ]> + / \ + +“_That’s_ not Henry the Eight,” he explained, “but he will be in a +minute. Daddy showed me how to draw him; he’s nothing till he gets his +hat on.” + +“Put his hat on, put his hat on!” implored Emmeline, gazing alternately +from the figure on the sand to Mr Button’s face, watching for the +delighted smile with which she was sure the old man would greet the +great king when he appeared in all his glory. + +Then Dick with a single stroke of the cane put Henry’s hat on. + + === l + l l + <[ ]> + / \ + +Now, no portrait could be liker to his monk-hunting majesty than the +above, created with one stroke of a cane (so to speak), yet Mr Button +remained unmoved. + +“I did it for Mrs Sims,” said Dick regretfully, “and _she_ said it was +the image of him.” + +“Maybe the hat’s not big enough,” said Emmeline, turning her head from +side to side as she gazed at the picture. It looked right, but she felt +there must be something wrong, as Mr Button did not applaud. Has not +every true artist felt the same before the silence of some critic? + +Mr Button tapped the ashes out of his pipe and rose to stretch himself, +and the class rose and trooped down to the lagoon edge, leaving Henry +and his hat a figure on the sand to be obliterated by the wind. + +After a while, as time went on, Mr Button took to his lessons as a +matter of course, the small inventions of the children assisting their +utterly untrustworthy knowledge. Knowledge, perhaps, as useful as any +other there amidst the lovely poetry of the palm trees and the sky. + +Days slipped into weeks, and weeks into months, without the appearance +of a ship—a fact which gave Mr Button very little trouble; and even +less to his charges, who were far too busy and amused to bother about +ships. + +The rainy season came on them with a rush, and at the words “rainy +season” do not conjure up in your mind the vision of a rainy day in +Manchester. + +The rainy season here was quite a lively time. Torrential showers +followed by bursts of sunshine, rainbows, and rain-dogs in the sky, and +the delicious perfume of all manner of growing things on the earth. + +After the rains the old sailor said he’d be after making a house of +bamboos before the next rains came on them; but, maybe, before that +they’d be off the island. + +“However,” said he, “I’ll dra’ you a picture of what it’ll be like when +it’s up;” and on the sand he drew a figure like this: + +X + +Having thus drawn the plans of the building, he leaned back against a +cocoa-palm and lit his pipe. But he had reckoned without Dick. + +The boy had not the least wish to live in a house, but he had a keen +desire to see one built, and help to build one. The ingenuity which is +part of the multiform basis of the American nature was aroused. + +“How’re you going to keep them from slipping, if you tie them together +like that?” he asked, when Paddy had more fully explained his method. + +“Which from slippin’?” + +“The canes—one from the other?” + +“After you’ve fixed thim, one cross t’other, you drive a nail through +the cross-piece and a rope over all.” + +“Have you any nails, Paddy?” + +“No,” said Mr Button, “I haven’t.” + +“Then how’re you goin’ to build the house?” + +“Ax me no questions now; I want to smoke me pipe.” + +But he had raised a devil difficult to lay. Morning, noon, and night it +was “Paddy, when are you going to begin the house?” or, “Paddy, I guess +I’ve got a way to make the canes stick together without nailing.” Till +Mr Button, in despair, like a beaver, began to build. + +There was great cane-cutting in the cane-brake above, and, when +sufficient had been procured, Mr Button struck work for three days. He +would have struck altogether, but he had found a taskmaster. + +The tireless Dick, young and active, with no original laziness in his +composition, no old bones to rest, or pipe to smoke, kept after him +like a bluebottle fly. It was in vain that he tried to stave him off +with stories about fairies and Cluricaunes. Dick wanted to build a +house. + +Mr Button didn’t. He wanted to rest. He did not mind fishing or +climbing a cocoa-nut tree, which he did to admiration by passing a rope +round himself and the tree, knotting it, and using it as a support +during the climb; but house-building was monotonous work. + +He said he had no nails. Dick countered by showing how the canes could +be held together by notching them. + +“And, faith, but it’s a cliver boy you are,” said the weary one +admiringly, when the other had explained his method. + +“Then come along, Paddy, and stick ’em up.” + +Mr Button said he had no rope, that he’d have to think about it, that +to-morrow or next day he’d be after getting some notion how to do it +without rope. But Dick pointed out that the brown cloth which Nature +has wrapped round the cocoa-palm stalks would do instead of rope if cut +in strips. Then the badgered one gave in. + +They laboured for a fortnight at the thing, and at the end of that time +had produced a rough sort of wigwam on the borders of the chapparel. + +Out on the reef, to which they often rowed in the dinghy, when the tide +was low, deep pools would be left, and in the pools fish. Paddy said +if they had a spear they might be able to spear some of these fish, as +he had seen the natives do away “beyant” in Tahiti. + +Dick enquired as to the nature of a spear, and next day produced a +ten-foot cane sharpened at the end after the fashion of a quill pen. + +“Sure, what’s the use of that?” said Mr Button. “You might job it into +a fish, but he’d be aff it in two ticks; it’s the barb that holds them.” + +Next day the indefatigable one produced the cane amended; he had +whittled it down about three feet from the end and on one side, and +carved a fairly efficient barb. It was good enough, at all events, to +spear a “groper” with, that evening, in the sunset-lit pools of the +reef at low tide. + +“There aren’t any potatoes here,” said Dick one day, after the second +rains. + +“We’ve et ’em all months ago,” replied Paddy. + +“How do potatoes grow?” enquired Dick. + +“Grow, is it? Why, they grow in the ground; and where else would they +grow?” He explained the process of potato-planting: cutting them into +pieces so that there was an eye in each piece, and so forth. “Having +done this,” said Mr Button, “you just chuck the pieces in the ground; +their eyes grow, green leaves ‘pop up,’ and then, if you dug the roots +up maybe, six months after, you’d find bushels of potatoes in the +ground, ones as big as your head, and weeny ones. It’s like a family of +childer—some’s big and some’s little. But there they are in the +ground, and all you have to do is to take a fark and dig a potful of +them with a turn of your wrist, as many a time I’ve done it in the ould +days.” + +“Why didn’t we do that?” asked Dick. + +“Do what?” asked Mr Button. + +“Plant some of the potatoes.” + +“And where’d we have found the spade to plant them with?” + +“I guess we could have fixed up a spade,” replied the boy. “I made a +spade at home, out of a piece of old board, once—daddy helped.” + +“Well, skelp off with you, and make a spade now,” replied the other, +who wanted to be quiet and think, “and you and Em’line can dig in the +sand.” + +Emmeline was sitting near by, stringing together some gorgeous blossoms +on a tendril of liana. Months of sun and ozone had made a considerable +difference in the child. She was as brown as a gipsy and freckled, not +very much taller, but twice as plump. Her eyes had lost considerably +that look as though she were contemplating futurity and immensity—not +as abstractions, but as concrete images, and she had lost the habit of +sleep-walking. + +The shock of the tent coming down on the first night she was tethered +to the scull had broken her of it, helped by the new healthful +conditions of life, the sea-bathing, and the eternal open air. There is +no narcotic to excel fresh air. + +Months of semi-savagery had made also a good deal of difference in +Dick’s appearance. He was two inches taller than on the day they +landed. Freckled and tanned, he had the appearance of a boy of twelve. +He was the promise of a fine man. He was not a good-looking child, but +he was healthy-looking, with a jolly laugh, and a daring, almost +impudent expression of face. + +The question of the children’s clothes was beginning to vex the mind of +the old sailor. The climate was a suit of clothes in itself. One was +much happier with almost nothing on. Of course there were changes of +temperature, but they were slight. Eternal summer, broken by torrential +rains, and occasionally a storm, that was the climate of the island; +still, the “childer” couldn’t go about with nothing on. + +He took some of the striped flannel and made Emmeline a kilt. It was +funny to see him sitting on the sand, Emmeline standing before him with +her garment round her waist, being tried on; he, with a mouthful of +pins, and the housewife with the scissors, needles, and thread by his +side. + +“Turn to the lift a bit more,” he’d say, “aisy does it. Stidy +so—musha! musha! where’s thim scissors? Dick, be holdin’ the end of +this bit of string till I get the stitches in behint. Does that hang +comfortable?—well, an’ you’re the trouble an’ all. How’s _that_? That’s +aisier, is it? Lift your fut till I see if it comes to your knees. Now +off with it, and lave me alone till I stitch the tags to it.” + +It was the mixture of a skirt and the idea of a sail, for it had two +rows of reef points; a most ingenious idea, as it could be reefed if +the child wanted to go paddling, or in windy weather. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE DEVIL’S CASK + +One morning, about a week after the day on which the old sailor, to use +his own expression, had bent a skirt on Emmeline, Dick came through the +woods and across the sands running. He had been on the hill-top. + +“Paddy,” he cried to the old man, who was fixing a hook on a +fishing-line, “there’s a ship!” + +It did not take Mr Button long to reach the hill-top, and there she +was, beating up for the island. Bluff-bowed and squab, the figure of an +old Dutch woman, and telling of her trade a league off. It was just +after the rains, the sky was not yet quite clear of clouds; you could +see showers away at sea, and the sea was green and foam-capped. + +There was the trying-out gear; there were the boats, the crow’s nest, +and all complete, and labelling her a whaler. She was a ship, no doubt, +but Paddy Button would as soon have gone on board a ship manned by +devils, and captained by Lucifer, as on board a South Sea whaleman. He +had been there before, and he knew. + +He hid the children under a large banyan, and told them not to stir or +breathe till he came back, for the ship was “the devil’s own ship”; and +if the men on board caught them they’d skin them alive and all. + +Then he made for the beach; he collected all the things out of the +wigwam, and all the old truck in the shape of boots and old clothes, +and stowed them away in the dinghy. He would have destroyed the house, +if he could, but he hadn’t time. Then he rowed the dinghy a hundred +yards down the lagoon to the left, and moored her under the shade of an +aoa, whose branches grew right over the water. Then he came back +through the cocoa-nut grove on foot, and peered through the trees over +the lagoon to see what was to be seen. + +The wind was blowing dead on for the opening in the reef, and the old +whaleman came along breasting the swell with her bluff bows, and +entered the lagoon. There was no leadsman in her chains. She just came +in as if she knew all the soundings by heart—as probably she did—for +these whalemen know every hole and corner in the Pacific. + +The anchor fell with a splash, and she swung to it, making a strange +enough picture as she floated on the blue mirror, backed by the +graceful palm tree on the reef. Then Mr Button, without waiting to see +the boats lowered, made back to his charges, and the three camped in +the woods that night. + +Next morning the whaleman was off and away, leaving as a token of her +visit the white sand all trampled, an empty bottle, half an old +newspaper, and the wigwam torn to pieces. + +The old sailor cursed her and her crew, for the incident had brought a +new exercise into his lazy life. Every day now at noon he had to climb +the hill, on the look-out for whalemen. Whalemen haunted his dreams, +though I doubt if he would willingly have gone on board even a Royal +Mail steamer. He was quite happy where he was. After long years of the +fo’cs’le the island was a change indeed. He had tobacco enough to last +him for an indefinite time, the children for companions, and food at +his elbow. He would have been entirely happy if the island had only +been supplied by Nature with a public-house. + +The spirit of hilarity and good fellowship, however, who suddenly +discovered this error on the part of Nature, rectified it, as will be +presently seen. + +The most disastrous result of the whaleman’s visit was not the +destruction of the “house,” but the disappearance of Emmeline’s box. +Hunt high or hunt low, it could not be found. Mr Button in his hurry +must have forgotten it when he removed the things to the dinghy—at all +events, it was gone. Probably one of the crew of the whalemen had found +it and carried it off with him; no one could say. It was gone, and +there was the end of the matter, and the beginning of great +tribulation, that lasted Emmeline for a week. + +She was intensely fond of coloured things, coloured flowers especially; +and she had the prettiest way of making them into a wreath for her own +or some one else’s head. It was the hat-making instinct that was at work +in her, perhaps; at all events, it was a feminine instinct, for Dick +made no wreaths. + +One morning, as she was sitting by the old sailor engaged in stringing +shells, Dick came running along the edge of the grove. He had just come +out of the wood, and he seemed to be looking for something. Then he +found what he was in search of—a big shell—and with it in his hand +made back to the wood. + +_Item._—His dress was a piece of cocoa-nut cloth tied round his middle. +Why he wore it at all, goodness knows, for he would as often as not be +running about stark naked. + +“I’ve found something, Paddy!” he cried, as he disappeared among the +trees. + +“What have you found?” piped Emmeline, who was always interested in new +things. + +“Something funny!” came back from amidst the trees. + +Presently he returned; but he was not running now. He was walking +slowly and carefully, holding the shell as if it contained something +precious that he was afraid would escape. + +“Paddy, I turned over the old barrel and it had a cork thing in it, and +I pulled it out, and the barrel is full of awfully funny-smelling +stuff—I’ve brought some for you to see.” + +He gave the shell into the old sailor’s hands. There was about half a +gill of yellow liquid in the shell. Paddy smelt it, tasted, and gave a +shout. + +“Rum, begorra!” + +“What is it, Paddy?” asked Emmeline. + +“_Where_ did you say you got it—in the ould bar’l, did you say?” asked +Mr Button, who seemed dazed and stunned as if by a blow. + +“Yes; I pulled the cork thing out—” + +“_Did yiz put it back?_” + +“Yes.” + +“Oh, glory be to God! Here have I been, time out of mind, sittin’ on an +ould empty bar’l, with me tongue hangin’ down to me heels for the want +of a drink, and it full of rum all the while!” + +He took a sip of the stuff, tossed the lot off, closed his lips tight +to keep in the fumes, and shut one eye. + +Emmeline laughed. + +Mr Button scrambled to his feet. They followed him through the +chapparel till they reached the water source. There lay the little +green barrel; turned over by the restless Dick, it lay with its bung +pointing to the leaves above. You could see the hollow it had made in +the soft soil during the years. So green was it, and so like an object +of nature, a bit of old tree-bole, or a lichen-stained boulder, that +though the whalemen had actually watered from the source, its real +nature had not been discovered. + +Mr Button tapped on it with the butt end of the shell: it was nearly +full. Why it had been left there, by whom, or how, there was no one to +tell. The old lichen-covered skulls might have told, could they have +spoken. + +“We’ll rowl it down to the beach,” said Paddy, when he had taken +another taste of it. + +He gave Dick a sip. The boy spat it out, and made a face, then, pushing +the barrel before them, they began to roll it downhill to the beach, +Emmeline running before them crowned with flowers. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +THE RAT HUNT + +They had dinner at noon. Paddy knew how to cook fish, island fashion, +wrapping them in leaves, and baking them in a hole in the ground in +which a fire had previously been lit. They had fish and taro root +baked, and green cocoa-nuts; and after dinner Mr Button filled a big +shell with rum, and lit his pipe. + +The rum had been good originally, and age had improved it. Used as he +was to the appalling balloon juice sold in the drinking dens of the +“Barbary coast” at San Francisco, or the public-houses of the docks, +this stuff was nectar. + +Joviality radiated from him: it was infectious. The children felt that +some happy influence had fallen upon their friend. Usually after dinner +he was drowsy and “wishful to be quiet.” To-day he told them stories of +the sea, and sang them songs—chantys: + + “I’m a flyin’ fish sailor come back from Hong Kong, + Yeo ho! blow the man down. + Blow the man down, bullies, blow the man down, + Oh, give us _time_ to blow the man down. + You’re a dhirty black-baller come back from New York, + Yeo ho! blow the man down, + Blow the man down, bullies, blow the man down. + Oh, give us time to blow the man down.” + +“Oh, give us _time_ to blow the man down!” echoed Dick and Emmeline. + +Up above, in the trees, the bright-eyed birds were watching them—such +a happy party. They had all the appearance of picnickers, and the song +echoed amongst the cocoa-nut trees, and the wind carried it over the +lagoon to where the sea-gulls were wheeling and screaming, and the foam +was thundering on the reef. + +That evening, Mr Button feeling inclined for joviality, and not wishing +the children to see him under the influence, rolled the barrel through +the cocoa-nut grove to a little clearing by the edge of the water. +There, when the children were in bed and asleep, he repaired with some +green cocoa-nuts and a shell. He was generally musical when amusing +himself in this fashion, and Emmeline, waking up during the night, +heard his voice borne through the moonlit cocoa-nut grove by the wind: + + “There were five or six old drunken sailors + Standin’ before the bar, + And Larry, he was servin’ them + From a big five-gallon jar. + + “_Chorus._— + Hoist up the flag, long may it wave! + Long may it lade us to glory or the grave. + Stidy, boys, stidy—sound the jubilee, + For Babylon has fallen, and the niggers are all set free.” + +Next morning the musician awoke beside the cask. He had not a trace of +a headache, or any bad feeling, but he made Dick do the cooking; and he +lay in the shade of the cocoa-nut trees, with his head on a “pilla” +made out of an old coat rolled up, twiddling his thumbs, smoking his +pipe, and discoursing about the “ould” days, half to himself and half +to his companions. + +That night he had another musical evening all to himself, and so it +went on for a week. Then he began to lose his appetite and sleep; and +one morning Dick found him sitting on the sand looking very queer +indeed—as well he might, for he had been “seeing things” since dawn. + +“What is it, Paddy?” said the boy, running up, followed by Emmeline. + +Mr Button was staring at a point on the sand close by. He had his right +hand raised after the manner of a person who is trying to catch a fly. +Suddenly he made a grab at the sand, and then opened his hand wide to +see what he had caught. + +“What is it, Paddy?” + +“The Cluricaune,” replied Mr Button. “All dressed in green he +was—musha! musha! but it’s only pretindin’ I am.” + +The complaint from which he was suffering has this strange thing about +it, that, though the patient sees rats, or snakes, or what not, as +real-looking as the real things, and though they possess his mind for a +moment, almost immediately he recognises that he is suffering from a +delusion. + +The children laughed, and Mr Button laughed in a stupid sort of way. + +“Sure, it was only a game I was playin’—there was no Cluricaune at +all—it’s whin I dhrink rum it puts it into me head to play games like +that. Oh, be the Holy Poker, there’s red rats comin’ out of the sand!” + +He got on his hands and knees and scuttled off towards the cocoa-nut +trees, looking over his shoulder with a bewildered expression on his +face. He would have risen to fly, only he dared not stand up. + +The children laughed and danced round him as he crawled. + +“Look at the rats, Paddy! look at the rats!” cried Dick. + +“They’re in front of me!” cried the afflicted one, making a vicious +grab at an imaginary rodent’s tail. “Ran dan the bastes!—now they’re +gone. Musha, but it’s a fool I’m makin’ of meself.” + +“Go on, Paddy,” said Dick; “don’t stop— Look there—there’s more rats +coming after you!” + +“Oh, whisht, will you?” replied Paddy, taking his seat on the sand, and +wiping his brow. “They’re aff me now.” + +The children stood by, disappointed of their game. Good acting appeals +to children just as much as to grown-up people. They stood waiting for +another access of humour to take the comedian, and they had not to wait +long. + +A thing like a flayed horse came out of the lagoon and up the beach, +and this time Mr Button did not crawl away. He got on his feet and ran. + +“It’s a harse that’s afther me—it’s a harse that’s afther me! Dick! +Dick! hit him a skelp. Dick! Dick! dhrive him away.” + +“Hurroo! Hurroo!” cried Dick, chasing the afflicted one, who was +running in a wide circle, his broad red face slewed over his left +shoulder. “Go it, Paddy! go it, Paddy!” + +“Kape off me, you baste!” shouted Paddy. “Holy Mary, Mother of God! +I’ll land you a kick wid me fut if yiz come nigh me. Em’leen! Em’leen! +come betune us!” + +He tripped, and over he went on the sand, the indefatigable Dick +beating him with a little switch he had picked up to make him continue. + +“I’m better now, but I’m near wore out,” said Mr Button, sitting up on +the sand. “But, bedad, if I’m chased by any more things like them it’s +into the say I’ll be dashin’. Dick, lend me your arum.” + +He took Dick’s arm and wandered over to the shade of the trees. Here +he threw himself down, and told the children to leave him to sleep. +They recognised that the game was over and left him. And he slept for +six hours on end; it was the first real sleep he had had for several +days. When he awoke he was well, but very shaky. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +STARLIGHT ON THE FOAM + +Mr Button saw no more rats, much to Dick’s disappointment. He was off +the drink. At dawn next day he got up, refreshed by a second sleep, and +wandered down to the edge of the lagoon. The opening in the reef faced +the east, and the light of the dawn came rippling in with the flooding +tide. + +“It’s a baste I’ve been,” said the repentant one—“a brute baste.” + +He was quite wrong; as a matter of fact, he was only a man beset and +betrayed. + +He stood for a while, cursing the drink, “and them that sells it.” Then +he determined to put himself out of the way of temptation. Pull the +bung out of the barrel, and let the contents escape? + +Such a thought never even occurred to him—or, if it did, was instantly +dismissed; for, though an old sailor-man may curse the drink, good rum +is to him a sacred thing; and to empty half a little barrel of it into +the sea, would be an act almost equivalent to child-murder. He put the +cask into the dinghy, and rowed it over to the reef. There he placed it +in the shelter of a great lump of coral, and rowed back. + +Paddy had been trained all his life to rhythmical drunkenness. Four +months or so had generally elapsed between his bouts—sometimes six; it +all depended on the length of the voyage. Six months now elapsed before +he felt even an inclination to look at the rum cask, that tiny dark +spot away on the reef. And it was just as well, for during those six +months another whale-ship arrived, watered and was avoided. + +“Blisther it!” said he; “the say here seems to breed whale-ships, and +nothin’ but whale-ships. It’s like bugs in a bed: you kill wan, and then +another comes. Howsomever, we’re shut of thim for a while.” + +He walked down to the lagoon edge, looked at the little dark spot and +whistled. Then he walked back to prepare dinner. That little dark spot +began to trouble him after a while; not it, but the spirit it contained. + +Days grew long and weary, the days that had been so short and pleasant. +To the children there was no such thing as time. Having absolute and +perfect health, they enjoyed happiness as far as mortals can enjoy it. +Emmeline’s highly-strung nervous system, it is true, developed a +headache when she had been too long in the glare of the sun, but they +were few and far between. + +The spirit in the little cask had been whispering across the lagoon for +some weeks; at last it began to shout. Mr Button, metaphorically +speaking, stopped his ears. He busied himself with the children as much +as possible. He made another garment for Emmeline, and cut Dick’s hair +with the scissors (a job which was generally performed once in a couple +of months). + +One night, to keep the rum from troubling his head, he told them the +story of Jack Dogherty and the Merrow, which is well known on the +western coast. + +The Merrow takes Jack to dinner at the bottom of the sea, and shows him +the lobster pots wherein he keeps the souls of old sailor-men, and then +they have dinner, and the Merrow produces a big bottle of rum. + +It was a fatal story for him to remember and recount; for, after his +companions were asleep, the vision of the Merrow and Jack hobnobbing, +and the idea of the jollity of it, rose before him, and excited a +thirst for joviality not to be resisted. + +There were some green cocoa-nuts that he had plucked that day lying in +a little heap under a tree—half a dozen or so. He took several of +these and a shell, found the dinghy where it was moored to the aoa +tree, unmoored her, and pushed off into the lagoon. + +The lagoon and sky were full of stars. In the dark depths of the water +might have been seen phosphorescent gleams of passing fish, and the +thunder of the surf on the reef filled the night with its song. + +He fixed the boat’s painter carefully round a spike of coral and landed +on the reef, and with a shellful of rum and cocoa-nut lemonade mixed +half and half, he took his perch on a high ledge of coral from whence a +view of the sea and the coral strand could be obtained. + +On a moonlight night it was fine to sit here and watch the great +breakers coming in, all marbled and clouded and rainbowed with +spindrift and sheets of spray. But the snow and the song of them under +the diffused light of the stars produced a more indescribably beautiful +and strange effect. + +The tide was going out now, and Mr Button, as he sat smoking his pipe +and drinking his grog, could see bright mirrors here and there where +the water lay in rock-pools. When he had contemplated these sights for +a considerable time in complete contentment, he returned to the lagoon +side of the reef and sat down beside the little barrel. Then, after a +while, if you had been standing on the strand opposite, you would have +heard scraps of song borne across the quivering water of the lagoon. + + “Sailing down, sailing down + On the coast of Barbaree.” + +Whether the coast of Barbary in question is that at San Francisco, or +the true and proper coast, does not matter. It is an old-time song; and +when you hear it, whether on a reef of coral or a granite quay, you may +feel assured that an old-time sailor-man is singing it, and that the +old-time sailor-man is bemused. + +Presently the dinghy put off from the reef, the sculls broke the +starlit waters and great shaking circles of light made rhythmical +answer to the slow and steady creak of the thole pins against the +leather. He tied up to the aoa, saw that the sculls were safely +shipped; then, breathing heavily, he cast off his boots for fear of +waking the “childer.” As the children were sleeping more than two +hundred yards away, this was a needless precaution—especially as the +intervening distance was mostly soft sand. + +Green cocoa-nut juice and rum mixed together are pleasant enough to +drink, but they are better drunk separately; combined, not even the +brain of an old sailor can make anything of them but mist and +muddlement; that is to say, in the way of thought—in the way of action +they can make him do a lot. They made Paddy Button swim the lagoon. + +The recollection came to him all at once, as he was walking up the +strand towards the wigwam, that he had left the dinghy tied to the +reef. The dinghy was, as a matter of fact, safe and sound tied to the +aoa; but Mr Button’s memory told him it was tied to the reef. How he +had crossed the lagoon was of no importance at all to him; the fact +that he had crossed without the boat, yet without getting wet, did not +appear to him strange. He had no time to deal with trifles like these. +The dinghy had to be fetched across the lagoon, and there was only one +way of fetching it. So he came back down the beach to the water’s edge, +cast down his boots, cast off his coat, and plunged in. The lagoon was +wide, but in his present state of mind he would have swum the +Hellespont. His figure gone from the beach, the night resumed its +majesty and aspect of meditation. + +So lit was the lagoon by starshine that the head of the swimmer could +be distinguished away out in the midst of circles of light; also, as +the head neared the reef, a dark triangle that came shearing through +the water past the palm tree at the pier. It was the night patrol of the +lagoon, who had heard in some mysterious manner that a drunken +sailor-man was making trouble in his waters. + +Looking, one listened, hand on heart, for the scream of the arrested +one, yet it did not come. The swimmer, scrambling on to the reef in an +exhausted manner, forgetful evidently of the object for which he had +returned, made for the rum cask, and fell down beside it as though +sleep had touched him instead of death. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE DREAMER ON THE REEF + +“I wonder where Paddy is?” cried Dick next morning. He was coming out +of the chapparel pulling a dead branch after him. “He’s left his coat +on the sand, and the tinder box in it, so I’ll make the fire. There’s +no use waiting. I want my breakfast. Bother——” + +He trod the dead stick with his naked feet, breaking it into pieces. + +Emmeline sat on the sand and watched him. + +Emmeline had two gods of a sort: Paddy Button and Dick. Paddy was +almost an esoteric god wrapped in the fumes of tobacco and mystery. The +god of rolling ships and creaking masts—the masts and vast sail spaces +of the _Northumberland_ were an enduring vision in her mind—the deity +who had lifted her from a little boat into this marvellous place, where +the birds were coloured and the fish were painted, where life was never +dull, and the skies scarcely ever grey. + +Dick, the other deity, was a much more understandable personage, but no +less admirable, as a companion and protector. In the two years and five +months of island life he had grown nearly three inches. He was as +strong as a boy of twelve, and could scull the boat almost as well as +Paddy himself, and light a fire. Indeed, during the last few months Mr +Button, engaged in resting his bones, and contemplating rum as an +abstract idea, had left the cooking and fishing and general gathering +of food as much as possible to Dick. + +“It amuses the craythur to pritind he’s doing things,” he would say, +as he watched Dick delving in the earth to make a little +oven—island-fashion—for the cooking of fish or what not. + +“Come along, Em,” said Dick, piling the broken wood on top of some +rotten hibiscus sticks; “give me the tinder box.” + +He got a spark on to a bit of punk, and then he blew at it, looking not +unlike Æolus as represented on those old Dutch charts that smell of +schiedam and snuff, and give one mermaids and angels instead of +soundings. + +The fire was soon sparkling and crackling, and he heaped on sticks in +profusion, for there was plenty of fuel, and he wanted to cook +breadfruit. + +The breadfruit varies in size, according to age, and in colour +according to season. These that Dick was preparing to cook were as +large as small melons. Two would be more than enough for three people’s +breakfast. They were green and knobbly on the outside, and they +suggested to the mind unripe lemons, rather than bread. + +He put them in the embers, just as you put potatoes to roast, and +presently they sizzled and spat little venomous jets of steam, then +they cracked, and the white inner substance became visible. He cut +them open and took the core out—the core is not fit to eat—and they +were ready. + +Meanwhile, Emmeline, under his directions, had not been idle. + +There were in the lagoon—there are in several other tropical lagoons I +know of—a fish which I can only describe as a golden herring. A bronze +herring it looks when landed, but when swimming away down against the +background of coral brains and white sand patches, it has the sheen of +burnished gold. It is as good to eat as to look at, and Emmeline was +carefully toasting several of them on a piece of cane. + +The juice of the fish kept the cane from charring, though there were +accidents at times, when a whole fish would go into the fire, amidst +shouts of derision from Dick. + +She made a pretty enough picture as she knelt, the “skirt” round the +waist looking not unlike a striped bath-towel, her small face intent, +and filled with the seriousness of the job on hand, and her lips +puckered out at the heat of the fire. + +“It’s so hot!” she cried in self-defence, after the first of the +accidents. + +“Of course it’s hot,” said Dick, “if you stick to looward of the fire. +How often has Paddy told you to keep to windward of it!” + +“I don’t know which is which,” confessed the unfortunate Emmeline, who +was an absolute failure at everything practical: who could neither row +nor fish, nor throw a stone, and who, though they had now been on the +island twenty-eight months or so, could not even swim. + +“You mean to say,” said Dick, “that you don’t know where the wind comes +from?” + +“Yes, I know that.” + +“Well, that’s to windward.” + +“I didn’t know that.” + +“Well, you know it now.” + +“Yes, I know it now.” + +“Well, then, come to windward of the fire. Why didn’t you ask the +meaning of it before?” + +“I did,” said Emmeline; “I asked Mr Button one day, and he told me a +lot about it. He said if he was to spit to windward and a person was to +stand to loo’ard of him, he’d be a fool; and he said if a ship went too +much to loo’ard she went on the rocks, but I didn’t understand what he +meant. Dicky, I wonder where he is?” + +“Paddy!” cried Dick, pausing in the act of splitting open a breadfruit. +Echoes came from amidst the cocoa-nut trees, but nothing more. + +“Come on,” said Dick; “I’m not going to wait for him. He may have gone +to fetch up the night lines”—they sometimes put down night lines in +the lagoon—“and fallen asleep over them.” + +Now, though Emmeline honoured Mr Button as a minor deity, Dick had no +illusions at all upon the matter. He admired Paddy because he could +knot, and splice, and climb a cocoa-nut tree, and exercise his sailor +craft in other admirable ways, but he felt the old man’s limitations. +They ought to have had potatoes now, but they had eaten both potatoes +and the possibility of potatoes when they consumed the contents of that +half sack. Young as he was, Dick felt the absolute thriftlessness of +this proceeding. Emmeline did not; she never thought of potatoes, +though she could have told you the colour of all the birds on the +island. + +Then, again, the house wanted rebuilding, and Mr Button said every day +he would set about seeing after it to-morrow, and on the morrow it +would be to-morrow. The necessities of the life they led were a +stimulus to the daring and active mind of the boy; but he was always +being checked by the go-as-you-please methods of his elder. Dick came +of the people who make sewing machines and typewriters. Mr Button came +of a people notable for ballads, tender hearts, and potheen. That was +the main difference. + +“Paddy!” again cried the boy, when he had eaten as much as he wanted. +“Hullo! where are you?” + +They listened, but no answer came. A bright-hued bird flew across the +sand space, a lizard scuttled across the glistening sand, the reef +spoke, and the wind in the tree-tops; but Mr Button made no reply. + +“Wait,” said Dick. + +He ran through the grove towards the aoa where the dinghy was moored; +then he returned. + +“The dinghy is all right,” he said. “Where on earth can he be?” + +“I don’t know,” said Emmeline, upon whose heart a feeling of loneliness +had fallen. + +“Let’s go up the hill,” said Dick; “perhaps we’ll find him there.” + +They went uphill through the wood, past the water-course. Every now and +then Dick would call out, and echoes would answer—there were quaint, +moist-voiced echoes amidst the trees—or a bevy of birds would take +flight. The little waterfall gurgled and whispered, and the great +banana leaves spread their shade. + +“Come on,” said Dick, when he had called again without receiving a +reply. + +They found the hill-top, and the great boulder stood casting its shadow +in the sun. The morning breeze was blowing, the sea sparkling, the reef +flashing, the foliage of the island waving in the wind like the flames +of a green-flamed torch. A deep swell was spreading itself across the +bosom of the Pacific. Some hurricane away beyond the Navigators or +Gilberts had sent this message and was finding its echo here, a +thousand miles away, in the deeper thunder of the reef. + +Nowhere else in the world could you get such a picture, such a +combination of splendour and summer, such a vision of freshness and +strength, and the delight of morning. It was the smallness of the +island, perhaps, that closed the charm and made it perfect. Just a +bunch of foliage and flowers set in the midst of the blowing wind and +sparkling blue. + +Suddenly Dick, standing beside Emmeline on the rock, pointed with his +finger to the reef near the opening. + +“There he is!” cried he. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THE GARLAND OF FLOWERS + +You could just make the figure out lying on the reef near the little +cask, and comfortably sheltered from the sun by an upstanding lump of +coral. + +“He’s asleep,” said Dick. + +He had not thought to look towards the reef from the beach, or he might +have seen the figure before. + +“Dicky!” said Emmeline. + +“Well?” + +“How did he get over, if you said the dinghy was tied to the tree?” + +“I don’t know,” said Dick, who had not thought of this; “there he is, +anyhow. I’ll tell you what, Em, we’ll row across and wake him. I’ll boo +into his ear and make him jump.” + +They got down from the rock, and came back down through the wood. As +they came Emmeline picked flowers and began making them up into one of +her wreaths. Some scarlet hibiscus, some bluebells, a couple of pale +poppies with furry stalks and bitter perfume. + +“What are you making that for?” asked Dick, who always viewed +Emmeline’s wreath-making with a mixture of compassion and vague disgust. + +“I’m going to put it on Mr Button’s head,” said Emmeline; “so’s when +you say boo into his ear he’ll jump up with it on.” + +Dick chuckled with pleasure at the idea of the practical joke, and +almost admitted in his own mind for a moment, that after all there +might be a use for such futilities as wreaths. + +The dinghy was moored under the spreading shade of the aoa, the painter +tied to one of the branches that projected over the water. These dwarf +aoas branch in an extraordinary way close to the ground, throwing out +limbs like rails. The tree had made a good protection for the little +boat, protecting it from marauding hands and from the sun; besides the +protection of the tree Paddy had now and then scuttled the boat in +shallow water. It was a new boat to start with, and with precautions +like these might be expected to last many years. + +“Get in,” said Dick, pulling on the painter so that the bow of the +dinghy came close to the beach. + +Emmeline got carefully in, and went aft. Then Dick got in, pushed off, +and took to the sculls. Next moment they were out on the sparkling +water. + +Dick rowed cautiously, fearing to wake the sleeper. He fastened the +painter to the coral spike that seemed set there by nature for the +purpose. He scrambled on to the reef, and lying down on his stomach +drew the boat’s gunwale close up so that Emmeline might land. He had no +boots on; the soles of his feet, from constant exposure, had become +insensitive as leather. + +Emmeline also was without boots. The soles of her feet, as is always +the case with highly nervous people, were sensitive, and she walked +delicately, avoiding the worst places, holding her wreath in her right +hand. + +It was full tide, and the thunder of the waves outside shook the reef. +It was like being in a church when the deep bass of the organ is turned +full on, shaking the ground and the air, the walls and the roof. Dashes +of spray came over with the wind, and the melancholy “Hi, hi!” of the +wheeling gulls came like the voices of ghostly sailor-men hauling at +the halyards. + +Paddy was lying on his right side steeped in profound oblivion. His +face was buried in the crook of his right arm, and his brown tattooed +left hand lay on his left thigh, palm upwards. He had no hat, and the +breeze stirred his grizzled hair. + +Dick and Emmeline stole up to him till they got right beside him. Then +Emmeline, flashing out a laugh, flung the little wreath of flowers on +the old man’s head, and Dick, popping down on his knees, shouted into +his ear. But the dreamer did not stir or move a finger. + +“Paddy,” cried Dick, “wake up! wake up!” + +He pulled at the shoulder till the figure from its sideways posture +fell over on its back. The eyes were wide open and staring. The mouth +hung open, and from the mouth darted a little crab; it scuttled over +the chin and dropped on the coral. + +Emmeline screamed, and screamed, and would have fallen, but the boy +caught her in his arms—one side of the face had been destroyed by the +larvæ of the rocks. + +He held her to him as he stared at the terrible figure lying upon its +back, hands outspread. Then, wild with terror, he dragged her towards +the little boat. She was struggling, and panting and gasping, like a +person drowning in ice-cold water. + +His one instinct was to escape, to fly—anywhere, no matter where. He +dragged the girl to the coral edge, and pulled the boat up close. Had +the reef suddenly become enveloped in flames he could not have exerted +himself more to escape from it and save his companion. A moment later +they were afloat, and he was pulling wildly for the shore. + +He did not know what had happened, nor did he pause to think: he was +fleeing from horror—nameless horror; whilst the child at his feet, +with her head resting against the gunwale, stared up open-eyed and +speechless at the great blue sky, as if at some terror visible there. +The boat grounded on the white sand, and the wash of the incoming tide +drove it up sideways. + +Emmeline had fallen forward; she had lost consciousness. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +ALONE + +The idea of spiritual life must be innate in the heart of man, for all +that terrible night, when the children lay huddled together in the +little hut in the chapparel, the fear that filled them was that their +old friend might suddenly darken the entrance and seek to lie down +beside them. + +They did not speak about him. Something had been done to him; something +had happened. Something terrible had happened to the world they knew. +But they dared not speak of it or question each other. + +Dick had carried his companion to the hut when he left the boat, and +hidden with her there; the evening had come on, and the night, and now +in the darkness, without having tasted food all day, he was telling her +not to be afraid, that he would take care of her. But not a word of +the thing that had happened. + +The thing, for them, had no precedent, and no vocabulary. They had come +across death raw and real, uncooked by religion, undeodorised by the +sayings of sages and poets. + +They knew nothing of the philosophy that tells us that death is the +common lot, and the natural sequence to birth, or the religion that +teaches us that Death is the door to Life. + +A dead old sailor-man lying like a festering carcass on a coral ledge, +eyes staring and glazed and fixed, a wide-open mouth that once had +spoken comforting words, and now spoke living crabs. + +That was the vision before them. They did not philosophise about it; +and though they were filled with terror, I do not think it was terror +that held them from speaking about it, but a vague feeling that what +they had beheld was obscene, unspeakable, and a thing to avoid. + +Lestrange had brought them up in his own way. He had told them there +was a good God who looked after the world; determined as far as he +could to exclude demonology and sin and death from their knowledge, he +had rested content with the bald statement that there was a good God +who looked after the world, without explaining fully that the same God +would torture them for ever and ever, should they fail to believe in +Him or keep His commandments. + +This knowledge of the Almighty, therefore, was but a half knowledge, +the vaguest abstraction. Had they been brought up, however, in the most +strictly Calvinistic school, this knowledge of Him would have been no +comfort now. Belief in God is no comfort to a frightened child. Teach +him as many parrot-like prayers as you please, and in distress or the +dark of what use are they to him? His cry is for his nurse, or his +mother. + +During that dreadful night these two children had no comfort to seek +anywhere in the whole wide universe but in each other. She, in a sense +of his protection, he, in a sense of being her protector. The +manliness in him greater and more beautiful than physical strength, +developed in those dark hours just as a plant under extraordinary +circumstances is hurried into bloom. + +Towards dawn Emmeline fell asleep. Dick stole out of the hut when he +had assured himself from her regular breathing that she was asleep, +and, pushing the tendrils and the branches of the mammee apples aside, +found the beach. The dawn was just breaking, and the morning breeze was +coming in from the sea. + +When he had beached the dinghy the day before, the tide was just at the +flood, and it had left her stranded. The tide was coming in now, and in +a short time it would be far enough up to push her off. + +Emmeline in the night had implored him to take her away. Take her away +somewhere from there, and he had promised, without knowing in the least +how he was to perform his promise. As he stood looking at the beach, so +desolate and strangely different now from what it was the day before, +an idea of how he could fulfil his promise came to him. He ran down to +where the little boat lay on the shelving sand, with the ripples of the +incoming tide just washing the rudder, which was still shipped. He +unshipped the rudder and came back. + +Under a tree, covered with the stay-sail they had brought from the +_Shenandoah_, lay most of their treasures: old clothes and boots, and all +the other odds and ends. The precious tobacco stitched up in a piece of +canvas was there, and the housewife with the needles and threads. A +hole had been dug in the sand as a sort of _cache_ for them, and the +stay-sail put over them to protect them from the dew. + +The sun was now looking over the sea-line, and the tall cocoa-nut trees +were singing and whispering together under the strengthening breeze. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +THEY MOVE AWAY + +He began to collect the things, and carry them to the dinghy. He took +the stay-sail and everything that might be useful; and when he had +stowed them in the boat, he took the breaker and filled it with water +at the water source in the wood; he collected some bananas and +breadfruit, and stowed them in the dinghy with the breaker. Then he +found the remains of yesterday’s breakfast, which he had hidden between +two palmetto leaves, and placed it also in the boat. + +The water was now so high that a strong push would float her. He turned +back to the hut for Emmeline. She was still asleep: so soundly asleep, +that when he lifted her up in his arms she made no movement. He placed +her carefully in the stern-sheets with her head on the sail rolled up, +and then standing in the bow pushed off with a scull. Then, taking the +sculls, he turned the boat’s head up the lagoon to the left. He kept +close to the shore, but for the life of him he could not help lifting +his eyes and looking towards the reef. + +Round a certain spot on the distant white coral there was a great +commotion of birds. Huge birds some of them seemed, and the “Hi! hi! +hi!” of them came across the lagoon on the breeze as they quarrelled +together and beat the air with their wings. He turned his head away +till a bend of the shore hid the spot from sight. + +Here, sheltered more completely than opposite the break in the reef, +the artu trees came in places right down to the water’s edge; the +breadfruit trees cast the shadow of their great scalloped leaves upon +the water; glades, thick with fern, wildernesses of the mammee apple, +and bushes of the scarlet “wild cocoa-nut” all slipped by, as the +dinghy, hugging the shore, crept up the lagoon. + +Gazing at the shore edge one might have imagined it the edge of a lake, +but for the thunder of the Pacific upon the distant reef; and even that +did not destroy the impression, but only lent a strangeness to it. + +A lake in the midst of the ocean, that is what the lagoon really was. + +Here and there cocoa-nut trees slanted over the water, mirroring their +delicate stems, and tracing their clear-cut shadows on the sandy bottom +a fathom deep below. + +He kept close in-shore for the sake of the shelter of the trees. His +object was to find some place where they might stop permanently, and +put up a tent. He was seeking a new home, in fact. But, pretty as were +the glades they passed, they were not attractive places to live in. +There were too many trees, or the ferns were too deep. He was seeking +air and space, and suddenly he found it. Rounding a little cape, all +blazing with the scarlet of the wild cocoa-nut, the dinghy broke into a +new world. + +Before her lay a great sweep of the palest blue wind-swept water, down +to which came a broad green sward of park-like land set on either side +with deep groves, and leading up and away to higher land, where, above +the massive and motionless green of the great breadfruit trees, the +palm trees swayed and fluttered their pale green feathers in the +breeze. The pale colour of the water was due to the extreme shallowness +of the lagoon just here. So shallow was it that one could see brown +spaces indicating beds of dead and rotten coral, and splashes of +darkest sapphire where the deep pools lay. The reef lay more than half +a mile from the shore: a great way out, it seemed, so far out that its +cramping influence was removed, and one had the impression of wide and +unbroken sea. + +Dick rested on his oars, and let the dinghy float whilst he looked +around him. He had come some four miles and a half, and this was right +at the back of the island. As the boat drifting shoreward touched the +bank, Emmeline awakened from her sleep, sat up, and looked around her. + + + + +BOOK II + + +PART I + +CHAPTER I + +UNDER THE ARTU TREE + +On the edge of the green sward, between a diamond-chequered artu trunk +and the massive bole of a breadfruit, a house had come into being. It +was not much larger than a big hen-house, but quite sufficient for the +needs of two people in a climate of eternal summer. It was built of +bamboos, and thatched with a double thatch of palmetto leaves, so +neatly built, and so well thatched, that one might have fancied it the +production of several skilled workmen. + +The breadfruit tree was barren of fruit, as these trees sometimes are, +whole groves of them ceasing to bear for some mysterious reason only +known to Nature. It was green now, but when suffering its yearly change +the great scalloped leaves would take all imaginable tinges of gold and +bronze and amber. Beyond the artu was a little clearing, where the +chapparel had been carefully removed and taro roots planted. + +Stepping from the house doorway on to the sward you might have fancied +yourself, except for the tropical nature of the foliage, in some +English park. + +Looking to the right, the eye became lost in the woods, where all tints +of green were tinging the foliage, and the bushes of the wild cocoa-nut +burned scarlet as haw-berries. + +The house had a doorway, but no door. It might have been said to have a +double roof, for the breadfruit foliage above gave good shelter during +the rains. Inside it was bare enough. Dried, sweet-smelling ferns +covered the floor. Two sails, rolled up, lay on either side of the +doorway. There was a rude shelf attached to one of the walls, and on +the shelf some bowls made of cocoa-nut shell. The people to whom the +place belonged evidently did not trouble it much with their presence, +using it only at night, and as a refuge from the dew. + +Sitting on the grass by the doorway, sheltered by the breadfruit shade, +yet with the hot rays of the afternoon sun just touching her naked +feet, was a girl. A girl of fifteen or sixteen, naked, except for a +kilt of gaily-striped material reaching from her waist to her knees. +Her long black hair was drawn back from the forehead, and tied behind +with a loop of the elastic vine. A scarlet blossom was stuck behind her +right ear, after the fashion of a clerk’s pen. Her face was beautiful, +powdered with tiny freckles; especially under the eyes, which were of a +deep, tranquil blue-grey. She half sat, half lay on her left side; +whilst before her, quite close, strutted up and down on the grass, a +bird, with blue plumage, coral-red beak, and bright, watchful eyes. + +The girl was Emmeline Lestrange. Just by her elbow stood a little bowl +made from half a cocoa-nut, and filled with some white substance with +which she was feeding the bird. Dick had found it in the woods two +years ago, quite small, deserted by its mother, and starving. They had +fed it and tamed it, and it was now one of the family; roosting on the +roof at night, and appearing regularly at meal times. + +All at once she held out her hand; the bird flew into the air, lit on +her forefinger and balanced itself, sinking its head between its +shoulders, and uttering the sound which formed its entire vocabulary +and one means of vocal expression—a sound from which it had derived +its name. + +“Koko,” said Emmeline, “where is Dick?” + +The bird turned his head about, as if he were searching for his master; +and the girl lay back lazily on the grass, laughing, and holding him up +poised on her finger, as if he were some enamelled jewel she wished to +admire at a little distance. They made a pretty picture under the +cave-like shadow of the breadfruit leaves; and it was difficult to +understand how this young girl, so perfectly formed, so fully +developed, and so beautiful, had evolved from plain little Emmeline +Lestrange. And the whole thing, as far as the beauty of her was +concerned, had happened during the last six months. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +HALF CHILD—HALF SAVAGE + +Five rainy seasons had passed and gone since the tragic occurrence on +the reef. Five long years the breakers had thundered, and the sea-gulls +had cried round the figure whose spell had drawn a mysterious barrier +across the lagoon. + +The children had never returned to the old place. They had kept +entirely to the back of the island and the woods—the lagoon, down to a +certain point, and the reef; a wide enough and beautiful enough world, +but a hopeless world, as far as help from civilisation was concerned. +For, of the few ships that touched at the island in the course of +years, how many would explore the lagoon or woods? Perhaps not one. + +Occasionally Dick would make an excursion in the dinghy to the old +place, but Emmeline refused to accompany him. He went chiefly to obtain +bananas; for on the whole island there was but one clump of banana +trees—that near the water source in the wood, where the old green +skulls had been discovered, and the little barrel. + +She had never quite recovered from the occurrence on the reef. +Something had been shown to her, the purport of which she vaguely +understood, and it had filled her with horror and a terror of the place +where it had occurred. Dick was quite different. He had been frightened +enough at first; but the feeling wore away in time. + +Dick had built three houses in succession during the five years. He had +laid out a patch of taro and another of sweet potatoes. He knew every +pool on the reef for two miles either way, and the forms of their +inhabitants; and though he did not know the names of the creatures to +be found there, he made a profound study of their habits. + +He had seen some astonishing things during these five years—from a +fight between a whale and two thrashers conducted outside the reef, +lasting an hour, and dyeing the breaking waves with blood, to the +poisoning of the fish in the lagoon by fresh water, due to an +extraordinarily heavy rainy season. + +He knew the woods of the back of the island by heart, and the forms of +life that inhabited them—butterflies, and moths, and birds, lizards, +and insects of strange shape; extraordinary orchids—some +filthy-looking, the very image of corruption, some beautiful, and all +strange. He found melons and guavas, and breadfruit, the red apple of +Tahiti, and the great Brazilian plum, taro in plenty, and a dozen +other good things—but there were no bananas. This made him unhappy +at times, for he was human. + +Though Emmeline had asked Koko for Dick’s whereabouts, it was only a +remark made by way of making conversation, for she could hear him in +the little cane-brake which lay close by amidst the trees. + +In a few minutes he appeared, dragging after him two canes which he had +just cut, and wiping the perspiration off his brow with his naked arm. +He had an old pair of trousers on—part of the truck salved long ago +from the _Shenandoah_—nothing else, and he was well worth looking at and +considering, both from a physical and psychological point of view. + +Auburn-haired and tall, looking more like seventeen than sixteen, with +a restless and daring expression, half a child, half a man, half a +civilised being, half a savage, he had both progressed and retrograded +during the five years of savage life. He sat down beside Emmeline, +flung the canes beside him, tried the edge of the old butcher’s knife +with which he had cut them, then, taking one of the canes across his +knee, he began whittling at it. + +“What are you making?” asked Emmeline, releasing the bird, which flew +into one of the branches of the artu and rested there, a blue point +amidst the dark green. + +“Fish-spear,” replied Dick. + +Without being taciturn, he rarely wasted words. Life was all business +for him. He would talk to Emmeline, but always in short sentences; and +he had developed the habit of talking to inanimate things, to the +fish-spear he was carving, or the bowl he was fashioning from a +cocoa-nut. + +As for Emmeline, even as a child she had never been talkative. There +was something mysterious in her personality, something secretive. Her +mind seemed half submerged in twilight. Though she spoke little, and +though the subject of their conversations was almost entirely material +and relative to their everyday needs, her mind would wander into +abstract fields and the land of chimerae and dreams. What she found +there no one knew—least of all, perhaps, herself. + +As for Dick, he would sometimes talk and mutter to himself, as if in a +reverie; but if you caught the words, you would find that they referred +to no abstraction, but to some trifle he had on hand. He seemed +entirely bound up in the moment, and to have forgotten the past as +completely as though it had never been. + +Yet he had his contemplative moods. He would lie with his face over a +rock-pool by the hour, watching the strange forms of life to be seen +there, or sit in the woods motionless as a stone, watching the birds +and the swift-slipping lizards. The birds came so close that he could +easily have knocked them over, but he never hurt one or interfered in +any way with the wild life of the woods. + +The island, the lagoon, and the reef were for him the three volumes of +a great picture book, as they were for Emmeline, though in a different +manner. The colour and the beauty of it all fed some mysterious want in +her soul. Her life was a long reverie, a beautiful vision—troubled +with shadows. Across all the blue and coloured spaces that meant months +and years she could still see as in a glass dimly the _Northumberland_, +smoking against the wild background of fog; her uncle’s face, Boston—a +vague and dark picture beyond a storm—and nearer, the tragic form on +the reef that still haunted terribly her dreams. But she never spoke of +these things to Dick. Just as she kept the secret of what was in her +box, and the secret of her trouble whenever she lost it, she kept the +secret of her feelings about these things. + +Born of these things there remained with her always a vague terror: the +terror of losing Dick. Mrs Stannard, her uncle, the dim people she had +known in Boston, all had passed away out of her life like a dream and +shadows. The other one too, most horribly. What if Dick were taken +from her as well? + +This haunting trouble had been with her a long time; up to a few months +ago it had been mainly personal and selfish—the dread of being left +alone. But lately it had altered and become more acute. Dick had +changed in her eyes, and the fear was now for him. Her own personality +had suddenly and strangely become merged in his. The idea of life +without him was unthinkable, yet the trouble remained, a menace in the +blue. + +Some days it would be worse than others. To-day, for instance, it was +worse than yesterday, as though some danger had crept close to them +during the night. Yet the sky and sea were stainless, the sun shone on +tree and flower, the west wind brought the tune of the far-away reef +like a lullaby. There was nothing to hint of danger or the need of +distrust. + +At last Dick finished his spear and rose to his feet. + +“Where are you going?” asked Emmeline. + +“The reef,” he replied. “The tide’s going out.” + +“I’ll go with you,” said she. + +He went into the house and stowed the precious knife away. Then he came +out, spear in one hand, and half a fathom of liana in the other. The +liana was for the purpose of stringing the fish on, should the catch be +large. He led the way down the grassy sward to the lagoon where the +dinghy lay, close up to the bank, and moored to a post driven into the +soft soil. Emmeline got in, and, taking the sculls, he pushed off. The +tide was going out. + +I have said that the reef just here lay a great way out from the shore. +The lagoon was so shallow that at low tide one could have waded almost +right across it, were it not for pot-holes here and there—ten-feet +traps—and great beds of rotten coral, into which one would sink as +into brushwood, to say nothing of the nettle coral that stings like a +bed of nettles. There were also other dangers. Tropical shallows are +full of wild surprises in the way of life—and death. + +Dick had long ago marked out in his memory the soundings of the lagoon, +and it was fortunate that he possessed the special sense of location +which is the main stand-by of the hunter and the savage, for, from the +disposition of the coral in ribs, the water from the shore edge to the +reef ran in lanes. Only two of these lanes gave a clear, fair way from +the shore edge to the reef; had you followed the others, even in a boat +of such shallow draught as the dinghy, you would have found yourself +stranded half-way across, unless, indeed, it were a spring tide. + +Half-way across the sound of the surf on the barrier became louder, and +the everlasting and monotonous cry of the gulls came on the breeze. It +was lonely out here, and, looking back, the shore seemed a great way +off. It was lonelier still on the reef. + +Dick tied up the boat to a projection of coral, and helped Emmeline to +land. The sun was creeping down into the west, the tide was nearly half +out, and large pools of water lay glittering like burnished shields in +the sunlight. Dick, with his precious spear beside him, sat calmly down +on a ledge of coral, and began to divest himself of his one and only +garment. + +Emmeline turned away her head and contemplated the distant shore, which +seemed thrice as far off as it was in reality. When she turned her head +again he was racing along the edge of the surf. He and his spear +silhouetted against the spindrift and dazzling foam formed a picture +savage enough, and well in keeping with the general desolation of the +background. She watched him lie down and cling to a piece of coral, +whilst the surf rushed round and over him, and then rise and shake +himself like a dog, and pursue his gambols, his body all glittering +with the wet. + +Sometimes a whoop would come on the breeze, mixing with the sound of +the surf and the cry of the gulls, and she would see him plunge his +spear into a pool, and the next moment the spear would be held aloft +with something struggling and glittering at the end of it. + +He was quite different out here on the reef to what he was ashore. The +surroundings here seemed to develop all that was savage in him, in a +startling way; and he would kill, and kill, just for the pleasure of +killing, destroying more fish than they could possibly use. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE DEMON OF THE REEF + +The romance of coral has still to be written. There still exists a +widespread opinion that the coral reef and the coral island are the +work of an “insect.” This fabulous insect, accredited with the genius +of Brunel and the patience of Job, has been humorously enough held up +before the children of many generations as an example of industry—a +thing to be admired, a model to be followed. + +As a matter of fact, nothing could be more slothful or slow, more given +up to a life of ease and degeneracy, than the “reef-building +polypifer”—to give him his scientific name. He is the hobo of the +animal world, but, unlike the hobo, he does not even tramp for a +living. He exists as a sluggish and gelatinous worm; he attracts to +himself calcareous elements from the water to make himself a +house—mark you, the sea does the building—he dies, and he leaves his +house behind him—and a reputation for industry, beside which the +reputation of the ant turns pale, and that of the bee becomes of little +account. + +On a coral reef you are treading on rock that the reef-building +polypifers of ages have left behind them as evidences of their idle and +apparently useless lives. You might fancy that the reef is formed of +dead rock, but it is not: that is where the wonder of the thing comes +in—a coral reef is half alive. If it were not, it would not resist the +action of the sea ten years. The live part of the reef is just where +the breakers come in and beyond. The gelatinous rock-building +polypifers die almost at once, if exposed to the sun or if left +uncovered by water. + +Sometimes, at very low tide, if you have courage enough to risk being +swept away by the breakers, going as far out on the reef as you can, +you may catch a glimpse of them in their living state—great mounds and +masses of what seems rock, but which is a honeycomb of coral, whose +cells are filled with the living polypifers. Those in the uppermost +cells are usually dead, but lower down they are living. + +Always dying, always being renewed, devoured by fish, attacked by the +sea—that is the life of a coral reef. It is a thing as living as a +cabbage or a tree. Every storm tears a piece off the reef, which the +living coral replaces; wounds occur in it which actually granulate and +heal as wounds do of the human body. + +There is nothing, perhaps, more mysterious in nature than this fact of +the existence of a living land: a land that repairs itself, when +injured, by vital processes, and resists the eternal attack of the sea +by vital force, especially when we think of the extent of some of these +lagoon islands or atolls, whose existences are an eternal battle with +the waves. + +Unlike the island of this story (which is an island surrounded by a +barrier reef of coral surrounding a space of sea—the lagoon), the reef +forms the island. The reef may be grown over by trees, or it may be +perfectly destitute of important vegetation, or it may be crusted with +islets. Some islets may exist within the lagoon, but as often as not it +is just a great empty lake floored with sand and coral, peopled with +life different to the life of the outside ocean, protected from the +waves, and reflecting the sky like a mirror. + +When we remember that the atoll is a living thing, an organic whole, as +full of life, though not so highly organised, as a tortoise, the +meanest imagination must be struck with the immensity of one of the +structures. + +Vliegen atoll in the Low Archipelago, measured from lagoon edge to +lagoon edge, is sixty miles long by twenty miles broad, at its broadest +part. In the Marshall Archipelago, Rimsky Korsacoff is fifty-four miles +long and twenty miles broad; and Rimsky Korsacoff is a living thing, +secreting, excreting, and growing—more highly organised than the +cocoa-nut trees that grow upon its back, or the blossoms that powder +the hotoo trees in its groves. + +The story of coral is the story of a world, and the longest chapter in +that story concerns itself with coral’s infinite variety and form. + +Out on the margin of the reef where Dick was spearing fish, you might +have seen a peach-blossom-coloured lichen on the rock. This lichen was +a form of coral. Coral growing upon coral, and in the pools at the edge +of the surf branching corals also of the colour of a peach bloom. + +Within a hundred yards of where Emmeline was sitting, the pools +contained corals of all colours, from lake-red to pure white, and the +lagoon behind her—corals of the quaintest and strangest forms. + +Dick had speared several fish, and had left them lying on the reef to +be picked up later on. Tired of killing, he was now wandering along, +examining the various living things he came across. + +Huge slugs inhabited the reef, slugs as big as parsnips, and somewhat +of the same shape; they were a species of Bech de mer. Globe-shaped +jelly-fish as big as oranges, great cuttlefish bones flat and shining +and white, shark’s teeth, spines of echini; sometimes a dead scarus +fish, its stomach distended with bits of coral on which it had been +feeding; crabs, sea urchins, sea-weeds of strange colour and shape; +star-fish, some tiny and of the colour of cayenne pepper, some huge and +pale. These and a thousand other things, beautiful or strange, were to +be found on the reef. + +Dick had laid his spear down, and was exploring a deep bath-like pool. +He had waded up to his knees, and was in the act of wading further when +he was suddenly seized by the foot. It was just as if his ankle had +been suddenly caught in a clove hitch and the rope drawn tight. He +screamed out with pain and terror, and suddenly and viciously a +whip-lash shot out from the water, lassoed him round the left knee, +drew itself taut, and held him. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +WHAT BEAUTY CONCEALED + +Emmeline, seated on the coral rock, had almost forgotten Dick for a +moment. The sun was setting, and the warm amber light of the sunset +shone on reef and rock-pool. Just at sunset and low tide the reef had a +peculiar fascination for her. It had the low-tide smell of sea-weed +exposed to the air, and the torment and trouble of the breakers seemed +eased. Before her, and on either side, the foam-dashed coral glowed in +amber and gold, and the great Pacific came glassing and glittering in, +voiceless and peaceful, till it reached the strand and burst into song +and spray. + +Here, just as on the hill-top at the other side of the island, you +could mark the rhythm of the rollers. “Forever, and forever—forever, +and forever,” they seemed to say. + +The cry of the gulls came mixed with the spray on the breeze. They +haunted the reef like uneasy spirits, always complaining, never at +rest; but at sunset their cry seemed farther away and less melancholy, +perhaps because just then the whole island world seemed bathed in the +spirit of peace. + +She turned from the sea prospect and looked backwards over the lagoon +to the island. She could make out the broad green glade beside which +their little house lay, and a spot of yellow, which was the thatch of +the house, just by the artu tree, and nearly hidden by the shadow of +the breadfruit. Over woods the fronds of the great cocoa-nut palms +showed above every other tree silhouetted against the dim, dark blue of +the eastern sky. + +Seen by the enchanted light of sunset, the whole picture had an unreal +look, more lovely than a dream. At dawn—and Dick would often start for +the reef before dawn, if the tide served—the picture was as beautiful; +more so, perhaps, for over the island, all in shadow, and against the +stars, you would see the palm-tops catching fire, and then the light of +day coming through the green trees and blue sky, like a spirit, across +the blue lagoon, widening and strengthening as it widened, across the +white foam, out over the sea, spreading like a fan, till, all at once, +night was day, and the gulls were crying and the breakers flashing, the +dawn wind blowing, and the palm trees bending, as palm trees only know +how. Emmeline always imagined herself alone on the island with Dick, +but beauty was there, too, and beauty is a great companion. + +The girl was contemplating the scene before her. Nature in her +friendliest mood seemed to say, “Behold me! Men call me cruel; men have +called me deceitful, even treacherous. _I_—ah well! my answer is, +‘Behold me!’” + +The girl was contemplating the specious beauty of it all, when on the +breeze from seaward came a shout. She turned quickly. There was Dick up +to his knees in a rock-pool a hundred yards or so away, motionless, his +arms upraised, and crying out for help. She sprang to her feet. + +There had once been an islet on this part of the reef, a tiny thing, +consisting of a few palms and a handful of vegetation, and destroyed, +perhaps, in some great storm. I mention this because the existence of +this islet once upon a time was the means, indirectly, of saving Dick’s +life; for where these islets have been or are, “flats” occur on the +reef formed of coral conglomerate. + +Emmeline in her bare feet could never have reached him in time over +rough coral, but, fortunately, this flat and comparatively smooth +surface lay between them. + +“My spear!” shouted Dick, as she approached. + +He seemed at first tangled in brambles; then she thought ropes were +tangling round him and tying him to something in the water—whatever it +was, it was most awful, and hideous, and like a nightmare. She ran with +the speed of Atalanta to the rock where the spear was resting, all red +with the blood of new-slain fish, a foot from the point. + +As she approached Dick, spear in hand, she saw, gasping with terror, +that the ropes were alive, and that they were flickering and rippling +over his back. One of them bound his left arm to his side, but his +right arm was free. + +“Quick!” he shouted. + +In a second the spear was in his free hand, and Emmeline had cast +herself down on her knees, and was staring with terrified eyes into the +water of the pool from whence the ropes issued. She was, despite her +terror, quite prepared to fling herself in and do battle with the +thing, whatever it might be. + +What she saw was only for a second. In the deep water of the pool, +gazing up and forward and straight at Dick, she saw a face, lugubrious +and awful. The eyes were wide as saucers, stony and steadfast; a large, +heavy, parrot-like beak hung before the eyes, and worked and wobbled, +and seemed to beckon. But what froze one’s heart was the expression of +the eyes, so stony and lugubrious, so passionless, so devoid of +speculation, yet so fixed of purpose and full of fate. + +From away far down he had risen with the rising tide. He had been +feeding on crabs, when the tide, betraying him, had gone out, leaving +him trapped in the rock-pool. He had slept, perhaps, and awakened to +find a being, naked and defenceless, invading his pool. He was quite +small, as octopods go, and young, yet he was large and powerful enough +to have drowned an ox. + +The octopod has only been described once, in stone, by a Japanese +artist. The statue is still extant, and it is the most terrible +masterpiece of sculpture ever executed by human hands. It represents a +man who has been bathing on a low-tide beach, and has been caught. The +man is shouting in a delirium of terror, and threatening with his free +arm the spectre that has him in its grip. The eyes of the octopod are +fixed upon the man—passionless and lugubrious eyes, but steadfast and +fixed. + +Another whip-lash shot out of the water in a shower of spray, and +seized Dick by the left thigh. At the same instant he drove the point +of the spear through the right eye of the monster, deep down through +eye and soft gelatinous carcass till the spear-point dirled and +splintered against the rock. At the same moment the water of the pool +became black as ink, the bands around him relaxed, and he was free. + +Emmeline rose up and seized him, sobbing and clinging to him, and +kissing him. He clasped her with his left arm round her body, as if to +protect her, but it was a mechanical action. He was not thinking of +her. Wild with rage, and uttering hoarse cries, he plunged the broken +spear again and again into the depths of the pool, seeking utterly to +destroy the enemy that had so lately had him in its grip. Then slowly +he came to himself, and wiped his forehead, and looked at the broken +spear in his hand. + +“Beast!” he said. “Did you see its eyes? Did you see its eyes? I wish +it had a hundred eyes, and I had a hundred spears to drive into them!” + +She was clinging to him, and sobbing and laughing hysterically, and +praising him. One might have thought that he had rescued her from +death, not she him. + +The sun had nearly vanished, and he led her back to where the dinghy +was moored recapturing and putting on his trousers on the road. He +picked up the dead fish he had speared; and as he rowed her back across +the lagoon, he talked and laughed, recounting the incidents of the +fight, taking all the glory of the thing to himself, and seeming quite +to ignore the important part she had played in it. + +This was not from any callousness or want of gratitude, but simply from +the fact that for the last five years he had been the be-all and +end-all of their tiny community—the Imperial master. And he would +just as soon have thought of thanking her for handing him the spear as +of thanking his right hand for driving it home. She was quite content, +seeking neither thanks nor praise. Everything she had came from him: +she was his shadow and his slave. He was her sun. + +He went over the fight again and again before they lay down to rest, +telling her he had done this and that, and what he would do to the next +beast of the sort. The reiteration was tiresome enough, or would have +been to an outside listener, but to Emmeline it was better than Homer. +People’s minds do not improve in an intellectual sense when they are +isolated from the world, even though they are living the wild and happy +lives of savages. + +Then Dick lay down in the dried ferns and covered himself with a piece +of the striped flannel which they used for blanketing, and he snored, +and chattered in his sleep like a dog hunting imaginary game, and +Emmeline lay beside him wakeful and thinking. A new terror had come +into her life. She had seen death for the second time, but this time +active and in being. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE SOUND OF A DRUM + +The next day Dick was sitting under the shade of the artu. He had the +box of fishhooks beside him, and he was bending a line on to one of +them. There had originally been a couple of dozen hooks, large and +small, in the box; there remained now only six—four small and two +large ones. It was a large one he was fixing to the line, for he +intended going on the morrow to the old place to fetch some bananas, +and on the way to try for a fish in the deeper parts of the lagoon. + +It was late afternoon, and the heat had gone out of the day. Emmeline, +seated on the grass opposite to him, was holding the end of the line, +whilst he got the kinks out of it, when suddenly she raised her head. + +There was not a breath of wind; the hush of the far-distant surf came +through the blue weather—the only audible sound except, now and then, +a movement and flutter from the bird perched in the branches of the +artu. All at once another sound mixed itself with the voice of the +surf—a faint, throbbing sound, like the beating of a distant drum. + +“Listen!” said Emmeline. + +Dick paused for a moment in his work. All the sounds of the island were +familiar: this was something quite strange. + +Faint and far away, now rapid, now slow; coming from where, who could +say? Sometimes it seemed to come from the sea, sometimes, if the fancy +of the listener turned that way, from the woods. As they listened, a +sigh came from overhead; the evening breeze had risen and was moving in +the leaves of the artu tree. Just as you might wipe a picture off a +slate, the breeze banished the sound. Dick went on with his work. + +Next morning early he embarked in the dinghy. He took the hook and line +with him, and some raw fish for bait. Emmeline helped him to push off, +and stood on the bank waving her hand as he rounded the little cape +covered with wild cocoa-nut. + +These expeditions of Dick’s were one of her sorrows. To be left alone +was frightful; yet she never complained. She was living in a paradise, +but something told her that behind all that sun, all that splendour of +blue sea and sky, behind the flowers and the leaves, behind all that +specious and simpering appearance of happiness in nature, lurked a +frown, and the dragon of mischance. + +Dick rowed for about a mile, then he shipped his sculls, and let the +dinghy float. The water here was very deep; so deep that, despite its +clearness, the bottom was invisible; the sunlight over the reef struck +through it diagonally, filling it with sparkles. + +The fisherman baited his hook with a piece from the belly of a scarus +and lowered it down out of sight, then he belayed the line to a thole +pin, and, sitting in the bottom of the boat, hung his head over the +side and gazed deep down into the water. Sometimes there was nothing to +see but just the deep blue of the water. Then a flight of spangled +arrowheads would cross the line of sight and vanish, pursued by a form +like a moving bar of gold. Then a great fish would materialise itself +and hang in the shadow of the boat motionless as a stone, save for the +movement of its gills; next moment with a twist of the tail it would be +gone. + +Suddenly the dinghy shored over, and might have capsized, only for the +fact that Dick was sitting on the opposite side to the side from which +the line hung. Then the boat righted; the line slackened, and the +surface of the lagoon, a few fathoms away, boiled as if being stirred +from below by a great silver stick. He had hooked an albicore. He tied +the end of the fishing-line to a scull, undid the line from the thole +pin, and flung the scull overboard. + +He did all this with wonderful rapidity, while the line was still +slack. Next moment the scull was rushing over the surface of the +lagoon, now towards the reef, now towards the shore, now flat, now end +up. Now it would be jerked under the surface entirely; vanish for a +moment, and then reappear. It was a most astonishing thing to watch, +for the scull seemed alive—viciously alive, and imbued with some +destructive purpose; as, in fact, it was. The most venomous of living +things, and the most intelligent could not have fought the great fish +better. + +The albicore would make a frantic dash down the lagoon, hoping, +perhaps, to find in the open sea a release from his foe. Then, half +drowned with the pull of the scull, he would pause, dart from side to +side in perplexity, and then make an equally frantic dash up the +lagoon, to be checked in the same manner. Seeking the deepest depths, +he would sink the scull a few fathoms; and once he sought the air, +leaping into the sunlight like a crescent of silver, whilst the splash +of him as he fell echoed amidst the trees bordering the lagoon. An hour +passed before the great fish showed signs of weakening. + +The struggle had taken place up to this close to the shore, but now the +scull swam out into the broad sheet of sunlit water, and slowly began +to describe large circles rippling up the peaceful blue into flashing +wavelets. It was a melancholy sight to watch, for the great fish had +made a good fight, and one could see him, through the eye of +imagination, beaten, half drowned, dazed, and moving as is the fashion +of dazed things in a circle. + +Dick, working the remaining oar at the stern of the boat, rowed out and +seized the floating scull, bringing it on board. Foot by foot he hauled +his catch towards the boat till the long gleaming line of the thing +came dimly into view. + +The fight had been heard for miles through the lagoon water by all +sorts of swimming things. The lord of the place had got sound of it. A +dark fin rippled the water; and as Dick, pulling on his line, hauled +his catch closer, a monstrous grey shadow stained the depths, and the +glittering streak that was the albicore vanished as if engulfed in a +cloud. The line came in slack, and Dick hauled in the albicore’s head. +It had been divided from the body as if with a huge pair of shears. The +grey shadow slipped by the boat, and Dick, mad with rage, shouted and +shook his fist at it; then, seizing the albicore’s head, from which he +had taken the hook, he hurled it at the monster in the water. + +The great shark, with a movement of the tail that caused the water to +swirl and the dinghy to rock, turned upon his back and engulfed the +head; then he slowly sank and vanished, just as if he had been +dissolved. He had come off best in this their first encounter—such as +it was. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +SAILS UPON THE SEA + +Dick put the hook away and took to the sculls. He had a three-mile row +before him, and the tide was coming in, which did not make it any the +easier. As he rowed, he talked and grumbled to himself. He had been in +a grumbling mood for some time past: the chief cause, Emmeline. + +In the last few months she had changed; even her face had changed. A +new person had come upon the island, it seemed to him, and taken the +place of the Emmeline he had known from earliest childhood. This one +looked different. He did not know that she had grown beautiful, he just +knew that she looked different; also she had developed new ways that +displeased him—she would go off and bathe by herself, for instance. + +Up to six months or so ago he had been quite contented; sleeping and +eating, and hunting for food and cooking it, building and rebuilding +the house, exploring the woods and the reef. But lately a spirit of +restlessness had come upon him; he did not know exactly what he wanted. +He had a vague feeling that he wanted to go away from the place where +he was; not from the island, but from the place where they had pitched +their tent, or rather built their house. + +It may have been the spirit of civilisation crying out in him, telling +him of all he was missing. Of the cities, and the streets, and the +houses, and the businesses, and the striving after gold, the striving +after power. It may have been simply the man in him crying out for +Love, and not knowing yet that Love was at his elbow. + +The dinghy glided along, hugging the shore, past the little glades of +fern and the cathedral gloom of the breadfruit; then, rounding a +promontory, she opened the view of the break in the reef. A little bit +of the white strand was visible, but he was not looking that way—he +was looking towards the reef at a tiny, dark spot, not noticeable +unless searched for by the eye. Always when he came on these +expeditions, just here, he would hang on his oars and gaze over there, +where the gulls were flying and the breakers thundering. + +A few years ago the spot filled him with dread as well as curiosity, +but from familiarity and the dullness that time casts on everything, +the dread had almost vanished, but the curiosity remained: the +curiosity that makes a child look on at the slaughter of an animal even +though his soul revolts at it. He gazed for a while, then he went on +pulling, and the dinghy approached the beach. + +Something had happened on the beach. The sand was all trampled, and +stained red here and there; in the centre lay the remains of a great +fire still smouldering, and just where the water lapped the sand, lay +two deep grooves as if two heavy boats had been beached there. A South +Sea man would have told from the shape of the grooves, and the little +marks of the out-riggers, that two heavy canoes had been beached there. +And they had. + +The day before, early in the afternoon, two canoes, possibly from that +far-away island which cast a stain on the horizon to the +sou’-sou’-west, had entered the lagoon, one in pursuit of the other. + +What happened then had better be left veiled. A war drum with a +shark-skin head had set the woods throbbing; the victory was celebrated +all night, and at dawn the victors manned the two canoes and set sail +for the home, or the hell, they had come from. Had you examined the +strand you would have found that a line had been drawn across the +beach, beyond which there were no footmarks: that meant that the rest +of the island was for some reason _tabu_. + +Dick pulled the nose of the boat up a bit on the strand, then he looked +around him. He picked up a broken spear that had been cast away or +forgotten; it was made of some hard wood and barbed with iron. On the +right-hand side of the beach something lay between the cocoa-nut trees. +He approached; it was a mass of offal; the entrails of a dozen sheep +seemed cast here in one mound, yet there were no sheep on the island, +and sheep are not carried as a rule in war canoes. + +The sand on the beach was eloquent. The foot pursuing and the foot +pursued; the knee of the fallen one, and then the forehead and +outspread hands; the heel of the chief who has slain his enemy, beaten +the body flat, burst a hole through it through which he has put his +head, and who stands absolutely wearing his enemy as a cloak; the head +of the man dragged on his back to be butchered like a sheep—of these +things spoke the sand. + +As far as the sand traces could speak, the story of the battle was +still being told; the screams and the shouting, the clashing of clubs +and spears were gone, yet the ghost of the fight remained. + +If the sand could bear such traces, and tell such tales, who shall say +that the plastic æther was destitute of the story of the fight and the +butchery? + +However that may have been, Dick, looking around him, had the shivering +sense of having just escaped from danger. Whoever had been, had +gone—he could tell that by the canoe traces. Gone either out to sea, +or up the right stretch of the lagoon. It was important to determine +this. + +He climbed to the hill-top and swept the sea with his eyes. There, away +to the south-west, far away on the sea, he could distinguish the brown +sails of two canoes. There was something indescribably mournful and +lonely in their appearance; they looked like withered leaves—brown +moths blown to sea—derelicts of autumn. Then, remembering the beach, +these things became freighted with the most sinister thoughts for the +mind of the gazer. They were hurrying away, having done their work. +That they looked lonely and old and mournful, and like withered leaves +blown across the sea, only heightened the horror. + +Dick had never seen canoes before, but he knew that these things were +boats of some sort holding people, and that the people had left all +those traces on the beach. How much of the horror of the thing was +revealed to his subconscious intelligence, who can say? + +He had climbed the boulder, and he now sat down with his knees drawn +up, and his hands clasped round them. Whenever he came round to this +side of the island, something happened of a fateful or sinister nature. +The last time he had nearly lost the dinghy; he had beached the little +boat in such a way that she floated off, and the tide was just in the +act of stealing her, and sweeping her from the lagoon out to sea, when +he returned laden with his bananas, and, rushing into the water up to +his waist, saved her. Another time he had fallen out of a tree, and +just by a miracle escaped death. Another time a hurricane had broken, +lashing the lagoon into snow, and sending the cocoa-nuts bounding and +flying like tennis balls across the strand. This time he had just +escaped something, he knew not exactly what. It was almost as if +Providence were saying to him, “Don’t come here.” + +He watched the brown sails as they dwindled in the wind-blown blue, +then he came down from the hill-top and cut his bananas. He cut four +large bunches, which caused him to make two journeys to the boat. When +the bananas were stowed he pushed off. + +For a long time a great curiosity had been pulling at his +heart-strings: a curiosity of which he was dimly ashamed. Fear had +given it birth, and Fear still clung to it. It was, perhaps, the +element of fear and the awful delight of daring the unknown that made +him give way to it. + +He had rowed, perhaps, a hundred yards when he turned the boat’s head +and made for the reef. It was more than five years since that day when +he rowed across the lagoon, Emmeline sitting in the stern, with her +wreath of flowers in her hand. It might have been only yesterday, for +everything seemed just the same. The thunderous surf and the flying +gulls, the blinding sunlight, and the salt, fresh smell of the sea. The +palm tree at the entrance of the lagoon still bent gazing into the +water, and round the projection of coral to which he had last moored +the boat still lay a fragment of the rope which he had cut in his hurry +to escape. + +Ships had come into the lagoon, perhaps, during the five years, but no +one had noticed anything on the reef, for it was only from the hill-top +that a full view of what was there could be seen, and then only by eyes +knowing where to look. From the beach there was visible just a speck. +It might have been, perhaps, a bit of old wreckage flung there by a +wave in some big storm. A piece of old wreckage that had been tossed +hither and thither for years, and had at last found a place of rest. + +Dick tied the boat up, and stepped on to the reef. It was high tide +just as before; the breeze was blowing strongly, and overhead a +man-of-war’s bird, black as ebony, with a blood-red bill, came sailing, +the wind doming out his wings. He circled in the air, and cried out +fiercely, as if resenting the presence of the intruder, then he passed +away, let himself be blown away, as it were, across the lagoon, +wheeled, circled, and passed out to sea. + +Dick approached the place he knew, and there lay the little old barrel +all warped by the powerful sun; the staves stood apart, and the hooping +was rusted and broken, and whatever it had contained in the way of +spirit and conviviality had long ago drained away. + +Beside the barrel lay a skeleton, round which lay a few rags of cloth. +The skull had fallen to one side, and the lower jaw had fallen from the +skull; the bones of the hands and feet were still articulated, and the +ribs had not fallen in. It was all white and bleached, and the sun +shone on it as indifferently as on the coral, this shell and framework +that had once been a man. There was nothing dreadful about it, but a +whole world of wonder. + +To Dick, who had not been broken into the idea of death, who had not +learned to associate it with graves and funerals, sorrow, eternity, and +hell, the thing spoke as it never could have spoken to you or me. + +Looking at it, things linked themselves together in his mind: the +skeletons of birds he had found in the woods, the fish he had slain, +even trees lying dead and rotten—even the shells of crabs. + +If you had asked him what lay before him, and if he could have +expressed the thought in his mind, he would have answered you “change.” + +All the philosophy in the world could not have told him more than he +knew just then about death—he, who even did not know its name. + +He was held spellbound by the marvel and miracle of the thing and the +thoughts that suddenly crowded his mind like a host of spectres for +whom a door has just been opened. + +Just as a child by unanswerable logic knows that a fire which has +burned him once will burn him again, or will burn another person, he +knew that just as the form before him was, his form would be some +day—and Emmeline’s. + +Then came the vague question which is born not of the brain, but the +heart, and which is the basis of all religions—where shall I be then? +His mind was not of an introspective nature, and the question just +strayed across it and was gone. And still the wonder of the thing held +him. He was for the first time in his life in a reverie; the corpse +that had shocked and terrified him five years ago had cast seeds of +thought with its dead fingers upon his mind, the skeleton had brought +them to maturity. The full fact of universal death suddenly appeared +before him, and he recognised it. + +He stood for a long time motionless, and then with a deep sigh turned +to the boat and pushed off without once looking back at the reef. He +crossed the lagoon and rowed slowly homewards, keeping in the shelter +of the tree shadows as much as possible. + +Even looking at him from the shore you might have noticed a difference +in him. Your savage paddles his canoe, or sculls his boat, alert, +glancing about him, at touch with nature at all points; though he be +lazy as a cat and sleeps half the day, awake he is all ears and eyes—a +creature reacting to the least external impression. + +Dick, as he rowed back, did not look about him: he was thinking or +retrospecting. The savage in him had received a check. As he turned the +little cape where the wild cocoa-nut blazed, he looked over his +shoulder. A figure was standing on the sward by the edge of the water. +It was Emmeline. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE SCHOONER + +They carried the bananas up to the house, and hung them from a branch +of the artu. Then Dick, on his knees, lit the fire to prepare the +evening meal. When it was over he went down to where the boat was +moored, and returned with something in his hand. It was the javelin +with the iron point—or, rather, the two pieces of it. He had said +nothing of what he had seen to the girl. + +Emmeline was seated on the grass; she had a long strip of the striped +flannel stuff about her, worn like a scarf, and she had another piece +in her hand which she was hemming. The bird was hopping about, pecking +at a banana which they had thrown to him; a light breeze made the +shadow of the artu leaves dance upon the grass, and the serrated leaves +of the breadfruit to patter one on the other with the sound of +rain-drops falling upon glass. + +“Where did you get it?” asked Emmeline, staring at the piece of the +javelin which Dick had flung down almost beside her whilst he went into +the house to fetch the knife. + +“It was on the beach over there,” he replied, taking his seat and +examining the two fragments to see how he could splice them together. + +Emmeline looked at the pieces, putting them together in her mind. She +did not like the look of the thing: so keen and savage, and stained +dark a foot and more from the point. + +“People had been there,” said Dick, putting the two pieces together and +examining the fracture critically. + +“Where?” + +“Over there. This was lying on the sand, and the sand was all trod up.” + +“Dick,” said Emmeline, “who were the people?” + +“I don’t know; I went up the hill and saw their boats going away—far +away out. This was lying on the sand.” + +“Dick,” said Emmeline, “do you remember the noise yesterday?” + +“Yes,” said Dick. + +“I heard it in the night.” + +“When?” + +“In the night before the moon went away.” + +“That was them,” said Dick. + +“Dick!” + +“Yes?” + +“Who were they?” + +“I don’t know,” replied Dick. + +“It was in the night, before the moon went away, and it went on and on +beating in the trees. I thought I was asleep, and then I knew I was +awake; you were asleep, and I pushed you to listen, but you couldn’t +wake, you were so asleep; then the moon went away, and the noise went +on. How did they make the noise?” + +“I don’t know,” replied Dick, “but it was them; and they left this on +the sand, and the sand was all trod up, and I saw their boats from the +hill, away out far.” + +“I thought I heard voices,” said Emmeline, “but I was not sure.” + +She fell into meditation, watching her companion at work on the savage +and sinister-looking thing in his hands. He was splicing the two pieces +together with a strip of the brown cloth-like stuff which is wrapped +round the stalks of the cocoa-palm fronds. The thing seemed to have +been hurled here out of the blue by some unseen hand. + +When he had spliced the pieces, doing so with marvellous dexterity, he +took the thing short down near the point, and began thrusting it into +the soft earth to clean it; then, with a bit of flannel, he polished it +till it shone. He felt a keen delight in it. It was useless as a +fish-spear, because it had no barb, but it was a weapon. It was useless +as a weapon, because there was no foe on the island to use it against; +still, it was a weapon. + +When he had finished scrubbing at it, he rose, hitched his old trousers +up, tightened the belt of cocoa-cloth which Emmeline had made for him, +went into the house and got his fish-spear, and stalked off to the +boat, calling out to Emmeline to follow him. They crossed over to the +reef, where, as usual, he divested himself of clothing. + +It was strange that out here he would go about stark naked, yet on the +island he always wore some covering. But not so strange, perhaps, after +all. + +The sea is a great purifier, both of the mind and the body; before that +great sweet spirit people do not think in the same way as they think +far inland. What woman would appear in a town or on a country road, or +even bathing in a river, as she appears bathing in the sea? + +Some instinct made Dick cover himself up on shore, and strip naked on +the reef. In a minute he was down by the edge of the surf, javelin in +one hand, fish-spear in the other. + +Emmeline, by a little pool the bottom of which was covered with +branching coral, sat gazing down into its depths, lost in a reverie +like that into which we fall when gazing at shapes in the fire. She had +sat some time like this when a shout from Dick aroused her. She +started to her feet and gazed to where he was pointing. An amazing +thing was there. + +To the east, just rounding the curve of the reef, and scarcely a +quarter of a mile from it, was coming a big topsail schooner; a +beautiful sight she was, heeling to the breeze with every sail drawing, +and the white foam like a feather at her fore-foot. + +Dick, with the javelin in his hand, was standing gazing at her; he had +dropped his fish-spear, and he stood as motionless as though he were +carved out of stone. Emmeline ran to him and stood beside him; neither +of them spoke a word as the vessel drew closer. + +Everything was visible, so close was she now, from the reef points on +the great mainsail, luminous with the sunlight, and white as the wing +of a gull, to the rail of the bulwarks. A crowd of men were hanging +over the port bulwarks gazing at the island and the figures on the +reef. Browned by the sun and sea-breeze, Emmeline’s hair blowing on the +wind, and the point of Dick’s javelin flashing in the sun, they looked +an ideal pair of savages, seen from the schooner’s deck. + +“They are going away,” said Emmeline, with a long-drawn breath of +relief. + +Dick made no reply; he stared at the schooner a moment longer in +silence, then, having made sure that she was standing away from the +land, he began to run up and down, calling out wildly, and beckoning to +the vessel as if to call her back. + +A moment later a sound came on the breeze, a faint hail; a flag was run +up to the peak and dipped as in derision, and the vessel continued on +her course. + +As a matter of fact, she had been on the point of putting about. Her +captain had for a moment been undecided as to whether the forms on the +reef were those of castaways or savages. But the javelin in Dick’s hand +had turned the scale of his opinion in favour of the theory of savages. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +LOVE STEPS IN + +Two birds were sitting in the branches of the artu tree: Koko had taken +a mate. They had built a nest out of fibres pulled from the wrappings +of the cocoa-nut fronds, bits of stick and wire grass—anything, in +fact; even fibres from the palmetto thatch of the house below. The +pilferings of birds, the building of nests, what charming incidents +they are in the great episode of spring! + +The hawthorn tree never bloomed here, the climate was that of eternal +summer, yet the spirit of May came just as she comes to the English +countryside or the German forest. The doings in the artu branches +greatly interested Emmeline. + +The love-making and the nest-building were conducted quite in the usual +manner, according to rules laid down by Nature and carried out by men +and birds. All sorts of quaint sounds came filtering down through the +leaves from the branch where the sapphire-coloured lovers sat side by +side, or the fork where the nest was beginning to form: croonings and +cluckings, sounds like the flirting of a fan, the sounds of a squabble, +followed by the sounds that told of the squabble made up. Sometimes +after one of these squabbles a pale blue downy feather or two would +come floating earthwards, touch the palmetto leaves of the house-roof +and cling there, or be blown on to the grass. + +It was some days after the appearance of the schooner, and Dick was +making ready to go into the woods and pick guavas. He had all the +morning been engaged in making a basket to carry them in. In +civilisation he would, judging from his mechanical talent, perhaps have +been an engineer, building bridges and ships, instead of palmetto-leaf +baskets and cane houses—who knows if he would have been happier? + +The heat of midday had passed, when, with the basket hanging over his +shoulder on a piece of cane, he started for the woods, Emmeline +following. The place they were going to always filled her with a vague +dread; not for a great deal would she have gone there alone. Dick had +discovered it in one of his rambles. + +They entered the wood and passed a little well, a well without apparent +source or outlet and a bottom of fine white sand. How the sand had +formed there, it would be impossible to say; but there it was, and +around the margin grew ferns redoubling themselves on the surface of +the crystal-clear water. They left this to the right and struck into +the heart of the wood. The heat of midday still lurked here; the way +was clear, for there was a sort of path between the trees, as if, in +very ancient days, there had been a road. + +Right across this path, half lost in shadow, half sunlit, the lianas +hung their ropes. The hotoo tree, with its powdering of delicate +blossoms, here stood, showing its lost loveliness to the sun; in the +shade the scarlet hibiscus burned like a flame. Artu and breadfruit +trees and cocoa-nut bordered the way. + +As they proceeded the trees grew denser and the path more obscure. All +at once, rounding a sharp turn, the path ended in a valley carpeted +with fern. This was the place that always filled Emmeline with an +undefined dread. One side of it was all built up in terraces with huge +blocks of stone. Blocks of stone so enormous, that the wonder was how +the ancient builders had put them in their places. + +Trees grew along the terraces, thrusting their roots between the +interstices of the blocks. At their base, slightly tilted forward as if +with the sinkage of years, stood a great stone figure roughly carved, +thirty feet high at least—mysterious-looking, the very spirit of the +place. This figure and the terraces, the valley itself, and the very +trees that grew there, inspired Emmeline with deep curiosity and vague +fear. + +People had been here once; sometimes she could fancy she saw dark +shadows moving amidst the trees, and the whisper of the foliage seemed +to her to hide voices at times, even as its shadow concealed forms. It +was indeed an uncanny place to be alone in even under the broad light +of day. All across the Pacific for thousands of miles you find relics +of the past, like these scattered through the islands. + +These temple places are nearly all the same: great terraces of stone, +massive idols, desolation overgrown with foliage. They hint at one +religion, and a time when the sea space of the Pacific was a continent, +which, sinking slowly through the ages, has left only its higher lands +and hill-tops visible in the form of islands. Round these places the +woods are thicker than elsewhere, hinting at the presence there, once, +of sacred groves. The idols are immense, their faces are vague; the +storms and the suns and the rains of the ages have cast over them a +veil. The sphinx is understandable and a toy compared to these things, +some of which have a stature of fifty feet, whose creation is veiled in +absolute mystery—the gods of a people for ever and for ever lost. + +The “stone man” was the name Emmeline had given the idol of the valley; +and sometimes at nights, when her thoughts would stray that way, she +would picture him standing all alone in the moonlight or starlight +staring straight before him. + +He seemed for ever listening; unconsciously one fell to listening too, +and then the valley seemed steeped in a supernatural silence. He was +not good to be alone with. + +Emmeline sat down amidst the fears just at his base. When one was close +up to him he lost the suggestion of life, and was simply a great stone +which cast a shadow in the sun. + +Dick threw himself down also to rest. Then he rose up and went off +amidst the guava bushes, plucking the fruit and filling his basket. +Since he had seen the schooner, the white men on her decks, her great +masts and sails, and general appearance of freedom and speed and +unknown adventure, he had been more than ordinarily glum and restless. +Perhaps he connected her in his mind with the far-away vision of the +_Northumberland_, and the idea of other places and lands, and the +yearning for change the idea of them inspired. + +He came back with his basket full of the ripe fruit, gave some to the +girl and sat down beside her. When she had finished eating them she +took the cane that he used for carrying the basket and held it in her +hands. She was bending it in the form of a bow when it slipped, flew +out and struck her companion a sharp blow on the side of his face. + +Almost on the instant he turned and slapped her on the shoulder. She +stared at him for a moment in troubled amazement, a sob came in her +throat. Then some veil seemed lifted, some wizard’s wand stretched out, +some mysterious vial broken. As she looked at him like that, he +suddenly and fiercely clasped her in his arms. He held her like this +for a moment, dazed, stupefied, not knowing what to do with her. Then +her lips told him, for they met his in an endless kiss. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE SLEEP OF PARADISE + +The moon rose up that evening and shot her silver arrows at the house +under the artu tree. The house was empty. Then the moon came across the +sea and across the reef. + +She lit the lagoon to its dark, dim heart. She lit the coral brains and +sand spaces, and the fish, casting their shadows on the sand and the +coral. The keeper of the lagoon rose to greet her, and the fin of him +broke her reflection on the mirror-like surface into a thousand +glittering ripples. She saw the white staring ribs of the form on the +reef. Then, peeping over the trees, she looked down into the valley, +where the great idol of stone had kept its solitary vigil for five +thousand years, perhaps, or more. + +At his base, in his shadow, looking as if under his protection, lay two +human beings, naked, clasped in each other’s arms, and fast asleep. One +could scarcely pity his vigil, had it been marked sometimes through the +years by such an incident as this. The thing had been conducted just as +the birds conduct their love affairs. An affair absolutely natural, +absolutely blameless, and without sin. + +It was a marriage according to Nature, without feast or guests, +consummated with accidental cynicism under the shadow of a religion a +thousand years dead. + +So happy in their ignorance were they, that they only knew that +suddenly life had changed, that the skies and the sea were bluer, and +that they had become in some magical way one a part of the other. The +birds on the tree above were equally as happy in their ignorance, and +in their love. + + + + +PART II + + +CHAPTER X + +AN ISLAND HONEYMOON + +One day Dick climbed on to the tree above the house, and, driving +Madame Koko off the nest upon which she was sitting, peeped in. There +were several pale green eggs in it. He did not disturb them, but +climbed down again, and the bird resumed her seat as if nothing had +happened. Such an occurrence would have terrified a bird used to the +ways of men, but here the birds were so fearless and so full of +confidence that often they would follow Emmeline in the wood, flying +from branch to branch, peering at her through the leaves, lighting +quite close to her—once, even, on her shoulder. + +The days passed. Dick had lost his restlessness: his wish to wander had +vanished. He had no reason to wander; perhaps that was the reason why. +In all the broad earth he could not have found anything more desirable +than what he had. + +Instead now of finding a half-naked savage followed dog-like by his +mate, you would have found of an evening a pair of lovers wandering on +the reef. They had in a pathetic sort of way attempted to adorn the +house with a blue flowering creeper taken from the wood and trained +over the entrance. + +Emmeline, up to this, had mostly done the cooking, such as it was; Dick +helped her now, always. He talked to her no longer in short sentences +flung out as if to a dog; and she, almost losing the strange reserve +that had clung to her from childhood, half showed him her mind. It was +a curious mind: the mind of a dreamer, almost the mind of a poet. The +Cluricaunes dwelt there, and vague shapes born of things she had heard +about or dreamt of: she had thoughts about the sea and stars, the +flowers and birds. + +Dick would listen to her as she talked, as a man might listen to the +sound of a rivulet. His practical mind could take no share in the +dreams of his other half, but her conversation pleased him. + +He would look at her for a long time together, absorbed in thought. He +was admiring her. + +Her hair, blue-black and glossy, tangled him in its meshes; he would +stroke it, so to speak, with his eyes, and then pull her close to him +and bury his face in it; the smell of it was intoxicating. He breathed +her as one does the perfume of a rose. + +Her ears were small, and like little white shells. He would take one +between finger and thumb and play with it as if it were a toy, pulling +at the lobe of it, or trying to flatten out the curved part. Her +breasts, her shoulders, her knees, her little feet, every bit of her, +he would examine and play with and kiss. She would lie and let him, +seeming absorbed in some far-away thought, of which he was the object, +then all at once her arms would go round him. All this used to go on in +the broad light of day, under the shadow of the artu leaves, with no +one to watch except the bright-eyed birds in the leaves above. + +Not all their time would be spent in this fashion. Dick was just as +keen after the fish. He dug up with a spade—improvised from one of the +boards of the dinghy—a space of soft earth near the taro patch and +planted the seeds of melons he found in the wood; he rethatched the +house. They were, in short, as busy as they could be in such a climate, +but love-making would come on them in fits, and then everything would +be forgotten. Just as one revisits some spot to renew the memory of a +painful or pleasant experience received there, they would return to the +valley of the idol and spend a whole afternoon in its shade. The +absolute happiness of wandering through the woods together, discovering +new flowers, getting lost, and finding their way again, was a thing +beyond expression. + +Dick had suddenly stumbled upon Love. His courtship had lasted only +some twenty minutes; it was being gone over again now, and extended. + +One day, hearing a curious noise from the tree above the house, he +climbed it. The noise came from the nest, which had been temporarily +left by the mother bird. It was a gasping, wheezing sound, and it came +from four wide-open beaks, so anxious to be fed that one could almost +see into the very crops of the owners. They were Koko’s children. In +another year each of those ugly downy things would, if permitted to +live, be a beautiful sapphire-coloured bird with a few dove-coloured +tail feathers, coral beak, and bright, intelligent eyes. A few days ago +each of these things was imprisoned in a pale green egg. A month ago +they were nowhere. + +Something hit Dick on the cheek. It was the mother bird returned with +food for the young ones. Dick drew his head aside, and she proceeded +without more ado to fill their crops. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE VANISHING OF EMMELINE + +Months passed away. Only one bird remained in the branches of the artu: +Koko’s children and mate had vanished, but he remained. The breadfruit +leaves had turned from green to pale gold and darkest amber, and now +the new green leaves were being presented to the spring. + +Dick, who had a complete chart of the lagoon in his head, and knew all +the soundings and best fishing places, the locality of the stinging +coral, and the places where you could wade right across at low +tide—Dick, one morning, was gathering his things together for a +fishing expedition. The place he was going to lay some two and a half +miles away across the island, and as the road was bad he was going +alone. + +Emmeline had been passing a new thread through the beads of the +necklace she sometimes wore. This necklace had a history. In the +shallows not far away, Dick had found a bed of shell-fish; wading out +at low tide, he had taken some of them out to examine. They were +oysters. The first one he opened, so disgusting did its appearance seem +to him, might have been the last, only that under the beard of the +thing lay a pearl. It was about twice the size of a large pea, and so +lustrous that even he could not but admire its beauty, though quite +unconscious of its value. + +He flung the unopened oysters down, and took the thing to Emmeline. +Next day, returning by chance to the same spot, he found the oysters he +had cast down all dead and open in the sun. He examined them, and +found another pearl embedded in one of them. Then he collected nearly a +bushel of the oysters, and left them to die and open. The idea had +occurred to him of making a necklace for his companion. She had one +made of shells, he intended to make her one of pearls. + +It took a long time, but it was something to do. He pierced them with a +big needle, and at the end of four months or so the thing was complete. +Great pearls most of them were—pure white, black, pink, some perfectly +round, some tear shaped, some irregular. The thing was worth fifteen, +or perhaps twenty thousand pounds, for he only used the biggest he +could find, casting away the small ones as useless. + +Emmeline this morning had just finished restringing them on a double +thread. She looked pale and not at all well and had been restless all +night. + +As he went off, armed with his spear and fishing tackle, she waved her +hand to him without getting up. Usually she followed him a bit into the +wood when he was going away like this, but this morning she just sat at +the doorway of the little house, the necklace in her lap, following him +with her eyes until he was lost amidst the trees. + +He had no compass to guide him, and he needed none. He knew the woods +by heart. The mysterious line beyond which scarcely an artu tree was to +be found. The long strip of mammee apple—a regular sheet of it a +hundred yards broad, and reaching from the middle of the island right +down to the lagoon. The clearings, some almost circular where the ferns +grew knee-deep. Then he came to the bad part. + +The vegetation here had burst into a riot. All sorts of great sappy +stalks of unknown plants barred the way and tangled the foot; and there +were boggy places into which one sank horribly. Pausing to wipe one’s +brow, the stalks and tendrils one had beaten down, or beaten aside, +rose up and closed together, making one a prisoner almost as closely +surrounded as a fly in amber. + +All the noontides that had ever fallen upon the island seemed to have +left some of their heat behind them here. The air was damp and close +like the air of a laundry; and the mournful and perpetual buzz of +insects filled the silence without destroying it. + +A hundred men with scythes might make a road through the place to-day; +a month or two later, searching for the road, you would find none—the +vegetation would have closed in as water closes when divided. + +This was the haunt of the jug orchid—a veritable jug, lid and all. +Raising the lid you would find the jug half filled with water. +Sometimes in the tangle up above, between two trees, you would see a +thing like a bird come to ruin. Orchids grew here as in a hothouse. All +the trees—the few there were—had a spectral and miserable appearance. +They were half starved by the voluptuous growth of the gigantic weeds. + +If one had much imagination one felt afraid in this place, for one felt +not alone. At any moment it seemed that one might be touched on the +elbow by a hand reaching out from the surrounding tangle. Even Dick +felt this, unimaginative and fearless as he was. It took him nearly +three-quarters of an hour to get through, and then, at last, came the +blessed air of real day, and a glimpse of the lagoon between the +tree-boles. + +He would have rowed round in the dinghy, only that at low tide the +shallows of the north of the island were a bar to the boat’s passage. +Of course he might have rowed all the way round by way of the strand +and reef entrance, but that would have meant a circuit of six miles or +more. When he came between the trees down to the lagoon edge it was +about eleven o’clock in the morning, and the tide was nearly at the +full. + +The lagoon just here was like a trough, and the reef was very near, +scarcely a quarter of a mile from the shore. The water did not shelve, +it went down sheer fifty fathoms or more, and one could fish from the +bank just as from a pier head. He had brought some food with him, and +he placed it under a tree whilst he prepared his line, which had a lump +of coral for a sinker. He baited the hook, and whirling the sinker +round in the air sent it flying out a hundred feet from shore. There +was a baby cocoa-nut tree growing just at the edge of the water. He +fastened the end of his line round the narrow stem, in case of +eventualities, and then, holding the line itself, he fished. + +He had promised Emmeline to return before sundown. + +He was a fisherman. That is to say, a creature with the enduring +patience of a cat, tireless and heedless of time as an oyster. He came +here for sport more than for fish. Large things were to be found in +this part of the lagoon. The last time he had hooked a horror in the +form of a cat-fish; at least in outward appearance it was likest to a +Mississippi cat-fish. Unlike the cat-fish, it was coarse and useless as +food, but it gave good sport. + +The tide was now going out, and it was at the going-out of the tide +that the best fishing was to be had. There was no wind, and the lagoon +lay like a sheet of glass, with just a dimple here and there where the +outgoing tide made a swirl in the water. + +As he fished he thought of Emmeline and the little house under the +trees. Scarcely one could call it thinking. Pictures passed before his +mind’s eye—pleasant and happy pictures, sunlit, moonlit, starlit. + +Three hours passed thus without a bite or symptom that the lagoon +contained anything else but sea water, and disappointment; but he did +not grumble. He was a fisherman. Then he left the line tied to the tree +and sat down to eat the food he had brought with him. He had scarcely +finished his meal when the baby cocoa-nut tree shivered and became +convulsed, and he did not require to touch the taut line to know that +it was useless to attempt to cope with the thing at the end of it. The +only course was to let it tug and drown itself. So he sat down and +watched. + +After a few minutes the line slackened, and the little cocoa-nut tree +resumed its attitude of pensive meditation and repose. He pulled the +line up: there was nothing at the end of it but a hook. He did not +grumble; he baited the hook again, and flung it in, for it was quite +likely that the ferocious thing in the water would bite again. + +Full of this idea and heedless of time he fished and waited. The sun +was sinking into the west—he did not heed it. He had quite forgotten +that he had promised Emmeline to return before sunset; it was nearly +sunset now. Suddenly, just behind him, from among the trees, he heard +her voice, crying: + +“Dick!” + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE VANISHING OF EMMELINE (continued) + +He dropped the line, and turned with a start. There was no one visible. +He ran amongst the trees calling out her name, but only echoes +answered. Then he came back to the lagoon edge. + +He felt sure that what he had heard was only fancy, but it was nearly +sunset, and more than time to be off. He pulled in his line, wrapped it +up, took his fish-spear and started. + +It was just in the middle of the bad place that dread came to him. +What if anything had happened to her? It was dusk here, and never had +the weeds seemed so thick, dimness so dismal, the tendrils of the vines +so gin-like. Then he lost his way—he who was so sure of his way +always! The hunter’s instinct had been crossed, and for a time he went +hither and thither helpless as a ship without a compass. At last he +broke into the real wood, but far to the right of where he ought to +have been. He felt like a beast escaped from a trap, and hurried along, +led by the sound of the surf. + +When he reached the clear sward that led down to the lagoon the sun had +just vanished beyond the sea-line. A streak of red cloud floated like +the feather of a flamingo in the western sky close to the sea, and +twilight had already filled the world. He could see the house dimly, +under the shadow of the trees, and he ran towards it, crossing the +sward diagonally. + +Always before, when he had been away, the first thing to greet his eyes +on his return had been the figure of Emmeline. Either at the lagoon +edge or the house door he would find her waiting for him. + +She was not waiting for him to-night. When he reached the house she was +not there, and he paused, after searching the place, a prey to the most +horrible perplexity, and unable for the moment to think or act. + +Since the shock of the occurrence on the reef she had been subject at +times to occasional attacks of headache; and when the pain was more +than she could bear, she would go off and hide. Dick would hunt for her +amidst the trees, calling out her name and hallooing. A faint “halloo” +would answer when she heard him, and then he would find her under a +tree or bush, with her unfortunate head between her hands, a picture of +misery. + +He remembered this now, and started off along the borders of the wood, +calling to her, and pausing to listen. No answer came. + +He searched amidst the trees as far as the little well, waking the +echoes with his voice; then he came back slowly, peering about him in +the deep dusk that now was yielding to the starlight. He sat down +before the door of the house, and, looking at him, you might have +fancied him in the last stages of exhaustion. Profound grief and +profound exhaustion act on the frame very much in the same way. He sat +with his chin resting on his chest, his hands helpless. He could hear +her voice, still as he heard it over at the other side of the island. +She had been in danger and called to him, and he had been calmly +fishing, unconscious of it all. + +This thought maddened him. He sat up, stared around him and beat the +ground with the palms of his hands; then he sprang to his feet and made +for the dinghy. He rowed to the reef: the action of a madman, for she +could not possibly be there. + +There was no moon, the starlight both lit and veiled the world, and no +sound but the majestic thunder of the waves. As he stood, the night +wind blowing on his face, the white foam seething before him, and +Canopus burning in the great silence overhead, the fact that he stood +in the centre of an awful and profound indifference came to his +untutored mind with a pang. + +He returned to the shore: the house was still deserted. A little bowl +made from the shell of a cocoa-nut stood on the grass near the doorway. +He had last seen it in her hands, and he took it up and held it for a +moment, pressing it tightly to his breast. Then he threw himself down +before the doorway, and lay upon his face, with head resting upon his +arms in the attitude of a person who is profoundly asleep. + +He must have searched through the woods again that night just as a +somnambulist searches, for he found himself towards dawn in the valley +before the idol. Then it was daybreak—the world was full of light and +colour. He was seated before the house door, worn out and exhausted, +when, raising his head, he saw Emmeline’s figure coming out from amidst +the distant trees on the other side of the sward. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE NEWCOMER + +He could not move for a moment, then he sprang to his feet and ran +towards her. She looked pale and dazed, and she held something in her +arms; something wrapped up in her scarf. As he pressed her to him, the +something in the bundle struggled against his breast and emitted a +squall—just like the squall of a cat. He drew back, and Emmeline, +tenderly moving her scarf a bit aside, exposed a wee face. It was +brick-red and wrinkled; there were two bright eyes, and a tuft of dark +hair over the forehead. Then the eyes closed, the face screwed itself +up, and the thing sneezed twice. + +“Where did you _get_ it?” he asked, absolutely lost in astonishment as +she covered the face again gently with the scarf. + +“I found it in the woods,” replied Emmeline. + +Dumb with amazement, he helped her along to the house, and she sat +down, resting her head against the bamboos of the wall. + +“I felt so bad,” she explained; “and then I went off to sit in the +woods, and then I remembered nothing more, and when I woke up it was +there.” + +“It’s a baby!” said Dick. + +“I know,” replied Emmeline. + +Mrs James’s baby, seen in the long ago, had risen up before their +mind’s eyes, a messenger from the past to explain what the new thing +was. Then she told him things—things that completely shattered the old +“cabbage bed” theory, supplanting it with a truth far more wonderful, +far more poetical, too, to he who can appreciate the marvel and the +mystery of life. + +“It has something funny tied on to it,” she went on, as if she were +referring to a parcel she had just received. + +“Let’s look,” said Dick. + +“No,” she replied; “leave it alone.” + +She sat rocking the thing gently, seeming oblivious to the whole world, +and quite absorbed in it, as, indeed, was Dick. A physician would have +shuddered, but, perhaps fortunately enough, there was no physician on +the island. Only Nature, and she put everything to rights in her own +time and way. + +When Dick had sat marvelling long enough, he set to and lit the fire. +He had eaten nothing since the day before, and he was nearly as +exhausted as the girl. He cooked some breadfruit, there was some cold +fish left over from the day before; this, with some bananas, he served +up on two broad leaves, making Emmeline eat first. + +Before they had finished, the creature in the bundle, as though it had +smelt the food, began to scream. Emmeline drew the scarf aside. It +looked hungry; its mouth would now be pinched up and now wide open, its +eyes opened and closed. The girl touched it on the lips with her +finger, and it seized upon her fingertip and sucked it. Her eyes filled +with tears, she looked appealingly at Dick, who was on his knees; he +took a banana, peeled it, broke off a bit and handed it to her. She +approached it to the baby’s mouth. It tried to suck it, failed, blew +bubbles at the sun and squalled. + +“Wait a minute,” said Dick. + +There were some green cocoa-nuts he had gathered the day before close +by. He took one, removed the green husk, and opened one of the eyes, +making an opening also in the opposite side of the shell. The +unfortunate infant sucked ravenously at the nut, filled its stomach +with the young cocoa-nut juice, vomited violently, and wailed. Emmeline +in despair clasped it to her naked breast, wherefrom, in a moment, it +was hanging like a leech. It knew more about babies than they did. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +HANNAH + +At noon, in the shallows of the reef, under the burning sun, the water +would be quite warm. They would carry the baby down here, and Emmeline +would wash it with a bit of flannel. After a few days it scarcely ever +screamed, even when she washed it. It would lie on her knees during the +process, striking valiantly out with its arms and legs, staring +straight up at the sky. Then, when she turned it on its face, it would +lay its head down and chuckle and blow bubbles at the coral of the +reef, examining, apparently, the pattern of the coral with deep and +philosophic attention. + +Dick would sit by with his knees up to his chin, watching it all. He +felt himself to be part proprietor in the thing—as indeed he was. +The mystery of the affair still hung over them both. A week ago they +two had been alone, and suddenly from nowhere this new individual had +appeared. + +It was so complete. It had hair on its head, tiny finger-nails, and +hands that would grasp you. It had a whole host of little ways of its +own, and every day added to them. + +In a week the extreme ugliness of the newborn child had vanished. Its +face, which had seemed carved in the imitation of a monkey’s face from +half a brick, became the face of a happy and healthy baby. It seemed to +see things, and sometimes it would laugh and chuckle as though it had +been told a good joke. Its black hair all came off and was supplanted +by a sort of down. It had no teeth. It would lie on its back and kick +and crow, and double its fists up and try to swallow them alternately, +and cross its feet and play with its toes. In fact, it was exactly like +any of the thousand-and-one babies that are born into the world at +every tick of the clock. + +“What will we call it?” said Dick one day, as he sat watching his son +and heir crawling about on the grass under the shade of the breadfruit +leaves. + +“Hannah,” said Emmeline promptly. + +The recollection of another baby once heard about was in her mind; and +it was as good a name as any other, perhaps, in that lonely place, +notwithstanding the fact that Hannah was a boy. + +Koko took a vast interest in the new arrival. He would hop round it and +peer at it with his head on one side; and Hannah would crawl after the +bird and try to grab it by the tail. In a few months so valiant and +strong did he become that he would pursue his own father, crawling +before him on the grass, and you might have seen the mother and father +and child playing all together like three children, the bird sometimes +hovering overhead like a good spirit, sometimes joining in the fun. + +Sometimes Emmeline would sit and brood over the child, a troubled +expression on her face and a far-away look in her eyes. The old vague +fear of mischance had returned—the dread of that viewless form her +imagination half pictured behind the smile on the face of Nature. Her +happiness was so great that she dreaded to lose it. + +There is nothing more wonderful than the birth of a man, and all that +goes to bring it about. Here, on this island, in the very heart of the +sea, amidst the sunshine and the wind-blown trees, under the great blue +arch of the sky, in perfect purity of thought, they would discuss the +question from beginning to end without a blush, the object of their +discussion crawling before them on the grass, and attempting to grab +feathers from Koko’s tail. + +It was the loneliness of the place as well as their ignorance of life +that made the old, old miracle appear so strange and fresh—as +beautiful as the miracle of death had appeared awful. In thoughts vague +and beyond expression in words, they linked this new occurrence with +that old occurrence on the reef six years before. The vanishing and the +coming of a man. + + * * * * * * + +Hannah, despite his unfortunate name, was certainly a most virile and +engaging baby. The black hair which had appeared and vanished like some +practical joke played by Nature, gave place to a down at first as +yellow as sun-bleached wheat, but in a few months’ time tinged with +auburn. + +One day—he had been uneasy and biting at his thumbs for some time +past—Emmeline, looking into his mouth, saw something white and like a +grain of rice protruding from his gum. It was a tooth just born. He +could eat bananas now, and breadfruit, and they often fed him on +fish—a fact which again might have caused a medical man to shudder; +yet he throve on it all, and waxed stouter every day. + +Emmeline, with a profound and natural wisdom, let him crawl about stark +naked, dressed in ozone and sunlight. Taking him out on the reef, she +would let him paddle in the shallow pools, holding him under the +armpits whilst he splashed the diamond-bright water into spray with his +feet, and laughed and shouted. + +They were beginning now to experience a phenomenon, as wonderful as the +birth of the child’s body—the birth of his intelligence: the peeping +out of a little personality with predilections of its own, likes and +dislikes. + +He knew Dick from Emmeline; and when Emmeline had satisfied his +material wants, he would hold out his arms to go to Dick if he were by. +He looked upon Koko as a friend, but when a friend of Koko’s—a bird +with an inquisitive mind and three red feathers in his tail—dropped in +one day to inspect the newcomer, he resented the intrusion, and +screamed. + +He had a passion for flowers, or anything bright. He would laugh and +shout when taken on the lagoon in the dinghy, and make as if to jump +into the water to get at the bright-coloured corals below. + +Ah me! we laugh at young mothers, and all the miraculous things they +tell us about their babies. They see what we cannot see: the first +unfolding of that mysterious flower, the mind. + +One day they were out on the lagoon. Dick had been rowing; he had +ceased, and was letting the boat drift for a bit. Emmeline was dancing +the child on her knee, when it suddenly held out its arms to the +oarsman and said: + +“Dick!” + +The little word, so often heard and easily repeated, was its first word +on earth. + +A voice that had never spoken in the world before, had spoken; and to +hear his name thus mysteriously uttered by a being he has created, is +the sweetest and perhaps the saddest thing a man can ever know. + +Dick took the child on his knee, and from that moment his love for it +was more than his love for Emmeline or anything else on earth. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE LAGOON OF FIRE + +Ever since the tragedy of six years ago there had been forming in the +mind of Emmeline Lestrange a something—shall I call it a deep +mistrust. She had never been clever; lessons had saddened and wearied +her, without making her much the wiser. Yet her mind was of that order +into which profound truths come by short cuts. She was intuitive. + +Great knowledge may lurk in the human mind without the owner of the +mind being aware. He or she acts in such or such a way, or thinks in +such and such a manner from intuition; in other words, as the outcome +of the profoundest reasoning. + +When we have learned to call storms, storms, and death, death, and +birth, birth; when we have mastered the sailor’s horn book, and Mr +Piddington’s law of cyclones, Ellis’s anatomy, and Lewer’s midwifery, +we have already made ourselves half blind. We have become hypnotised by +words and names. We think in words and names, not in ideas; the +commonplace has triumphed, the true intellect is half crushed. + +Storms had burst over the island before this. And what Emmeline +remembered of them might be expressed by an instance. + +The morning would be bright and happy, never so bright the sun, or so +balmy the breeze, or so peaceful the blue lagoon; then, with a horrid +suddenness, as if sick with dissimulation and mad to show itself, +something would blacken the sun, and with a yell stretch out a hand and +ravage the island, churn the lagoon into foam, beat down the cocoa-nut +trees, and slay the birds. And one bird would be left and another +taken, one tree destroyed, and another left standing. The fury of the +thing was less fearful than the blindness of it, and the indifference +of it. + +One night, when the child was asleep, just after the last star was lit, +Dick appeared at the doorway of the house. He had been down to the +water’s edge and had now returned. He beckoned Emmeline to follow him, +and, putting down the child, she did so. + +“Come here and look,” said he. + +He led the way to the water; and as they approached it, Emmeline became +aware that there was something strange about the lagoon. From a +distance it looked pale and solid; it might have been a great stretch +of grey marble veined with black. Then, as she drew nearer, she saw +that the dull grey appearance was a deception of the eye. + +The lagoon was alight and burning. + +The phosphoric fire was in its very heart and being; every coral branch +was a torch, every fish a passing lantern. The incoming tide moving the +waters made the whole glittering floor of the lagoon move and shiver, +and the tiny waves to lap the bank, leaving behind them glow-worm +traces. + +“Look!” said Dick. + +He knelt down and plunged his forearm into the water. The immersed part +burned like a smouldering torch. Emmeline could see it as plainly as +though it were lit by sunlight. Then he drew his arm out, and as far as +the water had reached, it was covered by a glowing glove. + +They had seen the phosphorescence of the lagoon before; indeed, any +night you might watch the passing fish like bars of silver, when the +moon was away; but this was something quite new, and it was entrancing. + +Emmeline knelt down and dabbled her hands, and made herself a pair of +phosphoric gloves, and cried out with pleasure, and laughed. It was all +the pleasure of playing with fire without the danger of being burnt. +Then Dick rubbed his face with the water till it glowed. + +“Wait!” he cried; and, running up to the house, he fetched out Hannah. + +He came running down with him to the water’s edge, gave Emmeline the +child, unmoored the boat, and started out from shore. + +The sculls, as far as they were immersed, were like bars of glistening +silver; under them passed the fish, leaving cometic tails; each coral +clump was a lamp, lending its lustre till the great lagoon was luminous +as a lit-up ballroom. Even the child on Emmeline’s lap crowed and cried +out at the strangeness of the sight. + +They landed on the reef and wandered over the flat. The sea was white +and bright as snow, and the foam looked like a hedge of fire. + +As they stood gazing on this extraordinary sight, suddenly, almost as +instantaneously as the switching off of an electric light, the +phosphorescence of the sea flickered and vanished. + +The moon was rising. Her crest was just breaking from the water, and as +her face came slowly into view behind a belt of vapour that lay on the +horizon, it looked fierce and red, stained with smoke like the face of +Eblis. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE CYCLONE + +When they awoke next morning the day was dark. A solid roof of cloud, +lead-coloured and without a ripple on it, lay over the sky, almost to +the horizon. There was not a breath of wind, and the birds flew wildly +about as if disturbed by some unseen enemy in the wood. + +As Dick lit the fire to prepare the breakfast, Emmeline walked up and +down, holding her baby to her breast; she felt restless and uneasy. + +As the morning wore on the darkness increased; a breeze rose up, and +the leaves of the breadfruit trees pattered together with the sound of +rain falling upon glass. A storm was coming, but there was something +different in its approach to the approach of the storms they had +already known. + +As the breeze increased a sound filled the air, coming from far away +beyond the horizon. It was like the sound of a great multitude of +people, and yet so faint and vague was it that sudden bursts of the +breeze through the leaves above would drown it utterly. Then it ceased, +and nothing could be heard but the rocking of the branches and the +tossing of the leaves under the increasing wind, which was now blowing +sharply and fiercely and with a steady rush dead from the west, +fretting the lagoon, and sending clouds and masses of foam right over +the reef. The sky that had been so leaden and peaceful and like a solid +roof was now all in a hurry, flowing eastward like a great turbulent +river in spate. + +And now, again, one could hear the sound in the distance—the thunder +of the captains of the storm and the shouting; but still so faint, so +vague, so indeterminate and unearthly that it seemed like the sound in +a dream. + +Emmeline sat amidst the ferns on the floor cowed and dumb, holding the +baby to her breast. It was fast asleep. Dick stood at the doorway. He +was disturbed in mind, but he did not show it. + +The whole beautiful island world had now taken on the colour of ashes +and the colour of lead. Beauty had utterly vanished, all seemed sadness +and distress. + +The cocoa-palms, under the wind that had lost its steady rush and was +now blowing in hurricane blasts, flung themselves about in all the +attitudes of distress; and whoever has seen a tropical storm will know +what a cocoa-palm can express by its movements under the lash of the +wind. + +Fortunately the house was so placed that it was protected by the whole +depth of the grove between it and the lagoon; and fortunately, too, it +was sheltered by the dense foliage of the breadfruit, for suddenly, +with a crash of thunder as if the hammer of Thor had been flung from +sky to earth, the clouds split and the rain came down in a great +slanting wave. It roared on the foliage above, which, bending leaf on +leaf, made a slanting roof from which it rushed in a steady sheet-like +cascade. + +Dick had darted into the house, and was now sitting beside Emmeline, +who was shivering and holding the child, which had awakened at the +sound of the thunder. + +For an hour they sat, the rain ceasing and coming again, the thunder +shaking earth and sea, and the wind passing overhead with a piercing, +monotonous cry. + +Then all at once the wind dropped, the rain ceased, and a pale spectral +light, like the light of dawn, fell before the doorway. + +“It’s over!” cried Dick, making to get up. + +“Oh, listen!” said Emmeline, clinging to him, and holding the baby to +his breast as if the touch of him would give it protection. She had +divined that there was something approaching worse than a storm. + +Then, listening in the silence, away from the other side of the island, +they heard a sound like the droning of a great top. + +It was the centre of the cyclone approaching. + +A cyclone is a circular storm: a storm in the form of a ring. This ring +of hurricane travels across the ocean with inconceivable speed and +fury, yet its centre is a haven of peace. + +As they listened the sound increased, sharpened, and became a tang that +pierced the ear-drums: a sound that shook with hurry and speed, +increasing, bringing with it the bursting and crashing of trees, and +breaking at last overhead in a yell that stunned the brain like the +blow of a bludgeon. In a second the house was torn away, and they were +clinging to the roots of the breadfruit, deaf, blinded, half-lifeless. + +The terror and the prolonged shock of it reduced them from thinking +beings to the level of frightened animals whose one instinct is +preservation. + +How long the horror lasted they could not tell, when, like a madman who +pauses for a moment in the midst of his struggles and stands +stock-still, the wind ceased blowing, and there was peace. The centre +of the cyclone was passing over the island. + +Looking up, one saw a marvellous sight. The air was full of birds, +butterflies, insects—all hanging in the heart of the storm and +travelling with it under its protection. + +Though the air was still as the air of a summer’s day, from north, +south, east, and west, from every point of the compass, came the yell +of the hurricane. + +There was something shocking in this. + +In a storm one is so beaten about by the wind that one has no time to +think: one is half stupefied. But in the dead centre of a cyclone one +is in perfect peace. The trouble is all around, but it is not here. One +has time to examine the thing like a tiger in a cage, listen to its +voice and shudder at its ferocity. + +The girl, holding the baby to her breast, sat up gasping. The baby had +come to no harm; it had cried at first when the thunder broke, but now +it seemed impassive, almost dazed. Dick stepped from under the tree and +looked at the prodigy in the air. + +The cyclone had gathered on its way sea-birds and birds from the land; +there were gulls, electric white and black man-of-war birds, +butterflies, and they all seemed imprisoned under a great drifting dome +of glass. As they went, travelling like things without volition and in +a dream, with a hum and a roar the south-west quadrant of the cyclone +burst on the island, and the whole bitter business began over again. + +It lasted for hours, then towards midnight the wind fell; and when the +sun rose next morning he came through a cloudless sky, without a trace +of apology for the destruction caused by his children the winds. He +showed trees uprooted and birds lying dead, three or four canes +remaining of what had once been a house, the lagoon the colour of a +pale sapphire, and a glass-green, foam-capped sea racing in thunder +against the reef. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE STRICKEN WOODS + +At first they thought they were ruined; then Dick, searching, found the +old saw under a tree, and the butcher’s knife near it, as though the +knife and saw had been trying to escape in company and had failed. + +Bit by bit they began to recover something of their scattered property. +The remains of the flannel had been taken by the cyclone and wrapped +round and round a slender cocoa-nut tree, till the trunk looked like a +gaily-bandaged leg. The box of fishhooks had been jammed into the +centre of a cooked breadfruit, both having been picked up by the +fingers of the wind and hurled against the same tree; and the stay-sail +of the _Shenandoah_ was out on the reef, with a piece of coral carefully +placed on it as if to keep it down. As for the lug-sail belonging to +the dinghy, it was never seen again. + +There is humour sometimes in a cyclone, if you can only appreciate it; +no other form of air disturbance produces such quaint effects. Beside +the great main whirlpool of wind, there are subsidiary whirlpools, each +actuated by its own special imp. + +Emmeline had felt Hannah nearly snatched from her arms twice by these +little ferocious gimlet winds; and that the whole business of the great +storm was set about with the object of snatching Hannah from her, and +blowing him out to sea, was a belief which she held, perhaps, in the +innermost recesses of her mind. + +The dinghy would have been utterly destroyed, had it not heeled over +and sunk in shallow water at the first onset of the wind; as it was, +Dick was able to bail it out at the next low tide, when it floated as +bravely as ever, not having started a single seam. + +But the destruction amidst the trees was pitiful. Looking at the woods +as a mass, one noticed gaps here and there, but what had really +happened could not be seen till one was amongst the trees. Great, +beautiful cocoa-nut palms, not dead, but just dying, lay crushed and +broken as if trampled upon by some enormous foot. You would come +across half a dozen lianas twisted into one great cable. Where +cocoa-nut palms were, you could not move a yard without kicking against +a fallen nut; you might have picked up full-grown, half-grown, and wee +baby nuts, not bigger than small apples, for on the same tree you will +find nuts of all sizes and conditions. + +One never sees a perfectly straight-stemmed cocoa-palm; they all have +an inclination from the perpendicular more or less; perhaps that is why +a cyclone has more effect on them than on other trees. + +Artus, once so pretty a picture with their diamond-chequered trunks, +lay broken and ruined; and right through the belt of mammee apple, +right through the bad lands, lay a broad road, as if an army, horse, +foot, and artillery, had passed that way from lagoon edge to lagoon +edge. This was the path left by the great fore-foot of the storm; but +had you searched the woods on either side, you would have found paths +where the lesser winds had been at work, where the baby whirlwinds had +been at play. + +From the bruised woods, like an incense offered to heaven, rose a +perfume of blossoms gathered and scattered, of rain-wet leaves, of +lianas twisted and broken and oozing their sap; the perfume of +newly-wrecked and ruined trees—the essence and soul of the artu, the +banyan and cocoa-palm cast upon the wind. + +You would have found dead butterflies in the woods, dead birds too; but +in the great path of the storm you would have found dead butterflies’ +wings, feathers, leaves frayed as if by fingers, branches of the aoa, +and sticks of the hibiscus broken into little fragments. + +Powerful enough to rip a ship open, root up a tree, half ruin a city. +Delicate enough to tear a butterfly wing from wing—that is a cyclone. + +Emmeline, wandering about in the woods with Dick on the day after the +storm, looking at the ruin of great tree and little bird, and +recollecting the land birds she had caught a glimpse of yesterday being +carried along safely by the storm out to sea to be drowned, felt a +great weight lifting from her heart. Mischance had come, and spared +them and the baby. The blue had spoken, but had not called them. + +She felt that something—the something which we in civilisation call +Fate—was for the present gorged; and, without being annihilated, her +incessant hypochondriacal dread condensed itself into a point, leaving +her horizon sunlit and clear. + +The cyclone had indeed treated them almost, one might say, amiably. It +had taken the house—but that was a small matter, for it had left them +nearly all their small possessions. The tinder box and flint and steel +would have been a much more serious loss than a dozen houses, for, +without it, they would have had absolutely no means of making a fire. + +If anything, the cyclone had been almost too kind to them; had let them +pay off too little of that mysterious debt they owed to the gods. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +A FALLEN IDOL + +The next day Dick began to rebuild the house. He had fetched the +stay-sail from the reef and rigged up a temporary tent. + +It was a great business cutting the canes and dragging them out in the +open. Emmeline helped; whilst Hannah, seated on the grass, played with +the bird that had vanished during the storm, but reappeared the evening +after. + +The child and the bird had grown fast friends; they were friendly +enough even at first, but now the bird would sometimes let the tiny +hands clasp him right round his body—at least, as far as the hands +would go. + +It is a rare experience for a man to hold a tame and unstruggling and +unfrightened bird in his hands; next to pressing a woman in his arms, +it is the pleasantest tactile sensation he will ever experience, +perhaps, in life. He will feel a desire to press it to his heart, if he +has such a thing. + +Hannah would press Koko to his little brown stomach, as if in artless +admission of where his heart lay. + +He was an extraordinarily bright and intelligent child. He did not +promise to be talkative, for, having achieved the word “Dick,” he +rested content for a long while before advancing further into the +labyrinth of language; but though he did not use his tongue, he spoke +in a host of other ways. With his eyes, that were as bright as Koko’s, +and full of all sorts of mischief; with his hands and feet and the +movements of his body. He had a way of shaking his hands before him +when highly delighted, a way of expressing nearly all the shades of +pleasure; and though he rarely expressed anger, when he did so, he +expressed it fully. + +He was just now passing over the frontier into toyland. In civilisation +he would no doubt have been the possessor of an india-rubber dog or a +woolly lamb, but there were no toys here at all. Emmeline’s old doll +had been left behind when they took flight from the other side of the +island, and Dick, a year or so ago, on one of his expeditions, had +found it lying half buried in the sand of the beach. + +He had brought it back now more as a curiosity than anything else, and +they had kept it on the shelf in the house. The cyclone had impaled it +on a tree-twig near by, as if in derision; and Hannah, when it was +presented to him as a plaything, flung it away from him as if in +disgust. But he would play with flowers or bright shells, or bits of +coral, making vague patterns with them on the sward. + +All the toy lambs in the world would not have pleased him better than +those things, the toys of the Troglodyte children—the children of the +Stone Age. To clap two oyster shells together and make a noise—what, +after all, could a baby want better than that? + +One afternoon, when the house was beginning to take some sort of form, +they ceased work and went off into the woods; Emmeline carrying the +baby, and Dick taking turns with him. They were going to the valley of +the idol. + +Since the coming of Hannah, and even before, the stone figure standing +in its awful and mysterious solitude had ceased to be an object of +dread to Emmeline, and had become a thing vaguely benevolent. Love had +come to her under its shade; and under its shade the spirit of the +child had entered into her—from where, who knows? But certainly through +heaven. + +Perhaps the thing which had been the god of some unknown people had +inspired her with the instinct of religion; if so, she was his last +worshipper on earth, for when they entered the valley they found him +lying upon his face. Great blocks of stone lay around him: there had +evidently been a landslip, a catastrophe preparing for ages, and +determined, perhaps, by the torrential rain of the cyclone. + +In Ponape, Huahine, in Easter Island, you may see great idols that have +been felled like this, temples slowly dissolving from sight, and +terraces, seemingly as solid as the hills, turning softly and subtly +into shapeless mounds of stone. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE EXPEDITION + +Next morning the light of day filtering through the trees awakened +Emmeline in the tent which they had improvised whilst the house was +building. Dawn came later here than on the other side of the island +which faced east—later, and in a different manner—for there is the +difference of worlds between dawn coming over a wooded hill, and dawn +coming over the sea. + +Over at the other side, sitting on the sand with the break of the reef +which faced the east before you, scarcely would the east change colour +before the sea-line would be on fire, the sky lit up into an +illimitable void of blue, and the sunlight flooding into the lagoon, +the ripples of light seeming to chase the ripples of water. + +On this side it was different. The sky would be dark and full of stars, +and the woods, great spaces of velvety shadow. Then through the leaves +of the artu would come a sigh, and the leaves of the breadfruit would +patter, and the sound of the reef become faint. The land breeze had +awakened, and in a while, as if it had blown them away, looking up, you +would find the stars gone, and the sky a veil of palest blue. In this +indirect approach of dawn there was something ineffably mysterious. One +could see, but the things seen were indecisive and vague, just as they +are in the gloaming of an English summer’s day. + +Scarcely had Emmeline arisen when Dick woke also, and they went out on +to the sward, and then down to the water’s edge. Dick went in for a +swim, and the girl, holding the baby, stood on the bank watching him. + +Always after a great storm the weather of the island would become more +bracing and exhilarating, and this morning the air seemed filled with +the spirit of spring. Emmeline felt it, and as she watched the swimmer +disporting in the water, she laughed, and held the child up to watch +him. She was fey. The breeze, filled with all sorts of sweet perfumes +from the woods, blew her black hair about her shoulders, and the full +light of morning coming over the palm fronds of the woods beyond the +sward touched her and the child. Nature seemed caressing them. + +Dick came ashore, and then ran about to dry himself in the wind. Then +he went to the dinghy and examined her; for he had determined to leave +the house-building for half a day, and row round to the old place to +see how the banana trees had fared during the storm. His anxiety about +them was not to be wondered at. The island was his larder, and the +bananas were a most valuable article of food. He had all the feelings +of a careful housekeeper about them, and he could not rest till he had +seen for himself the extent of damage, if damage there was any. + +He examined the boat, and then they all went back to breakfast. Living +their lives, they had to use forethought. They would put away, for +instance, all the shells of the cocoa-nuts they used for fuel; and you +never could imagine the blazing splendour there lives in the shell of a +cocoa-nut till you see it burning. Yesterday, Dick, with his usual +prudence, had placed a heap of sticks, all wet with the rain of the +storm, to dry in the sun: as a consequence, they had plenty of fuel to +make a fire with this morning. + +When they had finished breakfast he got the knife to cut the bananas +with—if there were any left to cut—and, taking the javelin, he went +down to the boat, followed by Emmeline and the child. + +Dick had stepped into the boat, and was on the point of unmooring her, +and pushing her off, when Emmeline stopped him. + +“Dick!” + +“Yes?” + +“I will go with you.” + +“You!” said he in astonishment. + +“Yes, I’m—not afraid any more.” + +It was a fact; since the coming of the child she had lost that dread of +the other side of the island—or almost lost it. + +Death is a great darkness, birth is a great light—they had intermixed +in her mind; the darkness was still there, but it was no longer +terrible to her, for it was infused with the light. The result was a +twilight sad, but beautiful, and unpeopled with forms of fear. + +Years ago she had seen a mysterious door close and shut a human being +out for ever from the world. The sight had filled her with dread +unimaginable, for she had no words for the thing, no religion or +philosophy to explain it away or gloss it over. Just recently she had +seen an equally mysterious door open and admit a human being; and deep +down in her mind, in the place where the dreams were, the one great +fact had explained and justified the other. Life had vanished into the +void, but life had come from there. There was life in the void, and it +was no longer terrible. + +Perhaps all religions were born on a day when some woman, seated upon a +rock by the prehistoric sea, looked at her newborn child and recalled +to mind her man who had been slain, thus closing the charm and +imprisoning the idea of a future state. + +Emmeline, with the child in her arms, stepped into the little boat and +took her seat in the stern, whilst Dick pushed off. Scarcely had he put +out the sculls than a new passenger arrived. It was Koko. He would +often accompany them to the reef, though, strangely enough, he would +never go there alone of his own accord. He made a circle or two over +them, and then lit on the gunwale in the bow, and perched there, humped +up, and with his long dove-coloured tail feathers presented to the +water. + +The oarsman kept close in-shore, and as they rounded the little cape +all gay with wild cocoa-nut the bushes brushed the boat, and the child, +excited by their colour, held out his hands to them. Emmeline +stretched out her hand and broke off a branch; but it was not a branch +of the wild cocoa-nut she had plucked, it was a branch of the +never-wake-up berries. The berries that will cause a man to sleep, +should he eat of them—to sleep and dream, and never wake up again. + +“Throw them away!” cried Dick, who remembered. + +“I will in a minute,” she replied. + +She was holding them up before the child, who was laughing and trying +to grasp them. Then she forgot them, and dropped them in the bottom of +the boat, for something had struck the keel with a thud, and the water +was boiling all round. + +There was a savage fight going on below. In the breeding season great +battles would take place sometimes in the lagoon, for fish have their +jealousies just like men—love affairs, friendships. The two great +forms could be dimly perceived, one in pursuit of the other, and they +terrified Emmeline, who implored Dick to row on. + +They slipped by the pleasant shores that Emmeline had never seen +before, having been sound asleep when they came past them those years +ago. + +Just before putting off she had looked back at the beginnings of the +little house under the artu tree, and as she looked at the strange +glades and groves, the picture of it rose before her, and seemed to +call her back. + +It was a tiny possession, but it was home; and so little used to change +was she that already a sort of home-sickness was upon her; but it +passed away almost as soon as it came, and she fell to wondering at the +things around her, and pointing them out to the child. + +When they came to the place where Dick had hooked the albicore, he hung +on his oars and told her about it. It was the first time she had heard +of it; a fact which shows into what a state of savagery he had been +lapsing. He had mentioned about the canoes, for he had to account for +the javelin; but as for telling her of the incidents of the chase, he +no more thought of doing so than a red Indian would think of detailing +to his squaw the incidents of a bear hunt. Contempt for women is the +first law of savagery, and perhaps the last law of some old and +profound philosophy. + +She listened, and when it came to the incident of the shark, she +shuddered. + +“I wish I had a hook big enough to catch him with,” said he, staring +into the water as if in search of his enemy. + +“Don’t think of him, Dick,” said Emmeline, holding the child more +tightly to her heart. “Row on.” + +He resumed the sculls, but you could have seen from his face that he +was recounting to himself the incident. + +When they had rounded the last promontory, and the strand and the break +in the reef opened before them, Emmeline caught her breath. The place +had changed in some subtle manner; everything was there as before, yet +everything seemed different—the lagoon seemed narrower, the reef +nearer, the cocoa-palms not nearly so tall. She was contrasting the +real things with the recollection of them when seen by a child. The +black speck had vanished from the reef; the storm had swept it utterly +away. + +Dick beached the boat on the shelving sand, and left Emmeline seated in +the stern of it, whilst he went in search of the bananas; she would +have accompanied him, but the child had fallen asleep. + +Hannah asleep was even a pleasanter picture than when awake. He looked +like a little brown Cupid without wings, bow or arrow. He had all the +grace of a curled-up feather. Sleep was always in pursuit of him, and +would catch him up at the most unexpected moments—when he was at play, +or indeed at any time. Emmeline would sometimes find him with a +coloured shell or bit of coral that he had been playing with in his +hand fast asleep, a happy expression on his face, as if his mind were +pursuing its earthly avocations on some fortunate beach in dreamland. + +Dick had plucked a huge breadfruit leaf and given it to her as a +shelter from the sun, and she sat holding it over her, and gazing +straight before her, over the white, sunlit sands. + +The flight of the mind in reverie is not in a direct line. To her, +dreaming as she sat, came all sorts of coloured pictures, recalled by +the scene before her: the green water under the stern of a ship, and +the word _Shenandoah_ vaguely reflected on it; their landing, and the +little tea-set spread out on the white sand—she could still see the +pansies painted on the plates, and she counted in memory the lead +spoons; the great stars that burned over the reef at nights; the +Cluricaunes and fairies; the cask by the well where the convolvulus +blossomed, and the wind-blown trees seen from the summit of the +hill—all these pictures drifted before her, dissolving and replacing +each other as they went. + +There was sadness in the contemplation of them, but pleasure too. She +felt at peace with the world. All trouble seemed far behind her. It was +as if the great storm that had left them unharmed had been an +ambassador from the powers above to assure her of their forbearance, +protection, and love. + +All at once she noticed that between the boat’s bow and the sand there +lay a broad, blue, sparkling line. The dinghy was afloat. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE KEEPER OF THE LAGOON + +The woods here had been less affected by the cyclone than those upon +the other side of the island, but there had been destruction enough. To +reach the place he wanted, Dick had to climb over felled trees and +fight his way through a tangle of vines that had once hung overhead. + +The banana trees had not suffered at all; as if by some special +dispensation of Providence even the great bunches of fruit had been +scarcely injured, and he proceeded to climb and cut them. He cut two +bunches, and with one across his shoulder came back down through the +trees. + +He had got half across the sands, his head bent under the load, when a +distant call came to him, and, raising his head, he saw the boat adrift +in the middle of the lagoon, and the figure of the girl in the bow of +it waving to him with her arm. He saw a scull floating on the water +half-way between the boat and the shore, which she had no doubt lost in +an attempt to paddle the boat back. He remembered that the tide was +going out. + +He flung his load aside, and ran down the beach; in a moment he was in +the water. Emmeline, standing up in the boat, watched him. + +When she found herself adrift, she had made an effort to row back, and +in her hurry shipping the sculls she had lost one. With a single scull +she was quite helpless, as she had not the art of sculling a boat from +the stern. At first she was not frightened, because she knew that Dick +would soon return to her assistance; but as the distance between boat +and shore increased, a cold hand seemed laid upon her heart. Looking at +the shore it seemed very far away, and the view towards the reef was +terrific, for the opening had increased in apparent size, and the great +sea beyond seemed drawing her to it. + +She saw Dick coming out of the wood with the load on his shoulder, and +she called to him. At first he did not seem to hear, then she saw him +look up, cast the bananas away, and come running down the sand to the +water’s edge. She watched him swimming, she saw him seize the scull, +and her heart gave a great leap of joy. + +Towing the scull and swimming with one arm, he rapidly approached the +boat. He was quite close, only ten feet away, when Emmeline saw behind +him, shearing through the clear, rippling water and advancing with +speed, a dark triangle that seemed made of canvas stretched upon a +sword point. + + * * * * * * + +Forty years ago he had floated adrift on the sea in the form and +likeness of a small shabby pine-cone, a prey to anything that might +find him. He had escaped the jaws of the dog-fish, and the jaws of the +dog-fish are a very wide door; he had escaped the albicore and squid: +his life had been one long series of miraculous escapes from death. Out +of a billion like him born in the same year, he and a few others only +had survived. + +For thirty years he had kept the lagoon to himself, as a ferocious +tiger keeps a jungle. He had known the palm tree on the reef when it +was a seedling, and he had known the reef even before the palm tree was +there. The things he had devoured, flung one upon another, would have +made a mountain; yet he was as clear of enmity as a sword, as cruel, and +as soulless. He was the spirit of the lagoon. + + * * * * * * + +Emmeline screamed, and pointed to the thing behind the swimmer. He +turned, saw it, dropped the oar and made for the boat. She had seized +the remaining scull and stood with it poised, then she hurled it blade +foremost at the form in the water, now fully visible, and close on its +prey. + +She could not throw a stone straight, yet the scull went like an arrow +to the mark, balking the pursuer and saving the pursued. In a moment +more his leg was over the gunwale, and he was saved. + +But the scull was lost. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THE HAND OF THE SEA + +There was nothing in the boat that could possibly be used as a paddle; +the scull was only five or six yards away, but to attempt to swim to it +was certain death, yet they were being swept out to sea. He might have +made the attempt, only that on the starboard quarter the form of the +shark, gently swimming at the same pace as they were drifting, could be +made out only half veiled by the water. + +The bird perched on the gunwale seemed to divine their trouble, for he +rose in the air, made a circle, and resumed his perch with all his +feathers ruffled. + +Dick stood in despair, helpless, his hands clasping his head. The shore +was drawing away before him, the surf loudening behind him, yet he +could do nothing. The island was being taken away from them by the +great hand of the sea. + +Then, suddenly, the little boat entered the race formed by the +confluence of the tides, from the right and left arms of the lagoon; +the sound of the surf suddenly increased as though a door had been +flung open. The breakers were falling and the sea-gulls crying on +either side of them, and for a moment the ocean seemed to hesitate as +to whether they were to be taken away into her wastes, or dashed on the +coral strand. Only for a moment this seeming hesitation lasted; then +the power of the tide prevailed over the power of the swell, and the +little boat taken by the current drifted gently out to sea. + +Dick flung himself down beside Emmeline, who was seated in the bottom +of the boat holding the child to her breast. The bird, seeing the land +retreat, and wise in its instinct, rose into the air. It circled +thrice round the drifting boat, and then, like a beautiful but +faithless spirit, passed away to the shore. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +TOGETHER + +The island had sunk slowly from sight; at sundown it was just a trace, +a stain on the south-western horizon. It was before the new moon, and +the little boat lay drifting. It drifted from the light of sunset into +a world of vague violet twilight, and now it lay drifting under the +stars. + +The girl, clasping the baby to her breast, leaned against her +companion’s shoulder; neither of them spoke. All the wonders in their +short existence had culminated in this final wonder, this passing away +together from the world of Time. This strange voyage they had embarked +on—to where? + +Now that the first terror was over they felt neither sorrow nor fear. +They were together. Come what might, nothing could divide them; even +should they sleep and never wake up, they would sleep together. Had one +been left and the other taken! + +As though the thought had occurred to them simultaneously, they turned +one to the other, and their lips met, their souls met, mingling in one +dream; whilst above in the windless heaven space answered space with +flashes of siderial light, and Canopus shone and burned like the +pointed sword of Azrael. + +Clasped in Emmeline’s hand was the last and most mysterious gift of the +mysterious world they had known—the branch of crimson berries. + + + + +BOOK III + + +CHAPTER I + +MAD LESTRANGE + +They knew him upon the Pacific slope as “Mad Lestrange.” He was not +mad, but he was a man with a fixed idea. He was pursued by a vision: +the vision of two children and an old sailor adrift in a little boat +upon a wide blue sea. + +When the _Arago_, bound for Papetee, picked up the boats of the +_Northumberland_, only the people in the long-boat were alive. Le Farge, +the captain, was mad, and he never recovered his reason. Lestrange was +utterly shattered; the awful experience in the boats and the loss of +the children had left him a seemingly helpless wreck. The scowbankers, +like all their class, had fared better, and in a few days were about +the ship and sitting in the sun. Four days after the rescue the _Arago_ +spoke the _Newcastle_, bound for San Francisco, and transhipped the +shipwrecked men. + +Had a physician seen Lestrange on board the _Northumberland_ as she lay +in that long, long calm before the fire, he would have declared that +nothing but a miracle could prolong his life. The miracle came about. + +In the general hospital of San Francisco, as the clouds cleared from +his mind, they unveiled the picture of the children and the little +boat. The picture had been there daily, seen but not truly +comprehended; the horrors gone through in the open boat, the sheer +physical exhaustion, had merged all the accidents of the great disaster +into one mournful half-comprehended fact. When his brain cleared all +the other incidents fell out of focus, and memory, with her eyes set +upon the children, began to paint a picture that he was ever more to +see. + +Memory cannot produce a picture that Imagination has not retouched; and +her pictures, even the ones least touched by Imagination, are no mere +photographs, but the work of an artist. All that is inessential she +casts away, all that is essential she retains; she idealises, and that +is why her picture of a lost mistress has had power to keep a man a +celibate to the end of his days, and why she can break a human heart +with the picture of a dead child. She is a painter, but she is also a +poet. + +The picture before the mind of Lestrange was filled with this almost +diabolical poetry, for in it the little boat and her helpless crew were +represented adrift on a blue and sunlit sea. A sea most beautiful to +look at, yet most terrible, bearing as it did the recollections of +thirst. + +He had been dying, when, raising himself on his elbow, so to say, he +looked at this picture. It recalled him to life. His willpower asserted +itself, and he refused to die. + +The will of a man has, if it is strong enough, the power to reject +death. He was not in the least conscious of the exercise of this power; +he only knew that a great and absorbing interest had suddenly arisen in +him, and that a great aim stood before him—the recovery of the +children. + +The disease that was killing him ceased its ravages, or rather was +slain in its turn by the increased vitality against which it had to +strive. He left the hospital and took up his quarters at the Palace +Hotel, and then, like the General of an army, he began to formulate his +plan of campaign against Fate. + +When the crew of the _Northumberland_ had stampeded, hurling their +officers aside, lowering the boats with a rush, and casting themselves +into the sea, everything had been lost in the way of ship’s papers; the +charts, the two logs—everything, in fact, that could indicate the +latitude and longitude of the disaster. The first and second officers +and a midshipman had shared the fate of the quarter-boat; of the +foremast hands saved, not one, of course, could give the slightest +hint as to the locality of the spot. + +A time reckoning from the Horn told little, for there was no record of +the log. All that could be said was that the disaster had occurred +somewhere south of the line. + +In Le Farge’s brain lay for a certainty the position, and Lestrange +went to see the captain in the “Maison de Sante,” where he was being +looked after, and found him quite recovered from the furious mania that +he had been suffering from. Quite recovered, and playing with a ball of +coloured worsted. + +There remained the log of the _Arago_; in it would be found the latitude +and longitude of the boats she had picked up. + +The _Arago_, due at Papetee, became overdue. Lestrange watched the +overdue lists from day to day, from week to week, from month to month, +uselessly, for the _Arago_ never was heard of again. One could not affirm +even that she was wrecked; she was simply one of the ships that never +come back from the sea. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE SECRET OF THE AZURE + +To lose a child he loves is undoubtedly the greatest catastrophe that +can happen to a man. I do not refer to its death. + +A child wanders into the street, or is left by its nurse for a moment, +and vanishes. At first the thing is not realised. There is a pang and +hurry at the heart which half vanishes, whilst the understanding +explains that in a civilised city, if a child gets lost, it will be +found and brought back by the neighbours or the police. + +But the police know nothing of the matter, or the neighbours, and the +hours pass. Any minute may bring back the wanderer; but the minutes +pass, and the day wears into evening, and the evening to night, and the +night to dawn, and the common sounds of a new day begin. + +You cannot remain at home for restlessness; you go out, only to return +hurriedly for news. You are eternally listening, and what you hear +shocks you; the common sounds of life, the roll of the carts and cabs +in the street, the footsteps of the passers-by, are full of an +indescribable mournfulness; music increases your misery into madness, +and the joy of others is monstrous as laughter heard in hell. + +If some one were to bring you the dead body of the child, you might +weep, but you would bless him, for it is the uncertainty that kills. + +You go mad, or go on living. Years pass by, and you are an old man. +You say to yourself: “He would have been twenty years of age to-day.” + +There is not in the old ferocious penal code of our forefathers a +punishment adequate to the case of the man or woman who steals a child. + +Lestrange was a wealthy man, and one hope remained to him, that the +children might have been rescued by some passing ship. It was not the +case of children lost in a city, but in the broad Pacific, where ships +travel from all ports to all ports, and to advertise his loss +adequately it was necessary to placard the world. Ten thousand dollars +was the reward offered for news of the lost ones, twenty thousand for +the recovery; and the advertisement appeared in every newspaper +likely to reach the eyes of a sailor, from the _Liverpool Post_ to +the _Dead Bird_. + +The years passed without anything definite coming in answer to all +these advertisements. Once news came of two children saved from the sea +in the neighbourhood of the Gilberts, and it was not false news, but +they were not the children he was seeking for. This incident at once +depressed and stimulated him, for it seemed to say, “If these children +have been saved, why not yours?” + +The strange thing was, that in his heart he felt a certainty that they +were alive. His intellect suggested their death in twenty different +forms; but a whisper, somewhere out of that great blue ocean, told him +at intervals that what he sought was there, living, and waiting for him. + +He was somewhat of the same temperament as Emmeline—a dreamer, with a +mind tuned to receive and record the fine rays that fill this world +flowing from intellect to intellect, and even from what we call +inanimate things. A coarser nature would, though feeling, perhaps, as +acutely the grief, have given up in despair the search. But he kept on; +and at the end of the fifth year, so far from desisting, he chartered a +schooner and passed eighteen months in a fruitless search, calling at +little-known islands, and once, unknowing, at an island only three +hundred miles away from the tiny island of this story. + +If you wish to feel the hopelessness of this unguided search, do not +look at a map of the Pacific, but go there. Hundreds and hundreds of +thousands of square leagues of sea, thousands of islands, reefs, atolls. + +Up to a few years ago there were many small islands utterly unknown; +even still there are some, though the charts of the Pacific are the +greatest triumphs of hydrography; and though the island of the story +was actually on the Admiralty charts, of what use was that fact to +Lestrange? + +He would have continued searching, but he dared not, for the desolation +of the sea had touched him. + +In that eighteen months the Pacific explained itself to him in part, +explained its vastness, its secrecy and inviolability. The schooner +lifted veil upon veil of distance, and veil upon veil lay beyond. He +could only move in a right line; to search the wilderness of water with +any hope, one would have to be endowed with the gift of moving in all +directions at once. + +He would often lean over the bulwark rail and watch the swell slip by, +as if questioning the water. Then the sunsets began to weigh upon his +heart, and the stars to speak to him in a new language, and he knew +that it was time to return, if he would return with a whole mind. + +When he got back to San Francisco he called upon his agent, Wannamaker +of Kearney Street, but there was still no news. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +CAPTAIN FOUNTAIN + +He had a suite of rooms at the Palace Hotel, and he lived the life of +any other rich man who is not addicted to pleasure. He knew some of the +best people in the city, and conducted himself so sanely in all +respects that a casual stranger would never have guessed his reputation +for madness; but when you knew him better, you would find sometimes in +the middle of a conversation that his mind was away from the subject; +and were you to follow him in the street, you would hear him in +conversation with himself. Once at a dinner-party he rose and left the +room, and did not return. Trifles, but sufficient to establish a +reputation of a sort. + +One morning—to be precise, it was the second day of May, exactly eight +years and five months after the wreck of the _Northumberland_—Lestrange +was in his sitting-room reading, when the bell of the telephone, which +stood in the corner of the room, rang. He went to the instrument. + +“Are you there?” came a high American voice. “Lestrange—right—come +down and see me—Wannamaker—I have news for you.” + +Lestrange held the receiver for a moment, then he put it back in the +rest. He went to a chair and sat down, holding his head between his +hands, then he rose and went to the telephone again; but he dared not +use it, he dare not shatter the newborn hope. + +“News!” What a world lies in that word. + +In Kearney Street he stood before the door of Wannamaker’s office +collecting himself and watching the crowd drifting by, then he entered +and went up the stairs. He pushed open a swing-door and entered a great +room. The clink and rattle of a dozen typewriters filled the place, and +all the hurry of business; clerks passed and came with sheaves of +correspondence in their hands; and Wannamaker himself, rising from +bending over a message which he was correcting on one of the +typewriters’ tables, saw the newcomer and led him to the private office. + +“What is it?” said Lestrange. + +“Only this,” said the other, taking up a slip of paper with a name and +address on it. “Simon J. Fountain, of 45 Rathray Street, West—that’s +down near the wharves—says he has seen your ad. in an old number of a +paper, and he thinks he can tell you something. He did not specify the +nature of the intelligence, but it might be worth finding out.” + +“I will go there,” said Lestrange. + +“Do you know Rathray Street?” + +“No.” + +Wannamaker went out and called a boy and gave him some directions; then +Lestrange and the boy started. + +Lestrange left the office without saying “Thank you,” or taking leave +in any way of the advertising agent—who did not feel in the least +affronted, for he knew his customer. + +Rathray Street is, or was before the earthquake, a street of small +clean houses. It had a seafaring look that was accentuated by the +marine perfumes from the wharves close by and the sound of steam +winches loading or discharging cargo—a sound that ceased not night +or day as the work went on beneath the sun or the sizzling arc lamps. + +No. 45 was almost exactly like its fellows, neither better nor worse; +and the door was opened by a neat, prim woman, small, and of middle +age. Commonplace she was, no doubt, but not commonplace to Lestrange. + +“Is Mr Fountain in?” he asked. “I have come about the advertisement.” + +“Oh, have you, sir?” she replied, making way for him to enter, and +showing him into a little sitting-room on the left of the passage. +“The Captain is in bed; he is a great invalid, but he was expecting, +perhaps, some one would call, and he will be able to see you in a +minute, if you don’t mind waiting.” + +“Thanks,” said Lestrange; “I can wait.” + +He had waited eight years, what mattered a few minutes now? But at no +time in the eight years had he suffered such suspense, for his heart +knew that now, just now in this commonplace little house, from the lips +of, perhaps, the husband of that commonplace woman, he was going to +learn either what he feared to hear, or what he hoped. + +It was a depressing little room; it was so clean, and looked as though +it were never used. A ship imprisoned in a glass bottle stood upon the +mantelpiece, and there were shells from far-away places, pictures of +ships in sand—all the things one finds as a rule adorning an old +sailor’s home. + +Lestrange, as he sat waiting, could hear movements from the next +room—probably the invalid’s, which they were preparing for his +reception. The distant sounds of the derricks and winches came muffled +through the tightly-shut window that looked as though it never had been +opened. A square of sunlight lit the upper part of the cheap lace +curtain on the right of the window, and repeated its pattern vaguely on +the lower part of the wall opposite. Then a bluebottle fly awoke +suddenly into life and began to buzz and drum against the window pane, +and Lestrange wished that they would come. + +A man of his temperament must necessarily, even under the happiest +circumstances, suffer in going through the world; the fine fibre always +suffers when brought into contact with the coarse. These people were as +kindly disposed as any one else. The advertisement and the face and +manners of the visitor might have told them that it was not the time +for delay, yet they kept him waiting whilst they arranged bed-quilts +and put medicine bottles straight—as if he could see! + +At last the door opened, and the woman said: + +“Will you step this way, sir?” + +She showed him into a bedroom opening off the passage. The room was +neat and clean, and had that indescribable appearance which marks the +bedroom of the invalid. + +In the bed, making a mountain under the counterpane with an enormously +distended stomach, lay a man, black-bearded, and with his large, +capable, useless hands spread out on the coverlet—hands ready and +willing, but debarred from work. Without moving his body, he turned his +head slowly and looked at the newcomer. This slow movement was not +from weakness or disease, it was the slow, emotionless nature of the +man speaking. + +“This is the gentleman, Silas,” said the woman, speaking over +Lestrange’s shoulder. Then she withdrew and closed the door. + +“Take a chair, sir,” said the sea captain, flapping one of his hands on +the counterpane as if in wearied protest against his own helplessness. +“I haven’t the pleasure of your name, but the missus tells me you’re +come about the advertisement I lit on yester-even.” + +He took a paper, folded small, that lay beside him, and held it out to +his visitor. It was a _Sidney Bulletin_ three years old. + +“Yes,” said Lestrange, looking at the paper; “that is my advertisement.” + +“Well, it’s strange—very strange,” said Captain Fountain, “that I +should have lit on it only yesterday. I’ve had it all three years in my +chest, the way old papers get lying at the bottom with odds and ends. +Mightn’t a’ seen it now, only the missus cleared the raffle out of the +chest, and, ‘Give me that paper,’ I says, seeing it in her hand; and I +fell to reading it, for a man’ll read anything bar tracts lying in bed +eight months, as I’ve been with the dropsy. I’ve been whaler man and +boy forty year, and my last ship was the _Sea-Horse_. Over seven years +ago one of my men picked up something on a beach of one of them islands +east of the Marquesas—we’d put in to water——” + +“Yes, yes,” said Lestrange. “What was it he found?” + +“Missus!” roared the captain in a voice that shook the walls of the +room. + +The door opened, and the woman appeared. + +“Fetch me my keys out of my trousers pocket.” + +The trousers were hanging up on the back of the door, as if only +waiting to be put on. The woman fetched the keys, and he fumbled over +them and found one. He handed it to her, and pointed to the drawer of a +bureau opposite the bed. + +She knew evidently what was wanted, for she opened the drawer and +produced a box, which she handed to him. It was a small cardboard box +tied round with a bit of string. He undid the string, and disclosed a +child’s tea service: a teapot, cream jug, six little plates—all painted +with a pansy. + +It was the box which Emmeline had always been losing—lost again. + +Lestrange buried his face in his hands. He knew the things. Emmeline +had shown them to him in a burst of confidence. Out of all that vast +ocean he had searched unavailingly: they had come to him like a +message, and the awe and mystery of it bowed him down and crushed him. + +The captain had placed the things on the newspaper spread out by his +side, and he was unrolling the little spoons from their tissue-paper +covering. He counted them as if entering up the tale of some trust, and +placed them on the newspaper. + +“When did you find them?” asked Lestrange, speaking with his face still +covered. + +“A matter of over seven years ago,” replied the captain, “we’d put in +to water at a place south of the line—Palm Tree Island we whalemen +call it, because of the tree at the break of the lagoon. One of my men +brought it aboard, found it in a shanty built of sugar-canes which the +men bust up for devilment.” + +“Good God!” said Lestrange. “Was there no one there—nothing but this +box?” + +“Not a sight or sound, so the men said; just the shanty abandoned +seemingly. I had no time to land and hunt for castaways, I was after +whales.” + +“How big is the island?” + +“Oh, a fairish middle-sized island—no natives. I’ve heard tell it’s +_tabu_; why, the Lord only knows—some crank of the Kanakas, I s’pose. +Anyhow, there’s the findings—you recognise them?” + +“I do.” + +“Seems strange,” said the captain, “that I should pick ’em up; seems +strange your advertisement out, and the answer to it lying amongst my +gear, but that’s the way things go.” + +“Strange!” said the other. “It’s more than strange.” + +“Of course,” continued the captain, “they might have been on the island +hid away som’ere, there’s no saying; only appearances are against it. +Of course they might be there now unbeknownst to you or me.” + +“They _are_ there now,” answered Lestrange, who was sitting up and +looking at the playthings as though he read in them some hidden +message. “They _are_ there now. Have you the position of the island?” + +“I have. Missus, hand me my private log.” + +She took a bulky, greasy, black note-book from the bureau, and handed +it to him. He opened it, thumbed the pages, and then read out the +latitude and longitude. + +“I entered it on the day of finding—here’s the entry. ‘Adams brought +aboard child’s toy box out of deserted shanty, which men pulled down; +traded it to me for a caulker of rum.’ The cruise lasted three years +and eight months after that; we’d only been out three when it happened. +I forgot all about it: three years scrubbing round the world after +whales doesn’t brighten a man’s memory. Right round we went, and paid +off at Nantucket. Then, after a fortni’t on shore and a month +repairin’, the old _Sea-Horse_ was off again, I with her. It was at +Honolulu this dropsy took me, and back I come here, home. That’s the +yarn. There’s not much to it, but, seein’ your advertisement, I thought +I might answer it.” + +Lestrange took Fountain’s hand and shook it. + +“You see the reward I offered?” he said. “I have not my cheque book +with me, but you shall have the cheque in an hour from now.” + +“No, _sir_,” replied the captain; “if anything comes of it, I don’t say +I’m not open to some small acknowledgment, but ten thousand dollars for +a five-cent box—that’s not my way of doing business.” + +“I can’t make you take the money now—I can’t even thank you properly +now,” said Lestrange—“I am in a fever; but when all is settled, you +and I will settle this business. My God!” + +He buried his face in his hands again. + +“I’m not wishing to be inquisitive,” said Captain Fountain, slowly +putting the things back in the box and tucking the paper shavings round +them, “but may I ask how you propose to move in this business?” + +“I will hire a ship at once and search.” + +“Ay,” said the captain, wrapping up the little spoons in a meditative +manner; “perhaps that will be best.” + +He felt certain in his own mind that the search would be fruitless, but +he did not say so. If he had been absolutely certain in his mind +without being able to produce the proof, he would not have counselled +Lestrange to any other course, knowing that the man’s mind would never +be settled until proof positive was produced. + +“The question is,” said Lestrange, “what is my quickest way to get +there?” + +“There I may be able to help you,” said Fountain, tying the string round +the box. “A schooner with good heels to her is what you want; and, if +I’m not mistaken, there’s one discharging cargo at this present minit +at O’Sullivan’s wharf. Missus!” + +The woman answered the call. Lestrange felt like a person in a dream, +and these people who were interesting themselves in his affairs seemed +to him beneficent beyond the nature of human beings. + +“Is Captain Stannistreet home, think you?” + +“I don’t know,” replied the woman; “but I can go see.” + +“Do.” + +She went. + +“He lives only a few doors down,” said Fountain, “and he’s the man for +you. Best schooner captain ever sailed out of ’Frisco. The _Raratonga_ is +the name of the boat I have in my mind—best boat that ever wore +copper. Stannistreet is captain of her, owners are M’Vitie. She’s been +missionary, and she’s been pigs; copra was her last cargo, and she’s +nearly discharged it. Oh, M’Vitie would hire her out to Satan at a +price; you needn’t be afraid of their boggling at it if you can raise +the dollars. She’s had a new suit of sails only the beginning of the +year. Oh, she’ll fix you up to a T, and you take the word of S. +Fountain for that. I’ll engineer the thing from this bed if you’ll let +me put my oar in your trouble; I’ll victual her, and find a crew three +quarter price of any of those d--d skulking agents. Oh, I’ll take a +commission right enough, but I’m half paid with doing the thing—” + +He ceased, for footsteps sounded in the passage outside, and Captain +Stannistreet was shown in. He was a young man of not more than thirty, +alert, quick of eye, and pleasant of face. Fountain introduced him to +Lestrange, who had taken a fancy to him at first sight. + +When he heard about the business in hand, he seemed interested at once; +the affair seemed to appeal to him more than if it had been a purely +commercial matter, such as copra and pigs. + +“If you’ll come with me, sir, down to the wharf, I’ll show you the boat +now,” he said, when they had discussed the matter and threshed it out +thoroughly. + +He rose, bid good-day to his friend Fountain, and Lestrange followed +him, carrying the brown-paper box in his hand. + +O’Sullivan’s Wharf was not far away. A tall Cape Horner that looked +almost a twin sister of the ill-fated _Northumberland_ was discharging +iron, and astern of her, graceful as a dream, with snow-white decks, +lay the _Raratonga_ discharging copra. + +“That’s the boat,” said Stannistreet; “cargo nearly all out. How does +she strike your fancy?” + +“I’ll take her,” said Lestrange, “cost what it will.” + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +DUE SOUTH + +It was on the 10th of May, so quickly did things move under the +supervision of the bedridden captain, that the _Raratonga_, with +Lestrange on board, cleared the Golden Gates, and made south, heeling +to a ten-knot breeze. + +There is no mode of travel to be compared to your sailing-ship. In a +great ship, if you have ever made a voyage in one, the vast spaces of +canvas, the sky-high spars, the _finesse_ with which the wind is met and +taken advantage of, will form a memory never to be blotted out. + +A schooner is the queen of all rigs; she has a bounding buoyancy denied +to the square-rigged craft, to which she stands in the same +relationship as a young girl to a dowager; and the _Raratonga_ was not +only a schooner, but the queen, acknowledged of all the schooners in +the Pacific. + +For the first few days they made good way south; then the wind became +baffling and headed them off. + +Added to Lestrange’s feverish excitement there was an anxiety, a deep +and soul-fretting anxiety, as if some half-heard voice were telling him +that the children he sought were threatened by some danger. + +These baffling winds blew upon the smouldering anxiety in his breast, +as wind blows upon embers, causing them to glow. They lasted some days, +and then, as if Fate had relented, up sprang on the starboard quarter a +spanking breeze, making the rigging sing to a merry tune, and blowing +the spindrift from the forefoot, as the _Raratonga_, heeling to its +pressure, went humming through the sea, leaving a wake spreading behind +her like a fan. + +It took them along five hundred miles, silently and with the speed of a +dream. Then it ceased. + +The ocean and the air stood still. The sky above stood solid like a +great pale blue dome; just where it met the water line of the far +horizon a delicate tracery of cloud draped the entire round of the sky. + +I have said that the ocean stood still as well as the air: to the eye +it was so, for the swell under-running the glitter on its surface was +so even, so equable, and so rhythmical, that the surface seemed not in +motion. Occasionally a dimple broke the surface, and strips of dark +sea-weed floated by, showing up the green; dim things rose to the +surface, and, guessing the presence of man, sank slowly and dissolved +from sight. + +Two days, never to be recovered, passed, and still the calm continued. +On the morning of the third day it breezed up from the nor’-nor’west, +and they continued their course, a cloud of canvas, every sail drawing, +and the music of the ripple under the forefoot. + +Captain Stannistreet was a genius in his profession; he could get more +speed out of a schooner than any other man afloat, and carry more +canvas without losing a stick. He was also, fortunately for Lestrange, +a man of refinement and education, and what was better still, +understanding. + +They were pacing the deck one afternoon, when Lestrange, who was +walking with his hands behind him, and his eyes counting the brown +dowels in the cream-white planking, broke silence. + +“You don’t believe in visions and dreams?” + +“How do you know that?” replied the other. + +“Oh, I only put it as a question; most people say they don’t.” + +“Yes, but most people do.” + +“I do,” said Lestrange. + +He was silent for a moment. + +“You know my trouble so well that I won’t bother you going over it, but +there has come over me of late a feeling—it is like a waking dream.” + +“Yes?” + +“I can’t quite explain, for it is as if I saw something which my +intelligence could not comprehend, or make an image of.” + +“I think I know what you mean.” + +“I don’t think you do. This is something quite strange. I am fifty, and +in fifty years a man has experienced, as a rule, all the ordinary and +most of the extraordinary sensations that a human being can be +subjected to. Well, I have never felt this sensation before; it comes +on only at times. I see, as you might imagine, a young baby sees, and +things are before me that I do not comprehend. It is not through my +bodily eyes that this sensation comes, but through some window of the +mind, from before which a curtain has been drawn.” + +“That’s strange,” said Stannistreet, who did not like the conversation +over-much, being simply a schooner captain and a plain man, though +intelligent enough and sympathetic. + +“This something tells me,” went on Lestrange, “that there is danger +threatening the—” He ceased, paused a minute, and then, to +Stannistreet’s relief, went on. “If I talk like that you will think I +am not right in my head: let us pass the subject by, let us forget +dreams and omens and come to realities. You know how I lost the +children; you know how I hope to find them at the place where Captain +Fountain found their traces? He says the island was uninhabited, but he +was not sure.” + +“No,” replied Stannistreet, “he only spoke of the beach.” + +“Yes. Well, suppose there were natives at the other side of the island +who had taken these children.” + +“If so, they would grow up with the natives.” + +“And become savages?” + +“Yes; but the Polynesians can’t be really called savages; they are a +very decent lot. I’ve knocked about amongst them a good while, and a +kanaka is as white as a white man—which is not saying much, but it’s +something. Most of the islands are civilised now. Of course there are a +few that aren’t, but still, suppose even that ‘savages,’ as you call +them, had come and taken the children off—” + +Lestrange’s breath caught, for this was the very fear that was in his +heart, though he had never spoken it. + +“Well?” + +“Well, they would be well treated.” + +“And brought up as savages?” + +“I suppose so.” + +Lestrange sighed. + +“Look here,” said the captain; “it’s all very well talking, but upon my +word I think that we civilised folk put on a lot of airs, and waste a +lot of pity on savages.” + +“How so?” + +“What does a man want to be but happy?” + +“Yes.” + +“Well, who is happier than a naked savage in a warm climate? Oh, he’s +happy enough, and he’s not always holding a corroboree. He’s a good +deal of a gentleman; he has perfect health; he lives the life a man was +born to live face to face with Nature. He doesn’t see the sun through +an office window or the moon through the smoke of factory chimneys; +happy and civilised too—but, bless you, where is he? The whites have +driven him out; in one or two small islands you may find him still—a +crumb or so of him.” + +“Suppose,” said Lestrange, “suppose those children had been brought up +face to face with Nature—” + +“Yes?” + +“Living that free life—” + +“Yes?” + +“Waking up under the stars”—Lestrange was speaking with his eyes +fixed, as if upon something very far away—“going to sleep as the sun +sets, feeling the air fresh, like this which blows upon us, all around +them. Suppose they were like that, would it not be a cruelty to bring +them to what we call civilisation?” + +“I think it would,” said Stannistreet. + +Lestrange said nothing, but continued pacing the deck, his head bowed +and his hands behind his back. + +One evening at sunset, Stannistreet said: + +“We’re two hundred and forty miles from the island, reckoning from +to-day’s reckoning at noon. We’re going all ten knots even with this +breeze; we ought to fetch the place this time to-morrow. Before that if +it freshens.” + +“I am greatly disturbed,” said Lestrange. + +He went below, and the schooner captain shook his head, and, locking +his arm round a ratlin, gave his body to the gentle roll of the craft +as she stole along, skirting the sunset, splendid, and to the nautical +eye full of fine weather. + +The breeze was not quite so fresh next morning, but it had been blowing +fairly all the night, and the _Raratonga_ had made good way. About eleven +it began to fail. It became the lightest sailing breeze, just +sufficient to keep the sails drawing, and the wake rippling and +swirling behind. Suddenly Stannistreet, who had been standing talking +to Lestrange, climbed a few feet up the mizzen ratlins, and shaded his +eyes. + +“What is it?” asked Lestrange. + +“A boat,” he replied. “Hand me that glass you will find in the sling +there.” + +He levelled the glass, and looked for a long time without speaking. + +“It’s a boat adrift—a small boat, nothing in her. Stay! I see +something white, can’t make it out. Hi there!”—to the fellow at the +wheel “Keep her a point more to starboard.” He got on to the deck. +“We’re going dead on for her.” + +“Is there any one in her?” asked Lestrange. + +“Can’t quite make out, but I’ll lower the whale-boat and fetch her +alongside.” + +He gave orders for the whale-boat to be slung out and manned. + +As they approached nearer, it was evident that the drifting boat, which +looked like a ship’s dinghy, contained something, but what, could not +be made out. + +When he had approached near enough, Stannistreet put the helm down and +brought the schooner to, with her sails all shivering. He took his +place in the bow of the whale-boat and Lestrange in the stern. The boat +was lowered, the falls cast off, and the oars bent to the water. + +The little dinghy made a mournful picture as she floated, looking +scarcely bigger than a walnut shell. In thirty strokes the whale-boat’s +nose was touching her quarter. Stannistreet grasped her gunwale. + +In the bottom of the dinghy lay a girl, naked all but for a strip of +coloured striped material. One of her arms was clasped round the neck +of a form that was half hidden by her body, the other clasped partly to +herself, partly to her companion, the body of a baby. They were +natives, evidently, wrecked or lost by some mischance from some +inter-island schooner. Their breasts rose and fell gently, and clasped +in the girl’s hand was a branch of some tree, and on the branch a +single withered berry. + +“Are they dead?” asked Lestrange, who divined that there were people in +the boat, and who was standing up in the stern of the whale-boat trying +to see. + +“No,” said Stannistreet; “they are asleep.” + +THE END + + + + +----- Transcriber's Note #1 ----- + +Introduction to the Project Gutenberg text of H. de Vere Stacpoole’s +The Blue Lagoon: A Romance + +by Edward A. Malone + +University of Missouri-Rolla + + +Born on April 9, 1863, in Kingstown, Ireland, Henry de Vere Stacpoole +grew up in a household dominated by his mother and three older sisters. +William C. Stacpoole, a doctor of divinity from Trinity College and +headmaster of Kingstown school, died some time before his son’s eighth +birthday, leaving the responsibility of supporting the family to his +Canadian-born wife, Charlotte Augusta Mountjoy Stacpoole. At a young +age, Charlotte had been led out of the Canadian backwoods by her +widowed mother and taken to Ireland, where their relatives lived. This +experience had strengthened her character and prepared her for single +parenthood. + +Charlotte cared passionately for her children and was perhaps overly +protective of her son. As a child, Henry suffered from severe +respiratory problems, misdiagnosed as chronic bronchitis by his +physician, who in the winter of 1871 advised that the boy be taken to +Southern France for his health. With her entire family in tow, +Charlotte made the long journey from Kingstown to London to Paris, +where signs of the Franco-Prussian War were still evident, settling at +last in Nice at the Hotel des Iles Britannique. Nice was like paradise +to Henry, who marveled at the city’s affluence and beauty as he played +in the warm sun. + +After several more excursions to the continent, Stacpoole was sent to +Portarlington, a bleak boarding school more than 100 miles from +Kingstown. In contrast to his sisters, the Portarlington boys were +noisy and uncouth. As Stacpoole writes in his autobiograhy Men and +Mice, 1863-1942 (1942), the boys abused him mentally and physically, +making him feel like “a little Arthur in a cage of baboons.” One night, +he escaped through an adjacent girls’ school and returned to Kingstown, +only to be betrayed by his family and dragged back to school by his +eldest sister. + +When his family moved to London, he was taken out of Portarlington and +enrolled at Malvern College, a progressive school with refined students +and plenty of air and sunshine. Stacpoole thoroughly enjoyed his new +surroundings, which he associated with the description of Malvern Hills +in Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s Aurora Leigh (1857): “Keepers of Piers +Plowman’s visions / Through the sunshine and the snow.” This +environment encouraged his interest in literature and writing. + +The idyll ended, however, when Stacpoole began his medical training. At +his mother’s prodding, he entered the medical school at St. George’s +Hospital. Twice a day, he had to traverse a park frequented by +perambulating nursemaids, and he became romantically involved with one +of them. When his mother discovered their affair, she insisted that he +transfer to University College, and he complied. + +More interested in literature than corpses, Stacpoole began to neglect +his studies and miss classes, especially the required dissections. +Finally, the dean of the medical school confronted him, and their +argument drove Stacpoole to St. Mary’s Hospital, where he completed his +medical training and qualified L. S. A. in 1891. At some point after +this date, Stacpoole made several sea voyages into the tropics (at +least once as a doctor aboard a cable-mending ship), collecting +information for future stories. + +Stacpoole’s literary career, which he once described as being “more +like a Malay fishing prahu than an honest-to-God English literary +vessel,” began inauspiciously with the publication of The Intended +(1894), a tragic novel about two look-alikes, one rich, the other poor, +who switch places on a whim. Bewildered by the novel’s lack of success, +Stacpoole consulted his friendly muse, Pearl Craigie, alias John Oliver +Hobbes, who suggested a comic rather than tragic treatment. Years +later, Stacpoole retold the story in The Man Who Lost Himself (1918), a +commercially successful comic novel about a down-and-out American who +impersonates his wealthy look-alike in England. + +Set in France during the Franco-Prussian War, Stacpoole’s second novel, +Pierrot (1896), recounts a French boy’s eerie relationship with a +patricidal doppelganger. Like its predecessor, it was a commercial +failure, and it was at this point, perhaps, that Stacpoole began to +view literary success only in terms of sales figures and numbers of +editions. + +A strange tale of reincarnation, cross dressing, and uxoricide, +Stacpoole’s third novel, Death, the Knight, and the Lady (1897), +purports to be the deathbed confession of Beatrice Sinclair, who is +both a reincarnated murderer (male) and a descendant of the murder +victim (female). She falls in love with Gerald Wilder, a man disguised +as a woman, who is both a reincarnated murder victim (female) and the +descendant of the murderer (male). Despite its originality, the novel +was killed by “Public Indifference” (Stacpoole’s term), which also +killed The Rapin (1899), a novel about an art student in Paris. + +Stacpoole spent the summer of 1898 in Sommerset, where he took over the +medical practice of an ailing country doctor. So peaceful were his days +in this pastoral setting that he had time to write The Doctor (1899), a +novel about an old-fashioned physician practicing medicine in rural +England. “It is the best book I have written,” Stacpoole declared more +than forty years later. He could also say, in retrospect, that the +book’s weak sales were a disguised blessing, “for I hadn’t ballast on +board in those days to stand up to the gale of success, which means +incidentally money.” He would be spared the gale of success for nine +more years, during which he published seven books, including a +collection of children’s stories and two collaborative novels with his +friend William Alexander Bryce. + +In 1907, two events occurred that altered the course of Stacpoole’s +life: he wrote The Blue Lagoon and he married Margaret Robson. Unable +to sleep one night, he found himself thinking about and envying the +caveman, who in his primitiveness was able to marvel at such +commonplace phenomena as sunsets and thunderstorms. Civilized, +technological man had unveiled these mysteries with his telescopes and +weather balloons, so that they were no longer “nameless wonders” to be +feared and contemplated. As a doctor, Stacpoole had witnessed countless +births and deaths, and these events no longer seemed miraculous to him. +He conceived the idea of two children growing up alone on an island and +experiencing storms, death, and birth in almost complete ignorance and +innocence. The next morning, he started writing The Blue Lagoon. The +exercise was therapeutic because he was able to experience the wonders +of life and death vicariously through his characters. + +The Blue Lagoon is the story of two cousins, Dicky and Emmeline +Lestrange, stranded on a remote island with a beautiful lagoon. As +children, they are cared for by Paddy Button, a portly sailor who +drinks himself to death after only two and a half years in paradise. +Frightened and confused by the man’s gruesome corpse, the children flee +to another part of Palm Tree Island. Over a period of five years, they +grow up and eventually fall in love. Sex and birth are as mysterious +to them as death, but they manage to copulate instinctively and +conceive a child. The birth is especially remarkable: fifteen-year-old +Emmeline, alone in the jungle, loses consciousness and awakes to find a +baby boy on the ground near her. Naming the boy Hannah (an example of +Stacpoole’s penchant for gender reversals), the Lestranges live in +familial bliss until they are unexpectedly expelled from their tropical +Eden. + +The parallels between The Blue Lagoon and the Biblical story of Adam +and Eve are obvious and intentional, but Stacpoole was also influenced +by Lewis Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland (1865), which he +invokes in a passage describing the castaways’ approach Palm Tree +Island: + +“One could see the water swirling round the coral piers, for the tide +was flooding into the lagoon; it had seized the little dinghy and was +bearing it along far swifter than the sculls could have driven it. +Sea-gulls screamed about them, the boat rocked and swayed. Dick shouted +with excitement, and Emmeline shut her eyes TIGHT. + +“Then, as though a door had been swiftly and silently closed, the sound +of the surf became suddenly less. The boat floated on an even keel; she +opened her eyes and found herself in Wonderland.” + +This direct reference to Wonderland prepares the reader for the many +parallels that follow. When their adventures begin, both girls are +about the same age, Alice seven and a half, Emmeline exactly eight. +Just as Alice joins a tea party in Wonderland, Emmeline plays with her +tiny tea set on the beach after they land. Emmeline’s former pet, like +the Cheshire Cat, “had white stripes and a white chest, and rings down +its tail” and died “showing its teeth.” Whereas Alice looks for a +poison label on a bottle that says “Drink Me,” Emmeline innocently +tries to eat “the never-wake-up berries” and receives a stern rebuke +and a lecture about poison from Paddy Button. “The Poetry of Learning” +chapter echoes Alice’s dialogue with the caterpillar. Like the wily +creature smoking a hookah, Paddy smokes a pipe and shouts “Hurroo!” as +the children teach him to write his name in the sand. The children +lose “all count of time,” just as the Mad Hatter does. Whereas Alice +grows nine feet taller, Dick sprouts “two inches taller” and Emmeline +“twice as plump.” Like the baby in the “Pig and Pepper,” Hannah sneezes +at the first sight of Dicky. The novel is artfully littered with +references to wonder, curiosity, and strangeness—all evidence of +Stacpoole’s conscious effort to invoke and honor his Victorian +predecessor. + +Stacpoole presented The Blue Lagoon to Publisher T. Fisher Unwin in +September 1907 and went to Cumberland to assist another ailing doctor +in his practice. Every day from Eden Vue in Langwathby, Stacpoole wrote +to his fiancee, Margaret Robson (or Maggie, as he called her), and +waited anxiously for their wedding day. On December 17, 1907, the +couple were married and spent their honeymoon at Stebbing Park, a +friend’s country house in Essex, about three miles from the village of +Stebbing. It was there that they stumbled upon Rose Cottage, where +Stacpoole lived for several years before he moved to Cliff Dene on the +Isle of Wight in the 1920s. + +Published in January 1908, The Blue Lagoon was an immediate success, +both with reviewers and the public. “[This] tale of the discovery of +love, and innocent mating, is as fresh as the ozone that made them +strong,” declared one reviewer. Another claimed that “for once the +title of ‘romance,’ found in so many modern stories, is really +justified.” The novel was reprinted more than twenty times in the next +twelve years and remained popular in other forms for more than eighty +years. Norman MacOwen and Charlton Mann adapted the story as a play, +which ran for 263 performances in London from August 28, 1920, to April +16, 1921. Film versions of the novel were made in 1923, 1949, and 1980. + +Stacpoole also wrote two successful sequels: The Garden of God (1923) +and The Gates of Morning (1925). These three books and two others were +combined to form The Blue Lagoon Omnibus in 1933. The Garden of God was +filmed as Return to the Blue Lagoon in 1992. + +This Gutenberg etext of The Blue Lagoon: A Romance is based on the 1908 +first American edition published by J. B. Lippincott Company of +Philadelphia. + +----- Transcriber's Note #2 ----- + +The stated edition for this etext is the 1908 first American edition +published by J. B. Lippincott Company of Philadelphia. Stacpoole +delivered his original manuscript to publisher T. Fisher Unwin (London) +in September 1907. The London edition and the Lippincott (this etext) +edition were both published in 1908. Four changes were made in +creating the Lippincott edition: + +1. On page 18: + + London edition: he sat with it on his knees staring at + the white sunlit main-deck barred with the black shadows + of the standing rigging. + + US edition: he sat with it on his knees staring at + the white sunlit main-deck barred with the white shadows + of the standing rigging. + + Stacpoole originally indicated black shadows of the + rigging on the deck. + +2. On page 19: + + London edition: It was seven bells—half-past three in the + afternoon—and the ship’s bell had just rung out. + + US edition: It was three bells—half-past three in the + afternoon—and the ship’s bell had just rung out. + + The London edition is correct: seven bells is 3:30 in + the afternoon. Three bells is half-past one. + +3. On page 24: + + London edition: The dinghy was rather a larger boat than + the ordinary ships’ dinghy, and possessed a small mast + and lug-sail. + + US edition: The dinghy was rather a larger boat than + the ordinary ships’ dinghy, and possessed a small mast + and long sail. + + A lug-sail (modern: lugsail) is an evolved version of + the classical square sail that is correct for the boat + as described. + +4. On page 309: + + London edition: “This is the gentleman, Simon,” ... + + US edition: “This is the gentleman, Silas,” ... + +Other than these four changes, both 1908 editions are +essentially identical. + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Blue Lagoon, by H. de Vere Stacpoole + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BLUE LAGOON *** + +***** This file should be named 393-0.txt or 393-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/9/393/ + +Produced by Edward A. Malone. 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+ background: White; + margin-right: 5%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: medium; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +P {text-indent: 4% } + +P.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +P.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: small } + +P.letter {font-size: small ; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +P.salutation {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +P.closing {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +P.footnote {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.transnote {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.index {font-size: small ; + text-indent: -5% ; + margin-left: 5% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.intro {font-size: medium ; + text-indent: -5% ; + margin-left: 5% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.dedication {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 15%; + text-align: justify } + +P.published {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 15% } + +P.quote {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 4% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.report {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 4% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.report2 {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 4% ; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +P.finis { text-align: center ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +H3.h3left { margin-left: 0%; + margin-right: 1%; + margin-bottom: .5% ; + margin-top: 0; + float: left ; + clear: left ; + text-align: center } + +H3.h3right { margin-left: 1%; + margin-right: 0 ; + margin-bottom: .5% ; + margin-top: 0; + float: right ; + clear: right ; + text-align: center } + +H3.h3center { margin-left: 0; + margin-right: 0 ; + margin-bottom: .5% ; + margin-top: 0; + float: none ; + clear: both ; + text-align: center } + +H4.h4left { margin-left: 0%; + margin-right: 1%; + margin-bottom: .5% ; + margin-top: 0; + float: left ; + clear: left ; + text-align: center } + +H4.h4right { margin-left: 1%; 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+ text-align: center } + +IMG.imgcenter { margin-left: auto; + margin-bottom: 0; + margin-top: 1%; + margin-right: auto; } + +.pagenum { position: absolute; + left: 1%; + font-size: 95%; + text-align: left; + text-indent: 0; + font-style: normal; + font-weight: normal; + font-variant: normal; } + +.sidenote { left: 0%; + font-size: 65%; + text-align: left; + text-indent: 0%; + width: 17%; + float: left; + clear: left; + padding-left: 0%; + padding-right: 2%; + padding-top: 2%; + padding-bottom: 2%; + font-style: normal; + font-weight: normal; + font-variant: normal; } + + + +</STYLE> + +</HEAD> + +<BODY> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Blue Lagoon, by H. de Vere Stacpoole + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most +other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of +the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have +to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. + +Title: The Blue Lagoon + A Romance + +Author: H. de Vere Stacpoole + +Posting Date: August 26, 2016 [EBook #393] +Release Date: January 1995 +Last Updated: January 19, 2008 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BLUE LAGOON *** + + + + +Produced by Edward A. Malone. Corrections by Roger Frank. + + + + + +</pre> + + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +The Blue Lagoon: A Romance +</H1> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +by H. de Vere Stacpoole +</H2> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CONTENTS +</H2> + +<BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +BOOK I +</H2> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +PART I +</H2> + +<BR> + +<TABLE SUMMARY="" ALIGN="center" WIDTH="80%"> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="15%">I. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="85%"> +<A HREF="#chap0101">WHERE THE SLUSH LAMP BURNS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">II. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0102">UNDER THE STARS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">III. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0103">THE SHADOW AND THE FIRE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0104">AND LIKE A DREAM DISSOLVED</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">V. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0105">VOICES HEARD IN THE MIST</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0106">DAWN ON A WIDE, WIDE SEA</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0107">STORY OF THE PIG AND THE BILLY-GOAT</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0108">“S-H-E-N-A-N-D-O-A-H”</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0109">SHADOWS IN THE MOONLIGHT</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">X. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0110">THE TRAGEDY OF THE BOATS</A></TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +PART II +</H2> + +<BR> + +<TABLE SUMMARY="" ALIGN="center" WIDTH="80%"> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="15%">XI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="85%"> +<A HREF="#chap0111">THE ISLAND</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0112">THE LAKE OF AZURE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0113">DEATH VEILED WITH LICHEN</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0114">ECHOES OF FAIRY-LAND</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0115">FAIR PICTURES IN THE BLUE</A></TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +PART III +</H2> + +<BR> + +<TABLE SUMMARY="" ALIGN="center" WIDTH="80%"> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="15%">XVI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="85%"> +<A HREF="#chap0116">THE POETRY OF LEARNING</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0117">THE DEVIL’S CASK</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0118">THE RAT HUNT</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0119">STARLIGHT ON THE FOAM</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0120">THE DREAMER ON THE REEF</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0121">THE GARLAND OF FLOWERS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0122">ALONE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0123">THEY MOVE AWAY</A></TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +BOOK II +</H2> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +PART I +</H2> + +<BR> + +<TABLE SUMMARY="" ALIGN="center" WIDTH="80%"> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="15%">I. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="85%"> +<A HREF="#chap0201">UNDER THE ARTU TREE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">II. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0202">HALF CHILD-HALF SAVAGE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">III. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0203">THE DEMON OF THE REEF</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0204">WHAT BEAUTY CONCEALED</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">V. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0205">THE SOUND OF A DRUM</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0206">SAILS UPON THE SEA</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0207">THE SCHOONER</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0208">LOVE STEPS IN</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0209">THE SLEEP OF PARADISE</A></TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +PART II +</H2> + +<TABLE SUMMARY="" ALIGN="center" WIDTH="80%"> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="15%">X. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="85%"> +<A HREF="#chap0210">AN ISLAND HONEYMOON</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0211">THE VANISHING OF EMMELINE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0212">THE VANISHING OF EMMELINE (CONTINUED)</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0213">THE NEWCOMER</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0214">HANNAH</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0215">THE LAGOON OF FIRE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0216">THE CYCLONE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0217">THE STRICKEN WOODS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0218">A FALLEN IDOL</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0219">THE EXPEDITION</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0220">THE KEEPER OF THE LAGOON</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0221">THE HAND OF THE SEA</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0222">TOGETHER</A></TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +BOOK III +</H2> + +<BR> + +<TABLE SUMMARY="" ALIGN="center" WIDTH="80%"> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="15%">I. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="85%"> +<A HREF="#chap0301">MAD LESTRANGE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">II. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0302">THE SECRET OF THE AZURE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">III. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0303">CAPTAIN FOUNTAIN</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0304">DUE SOUTH</A></TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0101"></A> +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +THE BLUE LAGOON +</H1> + +<BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +BOOK I +</H2> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +PART I +</H2> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER I +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +WHERE THE SLUSH LAMP BURNS +</H3> + +<P> +Mr Button was seated on a sea-chest with a fiddle under his left ear. +He was playing the “Shan van vaught,” and accompanying the tune, +punctuating it, with blows of his left heel on the fo’cs’le deck. +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +“O the <i>Frinch</i> are in the bay,<BR> +Says the <i>Shan van vaught</i>.”<BR> +</P> + +<P> +He was dressed in dungaree trousers, a striped shirt, and a jacket +baize—green in parts from the influence of sun and salt. A typical old +shell-back, round-shouldered, hooked of finger; a figure with strong +hints of a crab about it. +</P> + +<P> +His face was like a moon, seen red through tropical mists; and as he +played it wore an expression of strained attention as though the fiddle +were telling him tales much more marvellous than the old bald statement +about Bantry Bay. +</P> + +<P> +“Left-handed Pat,” was his fo’cs’le name; not because he was +left-handed, but simply because everything he did he did wrong—or +nearly so. Reefing or furling, or handling a slush tub—if a mistake +was to be made, he made it. +</P> + +<P> +He was a Celt, and all the salt seas that had flowed between him and +Connaught these forty years and more had not washed the Celtic element +from his blood, nor the belief in fairies from his soul. The Celtic +nature is a fast dye, and Mr Button’s nature was such that though he +had been shanghaied by Larry Marr in ’Frisco, though he had got drunk +in most ports of the world, though he had sailed with Yankee captains +and been man-handled by Yankee mates, he still carried his fairies +about with him—they, and a very large stock of original innocence. +</P> + +<P> +Nearly over the musician’s head swung a hammock from which hung a leg; +other hammocks hanging in the semi-gloom called up suggestions of +lemurs and arboreal bats. The swinging kerosene lamp cast its light +forward, past the heel of the bowsprit to the knightheads, lighting here +a naked foot hanging over the side of a bunk, here a face from which +protruded a pipe, here a breast covered with dark mossy hair, here an +arm tattooed. +</P> + +<P> +It was in the days before double topsail yards had reduced ships’ +crews, and the fo’cs’le of the <i>Northumberland</i> had a full company: a +crowd of packet rats such as often is to be found on a Cape Horner +“Dutchmen” Americans—men who were farm labourers and tending +pigs in Ohio three months back, old seasoned sailors like Paddy +Button—a mixture of the best and the worst of the earth, such as you +find nowhere else in so small a space as in a ship’s fo’cs’le. +</P> + +<P> +The <i>Northumberland</i> had experienced a terrible rounding of the Horn. +Bound from New Orleans to ’Frisco she had spent thirty days battling +with head-winds and storms—down there, where the seas are so vast that +three waves may cover with their amplitude more than a mile of sea +space; thirty days she had passed off Cape Stiff, and just now, at the +moment of this story, she was locked in a calm south of the line. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Button finished his tune with a sweep of the bow, and drew his right +coat sleeve across his forehead. Then he took out a sooty pipe, filled +it with tobacco, and lit it. +</P> + +<P> +“Pawthrick,” drawled a voice from the hammock above, from which +depended the leg, “what was that yarn you wiz beginnin’ to spin ter +night ’bout a lip me dawn?” +</P> + +<P> +“A which me dawn?” asked Mr Button, cocking his eye up at the bottom of +the hammock while he held the match to his pipe. +</P> + +<P> +“It vas about a green thing,” came a sleepy Dutch voice from a bunk. +</P> + +<P> +“Oh, a Leprachaun you mane. Sure, me mother’s sister had one down in +Connaught.” +</P> + +<P> +“Vat vas it like?” asked the dreamy Dutch voice—a voice seemingly +possessed by the calm that had made the sea like a mirror for the last +three days, reducing the whole ship’s company meanwhile to the level of +wasters. +</P> + +<P> +“Like? Sure, it was like a Leprachaun; and what else would it be like?” +</P> + +<P> +“What like vas that?” persisted the voice. +</P> + +<P> +“It was like a little man no bigger than a big forked raddish, an’ as +green as a cabbidge. Me a’nt had one in her house down in Connaught in +the ould days. O musha! musha! the ould days, the ould days! Now, you +may b’lave me or b’lave me not, but you could have put him in your +pocket, and the grass-green head of him wouldn’t more than’v stuck out. +She kept him in a cupboard, and out of the cupboard he’d pop if it was +a crack open, an’ into the milk pans he’d be, or under the beds, or +pullin’ the stool from under you, or at some other divarsion. He’d +chase the pig—the crathur!—till it’d be all ribs like an ould +umbrilla with the fright, an’ as thin as a greyhound with the runnin’ +by the marnin; he’d addle the eggs so the cocks an’ hens wouldn’t know +what they wis afther wid the chickens comin’ out wid two heads on them, +an’ twinty-seven legs fore and aft. And you’d start to chase him, an’ +then it’d be mainsail haul, and away he’d go, you behint him, till +you’d landed tail over snout in a ditch, an’ he’d be back in the +cupboard.” +</P> + +<P> +“He was a Troll,” murmured the Dutch voice. +</P> + +<P> +“I’m tellin’ you he was a Leprachaun, and there’s no knowin’ the +divilments he’d be up to. He’d pull the cabbidge, maybe, out of the pot +boilin’ on the fire forenint your eyes, and baste you in the face with +it; and thin, maybe, you’d hold out your fist to him, and he’d put a +goulden soverin in it.” +</P> + +<P> +“Wisht he was here!” murmured a voice from a bunk near the knightheads. +</P> + +<P> +“Pawthrick,” drawled the voice from the hammock above, “what’d you do +first if you found y’self with twenty pound in your pocket?” +</P> + +<P> +“What’s the use of askin’ me?” replied Mr Button. “What’s the use of +twenty pound to a sayman at say, where the grog’s all wather an’ the +beef’s all horse? Gimme it ashore, an’ you’d see what I’d do wid it!” +</P> + +<P> +“I guess the nearest grog-shop keeper wouldn’t see you comin’ for +dust,” said a voice from Ohio. +</P> + +<P> +“He would not,” said Mr Button; “nor you afther me. Be damned to the +grog and thim that sells it!” +</P> + +<P> +“It’s all darned easy to talk,” said Ohio. “You curse the grog at sea +when you can’t get it; set you ashore, and you’re bung full.” +</P> + +<P> +“I likes me dhrunk,” said Mr Button, “I’m free to admit; an’ I’m the +divil when it’s in me, and it’ll be the end of me yet, or me ould +mother was a liar. ‘Pat,’ she says, first time I come home from say +rowlin’, ‘storms you may escape, an’ wimmen you may escape, but the +potheen ’ill have you.’ Forty year ago—forty year ago!” +</P> + +<P> +“Well,” said Ohio, “it hasn’t had you yet.” +</P> + +<P> +“No,” replied Mr Button, “but it will.” +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0102"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER II +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +UNDER THE STARS +</H3> + +<P> +It was a wonderful night up on deck, filled with all the majesty and +beauty of starlight and a tropic calm. +</P> + +<P> +The Pacific slept; a vast, vague swell flowing from far away down south +under the night, lifted the <i>Northumberland</i> on its undulations to the +rattling sound of the reef points and the occasional creak of the +rudder; whilst overhead, near the fiery arch of the Milky Way, hung the +Southern Cross like a broken kite. +</P> + +<P> +Stars in the sky, stars in the sea, stars by the million and the +million; so many lamps ablaze that the firmament filled the mind with +the idea of a vast and populous city—yet from all that living and +flashing splendour not a sound. +</P> + +<P> +Down in the cabin—or saloon, as it was called by courtesy—were seated +the three passengers of the ship; one reading at the table, two playing +on the floor. +</P> + +<P> +The man at the table, Arthur Lestrange, was seated with his large, +deep-sunken eyes fixed on a book. He was most evidently in +consumption—very near, indeed, to reaping the result of that last and +most desperate remedy, a long sea voyage. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline Lestrange, his little niece—eight years of age, a mysterious +mite, small for her age, with thoughts of her own, wide-pupilled eyes +that seemed the doors for visions, and a face that seemed just to have +peeped into this world for a moment ere it was as suddenly +withdrawn—sat in a corner nursing something in her arms, and rocking +herself to the tune of her own thoughts. +</P> + +<P> +Dick, Lestrange’s little son, eight and a bit, was somewhere under the +table. They were Bostonians, bound for San Francisco, or rather for the +sun and splendour of Los Angeles, where Lestrange had bought a small +estate, hoping there to enjoy the life whose lease would be renewed by +the long sea voyage. +</P> + +<P> +As he sat reading, the cabin door opened, and appeared an angular +female form. This was Mrs Stannard, the stewardess, and Mrs Stannard +meant bedtime. +</P> + +<P> +“Dicky,” said Mr Lestrange, closing his book, and raising the +table-cloth a few inches, “bedtime.” +</P> + +<P> +“Oh, not yet, daddy!” came a sleep-freighted voice from under the +table; “I ain’t ready. I dunno want to go to bed, I— Hi yow!” +</P> + +<P> +Mrs Stannard, who knew her work, had stooped under the table, seized him by +the foot, and hauled him out kicking and fighting and blubbering all at +the same time. +</P> + +<P> +As for Emmeline, she having glanced up and recognised the inevitable, +rose to her feet, and, holding the hideous rag-doll she had been +nursing, head down and dangling in one hand, she stood waiting till +Dicky, after a few last perfunctory bellows, suddenly dried his eyes +and held up a tear-wet face for his father to kiss. Then she presented +her brow solemnly to her uncle, received a kiss and vanished, led by +the hand into a cabin on the port side of the saloon. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Lestrange returned to his book, but he had not read for long when +the cabin door was opened, and Emmeline, in her nightdress, reappeared, +holding a brown paper parcel in her hand, a parcel of about the same +size as the book you are reading. +</P> + +<P> +“My box,” said she; and as she spoke, holding it up as if to prove its +safety, the little plain face altered to the face of an angel. +</P> + +<P> +She had smiled. +</P> + +<P> +When Emmeline Lestrange smiled it was absolutely as if the light of +Paradise had suddenly flashed upon her face: the happiest form of +childish beauty suddenly appeared before your eyes, dazzled them—and +was gone. +</P> + +<P> +Then she vanished with her box, and Mr Lestrange resumed his book. +</P> + +<P> +This box of Emmeline’s, I may say in parenthesis, had given more +trouble aboard ship than all of the rest of the passengers’ luggage put +together. +</P> + +<P> +It had been presented to her on her departure from Boston by a lady +friend, and what it contained was a dark secret to all on board, save +its owner and her uncle; she was a woman, or, at all events, the +beginning of a woman, yet she kept this secret to herself—a fact which +you will please note. +</P> + +<P> +The trouble of the thing was that it was frequently being lost. +Suspecting herself, maybe, as an unpractical dreamer in a world filled +with robbers, she would cart it about with her for safety, sit down +behind a coil of rope and fall into a fit of abstraction: be recalled +to life by the evolutions of the crew reefing or furling or what not, +rise to superintend the operations—and then suddenly find she had lost +her box. +</P> + +<P> +Then she would absolutely haunt the ship. Wide-eyed and distressed of +face she would wander hither and thither, peeping into the galley, +peeping down the forescuttle, never uttering a word or wail, searching +like an uneasy ghost, but dumb. +</P> + +<P> +She seemed ashamed to tell of her loss, ashamed to let any one know of +it; but every one knew of it directly they saw her, to use Mr Button’s +expression, “on the wandher,” and every one hunted for it. +</P> + +<P> +Strangely enough it was Paddy Button who usually found it. He who was +always doing the wrong thing in the eyes of men, generally did the +right thing in the eyes of children. Children, in fact, when they could +get at Mr Button, went for him <i>con amore</i>. He was as attractive to them +as a Punch and Judy show or a German band—almost. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Lestrange after a while closed the book he was reading, looked +around him and sighed. +</P> + +<P> +The cabin of the <i>Northumberland</i> was a cheerful enough place, pierced by +the polished shaft of the mizzen mast, carpeted with an Axminster +carpet, and garnished with mirrors let into the white pine panelling. +Lestrange was staring at the reflection of his own face in one of these +mirrors fixed just opposite to where he sat. +</P> + +<P> +His emaciation was terrible, and it was just perhaps at this moment +that he first recognised the fact that he must not only die, but die +soon. +</P> + +<P> +He turned from the mirror and sat for a while with his chin resting +upon his hand, and his eyes fixed on an ink spot upon the table-cloth; +then he arose, and crossing the cabin climbed laboriously up the +companion-way to the deck. +</P> + +<P> +As he leaned against the bulwark rail to recover his breath, the +splendour and beauty of the Southern night struck him to the heart with +a cruel pang. He took his seat on a deck chair and gazed up at the +Milky Way, that great triumphal arch built of suns that the dawn would +sweep away like a dream. +</P> + +<P> +In the Milky Way, near the Southern Cross, occurs a terrible circular +abyss, the Coal Sack. So sharply defined is it, so suggestive of a void +and bottomless cavern, that the contemplation of it afflicts the +imaginative mind with vertigo. To the naked eye it is as black and as +dismal as death, but the smallest telescope reveals it beautiful and +populous with stars. +</P> + +<P> +Lestrange’s eyes travelled from this mystery to the burning cross, and +the nameless and numberless stars reaching to the sea-line, where they +paled and vanished in the light of the rising moon. Then he became +aware of a figure promenading the quarter-deck. It was the “Old Man.” +</P> + +<P> +A sea captain is always the “old man,” be his age what it may. Captain +Le Farges’ age might have been forty-five. He was a sailor of the Jean +Bart type, of French descent, but a naturalised American. +</P> + +<P> +“I don’t know where the wind’s gone,” said the captain as he drew near +the man in the deck chair. “I guess it’s blown a hole in the firmament, +and escaped somewheres to the back of beyond.” +</P> + +<P> +“It’s been a long voyage,” said Lestrange; “and I’m thinking, Captain, +it will be a very long voyage for me. My port’s not ’Frisco; I feel it.” +</P> + +<P> +“Don’t you be thinking that sort of thing,” said the other, taking his +seat in a chair close by. “There’s no manner of use forecastin’ the +weather a month ahead. Now we’re in warm latitoods, your glass will +rise steady, and you’ll be as right and spry as any one of us, before +we fetch the Golden Gates.” +</P> + +<P> +“I’m thinking about the children,” said Lestrange, seeming not to hear +the captain’s words. “Should anything happen to me before we reach +port, I should like you to do something for me. It’s only this: dispose +of my body without—without the children knowing. It has been in my +mind to ask you this for some days. Captain, those children know +nothing of death.” +</P> + +<P> +Le Farge moved uneasily in his chair. +</P> + +<P> +“Little Emmeline’s mother died when she was two. Her father—my +brother—died before she was born. Dicky never knew a mother; she died +giving him birth. My God, Captain, death has laid a heavy hand on my +family; can you wonder that I have hid his very name from those two +creatures that I love!” +</P> + +<P> +“Ay, ay,” said Le Farge, “it’s sad! it’s sad!” +</P> + +<P> +“When I was quite a child,” went on Lestrange, “a child no older than +Dicky, my nurse used to terrify me with tales about dead people. I was +told I’d go to hell when I died if I wasn’t a good child. I cannot tell +you how much that has poisoned my life, for the thoughts we think in +childhood, Captain, are the fathers of the thoughts we think when we +are grown up. And can a diseased father—have healthy children?” +</P> + +<P> +“I guess not.” +</P> + +<P> +“So I just said, when these two tiny creatures came into my care, that +I would do all in my power to protect them from the terrors of life—or +rather, I should say, from the terror of death. I don’t know whether I +have done right, but I have done it for the best. They had a cat, and +one day Dicky came in to me and said: ‘Father, pussy’s in the garden +asleep, and I can’t wake her.’ So I just took him out for a walk; there +was a circus in the town, and I took him to it. It so filled his mind +that he quite forgot the cat. Next day he asked for her. I did not tell +him she was buried in the garden, I just said she must have run away. +In a week he had forgotten all about her—children soon forget.” +</P> + +<P> +“Ay, that’s true,” said the sea captain. “But ’pears to me they must +learn some time they’ve got to die.” +</P> + +<P> +“Should I pay the penalty before we reach land, and be cast into that +great, vast sea, I would not wish the children’s dreams to be haunted +by the thought: just tell them I’ve gone on board another ship. You +will take them back to Boston; I have here, in a letter, the name of a +lady who will care for them. Dicky will be well off, as far as worldly +goods are concerned, and so will Emmeline. Just tell them I’ve gone on +board another ship—children soon forget.” +</P> + +<P> +“I’ll do what you ask,” said the seaman. +</P> + +<P> +The moon was over the horizon now, and the <i>Northumberland</i> lay adrift in +a river of silver. Every spar was distinct, every reef point on the +great sails, and the decks lay like spaces of frost cut by shadows +black as ebony. +</P> + +<P> +As the two men sat without speaking, thinking their own thoughts, a +little white figure emerged from the saloon hatch. It was Emmeline. She +was a professed sleepwalker—a past mistress of the art. +</P> + +<P> +Scarcely had she stepped into dreamland than she had lost her precious +box, and now she was hunting for it on the decks of the <i>Northumberland</i>. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Lestrange put his finger to his lips, took off his shoes and +silently followed her. She searched behind a coil of rope, she tried to +open the galley door; hither and thither she wandered, wide-eyed and +troubled of face, till at last, in the shadow of the hencoop, she found +her visionary treasure. Then back she came, holding up her little +nightdress with one hand, so as not to trip, and vanished down the +saloon companion very hurriedly, as if anxious to get back to bed, her +uncle close behind, with one hand outstretched so as to catch her in +case she stumbled. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0103"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER III +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE SHADOW AND THE FIRE +</H3> + +<P> +It was the fourth day of the long calm. An awning had been rigged up on +the poop for the passengers, and under it sat Lestrange, trying to +read, and the children trying to play. The heat and monotony had +reduced even Dicky to just a surly mass, languid in movement as a grub. +As for Emmeline, she seemed dazed. The rag-doll lay a yard away from +her on the poop deck unnursed; even the wretched box and its +whereabouts she seemed to have quite forgotten. +</P> + +<P> +“Daddy!” suddenly cried Dick, who had clambered up, and was looking +over the after-rail. +</P> + +<P> +“What?” +</P> + +<P> +“Fish!” +</P> + +<P> +Lestrange rose to his feet, came aft and looked over the rail. +</P> + +<P> +Down in the vague green of the water something moved, something pale +and long—a ghastly form. It vanished; and yet another came, neared the +surface, and displayed itself more fully. Lestrange saw its eyes, he +saw the dark fin, and the whole hideous length of the creature; a +shudder ran through him as he clasped Dicky. +</P> + +<P> +“Ain’t he fine?” said the child. “I guess, daddy, I’d pull him aboard +if I had a hook. Why haven’t I a hook, daddy?—why haven’t I a hook, +daddy?— Ow, you’re <i>squeezin’</i> me!” +</P> + +<P> +Something plucked at Lestrange’s coat: it was Emmeline—she also wanted +to look. He lifted her up in his arms; her little pale face peeped over +the rail, but there was nothing to see: the forms of terror had +vanished, leaving the green depths untroubled and unstained. +</P> + +<P> +“What’s they called, daddy?” persisted Dick, as his father took him +down from the rail, and led him back to the chair. +</P> + +<P> +“Sharks,” said Lestrange, whose face was covered with perspiration. +</P> + +<P> +He picked up the book he had been reading—it was a volume of +Tennyson—and he sat with it on his knees staring at the white sunlit +main-deck barred with the white shadows of the standing rigging. +</P> + +<P> +The sea had disclosed to him a vision. Poetry, Philosophy, Beauty, Art, +the love and joy of life—was it possible that these should exist in +the same world as those? +</P> + +<P> +He glanced at the book upon his knees, and contrasted the beautiful +things in it which he remembered with the terrible things he had just +seen, the things that were waiting for their food under the keel of the +ship. +</P> + +<P> +It was three bells—half-past three in the afternoon—and the ship’s +bell had just rung out. The stewardess appeared to take the children +below; and as they vanished down the saloon companion-way Captain Le +Farge came aft, on to the poop, and stood for a moment looking over the +sea on the port side, where a bank of fog had suddenly appeared like +the spectre of a country. +</P> + +<P> +“The sun has dimmed a bit,” said he; “I can a’most look at it. Glass +steady enough—there’s a fog coming up—ever seen a Pacific fog?” +</P> + +<P> +“No, never.” +</P> + +<P> +“Well, you won’t want to see another,” replied the mariner, shading his +eyes and fixing them upon the sea-line. The sea-line away to starboard +had lost somewhat its distinctness, and over the day an almost +imperceptible shade had crept. +</P> + +<P> +The captain suddenly turned from his contemplation of the sea and sky, +raised his head and sniffed. +</P> + +<P> +“Something is burning somewhere—smell it? Seems to me like an old mat +or summat. It’s that swab of a steward, maybe; if he isn’t breaking +glass, he’s upsetting lamps and burning holes in the carpet. Bless <i>my</i> +soul, I’d sooner have a dozen Mary Anns an’ their dustpans round the +place than one tomfool steward like Jenkins.” He went to the saloon +hatch. “Below there!” +</P> + +<P> +“Ay, ay, sir.” +</P> + +<P> +“What are you burning?” +</P> + +<P> +“I an’t burnin’ northen, sir.” +</P> + +<P> +“Tell you, I smell it!” +</P> + +<P> +“There’s northen burnin’ here, sir.” +</P> + +<P> +“Neither is there, it’s all on deck. Something in the galley, +maybe—rags, most likely, they’ve thrown on the fire.” +</P> + +<P> +“Captain!” said Lestrange. +</P> + +<P> +“Ay, ay.” +</P> + +<P> +“Come here, please.” +</P> + +<P> +Le Farge climbed on to the poop. +</P> + +<P> +“I don’t know whether it’s my weakness that’s affecting my eyes, but +there seems to me something strange about the main-mast.” +</P> + +<P> +The main-mast near where it entered the deck, and for some distance up, +seemed in motion—a corkscrew movement most strange to watch from the +shelter of the awning. +</P> + +<P> +This apparent movement was caused by a spiral haze of smoke so vague +that one could only tell of its existence from the mirage-like tremor +of the mast round which it curled. +</P> + +<P> +“My God!” cried Le Farge, as he sprang from the poop and rushed forward. +</P> + +<P> +Lestrange followed him slowly, stopping every moment to clutch the +bulwark rail and pant for breath. He heard the shrill bird-like notes +of the bosun’s pipe. He saw the hands emerging from the forecastle, +like bees out of a hive; he watched them surrounding the main-hatch. He +watched the tarpaulin and locking-bars removed. He saw the hatch +opened, and a burst of smoke—black, villainous smoke—ascend to the +sky, solid as a plume in the windless air. +</P> + +<P> +Lestrange was a man of a highly nervous temperament, and it is just +this sort of man who keeps his head in an emergency, whilst your +level-headed, phlegmatic individual loses his balance. His first +thought was of the children, his second of the boats. +</P> + +<P> +In the battering off Cape Horn the <i>Northumberland</i> lost several of her +boats. There were left the long-boat, a quarter-boat, and the dinghy. +He heard Le Farge’s voice ordering the hatch to be closed and the pumps +manned, so as to flood the hold; and, knowing that he could do nothing +on deck, he made as swiftly as he could for the saloon companion-way. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs Stannard was just coming out of the children’s cabin. +</P> + +<P> +“Are the children lying down, Mrs Stannard?” asked Lestrange, almost +breathless from the excitement and exertion of the last few minutes. +</P> + +<P> +The woman glanced at him with frightened eyes. He looked like the very +herald of disaster. +</P> + +<P> +“For if they are, and you have undressed them, then you must put their +clothes on again. The ship is on fire, Mrs Stannard.” +</P> + +<P> +“Good God, sir!” +</P> + +<P> +“Listen!” said Lestrange. +</P> + +<P> +From a distance, thin, and dreary as the crying of sea-gulls on a +desolate beach, came the clanking of the pumps. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0104"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +AND LIKE A DREAM DISSOLVED +</H3> + +<P> +Before the woman had time to speak a thunderous step was heard on the +companion stairs, and Le Farge broke into the saloon. The man’s face +was injected with blood, his eyes were fixed and glassy like the eyes +of a drunkard, and the veins stood on his temples like twisted cords. +</P> + +<P> +“Get those children ready!” he shouted, as he rushed into his own +cabin. “Get you all ready—boats are being swung out and victualled. +H--l! where are those papers?” +</P> + +<P> +They heard him furiously searching and collecting things in his +cabin—the ship’s papers, accounts, things the master mariner clings to +as he clings to his life; and as he searched, and found, and packed, he +kept bellowing orders for the children to be got on deck. Half mad he +seemed, and half mad he was with the knowledge of the terrible thing +that was stowed amidst the cargo. +</P> + +<P> +Up on deck the crew, under the direction of the first mate, were +working in an orderly manner, and with a will, utterly unconscious of +there being anything beneath their feet but an ordinary cargo on fire. +The covers had been stripped from the boats, kegs of water and bags of +biscuit placed in them. The dinghy, smallest of the boats and most +easily got away, was hanging at the port quarter-boat davits flush with +the bulwarks; and Paddy Button was in the act of stowing a keg of water +in her, when Le Farge broke on to the deck, followed by the stewardess +carrying Emmeline, and Mr Lestrange leading Dick. The dinghy was rather +a larger boat than the ordinary ships’ dinghy, and possessed a small +mast and long sail. Two sailors stood ready to man the falls, and Paddy +Button was just turning to trundle forward again when the captain +seized him. +</P> + +<P> +“Into the dinghy with you,” he cried, “and row these children and the +passenger out a mile from the ship—two miles—three miles—make an +offing.” +</P> + +<P> +“Sure, Captain dear, I’ve left me fiddle in the——” +</P> + +<P> +Le Farge dropped the bundle of things he was holding under his left +arm, seized the old sailor and rushed him against the bulwarks, as if +he meant to fling him into the sea <i>through</i> the bulwarks. +</P> + +<P> +Next moment Mr Button was in the boat. Emmeline was handed to him, pale +of face and wide-eyed, and clasping something wrapped in a little +shawl; then Dick, and then Mr Lestrange was helped over. +</P> + +<P> +“No room for more!” cried Le Farge. “Your place will be in the +long-boat, Mrs Stannard, if we have to leave the ship. Lower away, +lower away!” +</P> + +<P> +The boat sank towards the smooth blue sea, kissed it and was afloat. +</P> + +<P> +Now Mr Button, before joining the ship at Boston, had spent a good +while lingering by the quay, having no money wherewith to enjoy himself +in a tavern. He had seen something of the lading of the <i>Northumberland</i>, +and heard more from a stevedore. No sooner had he cast off the falls +and seized the oars, than his knowledge awoke in his mind, living and +lurid. He gave a whoop that brought the two sailors leaning over the +side. +</P> + +<P> +“Bullies!” +</P> + +<P> +“Ay, ay!” +</P> + +<P> +“Run for your lives—I’ve just rimimbered—there’s two bar’ls of +blastin’ powther in the hould!” +</P> + +<P> +Then he bent to his oars, as no man ever bent before. +</P> + +<P>Lestrange, sitting in the stern-sheets clasping Emmeline and Dick, saw nothing for +a moment after hearing these words. The children, who knew nothing of +blasting powder or its effects, though half frightened by all the +bustle and excitement, were still amused and pleased at finding +themselves in the little boat so close to the blue pretty sea. +</P> + +<P> +Dick put his finger over the side, so that it made a ripple in the +water (the most delightful experience of childhood). Emmeline, with one +hand clasped in her uncle’s, watched Mr Button with a grave sort of +half pleasure. +</P> + +<P> +He certainly was a sight worth watching. His soul was filled with +tragedy and terror. His Celtic imagination heard the ship blowing up, +saw himself and the little dinghy blown to pieces—nay, saw himself in +hell, being toasted by “divils.” +</P> + +<P> +But tragedy and terror could find no room for expression on his +fortunate or unfortunate face. He puffed and he blew, bulging his +cheeks out at the sky as he tugged at the oars, making a hundred and +one grimaces—all the outcome of agony of mind, but none expressing it. +Behind lay the ship, a picture not without its lighter side. The +long-boat and the quarter-boat, lowered with a rush and seaborne by the +mercy of Providence, were floating by the side of the <i>Northumberland</i>. +</P> + +<P> +From the ship men were casting themselves overboard like water-rats, +swimming in the water like ducks, scrambling on board the boats anyhow. +</P> + +<P> +From the half-opened main-hatch the black smoke, mixed now with sparks, +rose steadily and swiftly and spitefully, as if driven through the +half-closed teeth of a dragon. +</P> + +<P> +A mile away beyond the <i>Northumberland</i> stood the fog bank. It looked +solid, like a vast country that had suddenly and strangely built itself +on the sea—a country where no birds sang and no trees grew. A country +with white, precipitous cliffs, solid to look at as the cliffs of Dover. +</P> + +<P> +“I’m spint!” suddenly gasped the oarsman, resting the oar handles under +the crook of his knees, and bending down as if he was preparing to butt +at the passengers in the stern-sheets. “Blow up or blow down, I’m +spint—don’t ax me, I’m spint!” +</P> + +<P> +Mr Lestrange, white as a ghost, but recovered somewhat from his first +horror, gave the Spent One time to recover himself and turned to look +at the ship. She seemed a great distance off, and the boats, well away +from her, were making at a furious pace towards the dinghy. Dick was +still playing with the water, but Emmeline’s eyes were entirely +occupied with Paddy Button. New things were always of vast interest to +her contemplative mind, and these evolutions of her old friend were +eminently new. +</P> + +<P> +She had seen him swilling the decks, she had seen him dancing a jig, +she had seen him going round the main deck on all fours with Dick on +his back, but she had never seen him going on like this before. +</P> + +<P> +She perceived now that he was exhausted, and in trouble about +something, and, putting her hand in the pocket of her dress, she +searched for something that she knew was there. She produced a +Tangerine orange, and leaning forward she touched the Spent One’s head +with it. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Button raised his head, stared vacantly for a second, saw the +proffered orange, and at the sight of it the thought of “the childer” +and their innocence, himself and the blasting powder, cleared his +dazzled wits, and he took to the sculls again. +</P> + +<P> +“Daddy,” said Dick, who had been looking astern, “there’s clouds near +the ship.” +</P> + +<P> +In an incredibly short space of time the solid cliffs of fog had +broken. The faint wind that had banked it had pierced it, and was now +making pictures and devices of it, most wonderful and weird to see. +Horsemen of the mist rode on the water, and were dissolved; billows +rolled on the sea, yet were not of the sea; blankets and spirals of +vapour ascended to high heaven. And all with a terrible languor of +movement. Vast and lazy and sinister, yet steadfast of purpose as Fate +or Death, the fog advanced, taking the world for its own. +</P> + +<P> +Against this grey and indescribably sombre background stood the +smouldering ship with the breeze already shivering in her sails, and +the smoke from her main-hatch blowing and beckoning as if to the +retreating boats. +</P> + +<P> +“Why’s the ship smoking like that?” asked Dick. “And look at those +boats coming—when are we going back, daddy?” +</P> + +<P> +“Uncle,” said Emmeline, putting her hand in his, as she gazed towards +the ship and beyond it, “I’m ’fraid.” +</P> + +<P> +“What frightens you, Emmy?” he asked, drawing her to him. +</P> + +<P> +“Shapes,” replied Emmeline, nestling up to his side. +</P> + +<P> +“Oh, Glory be to God!” gasped the old sailor, suddenly resting on his +oars. “Will yiz look at the fog that’s comin’—” +</P> + +<P> +“I think we had better wait here for the boats,” said Mr Lestrange; “we +are far enough now to be safe if—anything happens.” +</P> + +<P> +“Ay, ay,” replied the oarsman, whose wits had returned. “Blow up or +blow down, she won’t hit us from here.” +</P> + +<P> +“Daddy,” said Dick, “when are we going back? I want my tea.” +</P> + +<P> +“We aren’t going back, my child,” replied his father. “The ship’s on +fire; we are waiting for another ship.” +</P> + +<P> +“Where’s the other ship?” asked the child, looking round at the horizon +that was clear. +</P> + +<P> +“We can’t see it yet,” replied the unhappy man, “but it will come.” +</P> + +<P> +The long-boat and the quarter-boat were slowly approaching. They looked +like beetles crawling over the water, and after them across the +glittering surface came a dullness that took the sparkle from the +sea—a dullness that swept and spread like an eclipse shadow. +</P> + +<P> +Now the wind struck the dinghy. It was like a wind from fairyland, +almost imperceptible, chill, and dimming the sun. A wind from Lilliput. +As it struck the dinghy, the fog took the distant ship. +</P> + +<P> +It was a most extraordinary sight, for in less than thirty seconds the +ship of wood became a ship of gauze, a tracery—flickered, and was gone +forever from the sight of man. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0105"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER V +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +VOICES HEARD IN THE MIST +</H3> + +<P> +The sun became fainter still, and vanished. Though the air round the +dinghy seemed quite clear, the on-coming boats were hazy and dim, and +that part of the horizon that had been fairly clear was now blotted out. +</P> + +<P> +The long-boat was leading by a good way. When she was within hailing +distance the captain’s voice came. +</P> + +<P> +“Dinghy ahoy!” +</P> + +<P> +“Ahoy!” +</P> + +<P> +“Fetch alongside here!” +</P> + +<P> +The long-boat ceased rowing to wait for the quarter-boat that was +slowly creeping up. She was a heavy boat to pull at all times, and now +she was overloaded. +</P> + +<P> +The wrath of Captain Le Farge with Paddy Button for the way he had +stampeded the crew was profound, but he had not time to give vent to it. +</P> + +<P> +“Here, get aboard us, Mr Lestrange!” said he, when the dinghy was +alongside; “we have room for one. Mrs Stannard is in the quarter-boat, +and it’s overcrowded; she’s better aboard the dinghy, for she can look +after the kids. Come, hurry up, the smother is coming down on us fast. +Ahoy!”—to the quarter-boat—“hurry up, hurry up!” +</P> + +<P> +The quarter-boat had suddenly vanished. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Lestrange climbed into the long-boat. Paddy pushed the dinghy a few +yards away with the tip of a scull, and then lay on his oars waiting. +</P> + +<P> +“Ahoy! ahoy!” cried Le Farge. +</P> + +<P> +“Ahoy!” came from the fog bank. +</P> + +<P> +Next moment the long-boat and the dinghy vanished from each other’s +sight: the great fog bank had taken them. +</P> + +<P> +Now a couple of strokes of the port scull would have brought Mr Button +alongside the long-boat, so close was he; but the quarter-boat was in +his mind, or rather imagination, so what must he do but take three +powerful strokes in the direction in which he fancied the quarter-boat +to be. +</P> + +<P> +The rest was voices. +</P> + +<P> +“Dinghy ahoy!” +</P> + +<P> +“Ahoy!” +</P> + +<P> +“Ahoy!” +</P> + +<P> +“Don’t be shoutin’ together, or I’ll not know which way to pull. +Quarter-boat ahoy! where are yiz?” +</P> + +<P> +“Port your helm!” +</P> + +<P> +“Ay, ay!”—putting his helm, so to speak, to starboard—“I’ll be wid yiz +in wan minute—two or three minutes’ hard pulling.” +</P> + +<P> +“Ahoy!”—much more faint. +</P> + +<P> +“What d’ye mane rowin’ away from me?”—a dozen strokes. +</P> + +<P> +“Ahoy!”—fainter still. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Button rested on his oars. +</P> + +<P> +“Divil mend them—I b’lave that was the long-boat shoutin’.” +</P> + +<P> +He took to his oars again and pulled vigorously. +</P> + +<P> +“Paddy,” came Dick’s small voice, apparently from nowhere, “where are +we now?” +</P> + +<P> +“Sure, we’re in a fog; where else would we be? Don’t you be affeared.” +</P> + +<P> +“I ain’t affeared, but Em’s shivering.” +</P> + +<P> +“Give her me coat,” said the oarsman, resting on his oars and taking it +off. “Wrap it round her; and when it’s round her we’ll all let one big +halloo together. There’s an ould shawl som’er in the boat, but I can’t +be after lookin’ for it now.” +</P> + +<P> +He held out the coat and an almost invisible hand took it; at the same +moment a tremendous report shook the sea and sky. +</P> + +<P> +“There she goes,” said Mr Button; “an’ me old fiddle an’ all. Don’t be +frightened, childer; it’s only a gun they’re firin’ for divarsion. Now +we’ll all halloo togither—are yiz ready?” +</P> + +<P> +“Ay, ay,” said Dick, who was a picker-up of sea terms. +</P> + +<P> +“Halloo!” yelled Pat. +</P> + +<P> +“Halloo! Halloo!” piped Dick and Emmeline. +</P> + +<P> +A faint reply came, but from where, it was difficult to say. The old +man rowed a few strokes and then paused on his oars. So still was the +surface of the sea that the chuckling of the water at the boat’s bow as +she drove forward under the impetus of the last powerful stroke could +be heard distinctly. It died out as she lost way, and silence closed +round them like a ring. +</P> + +<P> +The light from above, a light that seemed to come through a vast +scuttle of deeply-muffed glass, faint though it was, almost to +extinction, still varied as the little boat floated through the strata +of the mist. +</P> + +<P> +A great sea fog is not homogeneous—its density varies: it is +honeycombed with streets, it has its caves of clear air, its cliffs of +solid vapour, all shifting and changing place with the subtlety of +legerdemain. It has also this wizard peculiarity, that it grows with +the sinking of the sun and the approach of darkness. +</P> + +<P> +The sun, could they have seen it, was now leaving the horizon. +</P> + +<P> +They called again. Then they waited, but there was no response. +</P> + +<P> +“There’s no use bawlin’ like bulls to chaps that’s deaf as adders,” +said the old sailor, shipping his oars; immediately upon which +declaration he gave another shout, with the same result as far as +eliciting a reply. +</P> + +<P> +“Mr Button!” came Emmeline’s voice. +</P> + +<P> +“What is it, honey?” +</P> + +<P> +“I’m—m—’fraid.” +</P> + +<P> +“You wait wan minit till I find the shawl—here it is, by the same +token!—an’ I’ll wrap you up in it.” +</P> + +<P> +He crept cautiously aft to the stern-sheets and took Emmeline in his +arms. +</P> + +<P> +“Don’t want the shawl,” said Emmeline; “I’m not so much afraid in your +coat.” The rough, tobacco-smelling old coat gave her courage somehow. +</P> + +<P> +“Well, thin, keep it on. Dicky, are you cowld?” +</P> + +<P> +“I’ve got into daddy’s great-coat; he left it behind him.” +</P> + +<P> +“Well, thin, I’ll put the shawl round me own shoulders, for it’s cowld +I am. Are y’ hungry, childer?” +</P> + +<P> +“No,” said Dick, “but I’m drefful—Hi—yow——” +</P> + +<P> +“Slapy, is it? Well, down you get in the bottom of the boat, and here’s +the shawl for a pilla. I’ll be rowin’ again in a minit to keep meself +warm.” +</P> + +<P> +He buttoned the top button of the coat. +</P> + +<P> +“I’m a’right,” murmured Emmeline in a dreamy voice. +</P> + +<P> +“Shut your eyes tight,” replied Mr Button, “or Billy Winker will be +dridgin’ sand in them. +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +“‘Shoheen, shoheen, shoheen, shoheen,<BR> +Sho—hu—lo, sho—hu—lo.<BR> +Shoheen, shoheen, shoheen, shoheen,<BR> +Hush a by the babby O.’”<BR> +</P> + +<P> +It was the tag of an old nursery folk-song they sing in the hovels of +the Achill coast fixed in his memory, along with the rain and the wind +and the smell of the burning turf, and the grunting of the pig and the +knickety-knock of a rocking cradle. +</P> + +<P> +“She’s off,” murmured Mr Button to himself, as the form in his arms +relaxed. Then he laid her gently down beside Dick. He shifted forward, +moving like a crab. Then he put his hand to his pocket for his pipe and +tobacco and tinder box. They were in his coat pocket, but Emmeline was +in his coat. To search for them would be to awaken her. +</P> + +<P> +The darkness of night was now adding itself to the blindness of the +fog. The oarsman could not see even the thole pins. He sat adrift mind +and body. He was, to use his own expression, “moithered.” Haunted by +the mist, tormented by “shapes.” +</P> + +<P> +It was just in a fog like this that the Merrows could be heard +disporting in Dunbeg bay, and off the Achill coast. Sporting and +laughing, and hallooing through the mist, to lead unfortunate fishermen +astray. +</P> + +<P> +Merrows are not altogether evil, but they have green hair and teeth, +fishes’ tails and fins for arms; and to hear them walloping in the +water around you like salmon, and you alone in a small boat, with the +dread of one coming floundering on board, is enough to turn a man’s +hair grey. +</P> + +<P> +For a moment he thought of awakening the children to keep him company, +but he was ashamed. Then he took to the sculls again, and rowed “by the +feel of the water.” The creak of the oars was like a companion’s voice, +the exercise lulled his fears. Now and again, forgetful of the sleeping +children, he gave a halloo, and paused to listen. But no answer came. +</P> + +<P> +Then he continued rowing, long, steady, laborious strokes, each taking +him further and further from the boats that he was never destined to +sight again. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0106"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +DAWN ON A WIDE, WIDE SEA +</H3> + +<P> +“Is it aslape I’ve been?” said Mr Button, suddenly awaking with a start. +</P> + +<P> +He had shipped his oars just for a minute’s rest. He must have slept +for hours, for now, behold! a warm, gentle wind was blowing, the moon +was shining, and the fog was gone. +</P> + +<P> +“Is it dhraming I’ve been?” continued the awakened one. +“Where am I at all, at all? O musha! sure, here I am. O wirra! wirra! I +dreamt I’d gone aslape on the main-hatch and the ship was blown up with +powther, and it’s all come true.” +</P> + +<P> +“Mr Button!” came a small voice from the stern-sheets (Emmeline’s). +</P> + +<P> +“What is it, honey?” +</P> + +<P> +“Where are we now?” +</P> + +<P> +“Sure, we’re afloat on the say, acushla; where else would we be?” +</P> + +<P> +“Where’s uncle?” +</P> + +<P> +“He’s beyant there in the long-boat—he’ll be afther us in a minit.” +</P> + +<P> +“I want a drink.” +</P> + +<P> +He filled a tin pannikin that was by the beaker of water, and gave her +a drink. Then he took his pipe and tobacco from his coat pocket. +</P> + +<P> +She almost immediately fell asleep again beside Dick, who had not +stirred or moved; and the old sailor, standing up and steadying +himself, cast his eyes round the horizon. Not a sign of sail or boat +was there on all the moonlit sea. +</P> + +<P> +From the low elevation of an open boat one has a very small horizon, +and in the vague world of moonlight somewhere round about it was +possible that the boats might be near enough to show up at daybreak. +</P> + +<P> +But open boats a few miles apart may be separated by long leagues in +the course of a few hours. Nothing is more mysterious than the currents +of the sea. +</P> + +<P> +The ocean is an ocean of rivers, some swiftly flowing, some slow, and a +league from where you are drifting at the rate of a mile an hour +another boat may be drifting two. +</P> + +<P> +A slight warm breeze was frosting the water, blending moonshine and +star shimmer; the ocean lay like a lake, yet the nearest mainland was +perhaps a thousand miles away. +</P> + +<P> +The thoughts of youth may be long, long thoughts, but not longer than +the thoughts of this old sailor man smoking his pipe under the stars. +Thoughts as long as the world is round. Blazing bar rooms in +Callao—harbours over whose oily surfaces the sampans slipped like +water-beetles—the lights of Macao—the docks of London. Scarcely ever +a sea picture, pure and simple, for why should an old seaman care to +think about the sea, where life is all into the fo’cs’le and out again, +where one voyage blends and jumbles with another, where after +forty-five years of reefing topsails you can’t well remember off which +ship it was Jack Rafferty fell overboard, or who it was killed who in +the fo’cs’le of what, though you can still see, as in a mirror darkly, +the fight, and the bloody face over which a man is holding a kerosene +lamp. +</P> + +<P> +I doubt if Paddy Button could have told you the name of the first ship +he ever sailed in. If you had asked him, he would probably have +replied: “I disremimber; it was to the Baltic, and cruel cowld weather, +and I was say-sick—till I near brought me boots up; and it was ‘O for +ould Ireland!’ I was cryin’ all the time, an’ the captin dhrummin me +back with a rope’s end to the tune uv it—but the name of the hooker—I +disremimber—bad luck to her, whoever she was!” +</P> + +<P> +So he sat smoking his pipe, whilst the candles of heaven burned above +him, and calling to mind roaring drunken scenes and palm-shadowed +harbours, and the men and the women he had known—such men and such +women! The derelicts of the earth and the ocean. Then he nodded off to +sleep again, and when he awoke the moon had gone. +</P> + +<P> +Now in the eastern sky might have been seen a pale fan of light, vague +as the wing of an ephemera. It vanished and changed back to darkness. +</P> + +<P> +Presently, and almost at a stroke, a pencil of fire ruled a line along +the eastern horizon, and the eastern sky became more beautiful than a +rose leaf plucked in May. The line of fire contracted into one +increasing spot, the rim of the rising sun. +</P> + +<P> +As the light increased the sky above became of a blue impossible to +imagine unless seen, a wan blue, yet living and sparkling as if born of +the impalpable dust of sapphires. Then the whole sea flashed like the +harp of Apollo touched by the fingers of the god. The light was music +to the soul. It was day. +</P> + +<P> +“Daddy!” suddenly cried Dick, sitting up in the sunlight and rubbing +his eyes with his open palms. “Where are we?” +</P> + +<P> +“All right, Dicky, me son!” cried the old sailor, who had been standing +up casting his eyes round in a vain endeavour to sight the boats. “Your +daddy’s as safe as if he was in hivin; he’ll be wid us in a minit, an’ +bring another ship along with him. So you’re awake, are you, Em’line?” +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline, sitting up in the old pilot coat, nodded in reply without +speaking. Another child might have supplemented Dick’s enquiries as to +her uncle by questions of her own, but she did not. +</P> + +<P> +Did she guess that there was some subterfuge in Mr Button’s answer, and +that things were different from what he was making them out to be? Who +can tell? +</P> + +<P> +She was wearing an old cap of Dick’s, which Mrs Stannard in the hurry +and confusion had popped on her head. It was pushed to one side, and +she made a quaint enough little figure as she sat up in the early +morning brightness, dressed in the old salt-stained coat beside Dick, +whose straw hat was somewhere in the bottom of the boat, and whose +auburn locks were blowing in the faint breeze. +</P> + +<P> +“Hurroo!” cried Dick, looking around at the blue and sparkling water, +and banging with a stretcher on the bottom of the boat. “I’m goin’ to +be a sailor, aren’t I, Paddy? You’ll let me sail the boat, won’t you, +Paddy, an’ show me how to row?” +</P> + +<P> +“Aisy does it,” said Paddy, taking hold of the child. “I haven’t a +sponge or towel, but I’ll just wash your face in salt wather and lave +you to dry in the sun.” +</P> + +<P> +He filled the bailing tin with sea water. +</P> + +<P> +“I don’t want to wash!” shouted Dick. +</P> + +<P> +“Stick your face into the water in the tin,” commanded Paddy. “You +wouldn’t be going about the place with your face like a sut-bag, would +you?” +</P> + +<P> +“Stick yours in!” commanded the other. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Button did so, and made a hub-bubbling noise in the water; then he +lifted a wet and streaming face, and flung the contents of the bailing +tin overboard. +</P> + +<P> +“Now you’ve lost your chance,” said this arch nursery-strategist, “all +the water’s gone.” +</P> + +<P> +“There’s more in the sea.” +</P> + +<P> +“There’s no more to wash with, not till to-morrow—the fishes don’t +allow it.” +</P> + +<P> +“I want to wash,” grumbled Dick. “I want to stick my face in the tin, +same’s you did; ’sides, Em hasn’t washed.” +</P> + +<P> +“<i>I</i> don’t mind,” murmured Emmeline. +</P> + +<P> +“Well, thin,” said Mr Button, as if making a sudden resolve, “I’ll ax +the sharks.” He leaned over the boat’s side, his face close to the +surface of the water. “Halloo there!” he shouted, and then bent his +head sideways to listen; the children also looked over the side, deeply +interested. +</P> + +<P> +“Halloo there! Are y’aslape— Oh, there y’are! Here’s a spalpeen with a +dhirty face, an’s wishful to wash it; may I take a bailin’ tin of— Oh, +thank your ’arner, thank your ’arner—good day to you, and my respects.” +</P> + +<P> +“What did the shark say, Mr Button?” asked Emmeline. +</P> + +<P> +“He said: ‘Take a bar’l full, an’ welcome, Mister Button; an’ it’s +wishful I am I had a drop of the crathur to offer you this fine +marnin’.’ Thin he popped his head under his fin and went aslape agin; +leastwise, I heard him snore.” +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline nearly always “Mr Buttoned” her friend; sometimes she called +him “Mr Paddy.” As for Dick, it was always “Paddy,” pure and simple. +Children have etiquettes of their own. +</P> + +<P> +It must often strike landsmen and landswomen that the most terrible +experience when cast away at sea in an open boat is the total absence +of privacy. It seems an outrage on decency on the part of Providence to +herd people together so. But, whoever has gone through the experience +will bear me out that in great moments of life like this +the human mind enlarges, and things that would +shock us ashore are as nothing out there, face to face with eternity. +</P> + +<P> +If so with grown-up people, how much more so with this old shell-back +and his two charges? +</P> + +<P> +And indeed Mr Button was a person who called a spade a spade, had no +more conventions than a walrus, and looked after his two charges just +as a nursemaid might look after her charges, or a walrus after its +young. +</P> + +<P> +There was a large bag of biscuits in the boat, and some tinned +stuff—mostly sardines. +</P> + +<P> +I have known a sailor to open a box of sardines with a tin-tack. He was +in prison, the sardines had been smuggled into him, and he had no +can-opener. Only his genius and a tin-tack. +</P> + +<P> +Paddy had a jack-knife, however, and in a marvellously short time a box +of sardines was opened, and placed on the stern-sheets beside some +biscuits. +</P> + +<P> +These, with some water and Emmeline’s Tangerine orange, which she +produced and added to the common store, formed the feast, and they fell +to. +</P> + +<P> +When they had finished, the remains were put carefully away, and +they proceeded to step the tiny mast. +</P> + +<P> +The sailor, when the mast was in its place, stood for a moment resting +his hand on it, and gazing around him over the vast and voiceless blue. +</P> + +<P> +The Pacific has three blues: the blue of morning, the blue of midday, +and the blue of evening. But the blue of morning is the happiest: the +happiest thing in colour—sparkling, vague, newborn—the blue of heaven +and youth. +</P> + +<P> +“What are you looking for, Paddy?” asked Dick. +</P> + +<P> +“Say-gulls,” replied the prevaricator; then to himself: “Not a sight or +a sound of them! Musha! musha! which way will I steer—north, south, +aist, or west? It’s all wan, for if I steer to the aist, they may be in +the west; and if I steer to the west, they may be in the aist; and I +can’t steer to the west, for I’d be steering right in the wind’s eye. +Aist it is; I’ll make a soldier’s wind of it, and thrust to chance.” +</P> + +<P> +He set the sail and came aft with the sheet. Then he shifted the +rudder, lit a pipe, leaned luxuriously back and gave the bellying sail +to the gentle breeze. +</P> + +<P> +It was part of his profession, part of his nature, that, steering, +maybe, straight towards death by starvation and thirst, he was as +unconcerned as if he were taking the children for a summer’s sail. His +imagination dealt little with the future; almost entirely influenced by +his immediate surroundings, it could conjure up no fears from the scene +now before it. The children were the same. +</P> + +<P> +Never was there a happier starting, more joy in a little boat. During +breakfast the seaman had given his charges to understand that if Dick +did not meet his father and Emmeline her uncle in a “while or two,” it +was because he had gone on board a ship, and he’d be along presently. +The terror of their position was as deeply veiled from them as eternity +is veiled from you or me. +</P> + +<P> +The Pacific was still bound by one of those glacial calms that can only +occur when the sea has been free from storms for a vast extent of its +surface, for a hurricane down by the Horn will send its swell and +disturbance beyond the Marquesas. De Bois in his table of amplitudes +points out that more than half the sea disturbances at any given space +are caused, not by the wind, but by storms at a great distance. +</P> + +<P> +But the sleep of the Pacific is only apparent. This placid lake, over +which the dinghy was pursuing the running ripple, was heaving to an +imperceptible swell and breaking on the shores of the Low Archipelago, +and the Marquesas in foam and thunder. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline’s rag-doll was a shocking affair from a hygienic or artistic +standpoint. Its face was just inked on, it had no features, no arms; +yet not for all the dolls in the world would she have exchanged this +filthy and nearly formless thing. It was a fetish. +</P> + +<P> +She sat nursing it on one side of the helmsman, whilst Dick, on the +other side, hung his nose over the water, on the look-out for fish. +</P> + +<P> +“Why do you smoke, Mr Button?” asked Emmeline, who had been watching +her friend for some time in silence. +</P> + +<P> +“To aise me thrubbles,” replied Paddy. +</P> + +<P> +He was leaning back with one eye shut and the other fixed on the luff +of the sail. He was in his element: nothing to do but steer and smoke, +warmed by the sun and cooled by the breeze. A landsman would have been +half demented in his condition, many a sailor would have been taciturn +and surly, on the look-out for sails, and alternately damning his soul +and praying to his God. Paddy smoked. +</P> + +<P> +“Whoop!” cried Dick. “Look, Paddy!” +</P> + +<P> +An albicore a few cables lengths to port had taken a flying leap from +the flashing sea, turned a complete somersault and vanished. +</P> + +<P> +“It’s an albicore takin’ a buck lep. Hundreds I’ve seen before this; +he’s bein’ chased.” +</P> + +<P> +“What’s chasing him, Paddy?” +</P> + +<P> +“What’s chasin’ him?—why, what else but the gibly-gobly-ums!” +</P> + +<P> +Before Dick could enquire as to the personal appearance and habits of +the latter, a shoal of silver arrow heads passed the boat and flittered +into the water with a hissing sound. +</P> + +<P> +“Thim’s flyin’ fish. What are you sayin’—fish can’t fly! Where’s the +eyes in your head?” +</P> + +<P> +“Are the gibblyums chasing them too?” asked Emmeline fearfully. +</P> + +<P> +“No; ’tis the Billy balloos that’s afther thim. Don’t be axin’ me any +more questions now, or I’ll be tellin’ you lies in a minit.” +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline, it will be remembered, had brought a small parcel with her +done up in a little shawl; it was under the boat seat, and every now +and then she would stoop down to see if it were safe. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0107"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +STORY OF THE PIG AND THE BILLY-GOAT +</H3> + +<P> +Every hour or so Mr Button would shake his lethargy off, and rise and +look round for “sea-gulls,” but the prospect was sail-less as the +prehistoric sea, wingless, voiceless. When Dick would fret now and +then, the old sailor would always devise some means of amusing him. He +made him fishing-tackle out of a bent pin and some small twine that +happened to be in the boat, and told him to fish for “pinkeens”; and +Dick, with the pathetic faith of childhood, fished. +</P> + +<P> +Then he told them things. He had spent a year at Deal long ago, where a +cousin of his was married to a boatman. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Button had put in a year as a longshoreman at Deal, and he had got a +great lot to tell of his cousin and her husband, and more especially of +one, Hannah; Hannah was his cousin’s baby—a most marvellous child, who +was born with its “buck” teeth fully developed, and whose first +unnatural act on entering the world was to make a snap at the +“docther.” “Hung on to his fist like a bull-dog, and him bawlin’ +‘Murther!’” +</P> + +<P> +“Mrs James,” said Emmeline, referring to a Boston acquaintance, “had a +little baby, and it was pink.” +</P> + +<P> +“Ay, ay,” said Paddy; “they’re mostly pink to start with, but they fade +whin they’re washed.” +</P> + +<P> +“It’d no teeth,” said Emmeline, “for I put my finger in to see.” +</P> + +<P> +“The doctor brought it in a bag,” put in Dick, who was still steadily +fishing—“dug it out of a cabbage patch; an’ I got a trow’l and dug all +our cabbage patch up, but there weren’t any babies—but there were no +end of worms.” +</P> + +<P> +“I wish I had a baby,” said Emmeline, “and <i>I</i> wouldn’t send it back to +the cabbage patch.” +</P> + +<P> +“The doctor,” explained Dick, “took it back and planted it again; and +Mrs James cried when I asked her, and daddy said it was put back to +grow and turn into an angel.” +</P> + +<P> +“Angels have wings,” said Emmeline dreamily. +</P> + +<P> +“And,” pursued Dick, “I told cook, and she said to Jane, daddy +was always stuffing children up with—something or ’nother. And I asked +daddy to let me see him stuffing up a child—and daddy said cook’d have +to go away for saying that, and she went away next day.” +</P> + +<P> +“She had three big trunks and a box for her bonnet,” said Emmeline, +with a far-away look as she recalled the incident. +</P> + +<P> +“And the cabman asked her hadn’t she any more trunks to put on his cab, +and hadn’t she forgot the parrot cage,” said Dick. +</P> + +<P> +“I wish <I>I</I> had a parrot in a cage,” murmured Emmeline, moving slightly +so as to get more in the shadow of the sail. +</P> + +<P> +“And what in the world would you be doin’ with a par’t in a cage?” +asked Mr Button. +</P> + +<P> +“I’d let it out,” replied Emmeline. +</P> + +<P> +“Spakin’ about lettin’ par’ts out of cages, I remimber me grandfather +had an ould pig,” said Paddy (they were all talking seriously together +like equals). “I was a spalpeen no bigger than the height of me knee, +and I’d go to the sty door, and he’d come to the door, and grunt an’ +blow wid his nose undher it; an’ I’d grunt back to vex him, an’ hammer +wid me fist on it, an’ shout ‘Halloo there! halloo there!’ and ‘Halloo +to you!’ he’d say, spakin’ the pigs’ language. ‘Let me out,’ he’d say, +‘and I’ll give yiz a silver shilling.’ +</P> + +<P> +“‘Pass it under the door,’ I’d answer him. Thin he’d stick the snout of +him undher the door an’ I’d hit it a clip with a stick, and he’d yell +murther Irish. An’ me mother’d come out an’ baste me, an’ well I +desarved it. +</P> + +<P> +“Well, wan day I opened the sty door, an’ out he boulted and away and +beyant, over hill and hollo he goes till he gets to the edge of the +cliff overlookin’ the say, and there he meets a billy-goat, and he and +the billy-goat has a division of opinion. +</P> + +<P> +“‘Away wid yiz!’ says the billy-goat. +</P> + +<P> +“‘Away wid yourself!’ says he. +</P> + +<P> +“‘Whose you talkin’ to?’ says t’other. +</P> + +<P> +“‘Yourself,’ says him. +</P> + +<P> +“‘Who stole the eggs?’ says the billy-goat. +</P> + +<P> +“‘Ax your ould grandmother!’ says the pig. +</P> + +<P> +“‘Ax me ould <i>which</i> mother?’ says the billy-goat. +</P> + +<P> +“‘Oh, ax me——’ And before he could complete the sintence ram, blam, +the ould billy-goat butts him in the chist, and away goes the both of +thim whirtlin’ into the say below. +</P> + +<P> +“Thin me ould grandfather comes out, and collars me by the scruff, and +‘Into the sty with you!’ says he; and into the sty I wint, and there +they kep’ me for a fortni’t on bran mash and skim milk—and well I +desarved it.” +</P> + +<P> +They dined somewhere about eleven o’clock, and at noon Paddy unstepped +the mast and made a sort of little tent or awning with the sail in the +bow of the boat to protect the children from the rays of the vertical +sun. +</P> + +<P> +Then he took his place in the bottom of the boat, in the stern, stuck +Dick’s straw hat over his face to preserve it from the sun, kicked +about a bit to get a comfortable position, and fell asleep. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0108"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +“S-H-E-N-A-N-D-O-A-H” +</H3> + +<P> +He had slept an hour and more when he was brought to his senses by a +thin and prolonged shriek. It was Emmeline in a nightmare, or more +properly a day-mare, brought on by a meal of sardines and the haunting +memory of the gibbly-gobbly-ums. When she was shaken (it always took a +considerable time to bring her to, from these seizures) and comforted, +the mast was restepped. +</P> + +<P> +As Mr Button stood with his hand on the spar looking round him before +going aft with the sheet, an object struck his eye some three miles +ahead. Objects rather, for they were the masts and spars of a small +ship rising from the water. Not a vestige of sail, just the naked +spars. It might have been a couple of old skeleton trees jutting out of +the water for all a landsman could have told. +</P> + +<P> +He stared at this sight for twenty or thirty seconds without speaking, +his head projected like the head of a tortoise. Then he gave a wild +“Hurroo!” +</P> + +<P> +“What is it, Paddy?” asked Dick. +</P> + +<P> +“Hurroo!” replied Mr Button. “Ship ahoy! ship ahoy! Lie to till I be +afther boardin’ you. Sure, they are lyin’ to—divil a rag of canvas on +her—are they aslape or dhramin’? Here, Dick, let me get aft wid the +sheet; the wind’ll take us up to her quicker than we’ll row.” +</P> + +<P> +He crawled aft and took the tiller; the breeze took the sail, and the +boat forged ahead. +</P> + +<P> +“Is it daddy’s ship?” asked Dick, who was almost as excited as his +friend. +</P> + +<P> +“I dinno; we’ll see when we fetch her.” +</P> + +<P> +“Shall we go on her, Mr Button?” asked Emmeline. +</P> + +<P> +“Ay will we, honey.” +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline bent down, and fetching her parcel from under the seat, held +it in her lap. +</P> + +<P> +As they drew nearer, the outlines of the ship became more apparent. She +was a small brig, with stump topmasts, from the spars a few rags of +canvas fluttered. It was apparent soon to the old sailor’s eye what was +amiss with her. +</P> + +<P> +“She’s derelick, bad cess to her!” he muttered; “derelick and done +for—just me luck!” +</P> + +<P> +“I can’t see any people on the ship,” cried Dick, who had crept +forward to the bow. “Daddy’s not there.” +</P> + +<P> +The old sailor let the boat off a point or two, so as to get a view of +the brig more fully; when they were within twenty cable lengths or so +he unstepped the mast and took to the sculls. +</P> + +<P> +The little brig floated very low on the water, and presented a mournful +enough appearance; her running rigging all slack, shreds of canvas +flapping at the yards, and no boats hanging at her davits. It was easy +enough to see that she was a timber ship, and that she had started a +butt, flooded herself and been abandoned. +</P> + +<P> +Paddy lay on his oars within a few strokes of her. She was floating as +placidly as though she were in the harbour of San Francisco; the green +water showed in her shadow, and in the green water waved the tropic +weeds that were growing from her copper. Her paint was blistered and +burnt absolutely as though a hot iron had been passed over it, and over +her taffrail hung a large rope whose end was lost to sight in the water. +</P> + +<P> +A few strokes brought them under the stern. The name of the ship was +there in faded letters, also the port to which she belonged. +“<i>Shenandoah</i>. Martha’s Vineyard.” +</P> + +<P> +“There’s letters on her,” said Mr Button. “But I can’t make thim out. +I’ve no larnin’.” +</P> + +<P> +“I can read them,” said Dick. +</P> + +<P> +“So c’n I,” murmured Emmeline. +</P> + +<P> +“S-H-E-N-A-N-D-O-A-H,” spelt Dick. +</P> + +<P> +“What’s that?” enquired Paddy. +</P> + +<P> +“I don’t know,” replied Dick, rather downcastedly. +</P> + +<P> +“There you are!” cried the oarsman in a disgusted manner, pulling the +boat round to the starboard side of the brig. “They pritind to tache +letters to childer in schools, pickin’ their eyes out wid book-readin’, +and here’s letters as big as me face an’ they can’t make hid or tail of +them—be dashed to book-readin’!” +</P> + +<P> +The brig had old-fashioned wide channels, regular platforms; and she +floated so low in the water that they were scarcely a foot above the +level of the dinghy. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Button secured the boat by passing the painter through a channel +plate, then, with Emmeline and her parcel in his arms or rather in one +arm, he clambered over the channel and passed her over the rail on to +the deck. Then it was Dick’s turn, and the children stood waiting +whilst the old sailor brought the beaker of water, the biscuit, and the +tinned stuff on board. +</P> + +<P> +It was a place to delight the heart of a boy, the deck of the +<i>Shenandoah</i>; forward right from the main hatchway it was laden with +timber. Running rigging lay loose on the deck in coils, and nearly the +whole of the quarter-deck was occupied by a deck-house. The place had a +delightful smell of sea-beach, decaying wood, tar, and mystery. Bights +of buntline and other ropes were dangling from above, only waiting to +be swung from. A bell was hung just forward of the foremast. In half a +moment Dick was forward hammering at the bell with a belaying pin he +had picked from the deck. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Button shouted to him to desist; the sound of the bell jarred on his +nerves. It sounded like a summons, and a summons on that deserted craft +was quite out of place. Who knew what mightn’t answer it in the way of +the supernatural? +</P> + +<P> +Dick dropped the belaying pin and ran forward. He took the disengaged +hand, and the three went aft to the door of the deck-house. The door +was open, and they peeped in. +</P> + +<P> +The place had three windows on the starboard side, and through the +windows the sun was shining in a mournful manner. There was a table in +the middle of the place. A seat was pushed away from the table as if +some one had risen in a hurry. On the table lay the remains of a meal, a +teapot, two teacups, two plates. On one of the plates rested a fork +with a bit of putrifying bacon upon it that some one had evidently been +conveying to his mouth when—something had happened. Near the teapot +stood a tin of condensed milk, haggled open. Some old salt had just +been in the act of putting milk in his tea when the mysterious +something had occurred. Never did a lot of dead things speak so +eloquently as these things spoke. +</P> + +<P> +One could conjure it all up. The skipper, most likely, had finished his +tea, and the mate was hard at work at his, when the leak had been +discovered, or some derelict had been run into, or whatever it was had +happened—happened. +</P> + +<P> +One thing was evident, that since the abandonment of the brig she had +experienced fine weather, else the things would not have been left +standing so trimly on the table. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Button and Dick entered the place to prosecute enquiries, but +Emmeline remained at the door. The charm of the old brig appealed to +her almost as much as to Dick, but she had a feeling about it quite +unknown to him. A ship where no one was had about it suggestions of +“other things.” +</P> + +<P> +She was afraid to enter the gloomy deck-house, and afraid to remain +alone outside; she compromised matters by sitting down on the deck. +Then she placed the small bundle beside her, and hurriedly took the +rag-doll from her pocket, into which it was stuffed head down, pulled +its calico skirt from over its head, propped it up against the coaming +of the door, and told it not to be afraid. +</P> + +<P> +There was not much to be found in the deck-house, but aft of it were +two small cabins like rabbit hutches, once inhabited by the skipper and +his mate. Here there were great findings in the way of rubbish. Old +clothes, old boots, an old top-hat of that extraordinary pattern you +may see in the streets of Pernambuco, immensely tall, and narrowing +towards the brim. A telescope without a lens, a volume of Hoyt, a +nautical almanac, a great bolt of striped flannel shirting, a box of +fish hooks. And in one corner—glorious find!—a coil of what seemed to +be ten yards or so of black rope. +</P> + +<P> +“Baccy, begorra!” shouted Pat, seizing upon his treasure. It was +pigtail. You may see coils of it in the tobacconists’ windows of +seaport towns. A pipe full of it would make a hippopotamus vomit, yet +old sailors chew it and smoke it and revel in it. +</P> + +<P> +“We’ll bring all the lot of the things out on deck, and see what’s +worth keepin’ an’ what’s worth leavin’,” said Mr Button, taking an +immense armful of the old truck; whilst Dick, carrying the top-hat, +upon which he had instantly seized as his own special booty, led the +way. +</P> + +<P> +“Em,” shouted Dick, as he emerged from the doorway, “see what I’ve got!” +</P> + +<P> +He popped the awful-looking structure over his head. It went right down +to his shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline gave a shriek. +</P> + +<P> +“It smells funny,” said Dick, taking it off and applying his nose to +the inside of it—“smells like an old hair brush. Here, you try it on.” +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline scrambled away as far as she could, till she reached the +starboard bulwarks, where she sat in the scupper, breathless and +speechless and wide-eyed. She was always dumb when frightened (unless +it were a nightmare or a very sudden shock), and this hat suddenly seen +half covering Dick frightened her out of her wits. Besides, it was a +black thing, and she hated black things—black cats, black horses; +worst of all, black dogs. +</P> + +<P> +She had once seen a hearse in the streets of Boston, an old-time hearse +with black plumes, trappings and all complete. The sight had nearly +given her a fit, though she did not know in the least the meaning of it. +</P> + +<P> +Meanwhile Mr Button was conveying armful after armful of stuff on deck. +When the heap was complete, he sat down beside it in the glorious +afternoon sunshine, and lit his pipe. +</P> + +<P> +He had searched neither for food or water as yet; content with the +treasure God had given him, for the moment the material things of life +were forgotten. And, indeed, if he had searched he would have found +only half a sack of potatoes in the caboose, for the lazarette was +awash, and the water in the scuttle-butt was stinking. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline, seeing what was in progress, crept up, Dick promising not to +put the hat on her, and they all sat round the pile. +</P> + +<P> +“Thim pair of brogues,” said the old man, holding a pair of old boots +up for inspection like an auctioneer, “would fetch half a dollar any +day in the wake in any sayport in the world. Put them beside you, Dick, +and lay hold of this pair of britches by the ends of em’—stritch them.” +</P> + +<P> +The trousers were stretched out, examined and approved of, and laid +beside the boots. +</P> + +<P> +“Here’s a tiliscope wid wan eye shut,” said Mr Button, examining the +broken telescope and pulling it in and out like a concertina. “Stick +it beside the brogues; it may come in handy for somethin’. Here’s a +book”—tossing the nautical almanac to the boy. “Tell me what it says.” +</P> + +<P> +Dick examined the pages of figures hopelessly. +</P> + +<P> +“I can’t read ’em,” said Dick; “it’s numbers.” +</P> + +<P> +“Buzz it overboard,” said Mr Button. +</P> + +<P> +Dick did what he was told joyfully, and the proceedings resumed. +</P> + +<P> +He tried on the tall hat, and the children laughed. On her old friend’s +head the thing ceased to have terror for Emmeline. +</P> + +<P> +She had two methods of laughing. The angelic smile before mentioned—a +rare thing—and, almost as rare, a laugh in which she showed her little +white teeth, whilst she pressed her hands together, the left one tight +shut, and the right clasped over it. +</P> + +<P> +He put the hat on one side, and continued the sorting, searching all +the pockets of the clothes and finding nothing. When he had arranged +what to keep, they flung the rest overboard, and the valuables were +conveyed to the captain’s cabin, there to remain till wanted. +</P> + +<P> +Then the idea that food might turn up useful as well as old clothes in +their present condition struck the imaginative mind of Mr Button, and +he proceeded to search. +</P> + +<P> +The lazarette was simply a cistern full of sea water; what else it +might contain, not being a diver, he could not say. In the copper of +the caboose lay a great lump of putrifying pork or meat of some sort. +The harness cask contained nothing except huge crystals of salt. All +the meat had been taken away. Still, the provisions and water brought +on board from the dinghy would be sufficient to last them some ten days +or so, and in the course of ten days a lot of things might happen. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Button leaned over the side. The dinghy was nestling beside the brig +like a duckling beside a duck; the broad channel might have been +likened to the duck’s wing half extended. He got on the channel to see +if the painter was safely attached. Having made all secure, he climbed +slowly up to the main-yard arm, and looked round upon the sea. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0109"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +SHADOWS IN THE MOONLIGHT +</H3> + +<P> +“Daddy’s a long time coming,” said Dick all of a sudden. +</P> + +<P> +They were seated on the baulks of timber that cumbered the deck of the +brig on either side of the caboose. An ideal perch. The sun was setting +over Australia way, in a sea that seemed like a sea of boiling gold. +Some mystery of mirage caused the water to heave and tremble as if +troubled by fervent heat. +</P> + +<P> +“Ay, is he,” said Mr Button; “but it’s better late than never. Now +don’t be thinkin’ of him, for that won’t bring him. Look at the sun +goin’ into the wather, and don’t be spakin’ a word, now, but listen and +you’ll hear it hiss.” +</P> + +<P> +The children gazed and listened, Paddy also. All three were mute as the +great blazing shield touched the water that leapt to meet it. +</P> + +<P> +You <i>could</i> hear the water hiss—if you had imagination enough. Once +having touched the water, the sun went down behind it, as swiftly as a +man in a hurry going down a ladder. As he vanished a ghostly and golden +twilight spread over the sea, a light exquisite but immensely forlorn. +Then the sea became a violet shadow, the west darkened as if to a +closing door, and the stars rushed over the sky. +</P> + +<P> +“Mr Button,” said Emmeline, nodding towards the sun as he vanished, +“where’s over there?” +</P> + +<P> +“The west,” replied he, staring at the sunset. “Chainy and Injee and +all away beyant.” +</P> + +<P> +“Where’s the sun gone to now, Paddy?” asked Dick. +</P> + +<P> +“He’s gone chasin’ the moon, an’ she’s skedadlin’ wid her dress brailed +up for all she’s worth; she’ll be along up in a minit. He’s always +afther her, but he’s never caught her yet.” +</P> + +<P> +“What would he do to her if he caught her?” asked Emmeline. +</P> + +<P> +“Faith, an’ maybe he’d fetch her a skelp—an’ well she’d desarve it.” +</P> + +<P> +“Why’d she deserve it?” asked Dick, who was in one of his questioning +moods. +</P> + +<P> +“Because she’s always delutherin’ people an’ leadin’ thim asthray. +Girls or men, she moidhers thim all once she gets the comeither on +them; same as she did Buck M’Cann.” +</P> + +<P> +“Who’s he?” +</P> + +<P> +“Buck M’Cann? Faith, he was the village ijit where I used to live in +the ould days.” +</P> + +<P> +“What’s that?” +</P> + +<P> +“Hould your whisht, an’ don’t be axin’ questions. He was always wantin’ +the moon, though he was twinty an’ six feet four. He’d a gob on him +that hung open like a rat-trap with a broken spring, and he was as thin +as a barber’s pole, you could a’ tied a reef knot in the middle of ’um; +and whin the moon was full there was no houldin’ him.” Mr Button gazed +at the reflection of the sunset on the water for a moment as if +recalling some form from the past, and then proceeded. “He’d sit on the +grass starin’ at her, an’ thin he’d start to chase her over the hills, +and they’d find him at last, maybe a day or two later, lost in the +mountains, grazin’ on berries, an’ as green as a cabbidge from the +hunger an’ the cowld, till it got so bad at long last they had to +hobble him.” +</P> + +<P> +“I’ve seen a donkey hobbled,” cried Dick. +</P> + +<P> +“Thin you’ve seen the twin brother of Buck M’Cann. Well, one night me +elder brother Tim was sittin’ over the fire, smokin’ his dudeen an’ +thinkin’ of his sins, when in comes Buck with the hobbles on him. +</P> + +<P> +“‘Tim,’ says he, ‘I’ve got her at last!’ +</P> + +<P> +“‘Got who?’ says Tim. +</P> + +<P> +“‘The moon,’ says he. +</P> + +<P> +“‘Got her where?’ says Tim. +</P> + +<P> +“‘In a bucket down by the pond,’ says t’other, ‘safe an’ sound an’ not +a scratch on her; you come and look,’ says he. So Tim follows him, he +hobblin’, and they goes to the pond side, and there, sure enough, stood +a tin bucket full of wather, an’ on the wather the refliction of the +moon. +</P> + +<P> +“‘I dridged her out of the pond,’ whispers Buck. ‘Aisy now,’ says he, +‘an’ I’ll dribble the water out gently,’ says he, ‘an’ we’ll catch her +alive at the bottom of it like a trout.’ So he drains the wather out +gently of the bucket till it was near all gone, an’ then he looks into +the bucket expectin’ to find the moon flounderin’ in the bottom of it +like a flat fish. +</P> + +<P> +“‘She’s gone, bad ’cess to her!’ says he. +</P> + +<P> +“‘Try again,’ says me brother, and Buck fills the bucket again, and +there was the moon sure enough when the water came to stand still. +</P> + +<P> +“‘Go on,’ says me brother. ‘Drain out the wather, but go gentle, or +she’ll give yiz the slip again.’ +</P> + +<P> +“‘Wan minit,’ says Buck, ‘I’ve got an idea,’ says he; ‘she won’t give +me the slip this time,’ says he. ‘You wait for me,’ says he; and off he +hobbles to his old mother’s cabin a stone’s-throw away, and back he +comes with a sieve. +</P> + +<P> +“‘You hold the sieve,’ says Buck, ‘and I’ll drain the water into it; if +she ’scapes from the bucket we’ll have her in the sieve.’ And he pours +the wather out of the bucket as gentle as if it was crame out of a jug. +When all the wather was out he turns the bucket bottom up, and shook it. +</P> + +<P> +“‘Ran dan the thing!’ he cries, ‘she’s gone again;’ an’ wid that he +flings the bucket into the pond, and the sieve afther the bucket, when +up comes his old mother hobbling on her stick. +</P> + +<P> +“‘Where’s me bucket?’ says she. +</P> + +<P> +“‘In the pond,’ say Buck. +</P> + +<P> +“‘And me sieve?’ says she. +</P> + +<P> +“‘Gone afther the bucket.’ +</P> + +<P> +“‘I’ll give yiz a bucketin’!’ says she; and she up with the stick and +landed him a skelp, an’ driv him roarin’ and hobblin’ before her, and +locked him up in the cabin, an’ kep’ him on bread an’ wather for a wake +to get the moon out of his head; but she might have saved her thruble, +for that day month in it was agin—— There she comes!” +</P> + +<P> +The moon, argent and splendid, was breaking from the water. She was +full, and her light was powerful almost as the light of day. The +shadows of the children and the queer shadow of Mr Button were cast on +the wall of the caboose hard and black as silhouettes. +</P> + +<P> +“Look at our shadows!” cried Dick, taking off his broad-brimmed straw +hat and waving it. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline held up her doll to see <i>its</i> shadow, and Mr Button held up his +pipe. +</P> + +<P> +“Come now,” said he, putting the pipe back in his mouth, and making to +rise, “and shadda off to bed; it’s time you were aslape, the both of +you.” +</P> + +<P> +Dick began to yowl. +</P> + +<P> +“<I>I</I> don’t want to go to bed; I aint tired, Paddy—les’s stay a little +longer.” +</P> + +<P> +“Not a minit,” said the other, with all the decision of a nurse; “not a +minit afther me pipe’s out!” +</P> + +<P> +“Fill it again,” said Dick. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Button made no reply. The pipe gurgled as he puffed at it—a kind of +death-rattle speaking of almost immediate extinction. +</P> + +<P> +“Mr Button!” said Emmeline. She was holding her nose in the air and +sniffing; seated to windward of the smoker, and out of the +pigtail-poisoned air, her delicate sense of smell perceived something +lost to the others. +</P> + +<P> +“What is it, acushla?” +</P> + +<P> +“I smell something.” +</P> + +<P> +“What d’ye say you smell?” +</P> + +<P> +“Something nice.” +</P> + +<P> +“What’s it like?” asked Dick, sniffing hard. “<I>I</I> don’t smell anything.” +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline sniffed again to make sure. +</P> + +<P> +“Flowers,” said she. +</P> + +<P> +The breeze, which had shifted several points since midday, was bearing +with it a faint, faint odour: a perfume of vanilla and spice so faint +as to be imperceptible to all but the most acute olfactory sense. +</P> + +<P> +“Flowers!” said the old sailor, tapping the ashes out of his pipe +against the heel of his boot. “And where’d you get flowers in middle of +the say? It’s dhramin’ you are. Come now—to bed wid yiz!” +</P> + +<P> +“Fill it again,” wailed Dick, referring to the pipe. +</P> + +<P> +“It’s a spankin’ I’ll give you,” replied his guardian, lifting him down +from the timber baulks, and then assisting Emmeline, “in two ticks if +you don’t behave. Come along, Em’line.” +</P> + +<P> +He started aft, a small hand in each of his, Dick bellowing. +</P> + +<P> +As they passed the ship’s bell, Dick stretched towards the belaying pin +that was still lying on the deck, seized it, and hit the bell a mighty +bang. It was the last pleasure to be snatched before sleep, and he +snatched it. +</P> + +<P> +Paddy had made up beds for himself and his charges in the deck-house; +he had cleared the stuff off the table, broken open the windows to get +the musty smell away, and placed the mattresses from the captain and +mate’s cabins on the floor. +</P> + +<P> +When the children were in bed and asleep, he went to the starboard +rail, and, leaning on it, looked over the moonlit sea. He was thinking +of ships as his wandering eye roved over the sea spaces, little +dreaming of the message that the perfumed breeze was bearing him. The +message that had been received and dimly understood by Emmeline. Then +he leaned with his back to the rail and his hands in his pockets. He +was not thinking now, he was ruminating. +</P> + +<P> +The basis of the Irish character as exemplified by Paddy Button is a +profound laziness mixed with a profound melancholy. Yet Paddy, in his +left-handed way, was as hard a worker as any man on board ship; and as +for melancholy, he was the life and soul of the fo’cs’le. Yet there +they were, the laziness and the melancholy, only waiting to be tapped. +</P> + +<P> +As he stood with his hands thrust deep in his pockets, longshore +fashion, counting the dowels in the planking of the deck by the +moonlight, he was reviewing the “old days.” The tale of Buck M’Cann had +recalled them, and across all the salt seas he could see the moonlight +on the Connemara mountains, and hear the sea-gulls crying on the +thunderous beach where each wave has behind it three thousand miles of +sea. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly Mr Button came back from the mountains of Connemara to find +himself on the deck of the <i>Shenandoah</i>; and he instantly became +possessed by fears. Beyond the white deserted deck, barred by the +shadows of the standing rigging, he could see the door of the caboose. +Suppose he should suddenly see a head pop out—or, worse, a shadowy form +go in? +</P> + +<P> +He turned to the deck-house, where the children were sound asleep, and +where, in a few minutes, he, too, was sound asleep beside them, whilst +all night long the brig rocked to the gentle swell of the Pacific, and +the breeze blew, bringing with it the perfume of flowers. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0110"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER X +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE TRAGEDY OF THE BOATS +</H3> + +<P> +When the fog lifted after midnight the people in the long-boat saw the +quarter-boat half a mile to starboard of them. +</P> + +<P> +“Can you see the dinghy?” asked Lestrange of the captain, who was +standing up searching the horizon. +</P> + +<P> +“Not a speck,” answered Le Farge. “Damn that Irishman! but for him I’d +have got the boats away properly victualled and all; as it is I don’t +know what we’ve got aboard. You, Jenkins, what have you got forward +there?” +</P> + +<P> +“Two bags of bread and a breaker of water,” answered the steward. +</P> + +<P> +“A breaker of water be sugared!” came another voice; “a breaker half +full, you mean.” +</P> + +<P> +Then the steward’s voice: “So it is; there’s not more than a couple of +gallons in her.” +</P> + +<P> +“My God!” said Le Farge. “<i>Damn</i> that Irishman!” +</P> + +<P> +“There’s not more than’ll give us two half pannikins apiece all round,” +said the steward. +</P> + +<P> +“Maybe,” said Le Farge, “the quarter-boat’s better stocked; pull for +her.” +</P> + +<P> +“She’s pulling for us,” said the stroke oar. +</P> + +<P> +“Captain,” asked Lestrange, “are you sure there’s no sight of the +dinghy?” +</P> + +<P> +“None,” replied Le Farge. +</P> + +<P> +The unfortunate man’s head sank on his breast. He had little time to +brood over his troubles, however, for a tragedy was beginning to unfold +around him, the most shocking, perhaps, in the annals of the sea—a +tragedy to be hinted at rather than spoken of. +</P> + +<P> +When the boats were within hailing distance, a man in the bow of the +long-boat rose up. +</P> + +<P> +“Quarter-boat ahoy!” +</P> + +<P> +“Ahoy!” +</P> + +<P> +“How much water have you?” +</P> + +<P> +“None!” +</P> + +<P> +The word came floating over the placid moonlit water. At it the fellows +in the long-boat ceased rowing, and you could see the water-drops +dripping off their oars like diamonds in the moonlight. +</P> + +<P> +“Quarter-boat ahoy!” shouted the fellow in the bow. “Lay on your oars.” +</P> + +<P> +“Here, you scowbanker!” cried Le Farge, “who are you to be giving +directions—” +</P> + +<P> +“Scowbanker yourself!” replied the fellow. “Bullies, put her about!” +</P> + +<P> +The starboard oars backed water, and the boat came round. +</P> + +<P> +By chance the worst lot of the <i>Northumberland’s</i> crew were in the +long-boat—veritable “scowbankers,” scum; and how scum clings to life +you will never know, until you have been amongst it in an open boat at +sea. Le Farge had no more command over this lot than you have who are +reading this book. +</P> + +<P> +“Heave to!” came from the quarter-boat, as she laboured behind. +</P> + +<P> +“Lay on your oars, bullies!” cried the ruffian at the bow, who was +still standing up like an evil genius who had taken momentary command +over events. “Lay on your oars, bullies; they’d better have it now.” +</P> + +<P> +The quarter-boat in her turn ceased rowing, and lay a cable’s length +away. +</P> + +<P> +“How much water have you?” came the mate’s voice. +</P> + +<P> +“Not enough to go round.” +</P> + +<P> +Le Farge made to rise, and the stroke oar struck at him, catching him +in the wind and doubling him up in the bottom of the boat. +</P> + +<P> +“Give us some, for God’s sake!” came the mate’s voice; “we’re parched +with rowing, and there’s a woman on board.” +</P> + +<P> +The fellow in the bow of the long-boat, as if some one had suddenly +struck him, broke into a tornado of blasphemy. +</P> + +<P> +“Give us some,” came the mate’s voice, “or, by God, we’ll lay you +aboard!” +</P> + +<P> +Before the words were well spoken the men in the quarter-boat carried +the threat into action. The conflict was brief: the quarter-boat was +too crowded for fighting. The starboard men in the long-boat fought +with their oars, whilst the fellows to port steadied the boat. +</P> + +<P> +The fight did not last long, and presently the quarter-boat sheered +off, half of the men in her cut about the head and bleeding—two of +them senseless. +</P> + +<BR> +<HR WIDTH="80%" ALIGN="center"> +<BR> + +<P> +It was sundown on the following day. The long-boat lay adrift. The last +drop of water had been served out eight hours before. +</P> + +<P> +The quarter-boat, like a horrible phantom, had been haunting and +pursuing her all day, begging for water when there was none. It was +like the prayers one might expect to hear in hell. +</P> + +<P> +The men in the long-boat, gloomy and morose, weighed down with a sense +of crime, tortured by thirst, and tormented by the voices imploring for +water, lay on their oars when the other boat tried to approach. +</P> + +<P> +Now and then, suddenly, and as if moved by a common impulse, they would +all shout out together: “We have none.” But the quarter-boat would not +believe. It was in vain to hold the breaker with the bung out to prove +its dryness, the half-delirious creatures had it fixed in their minds +that their comrades were withholding from them the water that was not. +</P> + +<P> +Just as the sun touched the sea, Lestrange, rousing himself from a +torpor into which he had sunk, raised himself and looked over the +gunwale. He saw the quarter-boat drifting a cable’s length away, lit by +the full light of sunset, and the spectres in it, seeing him, held out +in mute appeal their blackened tongues. +</P> + +<BR> +<HR WIDTH="80%" ALIGN="center"> +<BR> + +<P> +Of the night that followed it is almost impossible to speak. Thirst +was nothing to what the scowbankers suffered from the torture of the +whimpering appeal for water that came to them at intervals during the +night. +</P> + +<BR> +<HR WIDTH="80%" ALIGN="center"> +<BR> + +<P> +When at last the <i>Arago</i>, a French whale ship, sighted them, the crew of +the long-boat were still alive, but three of them were raving madmen. +Of the crew of the quarter-boat was saved—not one. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +PART II +</H2> + +<BR> + +<A NAME="chap0111"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE ISLAND +</H3> + +<P> +“Childer!” shouted Paddy. He was at the cross-trees in the full dawn, +whilst the children standing beneath on deck were craning their faces +up to him. “There’s an island forenint us.” +</P> + +<P> +“Hurrah!” cried Dick. He was not quite sure what an island might be +like in the concrete, but it was something fresh, and Paddy’s voice was +jubilant. +</P> + +<P> +“Land ho! it is,” said he, coming down to the deck. “Come for’ard to +the bows, and I’ll show it you.” +</P> + +<P> +He stood on the timber in the bows and lifted Emmeline up in his arms; +and even at that humble elevation from the water she could see +something of an undecided colour—green for choice—on the horizon. +</P> + +<P> +It was not directly ahead, but on the starboard bow—or, as she would +have expressed it, to the right. When Dick had looked and expressed his +disappointment at there being so little to see, Paddy began to make +preparations for leaving the ship. +</P> + +<P> +It was only just now, with land in sight, that he recognised in some +fashion the horror of the position from which they were about to escape. +</P> + +<P> +He fed the children hurriedly with some biscuits and tinned meat, and +then, with a biscuit in his hand, eating as he went, he trotted about +the decks, collecting things and stowing them in the dinghy. The bolt +of striped flannel, all the old clothes, a housewife full of needles +and thread, such as seamen sometimes carry, the half-sack of potatoes, +a saw which he found in the caboose, the precious coil of tobacco, and +a lot of other odds and ends he transhipped, sinking the little dinghy +several strakes in the process. Also, of course, he took the breaker of +water, and the remains of the biscuit and tinned stuff they had brought +on board. These being stowed, and the dinghy ready, he went forward +with the children to the bow, to see how the island was bearing. +</P> + +<P> +It had loomed up nearer during the hour or so in which he had been +collecting and storing the things—nearer, and more to the right, which +meant that the brig was being borne by a fairly swift current, and that +she would pass it, leaving it two or three miles to starboard. It was +well they had command of the dinghy. +</P> + +<P> +“The sea’s all round it,” said Emmeline, who was seated on Paddy’s +shoulder, holding on tight to him, and gazing upon the island, the +green of whose trees was now visible, an oasis of verdure in the +sparkling and seraphic blue. +</P> + +<P> +“Are we going there, Paddy?” asked Dick, holding on to a stay, and +straining his eyes towards the land. +</P> + +<P> +“Ay, are we,” said Mr Button. “Hot foot—five knots, if we’re makin’ +wan; and it’s ashore we’ll be by noon, and maybe sooner.” +</P> + +<P> +The breeze had freshened up, and was blowing dead from the island, as +though the island were making a weak attempt to blow them away from it. +</P> + +<P> +Oh, what a fresh and perfumed breeze it was! All sorts of tropical +growing things had joined their scent in one bouquet. +</P> + +<P> +“Smell it,” said Emmeline, expanding her small nostrils. “That’s what I +smelt last night, only it’s stronger now.” +</P> + +<P> +The last reckoning taken on board the <i>Northumberland</i> had proved the +ship to be south by east of the Marquesas; this was evidently one of +those small, lost islands that lie here and there south by east of the +Marquesas. Islands the most lonely and beautiful in the world. +</P> + +<P> +As they gazed it grew before them, and shifted still more to the right. +It was hilly and green now, though the trees could not be clearly made +out; here, the green was lighter in colour, and there, darker. A rim of +pure white marble seemed to surround its base. It was foam breaking on +the barrier reef. +</P> + +<P> +In another hour the feathery foliage of the cocoa-nut palms could be +made out, and the old sailor judged it time to take to the boat. +</P> + +<P> +He lifted Emmeline, who was clasping her luggage, over the rail on to +the channel, and deposited her in the stern-sheets; then Dick. +</P> + +<P> +In a moment the boat was adrift, the mast stepped, and the <i>Shenandoah</i> +left to pursue her mysterious voyage at the will of the currents of the +sea. +</P> + +<P> +“You’re not going to the island, Paddy,” cried Dick, as the old man put +the boat on the port tack. +</P> + +<P> +“You be aisy,” replied the other, “and don’t be larnin’ your +gran’mother. How the divil d’ye think I’d fetch the land sailin’ dead +in the wind’s eye?” +</P> + +<P> +“Has the wind eyes?” +</P> + +<P> +Mr Button did not answer the question. He was troubled in his mind. +What if the island were inhabited? He had spent several years in the +South Seas. He knew the people of the Marquesas and Samoa, and liked +them. But here he was out of his bearings. +</P> + +<P> +However, all the troubling in the world was of no use. It was a case of +the island or the deep sea, and, putting the boat on the starboard +tack, he lit his pipe and leaned back with the tiller in the crook of +his arm. His keen eyes had made out from the deck of the brig an +opening in the reef, and he was making to run the dinghy abreast of the +opening, and then take to the sculls and row her through. +</P> + +<P> +Now, as they drew nearer a sound came on the breeze, a sound faint and +sonorous and dreamy. It was the sound of the breakers on the reef. The +sea just here was heaving to a deeper swell, as if vexed in its sleep +at the resistance to it of the land. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline, sitting with her bundle in her lap, stared without speaking +at the sight before her. Even in the bright, glorious sunshine, and +despite the greenery that showed beyond, it was a desolate sight seen +from her place in the dinghy. A white, forlorn beach, over which the +breakers raced and tumbled, sea-gulls wheeling and screaming, and over +all the thunder of the surf. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly the break became visible, and a glimpse of smooth, blue water +beyond. Mr Button unshipped the tiller, unstepped the mast, and took to +the sculls. +</P> + +<P> +As they drew nearer, the sea became more active, savage, and alive; the +thunder of the surf became louder, the breakers more fierce and +threatening, the opening broader. +</P> + +<P> +One could see the water swirling round the coral piers, for the tide +was flooding into the lagoon; it had seized the little dinghy and was +bearing it along far swifter than the sculls could have driven it. +Sea-gulls screamed around them, the boat rocked and swayed. Dick +shouted with excitement, and Emmeline shut her eyes <i>tight</i>. +</P> + +<P> +Then, as though a door had been swiftly and silently closed, the sound +of the surf became suddenly less. The boat floated on an even keel; she +opened her eyes and found herself in Wonderland. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0112"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE LAKE OF AZURE +</H3> + +<P> +On either side lay a great sweep of waving blue water. Calm, almost as +a lake, sapphire here, and here with the tints of the aqua marine. Water +so clear that fathoms away below you could see the branching coral, the +schools of passing fish, and the shadows of the fish upon the spaces of +sand. +</P> + +<P> +Before them the clear water washed the sands of a white beach, the +cocoa-palms waved and whispered in the breeze; and as the oarsman lay +on his oars to look a flock of bluebirds rose, as if suddenly freed +from the tree-tops, wheeled, and passed soundless, like a wreath of +smoke, over the tree-tops of the higher land beyond. +</P> + +<P> +“Look!” shouted Dick, who had his nose over the gunwale of the boat. “Look at +the <i>fish</i>!” +</P> + +<P> +“Mr Button,” cried Emmeline, “where are we?” +</P> + +<P> +“Bedad, I dunno; but we might be in a worse place, I’m thinkin’,” +replied the old man, sweeping his eyes over the blue and tranquil +lagoon, from the barrier reef to the happy shore. +</P> + +<P> +On either side of the broad beach before them the cocoa-nut trees came +down like two regiments, and bending gazed at their own reflections in +the lagoon. Beyond lay waving chapparel, where cocoa-palms and +breadfruit trees intermixed with the mammee apple and the tendrils of +the wild vine. On one of the piers of coral at the break of the reef +stood a single cocoa-palm; bending with a slight curve, it, too, seemed +seeking its reflection in the waving water. +</P> + +<P> +But the soul of it all, the indescribable thing about this picture of +mirrored palm trees, blue lagoon, coral reef and sky, was the light. +</P> + +<P> +Away at sea the light was blinding, dazzling, cruel. Away at sea it had +nothing to focus itself upon, nothing to exhibit but infinite spaces of +blue water and desolation. +</P> + +<P> +Here it made the air a crystal, through which the gazer saw the +loveliness of the land and reef, the green of palm, the white of coral, +the wheeling gulls, the blue lagoon, all sharply outlined—burning, +coloured, arrogant, yet tender—heart-breakingly beautiful, for the +spirit of eternal morning was here, eternal happiness, eternal youth. +</P> + +<P> +As the oarsman pulled the tiny craft towards the beach, neither he nor +the children saw away behind the boat, on the water near the bending +palm tree at the break in the reef, something that for a moment +insulted the day, and was gone. Something like a small triangle of dark +canvas, that rippled through the water and sank from sight; something +that appeared and vanished like an evil thought. +</P> + +<P> +It did not take long to beach the boat. Mr Button tumbled over the side +up to his knees in water, whilst Dick crawled over the bow. +</P> + +<P> +“Catch hould of her the same as I do,” cried Paddy, laying hold of the +starboard gunwale; whilst Dick, imitative as a monkey, seized the +gunwale to port. Now then: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +“‘Yeo ho, Chilliman,<BR> +Up wid her, up wid her,<BR> +Heave O, Chilliman.’<BR> +</P> + +<P> +“Lave her be now; she’s high enough.” +</P> + +<P> +He took Emmeline in his arms and carried her up on the sand. It was +from just here on the sand that you could see the true beauty of the +lagoon. That lake of sea water forever protected from storm and trouble +by the barrier reef of coral. +</P> + +<P> +Right from where the little clear ripples ran up the strand, it led the +eye to the break in the coral reef where the palm gazed at its own +reflection in the water, and there, beyond the break, one caught a +vision of the great heaving, sparkling sea. +</P> + +<P> +The lagoon, just here, was perhaps more than a third of a mile broad. I +have never measured it, but I know that, standing by the palm tree on +the reef, flinging up one’s arm and shouting to a person on the beach, +the sound took a perceptible time to cross the water: I should say, +perhaps, an almost perceptible time. The distant signal and the distant +call were almost coincident, yet not quite. +</P> + +<P> +Dick, mad with delight at the place in which he found himself, was +running about like a dog just out of the water. Mr Button was +discharging the cargo of the dinghy on the dry, white sand. Emmeline +seated herself with her precious bundle on the sand, and was watching +the operations of her friend, looking at the things around her and +feeling very strange. +</P> + +<P> +For all she knew all this was the ordinary accompaniment of a sea +voyage. Paddy’s manner throughout had been set to the one idea, not to +frighten the “childer”; the weather had backed him up. But down in the +heart of her lay the knowledge that all was not as it should be. The +hurried departure from the ship, the fog in which her uncle had +vanished, those things, and others as well, she felt instinctively were +not right. But she said nothing. +</P> + +<P> +She had not long for meditation, however, for Dick was running towards +her with a live crab which he had picked up, calling out that he was +going to make it bite her. +</P> + +<P> +“Take it away!” cried Emmeline, holding both hands with fingers +widespread in front of her face. “Mr Button! Mr Button! Mr Button!” +</P> + +<P> +“Lave her be, you little divil!” roared Pat, who was depositing the +last of the cargo on the sand. “Lave her be, or it’s a cow-hidin’ I’ll +be givin’ you!” +</P> + +<P> +“What’s a ‘divil,’ Paddy?” asked Dick, panting from his exertions. +“Paddy, what’s a ‘divil’?” +</P> + +<P> +“You’re wan. Ax no questions now, for it’s tired I am, an’ I want to +rest me bones.” +</P> + +<P> +He flung himself under the shade of a palm tree, took out his tinder +box, tobacco and pipe, cut some tobacco up, filled his pipe and lit it. +Emmeline crawled up, and sat near him, and Dick flung himself down on +the sand near Emmeline. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Button took off his coat and made a pillow of it against a cocoa-nut +tree stem. He had found the El Dorado of the weary. With his knowledge +of the South Seas a glance at the vegetation to be seen told him that +food for a regiment might be had for the taking; water, too. +</P> + +<P> +Right down the middle of the strand was a depression which in the rainy +season would be the bed of a rushing rivulet. The water just now was +not strong enough to come all the way to the lagoon, but away up there +“beyant” in the woods lay the source, and he’d find it in due time. +There was enough in the breaker for a week, and green “cuca-nuts” were +to be had for the climbing. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline contemplated Paddy for a while as he smoked and rested his +bones, then a great thought occurred to her. She took the little shawl +from around the parcel she was holding and exposed the mysterious box. +</P> + +<P> +“Oh, begorra, the box!” said Paddy, leaning on his elbow interestedly; +“I might a’ known you wouldn’t a’ forgot it.” +</P> + +<P> +“Mrs James,” said Emmeline, “made me promise not to open it till I got +on shore, for the things in it might get lost.” +</P> + +<P> +“Well, you’re ashore now,” said Dick; “open it.” +</P> + +<P> +“I’m going to,” said Emmeline. +</P> + +<P> +She carefully undid the string, refusing the assistance of Paddy’s +knife. Then the brown paper came off, disclosing a common cardboard +box. She raised the lid half an inch, peeped in, and shut it again. +</P> + +<P> +“<i>Open</i> it!” cried Dick, mad with curiosity. +</P> + +<P> +“What’s in it, honey?” asked the old sailor, who was as interested as +Dick. +</P> + +<P> +“Things,” replied Emmeline. +</P> + +<P> +Then all at once she took the lid off and disclosed a tiny tea service +of china, packed in shavings; there was a teapot with a lid, a cream +jug, cups and saucers, and six microscopic plates, each painted with a +pansy. +</P> + +<P> +“Sure, it’s a tay-set!” said Paddy, in an interested voice. “Glory be +to God! will you look at the little plates wid the flowers on thim?” +</P> + +<P> +“Heugh!” said Dick in disgust; “I thought it might a’ been soldiers.” +</P> + +<P> +“<I>I</I> don’t want soldiers,” replied Emmeline, in a voice of perfect +contentment. +</P> + +<P> +She unfolded a piece of tissue paper, and took from it a sugar-tongs +and six spoons. Then she arrayed the whole lot on the sand. +</P> + +<P> +“Well, if that don’t beat all!” said Paddy. +</P> + +<P> +“And whin are you goin’ to ax me to tay with you?” +</P> + +<P> +“Some time,” replied Emmeline, collecting the things, and carefully +repacking them. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Button finished his pipe, tapped the ashes out, and placed it in his +pocket. +</P> + +<P> +“I’ll be afther riggin’ up a bit of a tint,” said he, as he rose to his +feet, “to shelter us from the jew to-night; but I’ll first have a look +at the woods to see if I can find wather. Lave your box with the other +things, Emmeline; there’s no one here to take it.” +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline left her box on the heap of things that Paddy had placed in +the shadow of the cocoa-nut trees, took his hand, and the three entered +the grove on the right. +</P> + +<P> +It was like entering a pine forest; the tall symmetrical stems of the +trees seemed set by mathematical law, each at a given distance from the +other. Whichever way you entered a twilight alley set with tree boles +lay before you. Looking up you saw at an immense distance above a pale +green roof patined with sparkling and flashing points of light, where +the breeze was busy playing with the green fronds of the trees. +</P> + +<P> +“Mr Button,” murmured Emmeline, “we won’t get lost, will we?” +</P> + +<P> +“Lost! No, faith; sure we’re goin’ uphill, an’ all we have to do is to +come down again, when we want to get back—ware nuts!” A green nut +detached from up above came down rattling and tumbling and hopped on +the ground. Paddy picked it up. “It’s a green cucanut,” said he, +putting it in his pocket (it was not very much bigger than a Jaffa +orange), “and we’ll have it for tay.” +</P> + +<P> +“That’s not a cocoa-nut,” said Dick; “cocoa-nuts are brown. I had five +cents once an’ I bought one, and scraped it out and y’et it.” +</P> + +<P> +“When Dr Sims made Dicky sick,” said Emmeline, “he said the wonder +t’im was how Dicky held it all.” +</P> + +<P> +“Come on,” said Mr Button, “an’ don’t be talkin’, or it’s the +Cluricaunes will be after us.” +</P> + +<P> +“What’s cluricaunes?” demanded Dick. +</P> + +<P> +“Little men no bigger than your thumb that make the brogues for the +Good People.” +</P> + +<P> +“Who’s they?” +</P> + +<P> +“Whisht, and don’t be talkin’. Mind your head, Em’leen, or the +branches’ll be hittin’ you in the face.” +</P> + +<P> +They had left the cocoa-nut grove, and entered the chapparel. Here was +a deeper twilight, and all sorts of trees lent their foliage to make +the shade. The artu with its delicately diamonded trunk, the great +breadfruit tall as a beech, and shadowy as a cave, the aoa, and the +eternal cocoa-nut palm all grew here like brothers. Great ropes of wild +vine twined like the snake of the laocoon from tree to tree, and all +sorts of wonderful flowers, from the orchid shaped like a butterfly to +the scarlet hibiscus, made beautiful the gloom. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly Mr Button stopped. +</P> + +<P> +“Whisht!” said he. +</P> + +<P> +Through the silence—a silence filled with the hum and the murmur of +wood insects and the faint, far song of the reef—came a tinkling, +rippling sound: it was water. He listened to make sure of the bearing +of the sound, then he made for it. +</P> + +<P> +Next moment they found themselves in a little grass-grown glade. From +the hilly ground above, over a rock black and polished like ebony, fell +a tiny cascade not much broader than one’s hand; ferns grew around and +from a tree above where a great rope of wild convolvulus flowers blew their +trumpets in the enchanted twilight. +</P> + +<P> +The children cried out at the prettiness of it, and Emmeline ran and +dabbled her hands in the water. Just above the little waterfall sprang +a banana tree laden with fruit; it had immense leaves six feet long and +more, and broad as a dinner-table. One could see the golden glint of +the ripe fruit through the foliage. +</P> + +<P> +In a moment Mr Button had kicked off his shoes and was going up the +rock like a cat, absolutely, for it seemed to give him nothing to climb +by. +</P> + +<P> +“Hurroo!” cried Dick in admiration. “Look at Paddy!” +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline looked, and saw nothing but swaying leaves. +</P> + +<P> +“Stand from under!” he shouted, and next moment down came a huge bunch +of yellow-jacketed bananas. Dick shouted with delight, but Emmeline +showed no excitement: she had discovered something. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0113"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +DEATH VEILED WITH LICHEN +</H3> + +<P> +“Mr Button,” said she, when the latter had descended, “there’s a little +barrel”; she pointed to something green and lichen-covered that lay +between the trunks of two trees—something that eyes less sharp than +the eyes of a child might have mistaken for a boulder. +</P> + +<P> +“Sure, an’ faith it’s an’ ould empty bar’l,” said Mr Button, wiping the +sweat from his brow and staring at the thing. “Some ship must have been +wathering here an’ forgot it. It’ll do for a sate whilst we have +dinner.” +</P> + +<P> +He sat down upon it and distributed the bananas to the children, who +sat down on the grass. +</P> + +<P> +The barrel looked such a deserted and neglected thing that his +imagination assumed it to be empty. Empty or full, however, it made an +excellent seat, for it was quarter sunk in the green soft earth, and +immovable. +</P> + +<P> +“If ships has been here, ships will come again,” said he, as he munched +his bananas. +</P> + +<P> +“Will daddy’s ship come here?” asked Dick. +</P> + +<P> +“Ay, to be sure it will,” replied the other, taking out his pipe. “Now +run about and play with the flowers an’ lave me alone to smoke a pipe, +and then we’ll all go to the top of the hill beyant, and have a look +round us. +</P> + +<P> +“Come ’long, Em!” cried Dick; and the children started off amongst the +trees, Dick pulling at the hanging vine tendrils, and Emmeline plucking +what blossoms she could find within her small reach. +</P> + +<P> +When he had finished his pipe he hallooed, and small voices answered +him from the wood. Then the children came running back, Emmeline +laughing and showing her small white teeth, a large bunch of blossoms +in her hand; Dick flowerless, but carrying what seemed a large green +stone. +</P> + +<P> +“Look at what a funny thing I’ve found!” he cried; “it’s got holes in +it.” +</P> + +<P> +“Dhrap it!” shouted Mr Button, springing from the barrel as if some one +had stuck an awl into him. “Where’d you find it? What d’you mane by +touchin’ it? Give it here.” +</P> + +<P> +He took it gingerly in his hands; it was a lichen-covered skull, with a +great dent in the back of it where it had been cloven by an axe or some +sharp instrument. He hove it as far as he could away amidst the trees. +</P> + +<P> +“What is it, Paddy?” asked Dick, half astonished, half frightened at +the old man’s manner. +</P> + +<P> +“It’s nothin’ good,” replied Mr Button. +</P> + +<P> +“There were two others, and I wanted to fetch them,” grumbled Dick. +</P> + +<P> +“You lave them alone. Musha! musha! but there’s been black doin’s here +in days gone by. What is it, Emmeline?” +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline was holding out her bunch of flowers for admiration. He took a +great gaudy blossom—if flowers can ever be called gaudy—and stuck its +stalk in the pocket of his coat. Then he led the way uphill, muttering +as he went. +</P> + +<P> +The higher they got the less dense became the trees and the fewer the +cocoa-nut palms. The cocoa-nut palm loves the sea, and the few they had +here all had their heads bent in the direction of the lagoon, as if +yearning after it. +</P> + +<P> +They passed a cane-brake where canes twenty feet high whispered +together like bulrushes. Then a sunlit sward, destitute of tree or +shrub, led them sharply upward for a hundred feet or so to where a +great rock, the highest point of the island, stood, casting its shadow +in the sunshine. The rock was about twenty feet high, and easy to +climb. Its top was almost flat, and as spacious as an ordinary +dinner-table. From it one could obtain a complete view of the island +and the sea. +</P> + +<P> +Looking down, one’s eye travelled over the trembling and waving +tree-tops, to the lagoon; beyond the lagoon to the reef, beyond the +reef to the infinite space of the Pacific. The reef encircled the whole +island, here further from the land, here closer; the song of the surf +on it came as a whisper, just like the whisper you hear in a shell; +but, a strange thing, though the sound heard on the beach was +continuous, up here one could distinguish an intermittency as breaker +after breaker dashed itself to death on the coral strand below. +</P> + +<P> +You have seen a field of green barley ruffled over by the wind, just so +from the hill-top you could see the wind in its passage over the sunlit +foliage beneath. +</P> + +<P> +It was breezing up from the south-west, and banyan and cocoa-palm, artu +and breadfruit tree, swayed and rocked in the merry wind. +So bright and moving was the picture of the breeze-swept sea, the blue +lagoon, the foam-dashed reef, and the rocking trees that one felt one +had surprised some mysterious gala day, some festival of Nature more +than ordinarily glad. +</P> + +<P> +As if to strengthen the idea, now and then above the trees would burst +what seemed a rocket of coloured stars. The stars would drift away in a +flock on the wind and be lost. They were flights of birds. All-coloured +birds peopled the trees below—blue, scarlet, dove-coloured, bright of +eye, but voiceless. From the reef you could see occasionally the +sea-gulls rising here and there in clouds like small puffs of smoke. +</P> + +<P> +The lagoon, here deep, here shallow, presented, according to its depth +or shallowness, the colours of ultra-marine or sky. The broadest parts +were the palest, because the most shallow; and here and there, in the +shallows, you might see a faint tracery of coral ribs almost reaching +the surface. The island at its broadest might have been three miles +across. There was not a sign of house or habitation to be seen, and not +a sail on the whole of the wide Pacific. +</P> + +<P> +It was a strange place to be, up here. To find oneself surrounded by +grass and flowers and trees, and all the kindliness of nature, to feel +the breeze blow, to smoke one’s pipe, and to remember that one was in a +place uninhabited and unknown. A place to which no messages were ever +carried except by the wind or the sea-gulls. +</P> + +<P> +In this solitude the beetle was as carefully painted and the flower as +carefully tended as though all the peoples of the civilised world were +standing by to criticise or approve. +</P> + +<P> +Nowhere in the world, perhaps, so well as here, could you appreciate +Nature’s splendid indifference to the great affairs of Man. +</P> + +<P> +The old sailor was thinking nothing of this sort. His eyes were fixed +on a small and almost imperceptible stain on the horizon to the +sou’-sou’-west. It was no doubt another island almost hull-down on the +horizon. Save for this blemish the whole wheel of the sea was empty and +serene. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline had not followed them up to the rock. She had gone botanising +where some bushes displayed great bunches of the crimson arita berries +as if to show to the sun what Earth could do in the way of +manufacturing poison. She plucked two great bunches of them, and with +this treasure came to the base of the rock. +</P> + +<P> +“Lave thim berries down!” cried Mr Button, when she had attracted his +attention. “Don’t put thim in your mouth; thim’s the never-wake-up +berries.” +</P> + +<P> +He came down off the rock, hand over fist, flung the poisonous things +away, and looked into Emmeline’s small mouth, which at his command she +opened wide. There was only a little pink tongue in it, however, curled +up like a rose-leaf; no sign of berries or poison. So, giving her a +little shake, just as a nursemaid would have done in like +circumstances, he took Dick off the rock, and led the way back to the +beach. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0114"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +ECHOES OF FAIRY-LAND +</H3> + +<P> +“Mr Button,” said Emmeline that night, as they sat on the sand near +the tent he had improvised, “Mr Button—cats go to sleep.” +</P> + +<P> +They had been questioning him about the “never-wake-up” berries. +</P> + +<P> +“Who said they didn’t?” asked Mr Button. +</P> + +<P> +“I mean,” said Emmeline, “they go to sleep and never wake up again. +Ours did. It had stripes on it, and a white chest, and rings all down +its tail. It went asleep in the garden, all stretched out, and showing +its teeth; an’ I told Jane, and Dicky ran in an’ told uncle. I went to +Mrs Sims, the doctor’s wife, to tea; and when I came back I asked Jane +where pussy was—and she said it was deadn’ berried, but I wasn’t to +tell uncle.” +</P> + +<P> +“I remember,” said Dick. “It was the day I went to the circus, and you +told me not to tell daddy the cat was deadn’ berried. But I told Mrs +James’s man when he came to do the garden; and I asked him where cats +went when they were deadn’ berried, and he said he guessed they went to +hell—at least he hoped they did, for they were always scratchin’ up +the flowers. Then he told me not to tell any one he’d said that, for it +was a swear word, and he oughtn’t to have said it. I asked him what +he’d give me if I didn’t tell, an’ he gave me five cents. That was the +day I bought the cocoa-nut.” +</P> + +<P> +The tent, a makeshift affair, consisting of two sculls and a tree +branch, which Mr Button had sawed off from a dwarf aoa, and the +stay-sail he had brought from the brig, was pitched in the centre of the +beach, so as to be out of the way of falling cocoa-nuts, should the +breeze strengthen during the night. The sun had set, but the moon had +not yet risen as they sat in the starlight on the sand near the +temporary abode. +</P> + +<P> +“What’s the things you said made the boots for the people, Paddy?” +asked Dick, after a pause. +</P> + +<P> +“Which things?” +</P> + +<P> +“You said in the wood I wasn’t to talk, else—” +</P> + +<P> +“Oh, the Cluricaunes—the little men that cobbles the Good People’s +brogues. Is it them you mane?” +</P> + +<P> +“Yes,” said Dick, not knowing quite whether it was them or not that he +meant, but anxious for information that he felt would be curious. “And +what are the good people?” +</P> + +<P> +“Sure, where were you born and bred that you don’t know the Good People +is the other name for the fairies—savin’ their presence?” +</P> + +<P> +“There aren’t any,” replied Dick. “Mrs Sims said there weren’t.” +</P> + +<P> +“Mrs James,” put in Emmeline, “said there were. She said she liked to +see children b’lieve in fairies. She was talking to another lady, who’d +got a red feather in her bonnet, and a fur muff. They were having tea, +and I was sitting on the hearthrug. She said the world was getting +too—something or another, an’ then the other lady said it was, and +asked Mrs James did she see Mrs Someone in the awful hat she wore +Thanksgiving Day. They didn’t say anything more about fairies, but Mrs +James——” +</P> + +<P> +“Whether you b’lave in them or not,” said Paddy, “there they are. An’ +maybe they’re poppin’ out of the wood behint us now, an’ listenin’ to +us talkin’; though I’m doubtful if there’s any in these parts, though +down in Connaught they were as thick as blackberries in the ould days. +O musha! musha! the ould days, the ould days! when will I be seein’ +thim again? Now, you may b’lave me or b’lave me not, but me own ould +father—God rest his sowl!—was comin’ over Croagh Patrick one night +before Christmas with a bottle of whisky in one hand of him, and a +goose, plucked an’ claned an’ all, in the other, which same he’d won in +a lottery, when, hearin’ a tchune no louder than the buzzin’ of a bee, +over a furze-bush he peeps, and there, round a big white stone, the +Good People were dancing in a ring hand in hand, an’ kickin’ their +heels, an’ the eyes of them glowin’ like the eyes of moths; and a chap +on the stone, no bigger than the joint of your thumb, playin’ to thim +on a bagpipes. Wid that he let wan yell an’ drops the goose an’ makes +for home, over hedge an’ ditch, boundin’ like a buck kangaroo, an’ the +face on him as white as flour when he burst in through the door, where +we was all sittin’ round the fire burnin’ chestnuts to see who’d be +married the first. +</P> + +<P> +“‘An’ what in the name of the saints is the mather wid yiz?’ says me +mother. +</P> + +<P> +“‘I’ve sane the Good People,’ says he, ‘up on the field beyant,’ says +he; ‘and they’ve got the goose,’ says he, ‘but, begorra, I’ve saved the +bottle,’ he says. ‘Dhraw the cork and give me a taste of it, for me +heart’s in me throat, and me tongue’s like a brick-kil.’ +</P> + +<P> +“An’ whin we come to prize the cork out of the bottle, there was +nothin’ in it; an’ whin we went next marnin’ to look for the goose, it +was gone. But there was the stone, sure enough, and the marks on it of +the little brogues of the chap that’d played the bagpipes—and who’d be +doubtin’ there were fairies after that?” +</P> + +<P> +The children said nothing for a while, and then Dick said: +</P> + +<P> +“Tell us about Cluricaunes, and how they make the boots.” +</P> + +<P> +“Whin I’m tellin’ you about Cluricaunes,” said Mr Button, “it’s the +truth I’m tellin’ you, an’ out of me own knowlidge, for I’ve spoken to a +man that’s held wan in his hand; he was me own mother’s brother, Con +Cogan—rest his sowl! Con was six fut two, wid a long, white face; he’d +had his head bashed in, years before I was barn, in some ruction or +other, an’ the docthers had japanned him with a five-shillin’ piece +beat flat.” +</P> + +<P> +Dick interposed with a question as to the process, aim, and object of +japanning, but Mr Button passed the question by. +</P> + +<P> +“He’d been bad enough for seein’ fairies before they japanned him, but +afther it, begorra, he was twiced as bad. I was a slip of a lad at the +time, but me hair near turned grey wid the tales he’d tell of the Good +People and their doin’s. One night they’d turn him into a harse an’ +ride him half over the county, wan chap on his back an’ another runnin’ +behind, shovin’ furze prickles under his tail to make him buck-lep. +Another night it’s a dunkey he’d be, harnessed to a little cart, an’ +bein’ kicked in the belly and made to draw stones. Thin it’s a goose +he’d be, runnin’ over the common wid his neck stritched out squawkin’, +an’ an old fairy woman afther him wid a knife, till it fair drove him +to the dhrink; though, by the same token, he didn’t want much dhrivin’. +</P> + +<P> +“And what does he do when his money was gone, but tear the +five-shillin’ piece they’d japanned him wid aff the top of his hed, and +swaps it for a bottle of whisky, and that was the end of him.” +</P> + +<P> +Mr Button paused to relight his pipe, which had gone out, and there was +silence for a moment. +</P> + +<P> +The moon had risen, and the song of the surf on the reef filled the +whole night with its lullaby. The broad lagoon lay waving and rippling +in the moonlight to the incoming tide. Twice as broad it always looked +seen by moonlight or starlight than when seen by day. Occasionally the +splash of a great fish would cross the silence, and the ripple of it +would pass a moment later across the placid water. +</P> + +<P> +Big things happened in the lagoon at night, unseen by eyes from the +shore. You would have found the wood behind them, had you walked +through it, full of light. A tropic forest under a tropic moon is green +as a sea cave. You can see the vine tendrils and the flowers, the +orchids and tree boles all lit as by the light of an emerald-tinted day. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Button took a long piece of string from his pocket. +</P> + +<P> +“It’s bedtime,” said he; “and I’m going to tether Em’leen, for fear +she’d be walkin’ in her slape, and wandherin’ away an’ bein’ lost in +the woods.” +</P> + +<P> +“I don’t want to be tethered,” said Emmeline. +</P> + +<P> +“It’s for your own good I’m doin’ it,” replied Mr Button, fixing the +string round her waist. “Now come ’long.” +</P> + +<P> +He led her like a dog in a leash to the tent, and tied the other end of +the string to the scull, which was the tent’s main prop and support. +</P> + +<P> +“Now,” said he, “if you be gettin’ up and walkin’ about in the night, +it’s down the tint will be on top of us all.” +</P> + +<P> +And, sure enough, in the small hours of the morning, it was. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0115"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +FAIR PICTURES IN THE BLUE +</H3> + +<P> +“I don’t want my old britches on! I don’t want my old britches on!” +</P> + +<P> +Dick was darting about naked on the sand, Mr Button after him with a +pair of small trousers in his hand. A crab might just as well have +attempted to chase an antelope. +</P> + +<P> +They had been on the island a fortnight, and Dick had discovered the +keenest joy in life—to be naked. To be naked and wallow in the shallows +of the lagoon, to be naked and sit drying in the sun. To be free from +the curse of clothes, to shed civilisation on the beach in the form of +breeches, boots, coat, and hat, and to be one with the wind and the sun +and the sea. +</P> + +<P> +The very first command Mr Button had given on the second morning of +their arrival was, “Strip and into the water wid you.” +</P> + +<P> +Dick had resisted at first, and Emmeline (who rarely wept) had stood +weeping in her little chemise. But Mr Button was obdurate. The +difficulty at first was to get them in; the difficulty now was to keep +them out. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline was sitting as nude as the day star, drying in the morning sun +after her dip, and watching Dick’s evolutions on the sand. +</P> + +<P> +The lagoon had for the children far more attraction than the land. +Woods where you might knock ripe bananas off the trees with a big cane, +sands where golden lizards would scuttle about so tame that you might +with a little caution seize them by the tail, a hill-top from whence +you might see, to use Paddy’s expression, “to the back of beyond”; all +these were fine enough in their way, but they were nothing to the +lagoon. +</P> + +<P> +Deep down where the coral branches were you might watch, whilst Paddy +fished, all sorts of things disporting on the sand patches and between +the coral tufts. Hermit crabs that had evicted whelks, wearing the +evicted ones’ shells—an obvious misfit; sea anemones as big as roses. +Flowers that closed up in an irritable manner if you lowered the hook +gently down and touched them; extraordinary shells that walked about on +feelers, elbowing the crabs out of the way and terrorising the whelks. +The overlords of the sand patches, these; yet touch one on the back +with a stone tied to a bit of string, and down he would go flat, +motionless and feigning death. There was a lot of human nature lurking +in the depths of the lagoon, comedy and tragedy. +</P> + +<P> +An English rock-pool has its marvels. You can fancy the marvels of this +vast rock-pool, nine miles round and varying from a third to half a +mile broad, swarming with tropic life and flights of painted fishes; +where the glittering albicore passed beneath the boat like a fire and a +shadow; where the boat’s reflection lay as clear on the bottom as +though the water were air; where the sea, pacified by the reef, told, +like a little child, its dreams. +</P> + +<P> +It suited the lazy humour of Mr Button that he never pursued the lagoon +more than half a mile or so on either side of the beach. He would bring +the fish he caught ashore, and with the aid of his tinder box and dead +sticks make a blazing fire on the sand; cook fish and breadfruit and +taro roots, helped and hindered by the children. They fixed the tent +amidst the trees at the edge of the chapparel, and made it larger and +more abiding with the aid of the dinghy’s sail. +</P> + +<P> +Amidst these occupations, wonders, and pleasures, the children lost all +count of the flight of time. They rarely asked about Mr Lestrange; +after a while they did not ask about him at all. Children soon forget. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +PART III +</H2> + +<BR> + +<A NAME="chap0116"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE POETRY OF LEARNING +</H3> + +<P> +To forget the passage of time you must live in the open air, in a warm +climate, with as few clothes as possible upon you. You must collect and +cook your own food. Then, after a while, if you have no special ties to +bind you to civilisation, Nature will begin to do for you what she does +for the savage. You will recognise that it is possible to be happy +without books or newspapers, letters or bills. You will recognise the +part sleep plays in Nature. +</P> + +<P> +After a month on the island you might have seen Dick at one moment full +of life and activity, helping Mr Button to dig up a taro root or +what not, the next curled up to sleep like a dog. Emmeline the same. +Profound and prolonged lapses into sleep; sudden awakenings into a +world of pure air and dazzling light, the gaiety of colour all round. +Nature had indeed opened her doors to these children. +</P> + +<P> +One might have fancied her in an experimental mood, saying: “Let me put +these buds of civilisation back into my nursery and see what they will +become—how they will blossom, and what will be the end of it all.” +</P> + +<P> +Just as Emmeline had brought away her treasured box from the +<i>Northumberland</i>, Dick had conveyed with him a small linen bag that +chinked when shaken. It contained marbles. Small olive-green marbles +and middle-sized ones of various colours; glass marbles with splendid +coloured cores; and one large old grandfather marble too big to be +played with, but none the less to be worshipped—a god marble. +</P> + +<P> +Of course one cannot play at marbles on board ship, but one can play +<i>with</i> them. They had been a great comfort to Dick on the voyage. He knew +them each personally, and he would roll them out on the mattress of his +bunk and review them nearly every day, whilst Emmeline looked on. +</P> + +<P> +One day Mr Button, noticing Dick and the girl kneeling opposite each +other on a flat, hard piece of sand near the water’s edge, strolled up +to see what they were doing. They were playing marbles. He stood with +his hands in his pockets and his pipe in his mouth watching and +criticising the game, pleased that the “childer” were amused. Then he +began to be amused himself, and in a few minutes more he was down on +his knees taking a hand; Emmeline, a poor player and an unenthusiastic +one, withdrawing in his favour. +</P> + +<P> +After that it was a common thing to see them playing together, the old +sailor on his knees, one eye shut, and a marble against the nail of his +horny thumb taking aim; Dick and Emmeline on the watch to make sure he +was playing fair, their shrill voices echoing amidst the cocoa-nut +trees with cries of “Knuckle down, Paddy, knuckle down!” He entered +into all their amusements just as one of themselves. On high and rare +occasions Emmeline would open her precious box, spread its contents and +give a tea-party, Mr Button acting as guest or president as the case +might be. +</P> + +<P> +“Is your tay to your likin’, ma’am?” he would enquire; and Emmeline, +sipping at her tiny cup, would invariably make answer: “Another lump of +sugar, if you please, Mr Button;” to which would come the stereotyped +reply: “Take a dozen, and welcome; and another cup for the good of your +make.” +</P> + +<P> +Then Emmeline would wash the things in imaginary water, replace them in +the box, and every one would lose their company manners and become +quite natural again. +</P> + +<P> +“Have you ever seen your name, Paddy?” asked Dick one morning. +</P> + +<P> +“Seen me which?” +</P> + +<P> +“Your name?” +</P> + +<P> +“Arrah, don’t be axin’ me questions,” replied the other. “How the divil +could I see me name?” +</P> + +<P> +“Wait and I’ll show you,” replied Dick. +</P> + +<P> +He ran and fetched a piece of cane, and a minute later on the +salt-white sand in face of orthography and the sun appeared these +portentous letters: +</P> + +<P> +B U T T E N +</P> + +<P> +“Faith, an’ it’s a cliver boy y’are,” said Mr Button admiringly, as he +leaned luxuriously against a cocoa-nut tree, and contemplated Dick’s +handiwork. “And that’s me name, is it? What’s the letters in it?” +</P> + +<P> +Dick enumerated them. +</P> + +<P> +“I’ll teach you to do it, too,” he said. “I’ll teach you to write your +name, Paddy—would you like to write your name, Paddy?” +</P> + +<P> +“No,” replied the other, who only wanted to be let smoke his pipe in +peace; “me name’s no use to me.” +</P> + +<P> +But Dick, with the terrible gadfly tirelessness of childhood, was not +to be put off, and the unfortunate Mr Button had to go to school +despite himself. In a few days he could achieve the act of drawing upon +the sand characters somewhat like the above, but not without prompting, +Dick and Emmeline on each side of him, breathless for fear of a mistake. +</P> + +<P> +“Which next?” would ask the sweating scribe, the perspiration pouring +from his forehead—“which next? an’ be quick, for it’s moithered I am.” +</P> + +<P> +“N. N.—that’s right—Ow, you’re making it crooked!—<i>that’s</i> +right—there! it’s all there now—Hurroo!” +</P> + +<P> +“Hurroo!” would answer the scholar, waving his old hat over his own +name, and “Hurroo!” would answer the cocoa-nut grove echoes; whilst the +far, faint “Hi hi!” of the wheeling gulls on the reef would come over +the blue lagoon as if in acknowledgment of the deed, and encouragement. +</P> + +<P> +The appetite comes with teaching. The pleasantest mental exercise of +childhood is the instruction of one’s elders. Even Emmeline felt this. +She took the geography class one day in a timid manner, putting her +little hand first in the great horny fist of her friend. +</P> + +<P> +“Mr Button!” +</P> + +<P> +“Well, honey?” +</P> + +<P> +“I know g’ography.” +</P> + +<P> +“And what’s that?” asked Mr Button. +</P> + +<P> +This stumped Emmeline for a moment. +</P> + +<P> +“It’s where places are,” she said at last. +</P> + +<P> +“Which places?” enquired he. +</P> + +<P> +“All sorts of places,” replied Emmeline. “Mr Button!” +</P> + +<P> +“What is it, darlin’?” +</P> + +<P> +“Would you like to learn g’ography?” +</P> + +<P> +“I’m not wishful for larnin’,” said the other hurriedly. “It makes me +head buzz to hear them things they rade out of books.” +</P> + +<P> +“Paddy,” said Dick, who was strong on drawing that afternoon, “look +here.” He drew the following on the sand: +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +[Illustration: A bad drawing of an elephant] +</P> + +<P> +“That’s an elephant,” he said in a dubious voice. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Button grunted, and the sound was by no means filled with +enthusiastic assent. A chill fell on the proceedings. +</P> + +<P> +Dick wiped the elephant slowly and regretfully out, whilst Emmeline +felt disheartened. Then her face suddenly cleared; the seraphic smile +came into it for a moment—a bright idea had struck her. +</P> + +<P> +“Dicky,” she said, “draw Henry the Eight.” +</P> + +<P> +Dick’s face brightened. He cleared the sand and drew the following +figure: +</P> + +<PRE> + l l + <[ ]> + / \ +</PRE> + +<P> +“<i>That’s</i> not Henry the Eight,” he explained, “but he will be in a +minute. Daddy showed me how to draw him; he’s nothing till he gets his +hat on.” +</P> + +<P> +“Put his hat on, put his hat on!” implored Emmeline, gazing alternately +from the figure on the sand to Mr Button’s face, watching for the +delighted smile with which she was sure the old man would greet the +great king when he appeared in all his glory. +</P> + +<P> +Then Dick with a single stroke of the cane put Henry’s hat on. +</P> + +<PRE> + === l + l l + <[ ]> + / \ +</PRE> + +<P> +Now, no portrait could be liker to his monk-hunting majesty than the +above, created with one stroke of a cane (so to speak), yet Mr Button +remained unmoved. +</P> + +<P> +“I did it for Mrs Sims,” said Dick regretfully, “and <i>she</i> said it was +the image of him.” +</P> + +<P> +“Maybe the hat’s not big enough,” said Emmeline, turning her head from +side to side as she gazed at the picture. It looked right, but she felt +there must be something wrong, as Mr Button did not applaud. Has not +every true artist felt the same before the silence of some critic? +</P> + +<P> +Mr Button tapped the ashes out of his pipe and rose to stretch himself, +and the class rose and trooped down to the lagoon edge, leaving Henry +and his hat a figure on the sand to be obliterated by the wind. +</P> + +<P> +After a while, as time went on, Mr Button took to his lessons as a +matter of course, the small inventions of the children assisting their +utterly untrustworthy knowledge. Knowledge, perhaps, as useful as any +other there amidst the lovely poetry of the palm trees and the sky. +</P> + +<P> +Days slipped into weeks, and weeks into months, without the appearance +of a ship—a fact which gave Mr Button very little trouble; and even +less to his charges, who were far too busy and amused to bother about +ships. +</P> + +<P> +The rainy season came on them with a rush, and at the words “rainy +season” do not conjure up in your mind the vision of a rainy day in +Manchester. +</P> + +<P> +The rainy season here was quite a lively time. Torrential showers +followed by bursts of sunshine, rainbows, and rain-dogs in the sky, and +the delicious perfume of all manner of growing things on the earth. +</P> + +<P> +After the rains the old sailor said he’d be after making a house of +bamboos before the next rains came on them; but, maybe, before that +they’d be off the island. +</P> + +<P> +“However,” said he, “I’ll dra’ you a picture of what it’ll be like when +it’s up;” and on the sand he drew a figure like this: +</P> + +<PRE> +X +</PRE> + +<P> +Having thus drawn the plans of the building, he leaned back against a +cocoa-palm and lit his pipe. But he had reckoned without Dick. +</P> + +<P> +The boy had not the least wish to live in a house, but he had a keen +desire to see one built, and help to build one. The ingenuity which is +part of the multiform basis of the American nature was aroused. +</P> + +<P> +“How’re you going to keep them from slipping, if you tie them together +like that?” he asked, when Paddy had more fully explained his method. +</P> + +<P> +“Which from slippin’?” +</P> + +<P> +“The canes—one from the other?” +</P> + +<P> +“After you’ve fixed thim, one cross t’other, you drive a nail through +the cross-piece and a rope over all.” +</P> + +<P> +“Have you any nails, Paddy?” +</P> + +<P> +“No,” said Mr Button, “I haven’t.” +</P> + +<P> +“Then how’re you goin’ to build the house?” +</P> + +<P> +“Ax me no questions now; I want to smoke me pipe.” +</P> + +<P> +But he had raised a devil difficult to lay. Morning, noon, and night it +was “Paddy, when are you going to begin the house?” or, “Paddy, I guess +I’ve got a way to make the canes stick together without nailing.” Till +Mr Button, in despair, like a beaver, began to build. +</P> + +<P> +There was great cane-cutting in the cane-brake above, and, when +sufficient had been procured, Mr Button struck work for three days. He +would have struck altogether, but he had found a taskmaster. +</P> + +<P> +The tireless Dick, young and active, with no original laziness in his +composition, no old bones to rest, or pipe to smoke, kept after him +like a bluebottle fly. It was in vain that he tried to stave him off +with stories about fairies and Cluricaunes. Dick wanted to build a +house. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Button didn’t. He wanted to rest. He did not mind fishing or +climbing a cocoa-nut tree, which he did to admiration by passing a rope +round himself and the tree, knotting it, and using it as a support +during the climb; but house-building was monotonous work. +</P> + +<P> +He said he had no nails. Dick countered by showing how the canes could +be held together by notching them. +</P> + +<P> +“And, faith, but it’s a cliver boy you are,” said the weary one +admiringly, when the other had explained his method. +</P> + +<P> +“Then come along, Paddy, and stick ’em up.” +</P> + +<P> +Mr Button said he had no rope, that he’d have to think about it, that +to-morrow or next day he’d be after getting some notion how to do it +without rope. But Dick pointed out that the brown cloth which Nature +has wrapped round the cocoa-palm stalks would do instead of rope if cut +in strips. Then the badgered one gave in. +</P> + +<P> +They laboured for a fortnight at the thing, and at the end of that time +had produced a rough sort of wigwam on the borders of the chapparel. +</P> + +<P> +Out on the reef, to which they often rowed in the dinghy, when the tide +was low, deep pools would be left, and in the pools fish. Paddy said +if they had a spear they might be able to spear some of these fish, as +he had seen the natives do away “beyant” in Tahiti. +</P> + +<P> +Dick enquired as to the nature of a spear, and next day produced a +ten-foot cane sharpened at the end after the fashion of a quill pen. +</P> + +<P> +“Sure, what’s the use of that?” said Mr Button. “You might job it into +a fish, but he’d be aff it in two ticks; it’s the barb that holds them.” +</P> + +<P> +Next day the indefatigable one produced the cane amended; he had +whittled it down about three feet from the end and on one side, and +carved a fairly efficient barb. It was good enough, at all events, to +spear a “groper” with, that evening, in the sunset-lit pools of the +reef at low tide. +</P> + +<P> +“There aren’t any potatoes here,” said Dick one day, after the second +rains. +</P> + +<P> +“We’ve et ’em all months ago,” replied Paddy. +</P> + +<P> +“How do potatoes grow?” enquired Dick. +</P> + +<P> +“Grow, is it? Why, they grow in the ground; and where else would they +grow?” He explained the process of potato-planting: cutting them into +pieces so that there was an eye in each piece, and so forth. “Having +done this,” said Mr Button, “you just chuck the pieces in the ground; +their eyes grow, green leaves ‘pop up,’ and then, if you dug the roots +up maybe, six months after, you’d find bushels of potatoes in the +ground, ones as big as your head, and weeny ones. It’s like a family of +childer—some’s big and some’s little. But there they are in the +ground, and all you have to do is to take a fark and dig a potful of +them with a turn of your wrist, as many a time I’ve done it in the ould +days.” +</P> + +<P> +“Why didn’t we do that?” asked Dick. +</P> + +<P> +“Do what?” asked Mr Button. +</P> + +<P> +“Plant some of the potatoes.” +</P> + +<P> +“And where’d we have found the spade to plant them with?” +</P> + +<P> +“I guess we could have fixed up a spade,” replied the boy. “I made a +spade at home, out of a piece of old board, once—daddy helped.” +</P> + +<P> +“Well, skelp off with you, and make a spade now,” replied the other, +who wanted to be quiet and think, “and you and Em’line can dig in the +sand.” +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline was sitting near by, stringing together some gorgeous blossoms +on a tendril of liana. Months of sun and ozone had made a considerable +difference in the child. She was as brown as a gipsy and freckled, not +very much taller, but twice as plump. Her eyes had lost considerably +that look as though she were contemplating futurity and immensity—not +as abstractions, but as concrete images, and she had lost the habit of +sleep-walking. +</P> + +<P> +The shock of the tent coming down on the first night she was tethered +to the scull had broken her of it, helped by the new healthful +conditions of life, the sea-bathing, and the eternal open air. There is +no narcotic to excel fresh air. +</P> + +<P> +Months of semi-savagery had made also a good deal of difference in +Dick’s appearance. He was two inches taller than on the day they +landed. Freckled and tanned, he had the appearance of a boy of twelve. +He was the promise of a fine man. He was not a good-looking child, but +he was healthy-looking, with a jolly laugh, and a daring, almost +impudent expression of face. +</P> + +<P> +The question of the children’s clothes was beginning to vex the mind of +the old sailor. The climate was a suit of clothes in itself. One was +much happier with almost nothing on. Of course there were changes of +temperature, but they were slight. Eternal summer, broken by torrential +rains, and occasionally a storm, that was the climate of the island; +still, the “childer” couldn’t go about with nothing on. +</P> + +<P> +He took some of the striped flannel and made Emmeline a kilt. It was +funny to see him sitting on the sand, Emmeline standing before him with +her garment round her waist, being tried on; he, with a mouthful of +pins, and the housewife with the scissors, needles, and thread by his +side. +</P> + +<P> +“Turn to the lift a bit more,” he’d say, “aisy does it. Stidy +so—musha! musha! where’s thim scissors? Dick, be holdin’ the end of +this bit of string till I get the stitches in behint. Does that hang +comfortable?—well, an’ you’re the trouble an’ all. How’s <i>that</i>? That’s +aisier, is it? Lift your fut till I see if it comes to your knees. Now +off with it, and lave me alone till I stitch the tags to it.” +</P> + +<P> +It was the mixture of a skirt and the idea of a sail, for it had two +rows of reef points; a most ingenious idea, as it could be reefed if +the child wanted to go paddling, or in windy weather. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0117"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE DEVIL’S CASK +</H3> + +<P> +One morning, about a week after the day on which the old sailor, to use +his own expression, had bent a skirt on Emmeline, Dick came through the +woods and across the sands running. He had been on the hill-top. +</P> + +<P> +“Paddy,” he cried to the old man, who was fixing a hook on a +fishing-line, “there’s a ship!” +</P> + +<P> +It did not take Mr Button long to reach the hill-top, and there she +was, beating up for the island. Bluff-bowed and squab, the figure of an +old Dutch woman, and telling of her trade a league off. It was just +after the rains, the sky was not yet quite clear of clouds; you could +see showers away at sea, and the sea was green and foam-capped. +</P> + +<P> +There was the trying-out gear; there were the boats, the crow’s nest, +and all complete, and labelling her a whaler. She was a ship, no doubt, +but Paddy Button would as soon have gone on board a ship manned by +devils, and captained by Lucifer, as on board a South Sea whaleman. He +had been there before, and he knew. +</P> + +<P> +He hid the children under a large banyan, and told them not to stir or +breathe till he came back, for the ship was “the devil’s own ship”; and +if the men on board caught them they’d skin them alive and all. +</P> + +<P> +Then he made for the beach; he collected all the things out of the +wigwam, and all the old truck in the shape of boots and old clothes, +and stowed them away in the dinghy. He would have destroyed the house, +if he could, but he hadn’t time. Then he rowed the dinghy a hundred +yards down the lagoon to the left, and moored her under the shade of an +aoa, whose branches grew right over the water. Then he came back +through the cocoa-nut grove on foot, and peered through the trees over +the lagoon to see what was to be seen. +</P> + +<P> +The wind was blowing dead on for the opening in the reef, and the old +whaleman came along breasting the swell with her bluff bows, and +entered the lagoon. There was no leadsman in her chains. She just came +in as if she knew all the soundings by heart—as probably she did—for +these whalemen know every hole and corner in the Pacific. +</P> + +<P> +The anchor fell with a splash, and she swung to it, making a strange +enough picture as she floated on the blue mirror, backed by the +graceful palm tree on the reef. Then Mr Button, without waiting to see +the boats lowered, made back to his charges, and the three camped in +the woods that night. +</P> + +<P> +Next morning the whaleman was off and away, leaving as a token of her +visit the white sand all trampled, an empty bottle, half an old +newspaper, and the wigwam torn to pieces. +</P> + +<P> +The old sailor cursed her and her crew, for the incident had brought a +new exercise into his lazy life. Every day now at noon he had to climb +the hill, on the look-out for whalemen. Whalemen haunted his dreams, +though I doubt if he would willingly have gone on board even a Royal +Mail steamer. He was quite happy where he was. After long years of the +fo’cs’le the island was a change indeed. He had tobacco enough to last +him for an indefinite time, the children for companions, and food at +his elbow. He would have been entirely happy if the island had only +been supplied by Nature with a public-house. +</P> + +<P> +The spirit of hilarity and good fellowship, however, who suddenly +discovered this error on the part of Nature, rectified it, as will be +presently seen. +</P> + +<P> +The most disastrous result of the whaleman’s visit was not the +destruction of the “house,” but the disappearance of Emmeline’s box. +Hunt high or hunt low, it could not be found. Mr Button in his hurry +must have forgotten it when he removed the things to the dinghy—at all +events, it was gone. Probably one of the crew of the whalemen had found +it and carried it off with him; no one could say. It was gone, and +there was the end of the matter, and the beginning of great +tribulation, that lasted Emmeline for a week. +</P> + +<P> +She was intensely fond of coloured things, coloured flowers especially; +and she had the prettiest way of making them into a wreath for her own +or some one else’s head. It was the hat-making instinct that was at work +in her, perhaps; at all events, it was a feminine instinct, for Dick +made no wreaths. +</P> + +<P> +One morning, as she was sitting by the old sailor engaged in stringing +shells, Dick came running along the edge of the grove. He had just come +out of the wood, and he seemed to be looking for something. Then he +found what he was in search of—a big shell—and with it in his hand +made back to the wood. +</P> + +<P> +<i>Item.</i>—His dress was a piece of cocoa-nut cloth tied round his middle. +Why he wore it at all, goodness knows, for he would as often as not be +running about stark naked. +</P> + +<P> +“I’ve found something, Paddy!” he cried, as he disappeared among the +trees. +</P> + +<P> +“What have you found?” piped Emmeline, who was always interested in new +things. +</P> + +<P> +“Something funny!” came back from amidst the trees. +</P> + +<P> +Presently he returned; but he was not running now. He was walking +slowly and carefully, holding the shell as if it contained something +precious that he was afraid would escape. +</P> + +<P> +“Paddy, I turned over the old barrel and it had a cork thing in it, and +I pulled it out, and the barrel is full of awfully funny-smelling +stuff—I’ve brought some for you to see.” +</P> + +<P> +He gave the shell into the old sailor’s hands. There was about half a +gill of yellow liquid in the shell. Paddy smelt it, tasted, and gave a +shout. +</P> + +<P> +“Rum, begorra!” +</P> + +<P> +“What is it, Paddy?” asked Emmeline. +</P> + +<P> +“<i>Where</i> did you say you got it—in the ould bar’l, did you say?” asked +Mr Button, who seemed dazed and stunned as if by a blow. +</P> + +<P> +“Yes; I pulled the cork thing out—” +</P> + +<P> +“<i>Did yiz put it back?</i>” +</P> + +<P> +“Yes.” +</P> + +<P> +“Oh, glory be to God! Here have I been, time out of mind, sittin’ on an +ould empty bar’l, with me tongue hangin’ down to me heels for the want +of a drink, and it full of rum all the while!” +</P> + +<P> +He took a sip of the stuff, tossed the lot off, closed his lips tight +to keep in the fumes, and shut one eye. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline laughed. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Button scrambled to his feet. They followed him through the +chapparel till they reached the water source. There lay the little +green barrel; turned over by the restless Dick, it lay with its bung +pointing to the leaves above. You could see the hollow it had made in +the soft soil during the years. So green was it, and so like an object +of nature, a bit of old tree-bole, or a lichen-stained boulder, that +though the whalemen had actually watered from the source, its real +nature had not been discovered. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Button tapped on it with the butt end of the shell: it was nearly +full. Why it had been left there, by whom, or how, there was no one to +tell. The old lichen-covered skulls might have told, could they have +spoken. +</P> + +<P> +“We’ll rowl it down to the beach,” said Paddy, when he had taken +another taste of it. +</P> + +<P> +He gave Dick a sip. The boy spat it out, and made a face, then, pushing +the barrel before them, they began to roll it downhill to the beach, +Emmeline running before them crowned with flowers. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0118"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE RAT HUNT +</H3> + +<P> +They had dinner at noon. Paddy knew how to cook fish, island fashion, +wrapping them in leaves, and baking them in a hole in the ground in +which a fire had previously been lit. They had fish and taro root +baked, and green cocoa-nuts; and after dinner Mr Button filled a big +shell with rum, and lit his pipe. +</P> + +<P> +The rum had been good originally, and age had improved it. Used as he +was to the appalling balloon juice sold in the drinking dens of the +“Barbary coast” at San Francisco, or the public-houses of the docks, +this stuff was nectar. +</P> + +<P> +Joviality radiated from him: it was infectious. The children felt that +some happy influence had fallen upon their friend. Usually after dinner +he was drowsy and “wishful to be quiet.” To-day he told them stories of +the sea, and sang them songs—chantys: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +“I’m a flyin’ fish sailor come back from Hong Kong,<BR> +Yeo ho! blow the man down.<BR> +Blow the man down, bullies, blow the man down,<BR> +Oh, give us <i>time</i> to blow the man down.<BR> +You’re a dhirty black-baller come back from New York,<BR> +Yeo ho! blow the man down,<BR> +Blow the man down, bullies, blow the man down.<BR> +Oh, give us time to blow the man down.”<BR> +</P> + +<P> +“Oh, give us <i>time</i> to blow the man down!” echoed Dick and Emmeline. +</P> + +<P> +Up above, in the trees, the bright-eyed birds were watching them—such +a happy party. They had all the appearance of picnickers, and the song +echoed amongst the cocoa-nut trees, and the wind carried it over the +lagoon to where the sea-gulls were wheeling and screaming, and the foam +was thundering on the reef. +</P> + +<P> +That evening, Mr Button feeling inclined for joviality, and not wishing +the children to see him under the influence, rolled the barrel through +the cocoa-nut grove to a little clearing by the edge of the water. +There, when the children were in bed and asleep, he repaired with some +green cocoa-nuts and a shell. He was generally musical when amusing +himself in this fashion, and Emmeline, waking up during the night, +heard his voice borne through the moonlit cocoa-nut grove by the wind: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +“There were five or six old drunken sailors<BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">Standin’ before the bar,</SPAN><BR> +And Larry, he was servin’ them<BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">From a big five-gallon jar.</SPAN><BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 4em">“<i>Chorus.</i>—</SPAN><BR> +Hoist up the flag, long may it wave!<BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">Long may it lade us to glory or the grave.</SPAN><BR> +Stidy, boys, stidy—sound the jubilee,<BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">For Babylon has fallen, and the niggers are all set free.”</SPAN><BR> +</P> + +<P> +Next morning the musician awoke beside the cask. He had not a trace of +a headache, or any bad feeling, but he made Dick do the cooking; and he +lay in the shade of the cocoa-nut trees, with his head on a “pilla” +made out of an old coat rolled up, twiddling his thumbs, smoking his +pipe, and discoursing about the “ould” days, half to himself and half +to his companions. +</P> + +<P> +That night he had another musical evening all to himself, and so it +went on for a week. Then he began to lose his appetite and sleep; and +one morning Dick found him sitting on the sand looking very queer +indeed—as well he might, for he had been “seeing things” since dawn. +</P> + +<P> +“What is it, Paddy?” said the boy, running up, followed by Emmeline. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Button was staring at a point on the sand close by. He had his right +hand raised after the manner of a person who is trying to catch a fly. +Suddenly he made a grab at the sand, and then opened his hand wide to +see what he had caught. +</P> + +<P> +“What is it, Paddy?” +</P> + +<P> +“The Cluricaune,” replied Mr Button. “All dressed in green he +was—musha! musha! but it’s only pretindin’ I am.” +</P> + +<P> +The complaint from which he was suffering has this strange thing about +it, that, though the patient sees rats, or snakes, or what not, as +real-looking as the real things, and though they possess his mind for a +moment, almost immediately he recognises that he is suffering from a +delusion. +</P> + +<P> +The children laughed, and Mr Button laughed in a stupid sort of way. +</P> + +<P> +“Sure, it was only a game I was playin’—there was no Cluricaune at +all—it’s whin I dhrink rum it puts it into me head to play games like +that. Oh, be the Holy Poker, there’s red rats comin’ out of the sand!” +</P> + +<P> +He got on his hands and knees and scuttled off towards the cocoa-nut +trees, looking over his shoulder with a bewildered expression on his +face. He would have risen to fly, only he dared not stand up. +</P> + +<P> +The children laughed and danced round him as he crawled. +</P> + +<P> +“Look at the rats, Paddy! look at the rats!” cried Dick. +</P> + +<P> +“They’re in front of me!” cried the afflicted one, making a vicious +grab at an imaginary rodent’s tail. “Ran dan the bastes!—now they’re +gone. Musha, but it’s a fool I’m makin’ of meself.” +</P> + +<P> +“Go on, Paddy,” said Dick; “don’t stop— Look there—there’s more rats +coming after you!” +</P> + +<P> +“Oh, whisht, will you?” replied Paddy, taking his seat on the sand, and +wiping his brow. “They’re aff me now.” +</P> + +<P> +The children stood by, disappointed of their game. Good acting appeals +to children just as much as to grown-up people. They stood waiting for +another access of humour to take the comedian, and they had not to wait +long. +</P> + +<P> +A thing like a flayed horse came out of the lagoon and up the beach, +and this time Mr Button did not crawl away. He got on his feet and ran. +</P> + +<P> +“It’s a harse that’s afther me—it’s a harse that’s afther me! Dick! +Dick! hit him a skelp. Dick! Dick! dhrive him away.” +</P> + +<P> +“Hurroo! Hurroo!” cried Dick, chasing the afflicted one, who was +running in a wide circle, his broad red face slewed over his left +shoulder. “Go it, Paddy! go it, Paddy!” +</P> + +<P> +“Kape off me, you baste!” shouted Paddy. “Holy Mary, Mother of God! +I’ll land you a kick wid me fut if yiz come nigh me. Em’leen! Em’leen! +come betune us!” +</P> + +<P> +He tripped, and over he went on the sand, the indefatigable Dick +beating him with a little switch he had picked up to make him continue. +</P> + +<P> +“I’m better now, but I’m near wore out,” said Mr Button, sitting up on +the sand. “But, bedad, if I’m chased by any more things like them it’s +into the say I’ll be dashin’. Dick, lend me your arum.” +</P> + +<P> +He took Dick’s arm and wandered over to the shade of the trees. Here +he threw himself down, and told the children to leave him to sleep. +They recognised that the game was over and left him. And he slept for +six hours on end; it was the first real sleep he had had for several +days. When he awoke he was well, but very shaky. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0119"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +STARLIGHT ON THE FOAM +</H3> + +<P> +Mr Button saw no more rats, much to Dick’s disappointment. He was off +the drink. At dawn next day he got up, refreshed by a second sleep, and +wandered down to the edge of the lagoon. The opening in the reef faced +the east, and the light of the dawn came rippling in with the flooding +tide. +</P> + +<P> +“It’s a baste I’ve been,” said the repentant one—“a brute baste.” +</P> + +<P> +He was quite wrong; as a matter of fact, he was only a man beset and +betrayed. +</P> + +<P> +He stood for a while, cursing the drink, “and them that sells it.” Then +he determined to put himself out of the way of temptation. Pull the +bung out of the barrel, and let the contents escape? +</P> + +<P> +Such a thought never even occurred to him—or, if it did, was instantly +dismissed; for, though an old sailor-man may curse the drink, good rum +is to him a sacred thing; and to empty half a little barrel of it into +the sea, would be an act almost equivalent to child-murder. He put the +cask into the dinghy, and rowed it over to the reef. There he placed it +in the shelter of a great lump of coral, and rowed back. +</P> + +<P> +Paddy had been trained all his life to rhythmical drunkenness. Four +months or so had generally elapsed between his bouts—sometimes six; it +all depended on the length of the voyage. Six months now elapsed before +he felt even an inclination to look at the rum cask, that tiny dark +spot away on the reef. And it was just as well, for during those six +months another whale-ship arrived, watered and was avoided. +</P> + +<P> +“Blisther it!” said he; “the say here seems to breed whale-ships, and +nothin’ but whale-ships. It’s like bugs in a bed: you kill wan, and then +another comes. Howsomever, we’re shut of thim for a while.” +</P> + +<P> +He walked down to the lagoon edge, looked at the little dark spot and +whistled. Then he walked back to prepare dinner. That little dark spot +began to trouble him after a while; not it, but the spirit it contained. +</P> + +<P> +Days grew long and weary, the days that had been so short and pleasant. +To the children there was no such thing as time. Having absolute and +perfect health, they enjoyed happiness as far as mortals can enjoy it. +Emmeline’s highly-strung nervous system, it is true, developed a +headache when she had been too long in the glare of the sun, but they +were few and far between. +</P> + +<P> +The spirit in the little cask had been whispering across the lagoon for +some weeks; at last it began to shout. Mr Button, metaphorically +speaking, stopped his ears. He busied himself with the children as much +as possible. He made another garment for Emmeline, and cut Dick’s hair +with the scissors (a job which was generally performed once in a couple +of months). +</P> + +<P> +One night, to keep the rum from troubling his head, he told them the +story of Jack Dogherty and the Merrow, which is well known on the +western coast. +</P> + +<P> +The Merrow takes Jack to dinner at the bottom of the sea, and shows him +the lobster pots wherein he keeps the souls of old sailor-men, and then +they have dinner, and the Merrow produces a big bottle of rum. +</P> + +<P> +It was a fatal story for him to remember and recount; for, after his +companions were asleep, the vision of the Merrow and Jack hobnobbing, +and the idea of the jollity of it, rose before him, and excited a +thirst for joviality not to be resisted. +</P> + +<P> +There were some green cocoa-nuts that he had plucked that day lying in +a little heap under a tree—half a dozen or so. He took several of +these and a shell, found the dinghy where it was moored to the aoa +tree, unmoored her, and pushed off into the lagoon. +</P> + +<P> +The lagoon and sky were full of stars. In the dark depths of the water +might have been seen phosphorescent gleams of passing fish, and the +thunder of the surf on the reef filled the night with its song. +</P> + +<P> +He fixed the boat’s painter carefully round a spike of coral and landed +on the reef, and with a shellful of rum and cocoa-nut lemonade mixed +half and half, he took his perch on a high ledge of coral from whence a +view of the sea and the coral strand could be obtained. +</P> + +<P> +On a moonlight night it was fine to sit here and watch the great +breakers coming in, all marbled and clouded and rainbowed with +spindrift and sheets of spray. But the snow and the song of them under +the diffused light of the stars produced a more indescribably beautiful +and strange effect. +</P> + +<P> +The tide was going out now, and Mr Button, as he sat smoking his pipe +and drinking his grog, could see bright mirrors here and there where +the water lay in rock-pools. When he had contemplated these sights for +a considerable time in complete contentment, he returned to the lagoon +side of the reef and sat down beside the little barrel. Then, after a +while, if you had been standing on the strand opposite, you would have +heard scraps of song borne across the quivering water of the lagoon. +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +“Sailing down, sailing down,<BR> +On the coast of Barbaree.”<BR> +</P> + +<P> +Whether the coast of Barbary in question is that at San Francisco, or +the true and proper coast, does not matter. It is an old-time song; and +when you hear it, whether on a reef of coral or a granite quay, you may +feel assured that an old-time sailor-man is singing it, and that the +old-time sailor-man is bemused. +</P> + +<P> +Presently the dinghy put off from the reef, the sculls broke the +starlit waters and great shaking circles of light made rhythmical +answer to the slow and steady creak of the thole pins against the +leather. He tied up to the aoa, saw that the sculls were safely +shipped; then, breathing heavily, he cast off his boots for fear of +waking the “childer.” As the children were sleeping more than two +hundred yards away, this was a needless precaution—especially as the +intervening distance was mostly soft sand. +</P> + +<P> +Green cocoa-nut juice and rum mixed together are pleasant enough to +drink, but they are better drunk separately; combined, not even the +brain of an old sailor can make anything of them but mist and +muddlement; that is to say, in the way of thought—in the way of action +they can make him do a lot. They made Paddy Button swim the lagoon. +</P> + +<P> +The recollection came to him all at once, as he was walking up the +strand towards the wigwam, that he had left the dinghy tied to the +reef. The dinghy was, as a matter of fact, safe and sound tied to the +aoa; but Mr Button’s memory told him it was tied to the reef. How he +had crossed the lagoon was of no importance at all to him; the fact +that he had crossed without the boat, yet without getting wet, did not +appear to him strange. He had no time to deal with trifles like these. +The dinghy had to be fetched across the lagoon, and there was only one +way of fetching it. So he came back down the beach to the water’s edge, +cast down his boots, cast off his coat, and plunged in. The lagoon was +wide, but in his present state of mind he would have swum the +Hellespont. His figure gone from the beach, the night resumed its +majesty and aspect of meditation. +</P> + +<P> +So lit was the lagoon by starshine that the head of the swimmer could +be distinguished away out in the midst of circles of light; also, as +the head neared the reef, a dark triangle that came shearing through +the water past the palm tree at the pier. It was the night patrol of the +lagoon, who had heard in some mysterious manner that a drunken +sailor-man was making trouble in his waters. +</P> + +<P> +Looking, one listened, hand on heart, for the scream of the arrested +one, yet it did not come. The swimmer, scrambling on to the reef in an +exhausted manner, forgetful evidently of the object for which he had +returned, made for the rum cask, and fell down beside it as though +sleep had touched him instead of death. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0120"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE DREAMER ON THE REEF +</H3> + +<P> +“I wonder where Paddy is?” cried Dick next morning. He was coming out +of the chapparel pulling a dead branch after him. “He’s left his coat +on the sand, and the tinder box in it, so I’ll make the fire. There’s +no use waiting. I want my breakfast. Bother——” +</P> + +<P> +He trod the dead stick with his naked feet, breaking it into pieces. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline sat on the sand and watched him. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline had two gods of a sort: Paddy Button and Dick. Paddy was +almost an esoteric god wrapped in the fumes of tobacco and mystery. The +god of rolling ships and creaking masts—the masts and vast sail spaces +of the <i>Northumberland</i> were an enduring vision in her mind—the deity +who had lifted her from a little boat into this marvellous place, where +the birds were coloured and the fish were painted, where life was never +dull, and the skies scarcely ever grey. +</P> + +<P> +Dick, the other deity, was a much more understandable personage, but no +less admirable, as a companion and protector. In the two years and five +months of island life he had grown nearly three inches. He was as +strong as a boy of twelve, and could scull the boat almost as well as +Paddy himself, and light a fire. Indeed, during the last few months Mr +Button, engaged in resting his bones, and contemplating rum as an +abstract idea, had left the cooking and fishing and general gathering +of food as much as possible to Dick. +</P> + +<P> +“It amuses the craythur to pritind he’s doing things,” he would say, as +he watched Dick delving in the earth to make a little +oven—island-fashion—for the cooking of fish or what not. +</P> + +<P> +“Come along, Em,” said Dick, piling the broken wood on top of some +rotten hibiscus sticks; “give me the tinder box.” +</P> + +<P> +He got a spark on to a bit of punk, and then he blew at it, looking not +unlike Æolus as represented on those old Dutch charts that smell of +schiedam and snuff, and give one mermaids and angels instead of +soundings. +</P> + +<P> +The fire was soon sparkling and crackling, and he heaped on sticks in +profusion, for there was plenty of fuel, and he wanted to cook +breadfruit. +</P> + +<P> +The breadfruit varies in size, according to age, and in colour +according to season. These that Dick was preparing to cook were as +large as small melons. Two would be more than enough for three people’s +breakfast. They were green and knobbly on the outside, and they +suggested to the mind unripe lemons, rather than bread. +</P> + +<P> +He put them in the embers, just as you put potatoes to roast, and +presently they sizzled and spat little venomous jets of steam, then +they cracked, and the white inner substance became visible. He cut +them open and took the core out—the core is not fit to eat—and they +were ready. +</P> + +<P> +Meanwhile, Emmeline, under his directions, had not been idle. +</P> + +<P> +There were in the lagoon—there are in several other tropical lagoons I +know of—a fish which I can only describe as a golden herring. A bronze +herring it looks when landed, but when swimming away down against the +background of coral brains and white sand patches, it has the sheen of +burnished gold. It is as good to eat as to look at, and Emmeline was +carefully toasting several of them on a piece of cane. +</P> + +<P> +The juice of the fish kept the cane from charring, though there were +accidents at times, when a whole fish would go into the fire, amidst +shouts of derision from Dick. +</P> + +<P> +She made a pretty enough picture as she knelt, the “skirt” round the +waist looking not unlike a striped bath-towel, her small face intent, +and filled with the seriousness of the job on hand, and her lips +puckered out at the heat of the fire. +</P> + +<P> +“It’s so hot!” she cried in self-defence, after the first of the +accidents. +</P> + +<P> +“Of course it’s hot,” said Dick, “if you stick to looward of the fire. +How often has Paddy told you to keep to windward of it!” +</P> + +<P> +“I don’t know which is which,” confessed the unfortunate Emmeline, who +was an absolute failure at everything practical: who could neither row +nor fish, nor throw a stone, and who, though they had now been on the +island twenty-eight months or so, could not even swim. +</P> + +<P> +“You mean to say,” said Dick, “that you don’t know where the wind comes +from?” +</P> + +<P> +“Yes, I know that.” +</P> + +<P> +“Well, that’s to windward.” +</P> + +<P> +“I didn’t know that.” +</P> + +<P> +“Well, you know it now.” +</P> + +<P> +“Yes, I know it now.” +</P> + +<P> +“Well, then, come to windward of the fire. Why didn’t you ask the +meaning of it before?” +</P> + +<P> +“I did,” said Emmeline; “I asked Mr Button one day, and he told me a +lot about it. He said if he was to spit to windward and a person was to +stand to loo’ard of him, he’d be a fool; and he said if a ship went too +much to loo’ard she went on the rocks, but I didn’t understand what he +meant. Dicky, I wonder where he is?” +</P> + +<P> +“Paddy!” cried Dick, pausing in the act of splitting open a breadfruit. +Echoes came from amidst the cocoa-nut trees, but nothing more. +</P> + +<P> +“Come on,” said Dick; “I’m not going to wait for him. He may have gone +to fetch up the night lines”—they sometimes put down night lines in +the lagoon—“and fallen asleep over them.” +</P> + +<P> +Now, though Emmeline honoured Mr Button as a minor deity, Dick had no +illusions at all upon the matter. He admired Paddy because he could +knot, and splice, and climb a cocoa-nut tree, and exercise his sailor +craft in other admirable ways, but he felt the old man’s limitations. +They ought to have had potatoes now, but they had eaten both potatoes +and the possibility of potatoes when they consumed the contents of that +half sack. Young as he was, Dick felt the absolute thriftlessness of +this proceeding. Emmeline did not; she never thought of potatoes, +though she could have told you the colour of all the birds on the +island. +</P> + +<P> +Then, again, the house wanted rebuilding, and Mr Button said every day +he would set about seeing after it to-morrow, and on the morrow it +would be to-morrow. The necessities of the life they led were a +stimulus to the daring and active mind of the boy; but he was always +being checked by the go-as-you-please methods of his elder. Dick came +of the people who make sewing machines and typewriters. Mr Button came +of a people notable for ballads, tender hearts, and potheen. That was +the main difference. +</P> + +<P> +“Paddy!” again cried the boy, when he had eaten as much as he wanted. +“Hullo! where are you?” +</P> + +<P> +They listened, but no answer came. A bright-hued bird flew across the +sand space, a lizard scuttled across the glistening sand, the reef +spoke, and the wind in the tree-tops; but Mr Button made no reply. +</P> + +<P> +“Wait,” said Dick. +</P> + +<P> +He ran through the grove towards the aoa where the dinghy was moored; +then he returned. +</P> + +<P> +“The dinghy is all right,” he said. “Where on earth can he be?” +</P> + +<P> +“I don’t know,” said Emmeline, upon whose heart a feeling of loneliness +had fallen. +</P> + +<P> +“Let’s go up the hill,” said Dick; “perhaps we’ll find him there.” +</P> + +<P> +They went uphill through the wood, past the water-course. Every now and +then Dick would call out, and echoes would answer—there were quaint, +moist-voiced echoes amidst the trees—or a bevy of birds would take +flight. The little waterfall gurgled and whispered, and the great +banana leaves spread their shade. +</P> + +<P> +“Come on,” said Dick, when he had called again without receiving a +reply. +</P> + +<P> +They found the hill-top, and the great boulder stood casting its shadow +in the sun. The morning breeze was blowing, the sea sparkling, the reef +flashing, the foliage of the island waving in the wind like the flames +of a green-flamed torch. A deep swell was spreading itself across the +bosom of the Pacific. Some hurricane away beyond the Navigators or +Gilberts had sent this message and was finding its echo here, a +thousand miles away, in the deeper thunder of the reef. +</P> + +<P> +Nowhere else in the world could you get such a picture, such a +combination of splendour and summer, such a vision of freshness and +strength, and the delight of morning. It was the smallness of the +island, perhaps, that closed the charm and made it perfect. Just a +bunch of foliage and flowers set in the midst of the blowing wind and +sparkling blue. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly Dick, standing beside Emmeline on the rock, pointed with his +finger to the reef near the opening. +</P> + +<P> +“There he is!” cried he. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0121"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE GARLAND OF FLOWERS +</H3> + +<P> +You could just make the figure out lying on the reef near the little +cask, and comfortably sheltered from the sun by an upstanding lump of +coral. +</P> + +<P> +“He’s asleep,” said Dick. +</P> + +<P> +He had not thought to look towards the reef from the beach, or he might +have seen the figure before. +</P> + +<P> +“Dicky!” said Emmeline. +</P> + +<P> +“Well?” +</P> + +<P> +“How did he get over, if you said the dinghy was tied to the tree?” +</P> + +<P> +“I don’t know,” said Dick, who had not thought of this; “there he is, +anyhow. I’ll tell you what, Em, we’ll row across and wake him. I’ll boo +into his ear and make him jump.” +</P> + +<P> +They got down from the rock, and came back down through the wood. As +they came Emmeline picked flowers and began making them up into one of +her wreaths. Some scarlet hibiscus, some bluebells, a couple of pale +poppies with furry stalks and bitter perfume. +</P> + +<P> +“What are you making that for?” asked Dick, who always viewed +Emmeline’s wreath-making with a mixture of compassion and vague disgust. +</P> + +<P> +“I’m going to put it on Mr Button’s head,” said Emmeline; “so’s when +you say boo into his ear he’ll jump up with it on.” +</P> + +<P> +Dick chuckled with pleasure at the idea of the practical joke, and +almost admitted in his own mind for a moment, that after all there +might be a use for such futilities as wreaths. +</P> + +<P> +The dinghy was moored under the spreading shade of the aoa, the painter +tied to one of the branches that projected over the water. These dwarf +aoas branch in an extraordinary way close to the ground, throwing out +limbs like rails. The tree had made a good protection for the little +boat, protecting it from marauding hands and from the sun; besides the +protection of the tree Paddy had now and then scuttled the boat in +shallow water. It was a new boat to start with, and with precautions +like these might be expected to last many years. +</P> + +<P> +“Get in,” said Dick, pulling on the painter so that the bow of the +dinghy came close to the beach. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline got carefully in, and went aft. Then Dick got in, pushed off, +and took to the sculls. Next moment they were out on the sparkling +water. +</P> + +<P> +Dick rowed cautiously, fearing to wake the sleeper. He fastened the +painter to the coral spike that seemed set there by nature for the +purpose. He scrambled on to the reef, and lying down on his stomach +drew the boat’s gunwale close up so that Emmeline might land. He had no +boots on; the soles of his feet, from constant exposure, had become +insensitive as leather. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline also was without boots. The soles of her feet, as is always +the case with highly nervous people, were sensitive, and she walked +delicately, avoiding the worst places, holding her wreath in her right +hand. +</P> + +<P> +It was full tide, and the thunder of the waves outside shook the reef. +It was like being in a church when the deep bass of the organ is turned +full on, shaking the ground and the air, the walls and the roof. Dashes +of spray came over with the wind, and the melancholy “Hi, hi!” of the +wheeling gulls came like the voices of ghostly sailor-men hauling at +the halyards. +</P> + +<P> +Paddy was lying on his right side steeped in profound oblivion. His +face was buried in the crook of his right arm, and his brown tattooed +left hand lay on his left thigh, palm upwards. He had no hat, and the +breeze stirred his grizzled hair. +</P> + +<P> +Dick and Emmeline stole up to him till they got right beside him. Then +Emmeline, flashing out a laugh, flung the little wreath of flowers on +the old man’s head, and Dick, popping down on his knees, shouted into +his ear. But the dreamer did not stir or move a finger. +</P> + +<P> +“Paddy,” cried Dick, “wake up! wake up!” +</P> + +<P> +He pulled at the shoulder till the figure from its sideways posture +fell over on its back. The eyes were wide open and staring. The mouth +hung open, and from the mouth darted a little crab; it scuttled over +the chin and dropped on the coral. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline screamed, and screamed, and would have fallen, but the boy +caught her in his arms—one side of the face had been destroyed by the +larvæ of the rocks. +</P> + +<P> +He held her to him as he stared at the terrible figure lying upon its +back, hands outspread. Then, wild with terror, he dragged her towards +the little boat. She was struggling, and panting and gasping, like a +person drowning in ice-cold water. +</P> + +<P> +His one instinct was to escape, to fly—anywhere, no matter where. He +dragged the girl to the coral edge, and pulled the boat up close. Had +the reef suddenly become enveloped in flames he could not have exerted +himself more to escape from it and save his companion. A moment later +they were afloat, and he was pulling wildly for the shore. +</P> + +<P> +He did not know what had happened, nor did he pause to think: he was +fleeing from horror—nameless horror; whilst the child at his feet, +with her head resting against the gunwale, stared up open-eyed and +speechless at the great blue sky, as if at some terror visible there. +The boat grounded on the white sand, and the wash of the incoming tide +drove it up sideways. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline had fallen forward; she had lost consciousness. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0122"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +ALONE +</H3> + +<P> +The idea of spiritual life must be innate in the heart of man, for all +that terrible night, when the children lay huddled together in the +little hut in the chapparel, the fear that filled them was that their +old friend might suddenly darken the entrance and seek to lie down +beside them. +</P> + +<P> +They did not speak about him. Something had been done to him; something +had happened. Something terrible had happened to the world they knew. +But they dared not speak of it or question each other. +</P> + +<P> +Dick had carried his companion to the hut when he left the boat, and +hidden with her there; the evening had come on, and the night, and now +in the darkness, without having tasted food all day, he was telling her +not to be afraid, that he would take care of her. But not a word of +the thing that had happened. +</P> + +<P> +The thing, for them, had no precedent, and no vocabulary. They had come +across death raw and real, uncooked by religion, undeodorised by the +sayings of sages and poets. +</P> + +<P> +They knew nothing of the philosophy that tells us that death is the +common lot, and the natural sequence to birth, or the religion that +teaches us that Death is the door to Life. +</P> + +<P> +A dead old sailor-man lying like a festering carcass on a coral ledge, +eyes staring and glazed and fixed, a wide-open mouth that once had +spoken comforting words, and now spoke living crabs. +</P> + +<P> +That was the vision before them. They did not philosophise about it; +and though they were filled with terror, I do not think it was terror +that held them from speaking about it, but a vague feeling that what +they had beheld was obscene, unspeakable, and a thing to avoid. +</P> + +<P> +Lestrange had brought them up in his own way. He had told them there +was a good God who looked after the world; determined as far as he +could to exclude demonology and sin and death from their knowledge, he +had rested content with the bald statement that there was a good God +who looked after the world, without explaining fully that the same God +would torture them for ever and ever, should they fail to believe in +Him or keep His commandments. +</P> + +<P> +This knowledge of the Almighty, therefore, was but a half knowledge, +the vaguest abstraction. Had they been brought up, however, in the most +strictly Calvinistic school, this knowledge of Him would have been no +comfort now. Belief in God is no comfort to a frightened child. Teach +him as many parrot-like prayers as you please, and in distress or the +dark of what use are they to him? His cry is for his nurse, or his +mother. +</P> + +<P> +During that dreadful night these two children had no comfort to seek +anywhere in the whole wide universe but in each other. She, in a sense +of his protection, he, in a sense of being her protector. The +manliness in him greater and more beautiful than physical strength, +developed in those dark hours just as a plant under extraordinary +circumstances is hurried into bloom. +</P> + +<P> +Towards dawn Emmeline fell asleep. Dick stole out of the hut when he +had assured himself from her regular breathing that she was asleep, +and, pushing the tendrils and the branches of the mammee apples aside, +found the beach. The dawn was just breaking, and the morning breeze was +coming in from the sea. +</P> + +<P> +When he had beached the dinghy the day before, the tide was just at the +flood, and it had left her stranded. The tide was coming in now, and in +a short time it would be far enough up to push her off. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline in the night had implored him to take her away. Take her away +somewhere from there, and he had promised, without knowing in the least +how he was to perform his promise. As he stood looking at the beach, so +desolate and strangely different now from what it was the day before, +an idea of how he could fulfil his promise came to him. He ran down to +where the little boat lay on the shelving sand, with the ripples of the +incoming tide just washing the rudder, which was still shipped. He +unshipped the rudder and came back. +</P> + +<P> +Under a tree, covered with the stay-sail they had brought from the +<i>Shenandoah</i>, lay most of their treasures: old clothes and boots, and all +the other odds and ends. The precious tobacco stitched up in a piece of +canvas was there, and the housewife with the needles and threads. A +hole had been dug in the sand as a sort of cache for them, and the +stay-sail put over them to protect them from the dew. +</P> + +<P> +The sun was now looking over the sea-line, and the tall cocoa-nut trees +were singing and whispering together under the strengthening breeze. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0123"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THEY MOVE AWAY +</H3> + +<P> +He began to collect the things, and carry them to the dinghy. He took +the stay-sail and everything that might be useful; and when he had +stowed them in the boat, he took the breaker and filled it with water +at the water source in the wood; he collected some bananas and +breadfruit, and stowed them in the dinghy with the breaker. Then he +found the remains of yesterday’s breakfast, which he had hidden between +two palmetto leaves, and placed it also in the boat. +</P> + +<P> +The water was now so high that a strong push would float her. He turned +back to the hut for Emmeline. She was still asleep: so soundly asleep, +that when he lifted her up in his arms she made no movement. He placed +her carefully in the stern-sheets with her head on the sail rolled up, +and then standing in the bow pushed off with a scull. Then, taking the +sculls, he turned the boat’s head up the lagoon to the left. He kept +close to the shore, but for the life of him he could not help lifting +his eyes and looking towards the reef. +</P> + +<P> +Round a certain spot on the distant white coral there was a great +commotion of birds. Huge birds some of them seemed, and the “Hi! hi! +hi!” of them came across the lagoon on the breeze as they quarrelled +together and beat the air with their wings. He turned his head away +till a bend of the shore hid the spot from sight. +</P> + +<P> +Here, sheltered more completely than opposite the break in the reef, +the artu trees came in places right down to the water’s edge; the breadfruit +trees cast the shadow of their great scalloped leaves upon the water; +glades, thick with fern, wildernesses of the mammee apple, and bushes +of the scarlet “wild cocoa-nut” all slipped by, as the dinghy, hugging +the shore, crept up the lagoon. +</P> + +<P> +Gazing at the shore edge one might have imagined it the edge of a lake, +but for the thunder of the Pacific upon the distant reef; and even that +did not destroy the impression, but only lent a strangeness to it. +</P> + +<P> +A lake in the midst of the ocean, that is what the lagoon really was. +</P> + +<P> +Here and there cocoa-nut trees slanted over the water, mirroring their +delicate stems, and tracing their clear-cut shadows on the sandy bottom +a fathom deep below. +</P> + +<P> +He kept close in-shore for the sake of the shelter of the trees. His +object was to find some place where they might stop permanently, and +put up a tent. He was seeking a new home, in fact. But, pretty as were +the glades they passed, they were not attractive places to live in. +There were too many trees, or the ferns were too deep. He was seeking +air and space, and suddenly he found it. Rounding a little cape, all +blazing with the scarlet of the wild cocoa-nut, the dinghy broke into a +new world. +</P> + +<P> +Before her lay a great sweep of the palest blue wind-swept water, down +to which came a broad green sward of park-like land set on either side +with deep groves, and leading up and away to higher land, where, above +the massive and motionless green of the great breadfruit trees, the +palm trees swayed and fluttered their pale green feathers in the +breeze. The pale colour of the water was due to the extreme shallowness +of the lagoon just here. So shallow was it that one could see brown +spaces indicating beds of dead and rotten coral, and splashes of +darkest sapphire where the deep pools lay. The reef lay more than half +a mile from the shore: a great way out, it seemed, so far out that its +cramping influence was removed, and one had the impression of wide and +unbroken sea. +</P> + +<P> +Dick rested on his oars, and let the dinghy float whilst he looked +around him. He had come some four miles and a half, and this was right +at the back of the island. As the boat drifting shoreward touched the +bank, Emmeline awakened from her sleep, sat up, and looked around her. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0201"></A> +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +BOOK II +</H2> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +PART I +</H2> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER I +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +UNDER THE ARTU TREE +</H3> + +<P> +On the edge of the green sward, between a diamond-chequered artu trunk +and the massive bole of a breadfruit, a house had come into being. It +was not much larger than a big hen-house, but quite sufficient for the +needs of two people in a climate of eternal summer. It was built of +bamboos, and thatched with a double thatch of palmetto leaves, so +neatly built, and so well thatched, that one might have fancied it the +production of several skilled workmen. +</P> + +<P> +The breadfruit tree was barren of fruit, as these trees sometimes are, +whole groves of them ceasing to bear for some mysterious reason only +known to Nature. It was green now, but when suffering its yearly change +the great scalloped leaves would take all imaginable tinges of gold and +bronze and amber. Beyond the artu was a little clearing, where the +chapparel had been carefully removed and taro roots planted. +</P> + +<P> +Stepping from the house doorway on to the sward you might have fancied +yourself, except for the tropical nature of the foliage, in some +English park. +</P> + +<P> +Looking to the right, the eye became lost in the woods, where all tints +of green were tinging the foliage, and the bushes of the wild cocoa-nut +burned scarlet as haw-berries. +</P> + +<P> +The house had a doorway, but no door. It might have been said to have a +double roof, for the breadfruit foliage above gave good shelter during +the rains. Inside it was bare enough. Dried, sweet-smelling ferns +covered the floor. Two sails, rolled up, lay on either side of the +doorway. There was a rude shelf attached to one of the walls, and on +the shelf some bowls made of cocoa-nut shell. The people to whom the +place belonged evidently did not trouble it much with their presence, +using it only at night, and as a refuge from the dew. +</P> + +<P> +Sitting on the grass by the doorway, sheltered by the breadfruit shade, +yet with the hot rays of the afternoon sun just touching her naked +feet, was a girl. A girl of fifteen or sixteen, naked, except for a +kilt of gaily-striped material reaching from her waist to her knees. +Her long black hair was drawn back from the forehead, and tied behind +with a loop of the elastic vine. A scarlet blossom was stuck behind her +right ear, after the fashion of a clerk’s pen. Her face was beautiful, +powdered with tiny freckles; especially under the eyes, which were of a +deep, tranquil blue-grey. She half sat, half lay on her left side; +whilst before her, quite close, strutted up and down on the grass, a +bird, with blue plumage, coral-red beak, and bright, watchful eyes. +</P> + +<P> +The girl was Emmeline Lestrange. Just by her elbow stood a little bowl +made from half a cocoa-nut, and filled with some white substance with +which she was feeding the bird. Dick had found it in the woods two +years ago, quite small, deserted by its mother, and starving. They had +fed it and tamed it, and it was now one of the family; roosting on the +roof at night, and appearing regularly at meal times. +</P> + +<P> +All at once she held out her hand; the bird flew into the air, lit on +her forefinger and balanced itself, sinking its head between its +shoulders, and uttering the sound which formed its entire vocabulary +and one means of vocal expression—a sound from which it had derived +its name. +</P> + +<P> +“Koko,” said Emmeline, “where is Dick?” +</P> + +<P> +The bird turned his head about, as if he were searching for his master; +and the girl lay back lazily on the grass, laughing, and holding him up +poised on her finger, as if he were some enamelled jewel she wished to +admire at a little distance. They made a pretty picture under the +cave-like shadow of the breadfruit leaves; and it was difficult to +understand how this young girl, so perfectly formed, so fully +developed, and so beautiful, had evolved from plain little Emmeline +Lestrange. And the whole thing, as far as the beauty of her was +concerned, had happened during the last six months. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0202"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER II +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +HALF CHILD—HALF SAVAGE +</H3> + +<P> +Five rainy seasons had passed and gone since the tragic occurrence on +the reef. Five long years the breakers had thundered, and the sea-gulls +had cried round the figure whose spell had drawn a mysterious barrier +across the lagoon. +</P> + +<P> +The children had never returned to the old place. They had kept +entirely to the back of the island and the woods—the lagoon, down to a +certain point, and the reef; a wide enough and beautiful enough world, +but a hopeless world, as far as help from civilisation was concerned. +For, of the few ships that touched at the island in the course of +years, how many would explore the lagoon or woods? Perhaps not one. +</P> + +<P> +Occasionally Dick would make an excursion in the dinghy to the old +place, but Emmeline refused to accompany him. He went chiefly to obtain +bananas; for on the whole island there was but one clump of banana +trees—that near the water source in the wood, where the old green +skulls had been discovered, and the little barrel. +</P> + +<P> +She had never quite recovered from the occurrence on the reef. +Something had been shown to her, the purport of which she vaguely +understood, and it had filled her with horror and a terror of the place +where it had occurred. Dick was quite different. He had been frightened +enough at first; but the feeling wore away in time. +</P> + +<P> +Dick had built three houses in succession during the five years. He had +laid out a patch of taro and another of sweet potatoes. He knew every +pool on the reef for two miles either way, and the forms of their +inhabitants; and though he did not know the names of the creatures to +be found there, he made a profound study of their habits. +</P> + +<P> +He had seen some astonishing things during these five years—from a +fight between a whale and two thrashers conducted outside the reef, +lasting an hour, and dyeing the breaking waves with blood, to the +poisoning of the fish in the lagoon by fresh water, due to an +extraordinarily heavy rainy season. +</P> + +<P> +He knew the woods of the back of the island by heart, and the forms of +life that inhabited them—butterflies, and moths, and birds, lizards, and +insects of strange shape; extraordinary orchids—some filthy-looking, +the very image of corruption, some beautiful, and all strange. He found +melons and guavas, and breadfruit, the red apple of Tahiti, and the +great Brazilian plum, taro in plenty, and a dozen other good +things—but there were no bananas. This made him unhappy at times, for +he was human. +</P> + +<P> +Though Emmeline had asked Koko for Dick’s whereabouts, it was only a +remark made by way of making conversation, for she could hear him in +the little cane-brake which lay close by amidst the trees. +</P> + +<P> +In a few minutes he appeared, dragging after him two canes which he had +just cut, and wiping the perspiration off his brow with his naked arm. +He had an old pair of trousers on—part of the truck salved long ago +from the <i>Shenandoah</i>—nothing else, and he was well worth looking at and +considering, both from a physical and psychological point of view. +</P> + +<P> +Auburn-haired and tall, looking more like seventeen than sixteen, with +a restless and daring expression, half a child, half a man, half a +civilised being, half a savage, he had both progressed and retrograded +during the five years of savage life. He sat down beside Emmeline, +flung the canes beside him, tried the edge of the old butcher’s knife +with which he had cut them, then, taking one of the canes across his +knee, he began whittling at it. +</P> + +<P> +“What are you making?” asked Emmeline, releasing the bird, which flew +into one of the branches of the artu and rested there, a blue point +amidst the dark green. +</P> + +<P> +“Fish-spear,” replied Dick. +</P> + +<P> +Without being taciturn, he rarely wasted words. Life was all business +for him. He would talk to Emmeline, but always in short sentences; and +he had developed the habit of talking to inanimate things, to the +fish-spear he was carving, or the bowl he was fashioning from a +cocoa-nut. +</P> + +<P> +As for Emmeline, even as a child she had never been talkative. There +was something mysterious in her personality, something secretive. Her +mind seemed half submerged in twilight. Though she spoke little, and +though the subject of their conversations was almost entirely material +and relative to their everyday needs, her mind would wander into +abstract fields and the land of chimerae and dreams. What she found +there no one knew—least of all, perhaps, herself. +</P> + +<P> +As for Dick, he would sometimes talk and mutter to himself, as if in a +reverie; but if you caught the words, you would find that they referred +to no abstraction, but to some trifle he had on hand. He seemed +entirely bound up in the moment, and to have forgotten the past as +completely as though it had never been. +</P> + +<P> +Yet he had his contemplative moods. He would lie with his face over a +rock-pool by the hour, watching the strange forms of life to be seen +there, or sit in the woods motionless as a stone, watching the birds +and the swift-slipping lizards. The birds came so close that he could +easily have knocked them over, but he never hurt one or interfered in +any way with the wild life of the woods. +</P> + +<P> +The island, the lagoon, and the reef were for him the three volumes of +a great picture book, as they were for Emmeline, though in a different +manner. The colour and the beauty of it all fed some mysterious want in +her soul. Her life was a long reverie, a beautiful vision—troubled +with shadows. Across all the blue and coloured spaces that meant months +and years she could still see as in a glass dimly the <i>Northumberland</i>, +smoking against the wild background of fog; her uncle’s face, Boston—a +vague and dark picture beyond a storm—and nearer, the tragic form on +the reef that still haunted terribly her dreams. But she never spoke of +these things to Dick. Just as she kept the secret of what was in her +box, and the secret of her trouble whenever she lost it, she kept the +secret of her feelings about these things. +</P> + +<P> +Born of these things there remained with her always a vague terror: the +terror of losing Dick. Mrs Stannard, her uncle, the dim people she had +known in Boston, all had passed away out of her life like a dream and +shadows. The other one too, most horribly. What if Dick were taken +from her as well? +</P> + +<P> +This haunting trouble had been with her a long time; up to a few months +ago it had been mainly personal and selfish—the dread of being left +alone. But lately it had altered and become more acute. Dick had +changed in her eyes, and the fear was now for him. Her own personality +had suddenly and strangely become merged in his. The idea of life +without him was unthinkable, yet the trouble remained, a menace in the +blue. +</P> + +<P> +Some days it would be worse than others. To-day, for instance, it was +worse than yesterday, as though some danger had crept close to them +during the night. Yet the sky and sea were stainless, the sun shone on +tree and flower, the west wind brought the tune of the far-away reef +like a lullaby. There was nothing to hint of danger or the need of +distrust. +</P> + +<P> +At last Dick finished his spear and rose to his feet. +</P> + +<P> +“Where are you going?” asked Emmeline. +</P> + +<P> +“The reef,” he replied. “The tide’s going out.” +</P> + +<P> +“I’ll go with you,” said she. +</P> + +<P> +He went into the house and stowed the precious knife away. Then he came +out, spear in one hand, and half a fathom of liana in the other. The +liana was for the purpose of stringing the fish on, should the catch be +large. He led the way down the grassy sward to the lagoon where the +dinghy lay, close up to the bank, and moored to a post driven into the +soft soil. Emmeline got in, and, taking the sculls, he pushed off. The +tide was going out. +</P> + +<P> +I have said that the reef just here lay a great way out from the shore. +The lagoon was so shallow that at low tide one could have waded almost +right across it, were it not for pot-holes here and there—ten-feet +traps—and great beds of rotten coral, into which one would sink as +into brushwood, to say nothing of the nettle coral that stings like a +bed of nettles. There were also other dangers. Tropical shallows are +full of wild surprises in the way of life—and death. +</P> + +<P> +Dick had long ago marked out in his memory the soundings of the lagoon, +and it was fortunate that he possessed the special sense of location +which is the main stand-by of the hunter and the savage, for, from the +disposition of the coral in ribs, the water from the shore edge to the +reef ran in lanes. Only two of these lanes gave a clear, fair way from +the shore edge to the reef; had you followed the others, even in a boat +of such shallow draught as the dinghy, you would have found yourself +stranded half-way across, unless, indeed, it were a spring tide. +</P> + +<P> +Half-way across the sound of the surf on the barrier became louder, and +the everlasting and monotonous cry of the gulls came on the breeze. It +was lonely out here, and, looking back, the shore seemed a great way +off. It was lonelier still on the reef. +</P> + +<P> +Dick tied up the boat to a projection of coral, and helped Emmeline to +land. The sun was creeping down into the west, the tide was nearly half +out, and large pools of water lay glittering like burnished shields in +the sunlight. Dick, with his precious spear beside him, sat calmly down +on a ledge of coral, and began to divest himself of his one and only +garment. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline turned away her head and contemplated the distant shore, which +seemed thrice as far off as it was in reality. When she turned her head +again he was racing along the edge of the surf. He and his spear +silhouetted against the spindrift and dazzling foam formed a picture +savage enough, and well in keeping with the general desolation of the +background. She watched him lie down and cling to a piece of coral, +whilst the surf rushed round and over him, and then rise and shake +himself like a dog, and pursue his gambols, his body all glittering +with the wet. +</P> + +<P> +Sometimes a whoop would come on the breeze, mixing with the sound of +the surf and the cry of the gulls, and she would see him plunge his +spear into a pool, and the next moment the spear would be held aloft +with something struggling and glittering at the end of it. +</P> + +<P> +He was quite different out here on the reef to what he was ashore. The +surroundings here seemed to develop all that was savage in him, in a +startling way; and he would kill, and kill, just for the pleasure of +killing, destroying more fish than they could possibly use. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0203"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER III +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE DEMON OF THE REEF +</H3> + +<P> +The romance of coral has still to be written. There still exists a +widespread opinion that the coral reef and the coral island are the +work of an “insect.” This fabulous insect, accredited with the genius +of Brunel and the patience of Job, has been humorously enough held up +before the children of many generations as an example of industry—a +thing to be admired, a model to be followed. +</P> + +<P> +As a matter of fact, nothing could be more slothful or slow, more given +up to a life of ease and degeneracy, than the “reef-building +polypifer”—to give him his scientific name. He is the hobo of the +animal world, but, unlike the hobo, he does not even tramp for a +living. He exists as a sluggish and gelatinous worm; he attracts to +himself calcareous elements from the water to make himself a +house—mark you, the sea does the building—he dies, and he leaves his +house behind him—and a reputation for industry, beside which the +reputation of the ant turns pale, and that of the bee becomes of little +account. +</P> + +<P> +On a coral reef you are treading on rock that the reef-building +polypifers of ages have left behind them as evidences of their idle and +apparently useless lives. You might fancy that the reef is formed of +dead rock, but it is not: that is where the wonder of the thing comes +in—a coral reef is half alive. If it were not, it would not resist the +action of the sea ten years. The live part of the reef is just where +the breakers come in and beyond. The gelatinous rock-building +polypifers die almost at once, if exposed to the sun or if left +uncovered by water. +</P> + +<P> +Sometimes, at very low tide, if you have courage enough to risk being +swept away by the breakers, going as far out on the reef as you can, +you may catch a glimpse of them in their living state—great mounds and +masses of what seems rock, but which is a honeycomb of coral, whose +cells are filled with the living polypifers. Those in the uppermost +cells are usually dead, but lower down they are living. +</P> + +<P> +Always dying, always being renewed, devoured by fish, attacked by the +sea—that is the life of a coral reef. It is a thing as living as a +cabbage or a tree. Every storm tears a piece off the reef, which the +living coral replaces; wounds occur in it which actually granulate and +heal as wounds do of the human body. +</P> + +<P> +There is nothing, perhaps, more mysterious in nature than this fact of +the existence of a living land: a land that repairs itself, when +injured, by vital processes, and resists the eternal attack of the sea +by vital force, especially when we think of the extent of some of these +lagoon islands or atolls, whose existences are an eternal battle with +the waves. +</P> + +<P> +Unlike the island of this story (which is an island surrounded by a +barrier reef of coral surrounding a space of sea—the lagoon), the reef +forms the island. The reef may be grown over by trees, or it may be +perfectly destitute of important vegetation, or it may be crusted with +islets. Some islets may exist within the lagoon, but as often as not it +is just a great empty lake floored with sand and coral, peopled with +life different to the life of the outside ocean, protected from the +waves, and reflecting the sky like a mirror. +</P> + +<P> +When we remember that the atoll is a living thing, an organic whole, as +full of life, though not so highly organised, as a tortoise, the +meanest imagination must be struck with the immensity of one of the +structures. +</P> + +<P> +Vliegen atoll in the Low Archipelago, measured from lagoon edge to +lagoon edge, is sixty miles long by twenty miles broad, at its broadest +part. In the Marshall Archipelago, Rimsky Korsacoff is fifty-four miles +long and twenty miles broad; and Rimsky Korsacoff is a living thing, +secreting, excreting, and growing—more highly organised than the +cocoa-nut trees that grow upon its back, or the blossoms that powder +the hotoo trees in its groves. +</P> + +<P> +The story of coral is the story of a world, and the longest chapter in +that story concerns itself with coral’s infinite variety and form. +</P> + +<P> +Out on the margin of the reef where Dick was spearing fish, you might +have seen a peach-blossom-coloured lichen on the rock. This lichen was +a form of coral. Coral growing upon coral, and in the pools at the edge +of the surf branching corals also of the colour of a peach bloom. +</P> + +<P> +Within a hundred yards of where Emmeline was sitting, the pools +contained corals of all colours, from lake-red to pure white, and the +lagoon behind her—corals of the quaintest and strangest forms. +</P> + +<P> +Dick had speared several fish, and had left them lying on the reef to +be picked up later on. Tired of killing, he was now wandering along, +examining the various living things he came across. +</P> + +<P> +Huge slugs inhabited the reef, slugs as big as parsnips, and somewhat +of the same shape; they were a species of Bech de mer. Globe-shaped +jelly-fish as big as oranges, great cuttlefish bones flat and shining +and white, shark’s teeth, spines of echini; sometimes a dead scarus +fish, its stomach distended with bits of coral on which it had been +feeding; crabs, sea urchins, sea-weeds of strange colour and shape; +star-fish, some tiny and of the colour of cayenne pepper, some huge and +pale. These and a thousand other things, beautiful or strange, were to +be found on the reef. +</P> + +<P> +Dick had laid his spear down, and was exploring a deep bath-like pool. +He had waded up to his knees, and was in the act of wading further when +he was suddenly seized by the foot. It was just as if his ankle had +been suddenly caught in a clove hitch and the rope drawn tight. He +screamed out with pain and terror, and suddenly and viciously a +whip-lash shot out from the water, lassoed him round the left knee, +drew itself taut, and held him. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0204"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +WHAT BEAUTY CONCEALED +</H3> + +<P> +Emmeline, seated on the coral rock, had almost forgotten Dick for a +moment. The sun was setting, and the warm amber light of the sunset +shone on reef and rock-pool. Just at sunset and low tide the reef had a +peculiar fascination for her. It had the low-tide smell of sea-weed +exposed to the air, and the torment and trouble of the breakers seemed +eased. Before her, and on either side, the foam-dashed coral glowed in +amber and gold, and the great Pacific came glassing and glittering in, +voiceless and peaceful, till it reached the strand and burst into song +and spray. +</P> + +<P> +Here, just as on the hill-top at the other side of the island, you +could mark the rhythm of the rollers. “Forever, and forever—forever, +and forever,” they seemed to say. +</P> + +<P> +The cry of the gulls came mixed with the spray on the breeze. They +haunted the reef like uneasy spirits, always complaining, never at +rest; but at sunset their cry seemed farther away and less melancholy, +perhaps because just then the whole island world seemed bathed in the +spirit of peace. +</P> + +<P> +She turned from the sea prospect and looked backwards over the lagoon +to the island. She could make out the broad green glade beside which +their little house lay, and a spot of yellow, which was the thatch of +the house, just by the artu tree, and nearly hidden by the shadow of +the breadfruit. Over the woods the fronds of the great cocoa-nut palms +showed above every other tree silhouetted against the dim, dark blue of +the eastern sky. +</P> + +<P> +Seen by the enchanted light of sunset, the whole picture had an unreal +look, more lovely than a dream. At dawn—and Dick would often start for +the reef before dawn, if the tide served—the picture was as beautiful; +more so, perhaps, for over the island, all in shadow, and against the +stars, you would see the palm-tops catching fire, and then the light of +day coming through the green trees and blue sky, like a spirit, across +the blue lagoon, widening and strengthening as it widened, across the +white foam, out over the sea, spreading like a fan, till, all at once, +night was day, and the gulls were crying and the breakers flashing, the +dawn wind blowing, and the palm trees bending, as palm trees only know +how. Emmeline always imagined herself alone on the island with Dick, +but beauty was there, too, and beauty is a great companion. +</P> + +<P> +The girl was contemplating the scene before her. Nature in her +friendliest mood seemed to say, “Behold me! Men call me cruel; men have +called me deceitful, even treacherous. <I>I</I>—ah well! my answer is, +‘Behold me!’” +</P> + +<P> +The girl was contemplating the specious beauty of it all, when on the +breeze from seaward came a shout. She turned quickly. There was Dick up +to his knees in a rock-pool a hundred yards or so away, motionless, his +arms upraised, and crying out for help. She sprang to her feet. +</P> + +<P> +There had once been an islet on this part of the reef, a tiny thing, +consisting of a few palms and a handful of vegetation, and destroyed, +perhaps, in some great storm. I mention this because the existence of +this islet once upon a time was the means, indirectly, of saving Dick’s +life; for where these islets have been or are, “flats” occur on the +reef formed of coral conglomerate. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline in her bare feet could never have reached him in time over +rough coral, but, fortunately, this flat and comparatively smooth +surface lay between them. +</P> + +<P> +“My spear!” shouted Dick, as she approached. +</P> + +<P> +He seemed at first tangled in brambles; then she thought ropes were +tangling round him and tying him to something in the water—whatever it +was, it was most awful, and hideous, and like a nightmare. She ran with +the speed of Atalanta to the rock where the spear was resting, all red +with the blood of new-slain fish, a foot from the point. +</P> + +<P> +As she approached Dick, spear in hand, she saw, gasping with terror, +that the ropes were alive, and that they were flickering and rippling +over his back. One of them bound his left arm to his side, but his +right arm was free. +</P> + +<P> +“Quick!” he shouted. +</P> + +<P> +In a second the spear was in his free hand, and Emmeline had cast +herself down on her knees, and was staring with terrified eyes into the +water of the pool from whence the ropes issued. She was, despite her +terror, quite prepared to fling herself in and do battle with the +thing, whatever it might be. +</P> + +<P> +What she saw was only for a second. In the deep water of the pool, +gazing up and forward and straight at Dick, she saw a face, lugubrious +and awful. The eyes were wide as saucers, stony and steadfast; a large, +heavy, parrot-like beak hung before the eyes, and worked and wobbled, +and seemed to beckon. But what froze one’s heart was the expression of +the eyes, so stony and lugubrious, so passionless, so devoid of +speculation, yet so fixed of purpose and full of fate. +</P> + +<P> +From away far down he had risen with the rising tide. He had been +feeding on crabs, when the tide, betraying him, had gone out, leaving +him trapped in the rock-pool. He had slept, perhaps, and awakened to +find a being, naked and defenceless, invading his pool. He was quite +small, as octopods go, and young, yet he was large and powerful enough +to have drowned an ox. +</P> + +<P> +The octopod has only been described once, in stone, by a Japanese +artist. The statue is still extant, and it is the most terrible +masterpiece of sculpture ever executed by human hands. It represents a +man who has been bathing on a low-tide beach, and has been caught. The +man is shouting in a delirium of terror, and threatening with his free +arm the spectre that has him in its grip. The eyes of the octopod are +fixed upon the man—passionless and lugubrious eyes, but steadfast and +fixed. +</P> + +<P> +Another whip-lash shot out of the water in a shower of spray, and +seized Dick by the left thigh. At the same instant he drove the point +of the spear through the right eye of the monster, deep down through +eye and soft gelatinous carcass till the spear-point dirled and +splintered against the rock. At the same moment the water of the pool +became black as ink, the bands around him relaxed, and he was free. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline rose up and seized him, sobbing and clinging to him, and +kissing him. He clasped her with his left arm round her body, as if to +protect her, but it was a mechanical action. He was not thinking of +her. Wild with rage, and uttering hoarse cries, he plunged the broken +spear again and again into the depths of the pool, seeking utterly to +destroy the enemy that had so lately had him in its grip. Then slowly +he came to himself, and wiped his forehead, and looked at the broken +spear in his hand. +</P> + +<P> +“Beast!” he said. “Did you see its eyes? Did you see its eyes? I wish +it had a hundred eyes, and I had a hundred spears to drive into them!” +</P> + +<P> +She was clinging to him, and sobbing and laughing hysterically, and +praising him. One might have thought that he had rescued her from +death, not she him. +</P> + +<P> +The sun had nearly vanished, and he led her back to where the dinghy +was moored recapturing and putting on his trousers on the road. He +picked up the dead fish he had speared; and as he rowed her back across +the lagoon, he talked and laughed, recounting the incidents of the +fight, taking all the glory of the thing to himself, and seeming quite +to ignore the important part she had played in it. +</P> + +<P> +This was not from any callousness or want of gratitude, but simply from +the fact that for the last five years he had been the be-all and +end-all of their tiny community—the Imperial master. And he would +just as soon have thought of thanking her for handing him the spear as +of thanking his right hand for driving it home. She was quite content, +seeking neither thanks nor praise. Everything she had came from him: +she was his shadow and his slave. He was her sun. +</P> + +<P> +He went over the fight again and again before they lay down to rest, +telling her he had done this and that, and what he would do to the next +beast of the sort. The reiteration was tiresome enough, or would have +been to an outside listener, but to Emmeline it was better than Homer. +People’s minds do not improve in an intellectual sense when they are +isolated from the world, even though they are living the wild and happy +lives of savages. +</P> + +<P> +Then Dick lay down in the dried ferns and covered himself with a piece +of the striped flannel which they used for blanketing, and he snored, +and chattered in his sleep like a dog hunting imaginary game, and +Emmeline lay beside him wakeful and thinking. A new terror had come +into her life. She had seen death for the second time, but this time +active and in being. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0205"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER V +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE SOUND OF A DRUM +</H3> + +<P> +The next day Dick was sitting under the shade of the artu. He had the +box of fishhooks beside him, and he was bending a line on to one of +them. There had originally been a couple of dozen hooks, large and +small, in the box; there remained now only six—four small and two +large ones. It was a large one he was fixing to the line, for he +intended going on the morrow to the old place to fetch some bananas, +and on the way to try for a fish in the deeper parts of the lagoon. +</P> + +<P> +It was late afternoon, and the heat had gone out of the day. Emmeline, +seated on the grass opposite to him, was holding the end of the line, +whilst he got the kinks out of it, when suddenly she raised her head. +</P> + +<P> +There was not a breath of wind; the hush of the far-distant surf came +through the blue weather—the only audible sound except, now and then, +a movement and flutter from the bird perched in the branches of the +artu. All at once another sound mixed itself with the voice of the +surf—a faint, throbbing sound, like the beating of a distant drum. +</P> + +<P> +“Listen!” said Emmeline. +</P> + +<P> +Dick paused for a moment in his work. All the sounds of the island were +familiar: this was something quite strange. +</P> + +<P> +Faint and far away, now rapid, now slow; coming from where, who could +say? Sometimes it seemed to come from the sea, sometimes, if the fancy +of the listener turned that way, from the woods. As they listened, a +sigh came from overhead; the evening breeze had risen and was moving in +the leaves of the artu tree. Just as you might wipe a picture off a +slate, the breeze banished the sound. Dick went on with his work. +</P> + +<P> +Next morning early he embarked in the dinghy. He took the hook and line +with him, and some raw fish for bait. Emmeline helped him to push off, +and stood on the bank waving her hand as he rounded the little cape +covered with wild cocoa-nut. +</P> + +<P> +These expeditions of Dick’s were one of her sorrows. To be left alone +was frightful; yet she never complained. She was living in a paradise, +but something told her that behind all that sun, all that splendour of +blue sea and sky, behind the flowers and the leaves, behind all that +specious and simpering appearance of happiness in nature, lurked a +frown, and the dragon of mischance. +</P> + +<P> +Dick rowed for about a mile, then he shipped his sculls, and let the +dinghy float. The water here was very deep; so deep that, despite its +clearness, the bottom was invisible; the sunlight over the reef struck +through it diagonally, filling it with sparkles. +</P> + +<P> +The fisherman baited his hook with a piece from the belly of a scarus +and lowered it down out of sight, then he belayed the line to a thole +pin, and, sitting in the bottom of the boat, hung his head over the +side and gazed deep down into the water. Sometimes there was nothing to +see but just the deep blue of the water. Then a flight of spangled +arrowheads would cross the line of sight and vanish, pursued by a form +like a moving bar of gold. Then a great fish would materialise itself +and hang in the shadow of the boat motionless as a stone, save for the +movement of its gills; next moment with a twist of the tail it would be +gone. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly the dinghy shored over, and might have capsized, only for the +fact that Dick was sitting on the opposite side to the side from which +the line hung. Then the boat righted; the line slackened, and the +surface of the lagoon, a few fathoms away, boiled as if being stirred +from below by a great silver stick. He had hooked an albicore. He tied +the end of the fishing-line to a scull, undid the line from the thole +pin, and flung the scull overboard. +</P> + +<P> +He did all this with wonderful rapidity, while the line was still +slack. Next moment the scull was rushing over the surface of the +lagoon, now towards the reef, now towards the shore, now flat, now end +up. Now it would be jerked under the surface entirely; vanish for a +moment, and then reappear. It was a most astonishing thing to watch, +for the scull seemed alive—viciously alive, and imbued with some +destructive purpose; as, in fact, it was. The most venomous of living +things, and the most intelligent could not have fought the great fish +better. +</P> + +<P> +The albicore would make a frantic dash down the lagoon, hoping, +perhaps, to find in the open sea a release from his foe. Then, half +drowned with the pull of the scull, he would pause, dart from side to +side in perplexity, and then make an equally frantic dash up the +lagoon, to be checked in the same manner. Seeking the deepest depths, +he would sink the scull a few fathoms; and once he sought the air, +leaping into the sunlight like a crescent of silver, whilst the splash +of him as he fell echoed amidst the trees bordering the lagoon. An hour +passed before the great fish showed signs of weakening. +</P> + +<P> +The struggle had taken place up to this close to the shore, but now the +scull swam out into the broad sheet of sunlit water, and slowly began +to describe large circles rippling up the peaceful blue into flashing +wavelets. It was a melancholy sight to watch, for the great fish had +made a good fight, and one could see him, through the eye of +imagination, beaten, half drowned, dazed, and moving as is the fashion +of dazed things in a circle. +</P> + +<P> +Dick, working the remaining oar at the stern of the boat, rowed out and +seized the floating scull, bringing it on board. Foot by foot he hauled +his catch towards the boat till the long gleaming line of the thing +came dimly into view. +</P> + +<P> +The fight had been heard for miles through the lagoon water by all +sorts of swimming things. The lord of the place had got sound of it. A +dark fin rippled the water; and as Dick, pulling on his line, hauled +his catch closer, a monstrous grey shadow stained the depths, and the +glittering streak that was the albicore vanished as if engulfed in a +cloud. The line came in slack, and Dick hauled in the albicore’s head. +It had been divided from the body as if with a huge pair of shears. The +grey shadow slipped by the boat, and Dick, mad with rage, shouted and +shook his fist at it; then, seizing the albicore’s head, from which he +had taken the hook, he hurled it at the monster in the water. +</P> + +<P> +The great shark, with a movement of the tail that caused the water to +swirl and the dinghy to rock, turned upon his back and engulfed the +head; then he slowly sank and vanished, just as if he had been +dissolved. He had come off best in this their first encounter—such as +it was. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0206"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +SAILS UPON THE SEA +</H3> + +<P> +Dick put the hook away and took to the sculls. He had a three-mile row +before him, and the tide was coming in, which did not make it any the +easier. As he rowed, he talked and grumbled to himself. He had been in +a grumbling mood for some time past: the chief cause, Emmeline. +</P> + +<P> +In the last few months she had changed; even her face had changed. A +new person had come upon the island, it seemed to him, and taken the +place of the Emmeline he had known from earliest childhood. This one +looked different. He did not know that she had grown beautiful, he just +knew that she looked different; also she had developed new ways that +displeased him—she would go off and bathe by herself, for instance. +</P> + +<P> +Up to six months or so ago he had been quite contented; sleeping and +eating, and hunting for food and cooking it, building and rebuilding +the house, exploring the woods and the reef. But lately a spirit of +restlessness had come upon him; he did not know exactly what he wanted. +He had a vague feeling that he wanted to go away from the place where +he was; not from the island, but from the place where they had pitched +their tent, or rather built their house. +</P> + +<P> +It may have been the spirit of civilisation crying out in him, telling +him of all he was missing. Of the cities, and the streets, and the +houses, and the businesses, and the striving after gold, the striving +after power. It may have been simply the man in him crying out for +Love, and not knowing yet that Love was at his elbow. +</P> + +<P> +The dinghy glided along, hugging the shore, past the little glades of +fern and the cathedral gloom of the breadfruit; then, rounding a +promontory, she opened the view of the break in the reef. A little bit +of the white strand was visible, but he was not looking that way—he +was looking towards the reef at a tiny, dark spot, not noticeable +unless searched for by the eye. Always when he came on these +expeditions, just here, he would hang on his oars and gaze over there, +where the gulls were flying and the breakers thundering. +</P> + +<P> +A few years ago the spot filled him with dread as well as curiosity, +but from familiarity and the dullness that time casts on everything, +the dread had almost vanished, but the curiosity remained: the +curiosity that makes a child look on at the slaughter of an animal even +though his soul revolts at it. He gazed for a while, then he went on +pulling, and the dinghy approached the beach. +</P> + +<P> +Something had happened on the beach. The sand was all trampled, and +stained red here and there; in the centre lay the remains of a great +fire still smouldering, and just where the water lapped the sand, lay +two deep grooves as if two heavy boats had been beached there. A South +Sea man would have told from the shape of the grooves, and the little +marks of the out-riggers, that two heavy canoes had been beached there. +And they had. +</P> + +<P> +The day before, early in the afternoon, two canoes, possibly from that +far-away island which cast a stain on the horizon to the +sou’-sou’-west, had entered the lagoon, one in pursuit of the other. +</P> + +<P> +What happened then had better be left veiled. A war drum with a +shark-skin head had set the woods throbbing; the victory was celebrated +all night, and at dawn the victors manned the two canoes and set sail +for the home, or the hell, they had come from. Had you examined the strand +you would have found that a line had been drawn across the beach, +beyond which there were no footmarks: that meant that the rest of the +island was for some reason <i>tabu</i>. +</P> + +<P> +Dick pulled the nose of the boat up a bit on the strand, then he looked +around him. He picked up a broken spear that had been cast away or +forgotten; it was made of some hard wood and barbed with iron. On the +right-hand side of the beach something lay between the cocoa-nut trees. +He approached; it was a mass of offal; the entrails of a dozen sheep +seemed cast here in one mound, yet there were no sheep on the island, +and sheep are not carried as a rule in war canoes. +</P> + +<P> +The sand on the beach was eloquent. The foot pursuing and the foot +pursued; the knee of the fallen one, and then the forehead and +outspread hands; the heel of the chief who has slain his enemy, beaten +the body flat, burst a hole through it through which he has put his +head, and who stands absolutely wearing his enemy as a cloak; the head +of the man dragged on his back to be butchered like a sheep—of these +things spoke the sand. +</P> + +<P> +As far as the sand traces could speak, the story of the battle was +still being told; the screams and the shouting, the clashing of clubs +and spears were gone, yet the ghost of the fight remained. +</P> + +<P> +If the sand could bear such traces, and tell such tales, who shall say +that the plastic æther was destitute of the story of the fight and the +butchery? +</P> + +<P> +However that may have been, Dick, looking around him, had the shivering +sense of having just escaped from danger. Whoever had been, had +gone—he could tell that by the canoe traces. Gone either out to sea, +or up the right stretch of the lagoon. It was important to determine +this. +</P> + +<P> +He climbed to the hill-top and swept the sea with his eyes. There, away +to the south-west, far away on the sea, he could distinguish the brown +sails of two canoes. There was something indescribably mournful and +lonely in their appearance; they looked like withered leaves—brown +moths blown to sea—derelicts of autumn. Then, remembering the beach, +these things became freighted with the most sinister thoughts for the +mind of the gazer. They were hurrying away, having done their work. +That they looked lonely and old and mournful, and like withered leaves +blown across the sea, only heightened the horror. +</P> + +<P> +Dick had never seen canoes before, but he knew that these things were +boats of some sort holding people, and that the people had left all +those traces on the beach. How much of the horror of the thing was +revealed to his subconscious intelligence, who can say? +</P> + +<P> +He had climbed the boulder, and he now sat down with his knees drawn +up, and his hands clasped round them. Whenever he came round to this +side of the island, something happened of a fateful or sinister nature. +The last time he had nearly lost the dinghy; he had beached the little +boat in such a way that she floated off, and the tide was just in the +act of stealing her, and sweeping her from the lagoon out to sea, when +he returned laden with his bananas, and, rushing into the water up to +his waist, saved her. Another time he had fallen out of a tree, and +just by a miracle escaped death. Another time a hurricane had broken, +lashing the lagoon into snow, and sending the cocoa-nuts bounding and +flying like tennis balls across the strand. This time he had just +escaped something, he knew not exactly what. It was almost as if +Providence were saying to him, “Don’t come here.” +</P> + +<P> +He watched the brown sails as they dwindled in the wind-blown blue, +then he came down from the hill-top and cut his bananas. He cut four +large bunches, which caused him to make two journeys to the boat. When +the bananas were stowed he pushed off. +</P> + +<P> +For a long time a great curiosity had been pulling at his +heart-strings: a curiosity of which he was dimly ashamed. Fear had +given it birth, and Fear still clung to it. It was, perhaps, the +element of fear and the awful delight of daring the unknown that made +him give way to it. +</P> + +<P> +He had rowed, perhaps, a hundred yards when he turned the boat’s head +and made for the reef. It was more than five years since that day when +he rowed across the lagoon, Emmeline sitting in the stern, with her +wreath of flowers in her hand. It might have been only yesterday, for +everything seemed just the same. The thunderous surf and the flying +gulls, the blinding sunlight, and the salt, fresh smell of the sea. The +palm tree at the entrance of the lagoon still bent gazing into the +water, and round the projection of coral to which he had last moored +the boat still lay a fragment of the rope which he had cut in his hurry +to escape. +</P> + +<P> +Ships had come into the lagoon, perhaps, during the five years, but no +one had noticed anything on the reef, for it was only from the hill-top +that a full view of what was there could be seen, and then only by eyes +knowing where to look. From the beach there was visible just a speck. +It might have been, perhaps, a bit of old wreckage flung there by a +wave in some big storm. A piece of old wreckage that had been tossed +hither and thither for years, and had at last found a place of rest. +</P> + +<P> +Dick tied the boat up, and stepped on to the reef. It was high tide +just as before; the breeze was blowing strongly, and overhead a +man-of-war’s bird, black as ebony, with a blood-red bill, came sailing, +the wind doming out his wings. He circled in the air, and cried out +fiercely, as if resenting the presence of the intruder, then he passed +away, let himself be blown away, as it were, across the lagoon, +wheeled, circled, and passed out to sea. +</P> + +<P> +Dick approached the place he knew, and there lay the little old barrel +all warped by the powerful sun; the staves stood apart, and the hooping +was rusted and broken, and whatever it had contained in the way of +spirit and conviviality had long ago drained away. +</P> + +<P> +Beside the barrel lay a skeleton, round which lay a few rags of cloth. +The skull had fallen to one side, and the lower jaw had fallen from the +skull; the bones of the hands and feet were still articulated, and the +ribs had not fallen in. It was all white and bleached, and the sun +shone on it as indifferently as on the coral, this shell and framework +that had once been a man. There was nothing dreadful about it, but a +whole world of wonder. +</P> + +<P> +To Dick, who had not been broken into the idea of death, who had not +learned to associate it with graves and funerals, sorrow, eternity, and +hell, the thing spoke as it never could have spoken to you or me. +</P> + +<P> +Looking at it, things linked themselves together in his mind: the +skeletons of birds he had found in the woods, the fish he had slain, +even trees lying dead and rotten—even the shells of crabs. +</P> + +<P> +If you had asked him what lay before him, and if he could have +expressed the thought in his mind, he would have answered you “change.” +</P> + +<P> +All the philosophy in the world could not have told him more than he +knew just then about death—he, who even did not know its name. +</P> + +<P> +He was held spellbound by the marvel and miracle of the thing and the +thoughts that suddenly crowded his mind like a host of spectres for +whom a door has just been opened. +</P> + +<P> +Just as a child by unanswerable logic knows that a fire which has +burned him once will burn him again, or will burn another person, he +knew that just as the form before him was, his form would be some +day—and Emmeline’s. +</P> + +<P> +Then came the vague question which is born not of the brain, but the +heart, and which is the basis of all religions—where shall I be then? +His mind was not of an introspective nature, and the question just +strayed across it and was gone. And still the wonder of the thing held +him. He was for the first time in his life in a reverie; the corpse +that had shocked and terrified him five years ago had cast seeds of +thought with its dead fingers upon his mind, the skeleton had brought +them to maturity. The full fact of universal death suddenly appeared +before him, and he recognised it. +</P> + +<P> +He stood for a long time motionless, and then with a deep sigh turned +to the boat and pushed off without once looking back at the reef. He +crossed the lagoon and rowed slowly homewards, keeping in the shelter +of the tree shadows as much as possible. +</P> + +<P> +Even looking at him from the shore you might have noticed a difference +in him. Your savage paddles his canoe, or sculls his boat, alert, +glancing about him, at touch with nature at all points; though he be +lazy as a cat and sleeps half the day, awake he is all ears and eyes—a +creature reacting to the least external impression. +</P> + +<P> +Dick, as he rowed back, did not look about him: he was thinking or +retrospecting. The savage in him had received a check. As he turned the +little cape where the wild cocoa-nut blazed, he looked over his +shoulder. A figure was standing on the sward by the edge of the water. +It was Emmeline. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0207"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE SCHOONER +</H3> + +<P> +They carried the bananas up to the house, and hung them from a branch +of the artu. Then Dick, on his knees, lit the fire to prepare the +evening meal. When it was over he went down to where the boat was +moored, and returned with something in his hand. It was the javelin +with the iron point—or, rather, the two pieces of it. He had said +nothing of what he had seen to the girl. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline was seated on the grass; she had a long strip of the striped +flannel stuff about her, worn like a scarf, and she had another piece +in her hand which she was hemming. The bird was hopping about, pecking +at a banana which they had thrown to him; a light breeze made the +shadow of the artu leaves dance upon the grass, and the serrated leaves +of the breadfruit to patter one on the other with the sound of +rain-drops falling upon glass. +</P> + +<P> +“Where did you get it?” asked Emmeline, staring at the piece of the +javelin which Dick had flung down almost beside her whilst he went into +the house to fetch the knife. +</P> + +<P> +“It was on the beach over there,” he replied, taking his seat and +examining the two fragments to see how he could splice them together. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline looked at the pieces, putting them together in her mind. She +did not like the look of the thing: so keen and savage, and stained +dark a foot and more from the point. +</P> + +<P> +“People had been there,” said Dick, putting the two pieces together and +examining the fracture critically. +</P> + +<P> +“Where?” +</P> + +<P> +“Over there. This was lying on the sand, and the sand was all trod up.” +</P> + +<P> +“Dick,” said Emmeline, “who were the people?” +</P> + +<P> +“I don’t know; I went up the hill and saw their boats going away—far +away out. This was lying on the sand.” +</P> + +<P> +“Dick,” said Emmeline, “do you remember the noise yesterday?” +</P> + +<P> +“Yes,” said Dick. +</P> + +<P> +“I heard it in the night.” +</P> + +<P> +“When?” +</P> + +<P> +“In the night before the moon went away.” +</P> + +<P> +“That was them,” said Dick. +</P> + +<P> +“Dick!” +</P> + +<P> +“Yes?” +</P> + +<P> +“Who were they?” +</P> + +<P> +“I don’t know,” replied Dick. +</P> + +<P> +“It was in the night, before the moon went away, and it went on and on +beating in the trees. I thought I was asleep, and then I knew I was +awake; you were asleep, and I pushed you to listen, but you couldn’t +wake, you were so asleep; then the moon went away, and the noise went +on. How did they make the noise?” +</P> + +<P> +“I don’t know,” replied Dick, “but it was them; and they left this on +the sand, and the sand was all trod up, and I saw their boats from the +hill, away out far.” +</P> + +<P> +“I thought I heard voices,” said Emmeline, “but I was not sure.” +</P> + +<P> +She fell into meditation, watching her companion at work on the savage +and sinister-looking thing in his hands. He was splicing the two pieces +together with a strip of the brown cloth-like stuff which is wrapped +round the stalks of the cocoa-palm fronds. The thing seemed to have +been hurled here out of the blue by some unseen hand. +</P> + +<P> +When he had spliced the pieces, doing so with marvellous dexterity, he +took the thing short down near the point, and began thrusting it into +the soft earth to clean it; then, with a bit of flannel, he polished it +till it shone. He felt a keen delight in it. It was useless as a +fish-spear, because it had no barb, but it was a weapon. It was useless +as a weapon, because there was no foe on the island to use it against; +still, it was a weapon. +</P> + +<P> +When he had finished scrubbing at it, he rose, hitched his old trousers +up, tightened the belt of cocoa-cloth which Emmeline had made for him, +went into the house and got his fish-spear, and stalked off to the +boat, calling out to Emmeline to follow him. They crossed over to the +reef, where, as usual, he divested himself of clothing. +</P> + +<P> +It was strange that out here he would go about stark naked, yet on the +island he always wore some covering. But not so strange, perhaps, after +all. +</P> + +<P> +The sea is a great purifier, both of the mind and the body; before that +great sweet spirit people do not think in the same way as they think +far inland. What woman would appear in a town or on a country road, or +even bathing in a river, as she appears bathing in the sea? +</P> + +<P> +Some instinct made Dick cover himself up on shore, and strip naked on +the reef. In a minute he was down by the edge of the surf, javelin in +one hand, fish-spear in the other. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline, by a little pool the bottom of which was covered with +branching coral, sat gazing down into its depths, lost in a reverie +like that into which we fall when gazing at shapes in the fire. She had +sat some time like this when a shout from Dick aroused her. She +started to her feet and gazed to where he was pointing. An amazing +thing was there. +</P> + +<P> +To the east, just rounding the curve of the reef, and scarcely a +quarter of a mile from it, was coming a big topsail schooner; a +beautiful sight she was, heeling to the breeze with every sail drawing, +and the white foam like a feather at her fore-foot. +</P> + +<P> +Dick, with the javelin in his hand, was standing gazing at her; he had +dropped his fish-spear, and he stood as motionless as though he were +carved out of stone. Emmeline ran to him and stood beside him; neither +of them spoke a word as the vessel drew closer. +</P> + +<P> +Everything was visible, so close was she now, from the reef points on +the great mainsail, luminous with the sunlight, and white as the wing +of a gull, to the rail of the bulwarks. A crowd of men were hanging +over the port bulwarks gazing at the island and the figures on the +reef. Browned by the sun and sea-breeze, Emmeline’s hair blowing on the +wind, and the point of Dick’s javelin flashing in the sun, they looked +an ideal pair of savages, seen from the schooner’s deck. +</P> + +<P> +“They are going away,” said Emmeline, with a long-drawn breath of +relief. +</P> + +<P> +Dick made no reply; he stared at the schooner a moment longer in +silence, then, having made sure that she was standing away from the +land, he began to run up and down, calling out wildly, and beckoning to +the vessel as if to call her back. +</P> + +<P> +A moment later a sound came on the breeze, a faint hail; a flag was run +up to the peak and dipped as in derision, and the vessel continued on +her course. +</P> + +<P> +As a matter of fact, she had been on the point of putting about. Her +captain had for a moment been undecided as to whether the forms on the +reef were those of castaways or savages. But the javelin in Dick’s hand +had turned the scale of his opinion in favour of the theory of savages. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0208"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +LOVE STEPS IN +</H3> + +<P> +Two birds were sitting in the branches of the artu tree: Koko had taken +a mate. They had built a nest out of fibres pulled from the wrappings +of the cocoa-nut fronds, bits of stick and wire grass—anything, in +fact; even fibres from the palmetto thatch of the house below. The +pilferings of birds, the building of nests, what charming incidents +they are in the great episode of spring! +</P> + +<P> +The hawthorn tree never bloomed here, the climate was that of eternal +summer, yet the spirit of May came just as she comes to the English +countryside or the German forest. The doings in the artu branches +greatly interested Emmeline. +</P> + +<P> +The love-making and the nest-building were conducted quite in the usual +manner, according to rules laid down by Nature and carried out by men +and birds. All sorts of quaint sounds came filtering down through the +leaves from the branch where the sapphire-coloured lovers sat side by +side, or the fork where the nest was beginning to form: croonings and +cluckings, sounds like the flirting of a fan, the sounds of a squabble, +followed by the sounds that told of the squabble made up. Sometimes +after one of these squabbles a pale blue downy feather or two would +come floating earthwards, touch the palmetto leaves of the house-roof +and cling there, or be blown on to the grass. +</P> + +<P> +It was some days after the appearance of the schooner, and Dick was +making ready to go into the woods and pick guavas. He had all the +morning been engaged in making a basket to carry them in. In +civilisation he would, judging from his mechanical talent, perhaps have +been an engineer, building bridges and ships, instead of palmetto-leaf +baskets and cane houses—who knows if he would have been happier? +</P> + +<P> +The heat of midday had passed, when, with the basket hanging over his +shoulder on a piece of cane, he started for the woods, Emmeline +following. The place they were going to always filled her with a vague +dread; not for a great deal would she have gone there alone. Dick had +discovered it in one of his rambles. +</P> + +<P> +They entered the wood and passed a little well, a well without apparent +source or outlet and a bottom of fine white sand. How the sand had +formed there, it would be impossible to say; but there it was, and +around the margin grew ferns redoubling themselves on the surface of +the crystal-clear water. They left this to the right and struck into +the heart of the wood. The heat of midday still lurked here; the way +was clear, for there was a sort of path between the trees, as if, in +very ancient days, there had been a road. +</P> + +<P> +Right across this path, half lost in shadow, half sunlit, the lianas +hung their ropes. The hotoo tree, with its powdering of delicate +blossoms, here stood, showing its lost loveliness to the sun; in the +shade the scarlet hibiscus burned like a flame. Artu and breadfruit +trees and cocoa-nut bordered the way. +</P> + +<P> +As they proceeded the trees grew denser and the path more obscure. All +at once, rounding a sharp turn, the path ended in a valley carpeted +with fern. This was the place that always filled Emmeline with an +undefined dread. One side of it was all built up in terraces with huge +blocks of stone. Blocks of stone so enormous, that the wonder was how +the ancient builders had put them in their places. +</P> + +<P> +Trees grew along the terraces, thrusting their roots between the +interstices of the blocks. At their base, slightly tilted forward as if +with the sinkage of years, stood a great stone figure roughly carved, +thirty feet high at least—mysterious-looking, the very spirit of the +place. This figure and the terraces, the valley itself, and the very +trees that grew there, inspired Emmeline with deep curiosity and vague +fear. +</P> + +<P> +People had been here once; sometimes she could fancy she saw dark +shadows moving amidst the trees, and the whisper of the foliage seemed +to her to hide voices at times, even as its shadow concealed forms. It +was indeed an uncanny place to be alone in even under the broad light +of day. All across the Pacific for thousands of miles you find relics +of the past, like these scattered through the islands. +</P> + +<P> +These temple places are nearly all the same: great terraces of stone, +massive idols, desolation overgrown with foliage. They hint at one +religion, and a time when the sea space of the Pacific was a continent, +which, sinking slowly through the ages, has left only its higher lands +and hill-tops visible in the form of islands. Round these places the +woods are thicker than elsewhere, hinting at the presence there, once, +of sacred groves. The idols are immense, their faces are vague; the +storms and the suns and the rains of the ages have cast over them a +veil. The sphinx is understandable and a toy compared to these things, +some of which have a stature of fifty feet, whose creation is veiled in +absolute mystery—the gods of a people for ever and for ever lost. +</P> + +<P> +The “stone man” was the name Emmeline had given the idol of the valley; +and sometimes at nights, when her thoughts would stray that way, she +would picture him standing all alone in the moonlight or starlight +staring straight before him. +</P> + +<P> +He seemed for ever listening; unconsciously one fell to listening too, +and then the valley seemed steeped in a supernatural silence. He was +not good to be alone with. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline sat down amidst the fears just at his base. When one was close +up to him he lost the suggestion of life, and was simply a great stone +which cast a shadow in the sun. +</P> + +<P> +Dick threw himself down also to rest. Then he rose up and went off +amidst the guava bushes, plucking the fruit and filling his basket. +Since he had seen the schooner, the white men on her decks, her great +masts and sails, and general appearance of freedom and speed and +unknown adventure, he had been more than ordinarily glum and restless. +Perhaps he connected her in his mind with the far-away vision of the +<i>Northumberland</i>, and the idea of other places and lands, and the +yearning for change the idea of them inspired. +</P> + +<P> +He came back with his basket full of the ripe fruit, gave some to the +girl and sat down beside her. When she had finished eating them she +took the cane that he used for carrying the basket and held it in her +hands. She was bending it in the form of a bow when it slipped, flew +out and struck her companion a sharp blow on the side of his face. +</P> + +<P> +Almost on the instant he turned and slapped her on the shoulder. She +stared at him for a moment in troubled amazement, a sob came in her +throat. Then some veil seemed lifted, some wizard’s wand stretched out, +some mysterious vial broken. As she looked at him like that, he +suddenly and fiercely clasped her in his arms. He held her like this +for a moment, dazed, stupefied, not knowing what to do with her. Then +her lips told him, for they met his in an endless kiss. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0209"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE SLEEP OF PARADISE +</H3> + +<P> +The moon rose up that evening and shot her silver arrows at the house +under the artu tree. The house was empty. Then the moon came across the +sea and across the reef. +</P> + +<P> +She lit the lagoon to its dark, dim heart. She lit the coral brains and +sand spaces, and the fish, casting their shadows on the sand and the +coral. The keeper of the lagoon rose to greet her, and the fin of him +broke her reflection on the mirror-like surface into a thousand +glittering ripples. She saw the white staring ribs of the form on the +reef. Then, peeping over the trees, she looked down into the valley, +where the great idol of stone had kept its solitary vigil for five +thousand years, perhaps, or more. +</P> + +<P> +At his base, in his shadow, looking as if under his protection, lay two +human beings, naked, clasped in each other’s arms, and fast asleep. One +could scarcely pity his vigil, had it been marked sometimes through the +years by such an incident as this. The thing had been conducted just as +the birds conduct their love affairs. An affair absolutely natural, +absolutely blameless, and without sin. +</P> + +<P> +It was a marriage according to Nature, without feast or guests, +consummated with accidental cynicism under the shadow of a religion a +thousand years dead. +</P> + +<P> +So happy in their ignorance were they, that they only knew that +suddenly life had changed, that the skies and the sea were bluer, and +that they had become in some magical way one a part of the other. The +birds on the tree above were equally as happy in their ignorance, and +in their love. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +PART II +</H2> + +<BR> + +<A NAME="chap0210"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER X +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +AN ISLAND HONEYMOON +</H3> + +<P> +One day Dick climbed on to the tree above the house, and, driving +Madame Koko off the nest upon which she was sitting, peeped in. There +were several pale green eggs in it. He did not disturb them, but +climbed down again, and the bird resumed her seat as if nothing had +happened. Such an occurrence would have terrified a bird used to the +ways of men, but here the birds were so fearless and so full of +confidence that often they would follow Emmeline in the wood, flying +from branch to branch, peering at her through the leaves, lighting +quite close to her—once, even, on her shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +The days passed. Dick had lost his restlessness: his wish to wander had +vanished. He had no reason to wander; perhaps that was the reason why. +In all the broad earth he could not have found anything more desirable +than what he had. +</P> + +<P> +Instead now of finding a half-naked savage followed dog-like by his +mate, you would have found of an evening a pair of lovers wandering on +the reef. They had in a pathetic sort of way attempted to adorn the +house with a blue flowering creeper taken from the wood and trained +over the entrance. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline, up to this, had mostly done the cooking, such as it was; Dick +helped her now, always. He talked to her no longer in short sentences +flung out as if to a dog; and she, almost losing the strange reserve +that had clung to her from childhood, half showed him her mind. It was +a curious mind: the mind of a dreamer, almost the mind of a poet. The +Cluricaunes dwelt there, and vague shapes born of things she had heard +about or dreamt of: she had thoughts about the sea and stars, the +flowers and birds. +</P> + +<P> +Dick would listen to her as she talked, as a man might listen to the +sound of a rivulet. His practical mind could take no share in the +dreams of his other half, but her conversation pleased him. +</P> + +<P> +He would look at her for a long time together, absorbed in thought. He +was admiring her. +</P> + +<P> +Her hair, blue-black and glossy, tangled him in its meshes; he would +stroke it, so to speak, with his eyes, and then pull her close to him +and bury his face in it; the smell of it was intoxicating. He breathed +her as one does the perfume of a rose. +</P> + +<P> +Her ears were small, and like little white shells. He would take one +between finger and thumb and play with it as if it were a toy, pulling +at the lobe of it, or trying to flatten out the curved part. Her +breasts, her shoulders, her knees, her little feet, every bit of her, +he would examine and play with and kiss. She would lie and let him, +seeming absorbed in some far-away thought, of which he was the object, +then all at once her arms would go round him. All this used to go on in +the broad light of day, under the shadow of the artu leaves, with no +one to watch except the bright-eyed birds in the leaves above. +</P> + +<P> +Not all their time would be spent in this fashion. Dick was just as +keen after the fish. He dug up with a spade—improvised from one of the +boards of the dinghy—a space of soft earth near the taro patch and +planted the seeds of melons he found in the wood; he rethatched the +house. They were, in short, as busy as they could be in such a climate, +but love-making would come on them in fits, and then everything would +be forgotten. Just as one revisits some spot to renew the memory of a +painful or pleasant experience received there, they would return to the +valley of the idol and spend a whole afternoon in its shade. The +absolute happiness of wandering through the woods together, discovering +new flowers, getting lost, and finding their way again, was a thing +beyond expression. +</P> + +<P> +Dick had suddenly stumbled upon Love. His courtship had lasted only +some twenty minutes; it was being gone over again now, and extended. +</P> + +<P> +One day, hearing a curious noise from the tree above the house, he +climbed it. The noise came from the nest, which had been temporarily +left by the mother bird. It was a gasping, wheezing sound, and it came +from four wide-open beaks, so anxious to be fed that one could almost +see into the very crops of the owners. They were Koko’s children. In +another year each of those ugly downy things would, if permitted to +live, be a beautiful sapphire-coloured bird with a few dove-coloured +tail feathers, coral beak, and bright, intelligent eyes. A few days ago +each of these things was imprisoned in a pale green egg. A month ago +they were nowhere. +</P> + +<P> +Something hit Dick on the cheek. It was the mother bird returned with +food for the young ones. Dick drew his head aside, and she proceeded +without more ado to fill their crops. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0211"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE VANISHING OF EMMELINE +</H3> + +<P> +Months passed away. Only one bird remained in the branches of the artu: +Koko’s children and mate had vanished, but he remained. The breadfruit +leaves had turned from green to pale gold and darkest amber, and now +the new green leaves were being presented to the spring. +</P> + +<P> +Dick, who had a complete chart of the lagoon in his head, and knew all +the soundings and best fishing places, the locality of the stinging +coral, and the places where you could wade right across at low +tide—Dick, one morning, was gathering his things together for a +fishing expedition. The place he was going to lay some two and a half +miles away across the island, and as the road was bad he was going +alone. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline had been passing a new thread through the beads of the +necklace she sometimes wore. This necklace had a history. In the +shallows not far away, Dick had found a bed of shell-fish; wading out +at low tide, he had taken some of them out to examine. They were +oysters. The first one he opened, so disgusting did its appearance seem +to him, might have been the last, only that under the beard of the +thing lay a pearl. It was about twice the size of a large pea, and so +lustrous that even he could not but admire its beauty, though quite +unconscious of its value. +</P> + +<P> +He flung the unopened oysters down, and took the thing to Emmeline. +Next day, returning by chance to the same spot, he found the oysters he +had cast down all dead and open in the sun. He examined them, and +found another pearl embedded in one of them. Then he collected nearly a +bushel of the oysters, and left them to die and open. The idea had +occurred to him of making a necklace for his companion. She had one +made of shells, he intended to make her one of pearls. +</P> + +<P> +It took a long time, but it was something to do. He pierced them with a +big needle, and at the end of four months or so the thing was complete. +Great pearls most of them were—pure white, black, pink, some perfectly +round, some tear shaped, some irregular. The thing was worth fifteen, +or perhaps twenty thousand pounds, for he only used the biggest he +could find, casting away the small ones as useless. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline this morning had just finished restringing them on a double +thread. She looked pale and not at all well and had been restless all +night. +</P> + +<P> +As he went off, armed with his spear and fishing tackle, she waved her +hand to him without getting up. Usually she followed him a bit into the +wood when he was going away like this, but this morning she just sat at +the doorway of the little house, the necklace in her lap, following him +with her eyes until he was lost amidst the trees. +</P> + +<P> +He had no compass to guide him, and he needed none. He knew the woods +by heart. The mysterious line beyond which scarcely an artu tree was to +be found. The long strip of mammee apple—a regular sheet of it a +hundred yards broad, and reaching from the middle of the island right +down to the lagoon. The clearings, some almost circular where the ferns +grew knee-deep. Then he came to the bad part. +</P> + +<P> +The vegetation here had burst into a riot. All sorts of great sappy +stalks of unknown plants barred the way and tangled the foot; and there +were boggy places into which one sank horribly. Pausing to wipe one’s +brow, the stalks and tendrils one had beaten down, or beaten aside, +rose up and closed together, making one a prisoner almost as closely +surrounded as a fly in amber. +</P> + +<P> +All the noontides that had ever fallen upon the island seemed to have +left some of their heat behind them here. The air was damp and close +like the air of a laundry; and the mournful and perpetual buzz of +insects filled the silence without destroying it. +</P> + +<P> +A hundred men with scythes might make a road through the place to-day; +a month or two later, searching for the road, you would find none—the +vegetation would have closed in as water closes when divided. +</P> + +<P> +This was the haunt of the jug orchid—a veritable jug, lid and all. +Raising the lid you would find the jug half filled with water. +Sometimes in the tangle up above, between two trees, you would see a +thing like a bird come to ruin. Orchids grew here as in a hothouse. All +the trees—the few there were—had a spectral and miserable appearance. +They were half starved by the voluptuous growth of the gigantic weeds. +</P> + +<P> +If one had much imagination one felt afraid in this place, for one felt +not alone. At any moment it seemed that one might be touched on the +elbow by a hand reaching out from the surrounding tangle. Even Dick +felt this, unimaginative and fearless as he was. It took him nearly +three-quarters of an hour to get through, and then, at last, came the +blessed air of real day, and a glimpse of the lagoon between the +tree-boles. +</P> + +<P> +He would have rowed round in the dinghy, only that at low tide the +shallows of the north of the island were a bar to the boat’s passage. +Of course he might have rowed all the way round by way of the strand +and reef entrance, but that would have meant a circuit of six miles or +more. When he came between the trees down to the lagoon edge it was +about eleven o’clock in the morning, and the tide was nearly at the +full. +</P> + +<P> +The lagoon just here was like a trough, and the reef was very near, +scarcely a quarter of a mile from the shore. The water did not shelve, +it went down sheer fifty fathoms or more, and one could fish from the +bank just as from a pier head. He had brought some food with him, and +he placed it under a tree whilst he prepared his line, which had a lump +of coral for a sinker. He baited the hook, and whirling the sinker +round in the air sent it flying out a hundred feet from shore. There +was a baby cocoa-nut tree growing just at the edge of the water. He +fastened the end of his line round the narrow stem, in case of +eventualities, and then, holding the line itself, he fished. +</P> + +<P> +He had promised Emmeline to return before sundown. +</P> + +<P> +He was a fisherman. That is to say, a creature with the enduring +patience of a cat, tireless and heedless of time as an oyster. He came +here for sport more than for fish. Large things were to be found in +this part of the lagoon. The last time he had hooked a horror in the +form of a cat-fish; at least in outward appearance it was likest to a +Mississippi cat-fish. Unlike the cat-fish, it was coarse and useless as +food, but it gave good sport. +</P> + +<P> +The tide was now going out, and it was at the going-out of the tide +that the best fishing was to be had. There was no wind, and the lagoon +lay like a sheet of glass, with just a dimple here and there where the +outgoing tide made a swirl in the water. +</P> + +<P> +As he fished he thought of Emmeline and the little house under the +trees. Scarcely one could call it thinking. Pictures passed before his +mind’s eye—pleasant and happy pictures, sunlit, moonlit, starlit. +</P> + +<P> +Three hours passed thus without a bite or symptom that the lagoon +contained anything else but sea water, and disappointment; but he did +not grumble. He was a fisherman. Then he left the line tied to the tree +and sat down to eat the food he had brought with him. He had scarcely +finished his meal when the baby cocoa-nut tree shivered and became +convulsed, and he did not require to touch the taut line to know that +it was useless to attempt to cope with the thing at the end of it. The +only course was to let it tug and drown itself. So he sat down and +watched. +</P> + +<P> +After a few minutes the line slackened, and the little cocoa-nut tree +resumed its attitude of pensive meditation and repose. He pulled the +line up: there was nothing at the end of it but a hook. He did not +grumble; he baited the hook again, and flung it in, for it was quite +likely that the ferocious thing in the water would bite again. +</P> + +<P> +Full of this idea and heedless of time he fished and waited. The sun +was sinking into the west—he did not heed it. He had quite forgotten +that he had promised Emmeline to return before sunset; it was nearly +sunset now. Suddenly, just behind him, from among the trees, he heard +her voice, crying: +</P> + +<P> +“Dick!” +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0212"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE VANISHING OF EMMELINE (<i>continued</i>) +</H3> + +<P> +He dropped the line, and turned with a start. There was no one visible. +He ran amongst the trees calling out her name, but only echoes +answered. Then he came back to the lagoon edge. +</P> + +<P> +He felt sure that what he had heard was only fancy, but it was nearly +sunset, and more than time to be off. He pulled in his line, wrapped it +up, took his fish-spear and started. +</P> + +<P> +It was just in the middle of the bad place that dread came to him. +What if anything had happened to her? It was dusk here, and never had +the weeds seemed so thick, dimness so dismal, the tendrils of the vines +so gin-like. Then he lost his way—he who was so sure of his way +always! The hunter’s instinct had been crossed, and for a time he went +hither and thither helpless as a ship without a compass. At last he +broke into the real wood, but far to the right of where he ought to +have been. He felt like a beast escaped from a trap, and hurried along, +led by the sound of the surf. +</P> + +<P> +When he reached the clear sward that led down to the lagoon the sun had +just vanished beyond the sea-line. A streak of red cloud floated like +the feather of a flamingo in the western sky close to the sea, and +twilight had already filled the world. He could see the house dimly, +under the shadow of the trees, and he ran towards it, crossing the +sward diagonally. +</P> + +<P> +Always before, when he had been away, the first thing to greet his eyes +on his return had been the figure of Emmeline. Either at the lagoon +edge or the house door he would find her waiting for him. +</P> + +<P> +She was not waiting for him to-night. When he reached the house she was +not there, and he paused, after searching the place, a prey to the most +horrible perplexity, and unable for the moment to think or act. +</P> + +<P> +Since the shock of the occurrence on the reef she had been subject at +times to occasional attacks of headache; and when the pain was more +than she could bear, she would go off and hide. Dick would hunt for her +amidst the trees, calling out her name and hallooing. A faint “halloo” +would answer when she heard him, and then he would find her under a +tree or bush, with her unfortunate head between her hands, a picture of +misery. +</P> + +<P> +He remembered this now, and started off along the borders of the wood, +calling to her, and pausing to listen. No answer came. +</P> + +<P> +He searched amidst the trees as far as the little well, waking the +echoes with his voice; then he came back slowly, peering about him in +the deep dusk that now was yielding to the starlight. He sat down +before the door of the house, and, looking at him, you might have +fancied him in the last stages of exhaustion. Profound grief and +profound exhaustion act on the frame very much in the same way. He sat +with his chin resting on his chest, his hands helpless. He could hear +her voice, still as he heard it over at the other side of the island. +She had been in danger and called to him, and he had been calmly +fishing, unconscious of it all. +</P> + +<P> +This thought maddened him. He sat up, stared around him and beat the +ground with the palms of his hands; then he sprang to his feet and made +for the dinghy. He rowed to the reef: the action of a madman, for she +could not possibly be there. +</P> + +<P> +There was no moon, the starlight both lit and veiled the world, and no +sound but the majestic thunder of the waves. As he stood, the night +wind blowing on his face, the white foam seething before him, and +Canopus burning in the great silence overhead, the fact that he stood +in the centre of an awful and profound indifference came to his +untutored mind with a pang. +</P> + +<P> +He returned to the shore: the house was still deserted. A little bowl +made from the shell of a cocoa-nut stood on the grass near the doorway. +He had last seen it in her hands, and he took it up and held it for a +moment, pressing it tightly to his breast. Then he threw himself down +before the doorway, and lay upon his face, with head resting upon his +arms in the attitude of a person who is profoundly asleep. +</P> + +<P> +He must have searched through the woods again that night just as a +somnambulist searches, for he found himself towards dawn in the valley +before the idol. Then it was daybreak—the world was full of light and +colour. He was seated before the house door, worn out and exhausted, +when, raising his head, he saw Emmeline’s figure coming out from amidst +the distant trees on the other side of the sward. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0213"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE NEWCOMER +</H3> + +<P> +He could not move for a moment, then he sprang to his feet and ran +towards her. She looked pale and dazed, and she held something in her +arms; something wrapped up in her scarf. As he pressed her to him, the +something in the bundle struggled against his breast and emitted a +squall—just like the squall of a cat. He drew back, and Emmeline, +tenderly moving her scarf a bit aside, exposed a wee face. It was +brick-red and wrinkled; there were two bright eyes, and a tuft of dark +hair over the forehead. Then the eyes closed, the face screwed itself +up, and the thing sneezed twice. +</P> + +<P> +“Where did you <i>get</i> it?” he asked, absolutely lost in astonishment as +she covered the face again gently with the scarf. +</P> + +<P> +“I found it in the woods,” replied Emmeline. +</P> + +<P> +Dumb with amazement, he helped her along to the house, and she sat +down, resting her head against the bamboos of the wall. +</P> + +<P> +“I felt so bad,” she explained; “and then I went off to sit in the +woods, and then I remembered nothing more, and when I woke up it was +there.” +</P> + +<P> +“It’s a baby!” said Dick. +</P> + +<P> +“I know,” replied Emmeline. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs James’s baby, seen in the long ago, had risen up before their +mind’s eyes, a messenger from the past to explain what the new thing +was. Then she told him things—things that completely shattered the old +“cabbage bed” theory, supplanting it with a truth far more wonderful, +far more poetical, too, to he who can appreciate the marvel and the +mystery of life. +</P> + +<P> +“It has something funny tied on to it,” she went on, as if she were +referring to a parcel she had just received. +</P> + +<P> +“Let’s look,” said Dick. +</P> + +<P> +“No,” she replied; “leave it alone.” +</P> + +<P> +She sat rocking the thing gently, seeming oblivious to the whole world, +and quite absorbed in it, as, indeed, was Dick. A physician would have +shuddered, but, perhaps fortunately enough, there was no physician on +the island. Only Nature, and she put everything to rights in her own +time and way. +</P> + +<P> +When Dick had sat marvelling long enough, he set to and lit the fire. +He had eaten nothing since the day before, and he was nearly as +exhausted as the girl. He cooked some breadfruit, there was some cold +fish left over from the day before; this, with some bananas, he served +up on two broad leaves, making Emmeline eat first. +</P> + +<P> +Before they had finished, the creature in the bundle, as though it had +smelt the food, began to scream. Emmeline drew the scarf aside. It +looked hungry; its mouth would now be pinched up and now wide open, its +eyes opened and closed. The girl touched it on the lips with her +finger, and it seized upon her fingertip and sucked it. Her eyes filled +with tears, she looked appealingly at Dick, who was on his knees; he +took a banana, peeled it, broke off a bit and handed it to her. She +approached it to the baby’s mouth. It tried to suck it, failed, blew +bubbles at the sun and squalled. +</P> + +<P> +“Wait a minute,” said Dick. +</P> + +<P> +There were some green cocoa-nuts he had gathered the day before close +by. He took one, removed the green husk, and opened one of the eyes, +making an opening also in the opposite side of the shell. The +unfortunate infant sucked ravenously at the nut, filled its stomach +with the young cocoa-nut juice, vomited violently, and wailed. Emmeline +in despair clasped it to her naked breast, wherefrom, in a moment, it +was hanging like a leech. It knew more about babies than they did. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0214"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +HANNAH +</H3> + +<P> +At noon, in the shallows of the reef, under the burning sun, the water +would be quite warm. They would carry the baby down here, and Emmeline +would wash it with a bit of flannel. After a few days it scarcely ever +screamed, even when she washed it. It would lie on her knees during the +process, striking valiantly out with its arms and legs, staring +straight up at the sky. Then, when she turned it on its face, it would +lay its head down and chuckle and blow bubbles at the coral of the +reef, examining, apparently, the pattern of the coral with deep and +philosophic attention. +</P> + +<P> +Dick would sit by with his knees up to his chin, watching it all. He +felt himself to be part proprietor in the thing—as indeed he was. +The mystery of the affair still hung over them both. A week ago they +two had been alone, and suddenly from nowhere this new individual had +appeared. +</P> + +<P> +It was so complete. It had hair on its head, tiny finger-nails, and +hands that would grasp you. It had a whole host of little ways of its +own, and every day added to them. +</P> + +<P> +In a week the extreme ugliness of the newborn child had vanished. Its +face, which had seemed carved in the imitation of a monkey’s face from +half a brick, became the face of a happy and healthy baby. It seemed to +see things, and sometimes it would laugh and chuckle as though it had +been told a good joke. Its black hair all came off and was supplanted +by a sort of down. It had no teeth. It would lie on its back and kick +and crow, and double its fists up and try to swallow them alternately, +and cross its feet and play with its toes. In fact, it was exactly like +any of the thousand-and-one babies that are born into the world at +every tick of the clock. +</P> + +<P> +“What will we call it?” said Dick one day, as he sat watching his son +and heir crawling about on the grass under the shade of the breadfruit +leaves. +</P> + +<P> +“Hannah,” said Emmeline promptly. +</P> + +<P> +The recollection of another baby once heard about was in her mind; and +it was as good a name as any other, perhaps, in that lonely place, +notwithstanding the fact that Hannah was a boy. +</P> + +<P> +Koko took a vast interest in the new arrival. He would hop round it and +peer at it with his head on one side; and Hannah would crawl after the +bird and try to grab it by the tail. In a few months so valiant and +strong did he become that he would pursue his own father, crawling +before him on the grass, and you might have seen the mother and father +and child playing all together like three children, the bird sometimes +hovering overhead like a good spirit, sometimes joining in the fun. +</P> + +<P> +Sometimes Emmeline would sit and brood over the child, a troubled +expression on her face and a far-away look in her eyes. The old vague +fear of mischance had returned—the dread of that viewless form her +imagination half pictured behind the smile on the face of Nature. Her +happiness was so great that she dreaded to lose it. +</P> + +<P> +There is nothing more wonderful than the birth of a man, and all that +goes to bring it about. Here, on this island, in the very heart of the +sea, amidst the sunshine and the wind-blown trees, under the great blue +arch of the sky, in perfect purity of thought, they would discuss the +question from beginning to end without a blush, the object of their +discussion crawling before them on the grass, and attempting to grab +feathers from Koko’s tail. +</P> + +<P> +It was the loneliness of the place as well as their ignorance of life +that made the old, old miracle appear so strange and fresh—as +beautiful as the miracle of death had appeared awful. In thoughts vague +and beyond expression in words, they linked this new occurrence with +that old occurrence on the reef six years before. The vanishing and the +coming of a man. +</P> + +<P> +Hannah, despite his unfortunate name, was certainly a most virile and +engaging baby. The black hair which had appeared and vanished like some +practical joke played by Nature, gave place to a down at first as +yellow as sun-bleached wheat, but in a few months’ time tinged with +auburn. +</P> + +<P> +One day—he had been uneasy and biting at his thumbs for some time +past—Emmeline, looking into his mouth, saw something white and like a +grain of rice protruding from his gum. It was a tooth just born. He +could eat bananas now, and breadfruit, and they often fed him on +fish—a fact which again might have caused a medical man to shudder; +yet he throve on it all, and waxed stouter every day. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline, with a profound and natural wisdom, let him crawl about stark +naked, dressed in ozone and sunlight. Taking him out on the reef, she +would let him paddle in the shallow pools, holding him under the +armpits whilst he splashed the diamond-bright water into spray with his +feet, and laughed and shouted. +</P> + +<P> +They were beginning now to experience a phenomenon, as wonderful as the +birth of the child’s body—the birth of his intelligence: the peeping +out of a little personality with predilections of its own, likes and +dislikes. +</P> + +<P> +He knew Dick from Emmeline; and when Emmeline had satisfied his +material wants, he would hold out his arms to go to Dick if he were by. +He looked upon Koko as a friend, but when a friend of Koko’s—a bird +with an inquisitive mind and three red feathers in his tail—dropped in +one day to inspect the newcomer, he resented the intrusion, and +screamed. +</P> + +<P> +He had a passion for flowers, or anything bright. He would laugh and +shout when taken on the lagoon in the dinghy, and make as if to jump +into the water to get at the bright-coloured corals below. +</P> + +<P> +Ah me! we laugh at young mothers, and all the miraculous things they +tell us about their babies. They see what we cannot see: the first +unfolding of that mysterious flower, the mind. +</P> + +<P> +One day they were out on the lagoon. Dick had been rowing; he had +ceased, and was letting the boat drift for a bit. Emmeline was dancing +the child on her knee, when it suddenly held out its arms to the +oarsman and said: +</P> + +<P> +“Dick!” +</P> + +<P> +The little word, so often heard and easily repeated, was its first word +on earth. +</P> + +<P> +A voice that had never spoken in the world before, had spoken; and to +hear his name thus mysteriously uttered by a being he has created, is +the sweetest and perhaps the saddest thing a man can ever know. +</P> + +<P> +Dick took the child on his knee, and from that moment his love for it +was more than his love for Emmeline or anything else on earth. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0215"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE LAGOON OF FIRE +</H3> + +<P> +Ever since the tragedy of six years ago there had been forming in the +mind of Emmeline Lestrange a something—shall I call it a deep +mistrust. She had never been clever; lessons had saddened and wearied +her, without making her much the wiser. Yet her mind was of that order +into which profound truths come by short cuts. She was intuitive. +</P> + +<P> +Great knowledge may lurk in the human mind without the owner of the +mind being aware. He or she acts in such or such a way, or thinks in +such and such a manner from intuition; in other words, as the outcome +of the profoundest reasoning. +</P> + +<P> +When we have learned to call storms, storms, and death, death, and +birth, birth; when we have mastered the sailor’s horn book, and Mr +Piddington’s law of cyclones, Ellis’s anatomy, and Lewer’s midwifery, +we have already made ourselves half blind. We have become hypnotised by +words and names. We think in words and names, not in ideas; the +commonplace has triumphed, the true intellect is half crushed. +</P> + +<P> +Storms had burst over the island before this. And what Emmeline +remembered of them might be expressed by an instance. +</P> + +<P> +The morning would be bright and happy, never so bright the sun, or so +balmy the breeze, or so peaceful the blue lagoon; then, with a horrid +suddenness, as if sick with dissimulation and mad to show itself, +something would blacken the sun, and with a yell stretch out a hand and +ravage the island, churn the lagoon into foam, beat down the cocoa-nut +trees, and slay the birds. And one bird would be left and another +taken, one tree destroyed, and another left standing. The fury of the +thing was less fearful than the blindness of it, and the indifference +of it. +</P> + +<P> +One night, when the child was asleep, just after the last star was lit, +Dick appeared at the doorway of the house. He had been down to the +water’s edge and had now returned. He beckoned Emmeline to follow him, +and, putting down the child, she did so. +</P> + +<P> +“Come here and look,” said he. +</P> + +<P> +He led the way to the water; and as they approached it, Emmeline became +aware that there was something strange about the lagoon. From a +distance it looked pale and solid; it might have been a great stretch +of grey marble veined with black. Then, as she drew nearer, she saw +that the dull grey appearance was a deception of the eye. +</P> + +<P> +The lagoon was alight and burning. +</P> + +<P> +The phosphoric fire was in its very heart and being; every coral branch +was a torch, every fish a passing lantern. The incoming tide moving the +waters made the whole glittering floor of the lagoon move and shiver, +and the tiny waves to lap the bank, leaving behind them glow-worm +traces. +</P> + +<P> +“Look!” said Dick. +</P> + +<P> +He knelt down and plunged his forearm into the water. The immersed part +burned like a smouldering torch. Emmeline could see it as plainly as +though it were lit by sunlight. Then he drew his arm out, and as far as +the water had reached, it was covered by a glowing glove. +</P> + +<P> +They had seen the phosphorescence of the lagoon before; indeed, any +night you might watch the passing fish like bars of silver, when the +moon was away; but this was something quite new, and it was entrancing. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline knelt down and dabbled her hands, and made herself a pair of +phosphoric gloves, and cried out with pleasure, and laughed. It was all +the pleasure of playing with fire without the danger of being burnt. +Then Dick rubbed his face with the water till it glowed. +</P> + +<P> +“Wait!” he cried; and, running up to the house, he fetched out Hannah. +</P> + +<P> +He came running down with him to the water’s edge, gave Emmeline the +child, unmoored the boat, and started out from shore. +</P> + +<P> +The sculls, as far as they were immersed, were like bars of glistening +silver; under them passed the fish, leaving cometic tails; each coral +clump was a lamp, lending its lustre till the great lagoon was luminous +as a lit-up ballroom. Even the child on Emmeline’s lap crowed and cried +out at the strangeness of the sight. +</P> + +<P> +They landed on the reef and wandered over the flat. The sea was white +and bright as snow, and the foam looked like a hedge of fire. +</P> + +<P> +As they stood gazing on this extraordinary sight, suddenly, almost as +instantaneously as the switching off of an electric light, the +phosphorescence of the sea flickered and vanished. +</P> + +<P> +The moon was rising. Her crest was just breaking from the water, and as +her face came slowly into view behind a belt of vapour that lay on the +horizon, it looked fierce and red, stained with smoke like the face of +Eblis. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0216"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE CYCLONE +</H3> + +<P> +When they awoke next morning the day was dark. A solid roof of cloud, +lead-coloured and without a ripple on it, lay over the sky, almost to +the horizon. There was not a breath of wind, and the birds flew wildly +about as if disturbed by some unseen enemy in the wood. +</P> + +<P> +As Dick lit the fire to prepare the breakfast, Emmeline walked up and +down, holding her baby to her breast; she felt restless and uneasy. +</P> + +<P> +As the morning wore on the darkness increased; a breeze rose up, and +the leaves of the breadfruit trees pattered together with the sound of +rain falling upon glass. A storm was coming, but there was something +different in its approach to the approach of the storms they had +already known. +</P> + +<P> +As the breeze increased a sound filled the air, coming from far away +beyond the horizon. It was like the sound of a great multitude of +people, and yet so faint and vague was it that sudden bursts of the +breeze through the leaves above would drown it utterly. Then it ceased, +and nothing could be heard but the rocking of the branches and the +tossing of the leaves under the increasing wind, which was now blowing +sharply and fiercely and with a steady rush dead from the west, +fretting the lagoon, and sending clouds and masses of foam right over +the reef. The sky that had been so leaden and peaceful and like a solid +roof was now all in a hurry, flowing eastward like a great turbulent +river in spate. +</P> + +<P> +And now, again, one could hear the sound in the distance—the thunder +of the captains of the storm and the shouting; but still so faint, so +vague, so indeterminate and unearthly that it seemed like the sound in +a dream. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline sat amidst the ferns on the floor cowed and dumb, holding the +baby to her breast. It was fast asleep. Dick stood at the doorway. He +was disturbed in mind, but he did not show it. +</P> + +<P> +The whole beautiful island world had now taken on the colour of ashes +and the colour of lead. Beauty had utterly vanished, all seemed sadness +and distress. +</P> + +<P> +The cocoa-palms, under the wind that had lost its steady rush and was +now blowing in hurricane blasts, flung themselves about in all the +attitudes of distress; and whoever has seen a tropical storm will know +what a cocoa-palm can express by its movements under the lash of the +wind. +</P> + +<P> +Fortunately the house was so placed that it was protected by the whole +depth of the grove between it and the lagoon; and fortunately, too, it +was sheltered by the dense foliage of the breadfruit, for suddenly, +with a crash of thunder as if the hammer of Thor had been flung from +sky to earth, the clouds split and the rain came down in a great +slanting wave. It roared on the foliage above, which, bending leaf on +leaf, made a slanting roof from which it rushed in a steady sheet-like +cascade. +</P> + +<P> +Dick had darted into the house, and was now sitting beside Emmeline, +who was shivering and holding the child, which had awakened at the +sound of the thunder. +</P> + +<P> +For an hour they sat, the rain ceasing and coming again, the thunder +shaking earth and sea, and the wind passing overhead with a piercing, +monotonous cry. +</P> + +<P> +Then all at once the wind dropped, the rain ceased, and a pale spectral +light, like the light of dawn, fell before the doorway. +</P> + +<P> +“It’s over!” cried Dick, making to get up. +</P> + +<P> +“Oh, listen!” said Emmeline, clinging to him, and holding the baby to +his breast as if the touch of him would give it protection. She had +divined that there was something approaching worse than a storm. +</P> + +<P> +Then, listening in the silence, away from the other side of the island, +they heard a sound like the droning of a great top. +</P> + +<P> +It was the centre of the cyclone approaching. +</P> + +<P> +A cyclone is a circular storm: a storm in the form of a ring. This ring +of hurricane travels across the ocean with inconceivable speed and +fury, yet its centre is a haven of peace. +</P> + +<P> +As they listened the sound increased, sharpened, and became a tang that +pierced the ear-drums: a sound that shook with hurry and speed, +increasing, bringing with it the bursting and crashing of trees, and +breaking at last overhead in a yell that stunned the brain like the +blow of a bludgeon. In a second the house was torn away, and they were +clinging to the roots of the breadfruit, deaf, blinded, half-lifeless. +</P> + +<P> +The terror and the prolonged shock of it reduced them from thinking +beings to the level of frightened animals whose one instinct is +preservation. +</P> + +<P> +How long the horror lasted they could not tell, when, like a madman who +pauses for a moment in the midst of his struggles and stands +stock-still, the wind ceased blowing, and there was peace. The centre +of the cyclone was passing over the island. +</P> + +<P> +Looking up, one saw a marvellous sight. The air was full of birds, +butterflies, insects—all hanging in the heart of the storm and +travelling with it under its protection. +</P> + +<P> +Though the air was still as the air of a summer’s day, from north, +south, east, and west, from every point of the compass, came the yell +of the hurricane. +</P> + +<P> +There was something shocking in this. +</P> + +<P> +In a storm one is so beaten about by the wind that one has no time to +think: one is half stupefied. But in the dead centre of a cyclone one +is in perfect peace. The trouble is all around, but it is not here. One +has time to examine the thing like a tiger in a cage, listen to its +voice and shudder at its ferocity. +</P> + +<P> +The girl, holding the baby to her breast, sat up gasping. The baby had +come to no harm; it had cried at first when the thunder broke, but now +it seemed impassive, almost dazed. Dick stepped from under the tree and +looked at the prodigy in the air. +</P> + +<P> +The cyclone had gathered on its way sea-birds and birds from the land; +there were gulls, electric white and black man-of-war birds, +butterflies, and they all seemed imprisoned under a great drifting dome +of glass. As they went, travelling like things without volition and in +a dream, with a hum and a roar the south-west quadrant of the cyclone +burst on the island, and the whole bitter business began over again. +</P> + +<P> +It lasted for hours, then towards midnight the wind fell; and when the +sun rose next morning he came through a cloudless sky, without a trace +of apology for the destruction caused by his children the winds. He +showed trees uprooted and birds lying dead, three or four canes +remaining of what had once been a house, the lagoon the colour of a +pale sapphire, and a glass-green, foam-capped sea racing in thunder +against the reef. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0217"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE STRICKEN WOODS +</H3> + +<P> +At first they thought they were ruined; then Dick, searching, found the +old saw under a tree, and the butcher’s knife near it, as though the +knife and saw had been trying to escape in company and had failed. +</P> + +<P> +Bit by bit they began to recover something of their scattered property. +The remains of the flannel had been taken by the cyclone and wrapped +round and round a slender cocoa-nut tree, till the trunk looked like a +gaily-bandaged leg. The box of fishhooks had been jammed into the +centre of a cooked breadfruit, both having been picked up by the +fingers of the wind and hurled against the same tree; and the stay-sail +of the <i>Shenandoah</i> was out on the reef, with a piece of coral carefully +placed on it as if to keep it down. As for the lug-sail belonging to +the dinghy, it was never seen again. +</P> + +<P> +There is humour sometimes in a cyclone, if you can only appreciate it; +no other form of air disturbance produces such quaint effects. Beside +the great main whirlpool of wind, there are subsidiary whirlpools, each +actuated by its own special imp. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline had felt Hannah nearly snatched from her arms twice by these +little ferocious gimlet winds; and that the whole business of the great +storm was set about with the object of snatching Hannah from her, and +blowing him out to sea, was a belief which she held, perhaps, in the +innermost recesses of her mind. +</P> + +<P> +The dinghy would have been utterly destroyed, had it not heeled over +and sunk in shallow water at the first onset of the wind; as it was, +Dick was able to bail it out at the next low tide, when it floated as +bravely as ever, not having started a single seam. +</P> + +<P> +But the destruction amidst the trees was pitiful. Looking at the woods +as a mass, one noticed gaps here and there, but what had really +happened could not be seen till one was amongst the trees. Great, +beautiful cocoa-nut palms, not dead, but just dying, lay crushed and +broken as if trampled upon by some enormous foot. You would come +across half a dozen lianas twisted into one great cable. Where +cocoa-nut palms were, you could not move a yard without kicking against +a fallen nut; you might have picked up full-grown, half-grown, and wee +baby nuts, not bigger than small apples, for on the same tree you will +find nuts of all sizes and conditions. +</P> + +<P> +One never sees a perfectly straight-stemmed cocoa-palm; they all have +an inclination from the perpendicular more or less; perhaps that is why +a cyclone has more effect on them than on other trees. +</P> + +<P> +Artus, once so pretty a picture with their diamond-chequered trunks, +lay broken and ruined; and right through the belt of mammee apple, +right through the bad lands, lay a broad road, as if an army, horse, +foot, and artillery, had passed that way from lagoon edge to lagoon +edge. This was the path left by the great fore-foot of the storm; but +had you searched the woods on either side, you would have found paths +where the lesser winds had been at work, where the baby whirlwinds had +been at play. +</P> + +<P> +From the bruised woods, like an incense offered to heaven, rose a +perfume of blossoms gathered and scattered, of rain-wet leaves, of +lianas twisted and broken and oozing their sap; the perfume of +newly-wrecked and ruined trees—the essence and soul of the artu, the +banyan and cocoa-palm cast upon the wind. +</P> + +<P> +You would have found dead butterflies in the woods, dead birds too; but +in the great path of the storm you would have found dead butterflies’ +wings, feathers, leaves frayed as if by fingers, branches of the aoa, +and sticks of the hibiscus broken into little fragments. +</P> + +<P> +Powerful enough to rip a ship open, root up a tree, half ruin a city. +Delicate enough to tear a butterfly wing from wing—that is a cyclone. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline, wandering about in the woods with Dick on the day after the +storm, looking at the ruin of great tree and little bird, and +recollecting the land birds she had caught a glimpse of yesterday being +carried along safely by the storm out to sea to be drowned, felt a +great weight lifting from her heart. Mischance had come, and spared +them and the baby. The blue had spoken, but had not called them. +</P> + +<P> +She felt that something—the something which we in civilisation call +Fate—was for the present gorged; and, without being annihilated, her +incessant hypochondriacal dread condensed itself into a point, leaving +her horizon sunlit and clear. +</P> + +<P> +The cyclone had indeed treated them almost, one might say, amiably. It +had taken the house—but that was a small matter, for it had left them +nearly all their small possessions. The tinder box and flint and steel +would have been a much more serious loss than a dozen houses, for, +without it, they would have had absolutely no means of making a fire. +</P> + +<P> +If anything, the cyclone had been almost too kind to them; had let them +pay off too little of that mysterious debt they owed to the gods. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0218"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A FALLEN IDOL +</H3> + +<P> +The next day Dick began to rebuild the house. He had fetched the +stay-sail from the reef and rigged up a temporary tent. +</P> + +<P> +It was a great business cutting the canes and dragging them out in the +open. Emmeline helped; whilst Hannah, seated on the grass, played with +the bird that had vanished during the storm, but reappeared the evening +after. +</P> + +<P> +The child and the bird had grown fast friends; they were friendly +enough even at first, but now the bird would sometimes let the tiny +hands clasp him right round his body—at least, as far as the hands +would go. +</P> + +<P> +It is a rare experience for a man to hold a tame and unstruggling and +unfrightened bird in his hands; next to pressing a woman in his arms, +it is the pleasantest tactile sensation he will ever experience, +perhaps, in life. He will feel a desire to press it to his heart, if he +has such a thing. +</P> + +<P> +Hannah would press Koko to his little brown stomach, as if in artless +admission of where his heart lay. +</P> + +<P> +He was an extraordinarily bright and intelligent child. He did not +promise to be talkative, for, having achieved the word “Dick,” he +rested content for a long while before advancing further into the +labyrinth of language; but though he did not use his tongue, he spoke +in a host of other ways. With his eyes, that were as bright as Koko’s, +and full of all sorts of mischief; with his hands and feet and the +movements of his body. He had a way of shaking his hands before him +when highly delighted, a way of expressing nearly all the shades of +pleasure; and though he rarely expressed anger, when he did so, he +expressed it fully. +</P> + +<P> +He was just now passing over the frontier into toyland. In civilisation +he would no doubt have been the possessor of an india-rubber dog or a +woolly lamb, but there were no toys here at all. Emmeline’s old doll +had been left behind when they took flight from the other side of the +island, and Dick, a year or so ago, on one of his expeditions, had +found it lying half buried in the sand of the beach. +</P> + +<P> +He had brought it back now more as a curiosity than anything else, and +they had kept it on the shelf in the house. The cyclone had impaled it +on a tree-twig near by, as if in derision; and Hannah, when it was +presented to him as a plaything, flung it away from him as if in +disgust. But he would play with flowers or bright shells, or bits of +coral, making vague patterns with them on the sward. +</P> + +<P> +All the toy lambs in the world would not have pleased him better than +those things, the toys of the Troglodyte children—the children of the +Stone Age. To clap two oyster shells together and make a noise—what, +after all, could a baby want better than that? +</P> + +<P> +One afternoon, when the house was beginning to take some sort of form, +they ceased work and went off into the woods; Emmeline carrying the +baby, and Dick taking turns with him. They were going to the valley of +the idol. +</P> + +<P> +Since the coming of Hannah, and even before, the stone figure standing +in its awful and mysterious solitude had ceased to be an object of +dread to Emmeline, and had become a thing vaguely benevolent. Love had +come to her under its shade; and under its shade the spirit of the +child had entered into her—from where, who knows? But certainly through +heaven. +</P> + +<P> +Perhaps the thing which had been the god of some unknown people had +inspired her with the instinct of religion; if so, she was his last +worshipper on earth, for when they entered the valley they found him +lying upon his face. Great blocks of stone lay around him: there had +evidently been a landslip, a catastrophe preparing for ages, and +determined, perhaps, by the torrential rain of the cyclone. +</P> + +<P> +In Ponape, Huahine, in Easter Island, you may see great idols that have +been felled like this, temples slowly dissolving from sight, and +terraces, seemingly as solid as the hills, turning softly and subtly +into shapeless mounds of stone. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0219"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE EXPEDITION +</H3> + +<P> +Next morning the light of day filtering through the trees awakened +Emmeline in the tent which they had improvised whilst the house was +building. Dawn came later here than on the other side of the island +which faced east—later, and in a different manner—for there is the +difference of worlds between dawn coming over a wooded hill, and dawn +coming over the sea. +</P> + +<P> +Over at the other side, sitting on the sand with the break of the reef +which faced the east before you, scarcely would the east change colour +before the sea-line would be on fire, the sky lit up into an +illimitable void of blue, and the sunlight flooding into the lagoon, +the ripples of light seeming to chase the ripples of water. +</P> + +<P> +On this side it was different. The sky would be dark and full of stars, +and the woods, great spaces of velvety shadow. Then through the leaves +of the artu would come a sigh, and the leaves of the breadfruit would +patter, and the sound of the reef become faint. The land breeze had +awakened, and in a while, as if it had blown them away, looking up, you +would find the stars gone, and the sky a veil of palest blue. In this +indirect approach of dawn there was something ineffably mysterious. One +could see, but the things seen were indecisive and vague, just as they +are in the gloaming of an English summer’s day. +</P> + +<P> +Scarcely had Emmeline arisen when Dick woke also, and they went out on +to the sward, and then down to the water’s edge. Dick went in for a +swim, and the girl, holding the baby, stood on the bank watching him. +</P> + +<P> +Always after a great storm the weather of the island would become more +bracing and exhilarating, and this morning the air seemed filled with +the spirit of spring. Emmeline felt it, and as she watched the swimmer +disporting in the water, she laughed, and held the child up to watch +him. She was fey. The breeze, filled with all sorts of sweet perfumes +from the woods, blew her black hair about her shoulders, and the full +light of morning coming over the palm fronds of the woods beyond the +sward touched her and the child. Nature seemed caressing them. +</P> + +<P> +Dick came ashore, and then ran about to dry himself in the wind. Then +he went to the dinghy and examined her; for he had determined to leave +the house-building for half a day, and row round to the old place to +see how the banana trees had fared during the storm. His anxiety about +them was not to be wondered at. The island was his larder, and the +bananas were a most valuable article of food. He had all the feelings +of a careful housekeeper about them, and he could not rest till he had +seen for himself the extent of damage, if damage there was any. +</P> + +<P> +He examined the boat, and then they all went back to breakfast. Living +their lives, they had to use forethought. They would put away, for +instance, all the shells of the cocoa-nuts they used for fuel; and you +never could imagine the blazing splendour there lives in the shell of a +cocoa-nut till you see it burning. Yesterday, Dick, with his usual +prudence, had placed a heap of sticks, all wet with the rain of the +storm, to dry in the sun: as a consequence, they had plenty of fuel to +make a fire with this morning. +</P> + +<P> +When they had finished breakfast he got the knife to cut the bananas +with—if there were any left to cut—and, taking the javelin, he went +down to the boat, followed by Emmeline and the child. +</P> + +<P> +Dick had stepped into the boat, and was on the point of unmooring her, +and pushing her off, when Emmeline stopped him. +</P> + +<P> +“Dick!” +</P> + +<P> +“Yes?” +</P> + +<P> +“I will go with you.” +</P> + +<P> +“You!” said he in astonishment. +</P> + +<P> +“Yes, I’m—not afraid any more.” +</P> + +<P> +It was a fact; since the coming of the child she had lost that dread of +the other side of the island—or almost lost it. +</P> + +<P> +Death is a great darkness, birth is a great light—they had intermixed +in her mind; the darkness was still there, but it was no longer +terrible to her, for it was infused with the light. The result was a +twilight sad, but beautiful, and unpeopled with forms of fear. +</P> + +<P> +Years ago she had seen a mysterious door close and shut a human being +out for ever from the world. The sight had filled her with dread +unimaginable, for she had no words for the thing, no religion or +philosophy to explain it away or gloss it over. Just recently she had +seen an equally mysterious door open and admit a human being; and deep +down in her mind, in the place where the dreams were, the one great +fact had explained and justified the other. Life had vanished into the +void, but life had come from there. There was life in the void, and it +was no longer terrible. +</P> + +<P> +Perhaps all religions were born on a day when some woman, seated upon a +rock by the prehistoric sea, looked at her newborn child and recalled +to mind her man who had been slain, thus closing the charm and +imprisoning the idea of a future state. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline, with the child in her arms, stepped into the little boat and +took her seat in the stern, whilst Dick pushed off. Scarcely had he put +out the sculls than a new passenger arrived. It was Koko. He would +often accompany them to the reef, though, strangely enough, he would +never go there alone of his own accord. He made a circle or two over +them, and then lit on the gunwale in the bow, and perched there, humped +up, and with his long dove-coloured tail feathers presented to the +water. +</P> + +<P> +The oarsman kept close in-shore, and as they rounded the little cape +all gay with wild cocoa-nut the bushes brushed the boat, and the child, +excited by their colour, held out his hands to them. Emmeline +stretched out her hand and broke off a branch; but it was not a branch +of the wild cocoa-nut she had plucked, it was a branch of the +never-wake-up berries. The berries that will cause a man to sleep, +should he eat of them—to sleep and dream, and never wake up again. +</P> + +<P> +“Throw them away!” cried Dick, who remembered. +</P> + +<P> +“I will in a minute,” she replied. +</P> + +<P> +She was holding them up before the child, who was laughing and trying +to grasp them. Then she forgot them, and dropped them in the bottom of +the boat, for something had struck the keel with a thud, and the water +was boiling all round. +</P> + +<P> +There was a savage fight going on below. In the breeding season great +battles would take place sometimes in the lagoon, for fish have their +jealousies just like men—love affairs, friendships. The two great +forms could be dimly perceived, one in pursuit of the other, and they +terrified Emmeline, who implored Dick to row on. +</P> + +<P> +They slipped by the pleasant shores that Emmeline had never seen +before, having been sound asleep when they came past them those years +ago. +</P> + +<P> +Just before putting off she had looked back at the beginnings of the +little house under the artu tree, and as she looked at the strange +glades and groves, the picture of it rose before her, and seemed to +call her back. +</P> + +<P> +It was a tiny possession, but it was home; and so little used to change +was she that already a sort of home-sickness was upon her; but it +passed away almost as soon as it came, and she fell to wondering at the +things around her, and pointing them out to the child. +</P> + +<P> +When they came to the place where Dick had hooked the albicore, he hung +on his oars and told her about it. It was the first time she had heard +of it; a fact which shows into what a state of savagery he had been +lapsing. He had mentioned about the canoes, for he had to account for +the javelin; but as for telling her of the incidents of the chase, he +no more thought of doing so than a red Indian would think of detailing +to his squaw the incidents of a bear hunt. Contempt for women is the +first law of savagery, and perhaps the last law of some old and +profound philosophy. +</P> + +<P> +She listened, and when it came to the incident of the shark, she +shuddered. +</P> + +<P> +“I wish I had a hook big enough to catch him with,” said he, staring +into the water as if in search of his enemy. +</P> + +<P> +“Don’t think of him, Dick,” said Emmeline, holding the child more +tightly to her heart. “Row on.” +</P> + +<P> +He resumed the sculls, but you could have seen from his face that he +was recounting to himself the incident. +</P> + +<P> +When they had rounded the last promontory, and the strand and the break +in the reef opened before them, Emmeline caught her breath. The place +had changed in some subtle manner; everything was there as before, yet +everything seemed different—the lagoon seemed narrower, the reef +nearer, the cocoa-palms not nearly so tall. She was contrasting the +real things with the recollection of them when seen by a child. The +black speck had vanished from the reef; the storm had swept it utterly +away. +</P> + +<P> +Dick beached the boat on the shelving sand, and left Emmeline seated in +the stern of it, whilst he went in search of the bananas; she would +have accompanied him, but the child had fallen asleep. +</P> + +<P> +Hannah asleep was even a pleasanter picture than when awake. He looked +like a little brown Cupid without wings, bow or arrow. He had all the +grace of a curled-up feather. Sleep was always in pursuit of him, and +would catch him up at the most unexpected moments—when he was at play, +or indeed at any time. Emmeline would sometimes find him with a +coloured shell or bit of coral that he had been playing with in his +hand fast asleep, a happy expression on his face, as if his mind were +pursuing its earthly avocations on some fortunate beach in dreamland. +</P> + +<P> +Dick had plucked a huge breadfruit leaf and given it to her as a +shelter from the sun, and she sat holding it over her, and gazing +straight before her, over the white, sunlit sands. +</P> + +<P> +The flight of the mind in reverie is not in a direct line. To her, +dreaming as she sat, came all sorts of coloured pictures, recalled by +the scene before her: the green water under the stern of a ship, and +the word <i>Shenandoah</i> vaguely reflected on it; their landing, and the +little tea-set spread out on the white sand—she could still see the +pansies painted on the plates, and she counted in memory the lead +spoons; the great stars that burned over the reef at nights; the +Cluricaunes and fairies; the cask by the well where the convolvulus +blossomed, and the wind-blown trees seen from the summit of the +hill—all these pictures drifted before her, dissolving and replacing +each other as they went. +</P> + +<P> +There was sadness in the contemplation of them, but pleasure too. She +felt at peace with the world. All trouble seemed far behind her. It was +as if the great storm that had left them unharmed had been an +ambassador from the powers above to assure her of their forbearance, +protection, and love. +</P> + +<P> +All at once she noticed that between the boat’s bow and the sand there +lay a broad, blue, sparkling line. The dinghy was afloat. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0220"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE KEEPER OF THE LAGOON +</H3> + +<P> +The woods here had been less affected by the cyclone than those upon +the other side of the island, but there had been destruction enough. To +reach the place he wanted, Dick had to climb over felled trees and +fight his way through a tangle of vines that had once hung overhead. +</P> + +<P> +The banana trees had not suffered at all; as if by some special +dispensation of Providence even the great bunches of fruit had been +scarcely injured, and he proceeded to climb and cut them. He cut two +bunches, and with one across his shoulder came back down through the +trees. +</P> + +<P> +He had got half across the sands, his head bent under the load, when a +distant call came to him, and, raising his head, he saw the boat adrift +in the middle of the lagoon, and the figure of the girl in the bow of +it waving to him with her arm. He saw a scull floating on the water +half-way between the boat and the shore, which she had no doubt lost in +an attempt to paddle the boat back. He remembered that the tide was +going out. +</P> + +<P> +He flung his load aside, and ran down the beach; in a moment he was in +the water. Emmeline, standing up in the boat, watched him. +</P> + +<P> +When she found herself adrift, she had made an effort to row back, and +in her hurry shipping the sculls she had lost one. With a single scull +she was quite helpless, as she had not the art of sculling a boat from +the stern. At first she was not frightened, because she knew that Dick +would soon return to her assistance; but as the distance between boat +and shore increased, a cold hand seemed laid upon her heart. Looking at +the shore it seemed very far away, and the view towards the reef was +terrific, for the opening had increased in apparent size, and the great +sea beyond seemed drawing her to it. +</P> + +<P> +She saw Dick coming out of the wood with the load on his shoulder, and +she called to him. At first he did not seem to hear, then she saw him +look up, cast the bananas away, and come running down the sand to the +water’s edge. She watched him swimming, she saw him seize the scull, +and her heart gave a great leap of joy. +</P> + +<P> +Towing the scull and swimming with one arm, he rapidly approached the +boat. He was quite close, only ten feet away, when Emmeline saw behind +him, shearing through the clear, rippling water and advancing with +speed, a dark triangle that seemed made of canvas stretched upon a +sword point. +</P> + +<P> +Forty years ago he had floated adrift on the sea in the form and +likeness of a small shabby pine-cone, a prey to anything that might +find him. He had escaped the jaws of the dog-fish, and the jaws of the +dog-fish are a very wide door; he had escaped the albicore and squid: +his life had been one long series of miraculous escapes from death. Out +of a billion like him born in the same year, he and a few others only +had survived. +</P> + +<P> +For thirty years he had kept the lagoon to himself, as a ferocious +tiger keeps a jungle. He had known the palm tree on the reef when it +was a seedling, and he had known the reef even before the palm tree was +there. The things he had devoured, flung one upon another, would have +made a mountain; yet he was as clear of enmity as a sword, as cruel, and +as soulless. He was the spirit of the lagoon. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline screamed, and pointed to the thing behind the swimmer. He +turned, saw it, dropped the oar and made for the boat. She had seized +the remaining scull and stood with it poised, then she hurled it blade +foremost at the form in the water, now fully visible, and close on its +prey. +</P> + +<P> +She could not throw a stone straight, yet the scull went like an arrow +to the mark, balking the pursuer and saving the pursued. In a moment +more his leg was over the gunwale, and he was saved. +</P> + +<P> +But the scull was lost. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0221"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE HAND OF THE SEA +</H3> + +<P> +There was nothing in the boat that could possibly be used as a paddle; +the scull was only five or six yards away, but to attempt to swim to it +was certain death, yet they were being swept out to sea. He might have +made the attempt, only that on the starboard quarter the form of the +shark, gently swimming at the same pace as they were drifting, could be +made out only half veiled by the water. +</P> + +<P> +The bird perched on the gunwale seemed to divine their trouble, for he +rose in the air, made a circle, and resumed his perch with all his +feathers ruffled. +</P> + +<P> +Dick stood in despair, helpless, his hands clasping his head. The shore +was drawing away before him, the surf loudening behind him, yet he +could do nothing. The island was being taken away from them by the +great hand of the sea. +</P> + +<P> +Then, suddenly, the little boat entered the race formed by the +confluence of the tides, from the right and left arms of the lagoon; +the sound of the surf suddenly increased as though a door had been +flung open. The breakers were falling and the sea-gulls crying on +either side of them, and for a moment the ocean seemed to hesitate as +to whether they were to be taken away into her wastes, or dashed on the +coral strand. Only for a moment this seeming hesitation lasted; then +the power of the tide prevailed over the power of the swell, and the +little boat taken by the current drifted gently out to sea. +</P> + +<P> +Dick flung himself down beside Emmeline, who was seated in the bottom +of the boat holding the child to her breast. The bird, seeing the land +retreat, and wise in its instinct, rose into the air. It circled +thrice round the drifting boat, and then, like a beautiful but +faithless spirit, passed away to the shore. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0222"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +TOGETHER +</H3> + +<P> +The island had sunk slowly from sight; at sundown it was just a trace, +a stain on the south-western horizon. It was before the new moon, and +the little boat lay drifting. It drifted from the light of sunset into +a world of vague violet twilight, and now it lay drifting under the +stars. +</P> + +<P> +The girl, clasping the baby to her breast, leaned against her +companion’s shoulder; neither of them spoke. All the wonders in their +short existence had culminated in this final wonder, this passing away +together from the world of Time. This strange voyage they had embarked +on—to where? +</P> + +<P> +Now that the first terror was over they felt neither sorrow nor fear. +They were together. Come what might, nothing could divide them; even +should they sleep and never wake up, they would sleep together. Had one +been left and the other taken! +</P> + +<P> +As though the thought had occurred to them simultaneously, they turned +one to the other, and their lips met, their souls met, mingling in one +dream; whilst above in the windless heaven space answered space with +flashes of siderial light, and Canopus shone and burned like the +pointed sword of Azrael. +</P> + +<P> +Clasped in Emmeline’s hand was the last and most mysterious gift of the +mysterious world they had known—the branch of crimson berries. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0301"></A> +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +BOOK III +</H2> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER I +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +MAD LESTRANGE +</H3> + +<P> +They knew him upon the Pacific slope as “Mad Lestrange.” He was not +mad, but he was a man with a fixed idea. He was pursued by a vision: +the vision of two children and an old sailor adrift in a little boat +upon a wide blue sea. +</P> + +<P> +When the <i>Arago</i>, bound for Papetee, picked up the boats of the +<i>Northumberland</i>, only the people in the long-boat were alive. Le Farge, +the captain, was mad, and he never recovered his reason. Lestrange was +utterly shattered; the awful experience in the boats and the loss of +the children had left him a seemingly helpless wreck. The scowbankers, +like all their class, had fared better, and in a few days were about +the ship and sitting in the sun. Four days after the rescue the <i>Arago</i> +spoke the <i>Newcastle</i>, bound for San Francisco, and transhipped the +shipwrecked men. +</P> + +<P> +Had a physician seen Lestrange on board the <i>Northumberland</i> as she lay +in that long, long calm before the fire, he would have declared that +nothing but a miracle could prolong his life. The miracle came about. +</P> + +<P> +In the general hospital of San Francisco, as the clouds cleared from +his mind, they unveiled the picture of the children and the little +boat. The picture had been there daily, seen but not truly +comprehended; the horrors gone through in the open boat, the sheer +physical exhaustion, had merged all the accidents of the great disaster +into one mournful half-comprehended fact. When his brain cleared all +the other incidents fell out of focus, and memory, with her eyes set +upon the children, began to paint a picture that he was ever more to +see. +</P> + +<P> +Memory cannot produce a picture that Imagination has not retouched; and +her pictures, even the ones least touched by Imagination, are no mere +photographs, but the work of an artist. All that is inessential she +casts away, all that is essential she retains; she idealises, and that +is why her picture of a lost mistress has had power to keep a man a +celibate to the end of his days, and why she can break a human heart +with the picture of a dead child. She is a painter, but she is also a +poet. +</P> + +<P> +The picture before the mind of Lestrange was filled with this almost +diabolical poetry, for in it the little boat and her helpless crew were +represented adrift on a blue and sunlit sea. A sea most beautiful to +look at, yet most terrible, bearing as it did the recollections of +thirst. +</P> + +<P> +He had been dying, when, raising himself on his elbow, so to say, he +looked at this picture. It recalled him to life. His willpower asserted +itself, and he refused to die. +</P> + +<P> +The will of a man has, if it is strong enough, the power to reject +death. He was not in the least conscious of the exercise of this power; +he only knew that a great and absorbing interest had suddenly arisen in +him, and that a great aim stood before him—the recovery of the +children. +</P> + +<P> +The disease that was killing him ceased its ravages, or rather was +slain in its turn by the increased vitality against which it had to +strive. He left the hospital and took up his quarters at the Palace +Hotel, and then, like the General of an army, he began to formulate his +plan of campaign against Fate. +</P> + +<P> +When the crew of the <i>Northumberland</i> had stampeded, hurling their +officers aside, lowering the boats with a rush, and casting themselves +into the sea, everything had been lost in the way of ship’s papers; the +charts, the two logs—everything, in fact, that could indicate the +latitude and longitude of the disaster. The first and second officers +and a midshipman had shared the fate of the quarter-boat; of the +foremast hands saved, not one, of course, could give the slightest +hint as to the locality of the spot. +</P> + +<P> +A time reckoning from the Horn told little, for there was no record of +the log. All that could be said was that the disaster had occurred +somewhere south of the line. +</P> + +<P> +In Le Farge’s brain lay for a certainty the position, and Lestrange +went to see the captain in the “Maison de Sante,” where he was being +looked after, and found him quite recovered from the furious mania that +he had been suffering from. Quite recovered, and playing with a ball of +coloured worsted. +</P> + +<P> +There remained the log of the <i>Arago</i>; in it would be found the latitude +and longitude of the boats she had picked up. +</P> + +<P> +The <i>Arago</i>, due at Papetee, became overdue. Lestrange watched the +overdue lists from day to day, from week to week, from month to month, +uselessly, for the <i>Arago</i> never was heard of again. One could not affirm +even that she was wrecked; she was simply one of the ships that never +come back from the sea. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0302"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER II +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE SECRET OF THE AZURE +</H3> + +<P> +To lose a child he loves is undoubtedly the greatest catastrophe that +can happen to a man. I do not refer to its death. +</P> + +<P> +A child wanders into the street, or is left by its nurse for a moment, +and vanishes. At first the thing is not realised. There is a pang and +hurry at the heart which half vanishes, whilst the understanding +explains that in a civilised city, if a child gets lost, it will be +found and brought back by the neighbours or the police. +</P> + +<P> +But the police know nothing of the matter, or the neighbours, and the +hours pass. Any minute may bring back the wanderer; but the minutes +pass, and the day wears into evening, and the evening to night, and the +night to dawn, and the common sounds of a new day begin. +</P> + +<P> +You cannot remain at home for restlessness; you go out, only to return +hurriedly for news. You are eternally listening, and what you hear +shocks you; the common sounds of life, the roll of the carts and cabs +in the street, the footsteps of the passers-by, are full of an +indescribable mournfulness; music increases your misery into madness, +and the joy of others is monstrous as laughter heard in hell. +</P> + +<P> +If some one were to bring you the dead body of the child, you might +weep, but you would bless him, for it is the uncertainty that kills. +</P> + +<P> +You go mad, or go on living. Years pass by, and you are an old man. +You say to yourself: “He would have been twenty years of age to-day.” +</P> + +<P> +There is not in the old ferocious penal code of our forefathers a +punishment adequate to the case of the man or woman who steals a child. +</P> + +<P> +Lestrange was a wealthy man, and one hope remained to him, that the +children might have been rescued by some passing ship. It was not the +case of children lost in a city, but in the broad Pacific, where ships +travel from all ports to all ports, and to advertise his loss +adequately it was necessary to placard the world. Ten thousand dollars +was the reward offered for news of the lost ones, twenty thousand for +the recovery; and the advertisement appeared in every newspaper likely +to reach the eyes of a sailor, from the <i>Liverpool Post</i> to the <i>Dead Bird</i>. +</P> + +<P> +The years passed without anything definite coming in answer to all +these advertisements. Once news came of two children saved from the sea +in the neighbourhood of the Gilberts, and it was not false news, but +they were not the children he was seeking for. This incident at once +depressed and stimulated him, for it seemed to say, “If these children +have been saved, why not yours?” +</P> + +<P> +The strange thing was, that in his heart he felt a certainty that they +were alive. His intellect suggested their death in twenty different +forms; but a whisper, somewhere out of that great blue ocean, told him +at intervals that what he sought was there, living, and waiting for him. +</P> + +<P> +He was somewhat of the same temperament as Emmeline—a dreamer, with a +mind tuned to receive and record the fine rays that fill this world +flowing from intellect to intellect, and even from what we call +inanimate things. A coarser nature would, though feeling, perhaps, as +acutely the grief, have given up in despair the search. But he kept on; +and at the end of the fifth year, so far from desisting, he chartered a +schooner and passed eighteen months in a fruitless search, calling at +little-known islands, and once, unknowing, at an island only three +hundred miles away from the tiny island of this story. +</P> + +<P> +If you wish to feel the hopelessness of this unguided search, do not +look at a map of the Pacific, but go there. Hundreds and hundreds of +thousands of square leagues of sea, thousands of islands, reefs, atolls. +</P> + +<P> +Up to a few years ago there were many small islands utterly unknown; +even still there are some, though the charts of the Pacific are the +greatest triumphs of hydrography; and though the island of the story +was actually on the Admiralty charts, of what use was that fact to +Lestrange? +</P> + +<P> +He would have continued searching, but he dared not, for the desolation +of the sea had touched him. +</P> + +<P> +In that eighteen months the Pacific explained itself to him in part, +explained its vastness, its secrecy and inviolability. The schooner +lifted veil upon veil of distance, and veil upon veil lay beyond. He +could only move in a right line; to search the wilderness of water with +any hope, one would have to be endowed with the gift of moving in all +directions at once. +</P> + +<P> +He would often lean over the bulwark rail and watch the swell slip by, +as if questioning the water. Then the sunsets began to weigh upon his +heart, and the stars to speak to him in a new language, and he knew +that it was time to return, if he would return with a whole mind. +</P> + +<P> +When he got back to San Francisco he called upon his agent, Wannamaker +of Kearney Street, but there was still no news. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0303"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER III +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CAPTAIN FOUNTAIN +</H3> + +<P> +He had a suite of rooms at the Palace Hotel, and he lived the life of +any other rich man who is not addicted to pleasure. He knew some of the +best people in the city, and conducted himself so sanely in all +respects that a casual stranger would never have guessed his reputation +for madness; but when you knew him better, you would find sometimes in +the middle of a conversation that his mind was away from the subject; +and were you to follow him in the street, you would hear him in +conversation with himself. Once at a dinner-party he rose and left the +room, and did not return. Trifles, but sufficient to establish a +reputation of a sort. +</P> + +<P> +One morning—to be precise, it was the second day of May, exactly eight +years and five months after the wreck of the <i>Northumberland</i>—Lestrange +was in his sitting-room reading, when the bell of the telephone, which +stood in the corner of the room, rang. He went to the instrument. +</P> + +<P> +“Are you there?” came a high American voice. “Lestrange—right—come +down and see me—Wannamaker—I have news for you.” +</P> + +<P> +Lestrange held the receiver for a moment, then he put it back in the +rest. He went to a chair and sat down, holding his head between his +hands, then he rose and went to the telephone again; but he dared not +use it, he dare not shatter the newborn hope. +</P> + +<P> +“News!” What a world lies in that word. +</P> + +<P> +In Kearney Street he stood before the door of Wannamaker’s office +collecting himself and watching the crowd drifting by, then he entered +and went up the stairs. He pushed open a swing-door and entered a great +room. The clink and rattle of a dozen typewriters filled the place, and +all the hurry of business; clerks passed and came with sheaves of +correspondence in their hands; and Wannamaker himself, rising from +bending over a message which he was correcting on one of the +typewriters’ tables, saw the newcomer and led him to the private office. +</P> + +<P> +“What is it?” said Lestrange. +</P> + +<P> +“Only this,” said the other, taking up a slip of paper with a name and +address on it. “Simon J. Fountain, of 45 Rathray Street, West—that’s +down near the wharves—says he has seen your ad. in an old number of a +paper, and he thinks he can tell you something. He did not specify the +nature of the intelligence, but it might be worth finding out.” +</P> + +<P> +“I will go there,” said Lestrange. +</P> + +<P> +“Do you know Rathray Street?” +</P> + +<P> +“No.” +</P> + +<P> +Wannamaker went out and called a boy and gave him some directions; then +Lestrange and the boy started. +</P> + +<P> +Lestrange left the office without saying “Thank you,” or taking leave +in any way of the advertising agent—who did not feel in the least +affronted, for he knew his customer. +</P> + +<P> +Rathray Street is, or was before the earthquake, a street of small +clean houses. It had a seafaring look that was accentuated by the +marine perfumes from the wharves close by and the sound of steam +winches loading or discharging cargo—a sound that ceased not night +or day as the work went on beneath the sun or the sizzling arc lamps. +</P> + +<P> +No. 45 was almost exactly like its fellows, neither better nor worse; +and the door was opened by a neat, prim woman, small, and of middle +age. Commonplace she was, no doubt, but not commonplace to Lestrange. +</P> + +<P> +“Is Mr Fountain in?” he asked. “I have come about the advertisement.” +</P> + +<P> +“Oh, have you, sir?” she replied, making way for him to enter, and +showing him into a little sitting-room on the left of the passage. +“The Captain is in bed; he is a great invalid, but he was expecting, +perhaps, some one would call, and he will be able to see you in a +minute, if you don’t mind waiting.” +</P> + +<P> +“Thanks,” said Lestrange; “I can wait.” +</p> + +<P> +He had waited eight years, what mattered a few minutes now? But at no +time in the eight years had he suffered such suspense, for his heart +knew that now, just now in this commonplace little house, from the lips +of, perhaps, the husband of that commonplace woman, he was going to +learn either what he feared to hear, or what he hoped. +</P> + +<P> +It was a depressing little room; it was so clean, and looked as though +it were never used. A ship imprisoned in a glass bottle stood upon the +mantelpiece, and there were shells from far-away places, pictures of +ships in sand—all the things one finds as a rule adorning an old +sailor’s home. +</P> + +<P> +Lestrange, as he sat waiting, could hear movements from the next +room—probably the invalid’s, which they were preparing for his +reception. The distant sounds of the derricks and winches came muffled +through the tightly-shut window that looked as though it never had been +opened. A square of sunlight lit the upper part of the cheap lace +curtain on the right of the window, and repeated its pattern vaguely on +the lower part of the wall opposite. Then a bluebottle fly awoke +suddenly into life and began to buzz and drum against the window pane, +and Lestrange wished that they would come. +</P> + +<P> +A man of his temperament must necessarily, even under the happiest +circumstances, suffer in going through the world; the fine fibre always +suffers when brought into contact with the coarse. These people were as +kindly disposed as any one else. The advertisement and the face and +manners of the visitor might have told them that it was not the time +for delay, yet they kept him waiting whilst they arranged bed-quilts +and put medicine bottles straight—as if he could see! +</P> + +<P> +At last the door opened, and the woman said: +</P> + +<P> +“Will you step this way, sir?” +</P> + +<P> +She showed him into a bedroom opening off the passage. The room was +neat and clean, and had that indescribable appearance which marks the +bedroom of the invalid. +</P> + +<P> +In the bed, making a mountain under the counterpane with an enormously +distended stomach, lay a man, black-bearded, and with his large, +capable, useless hands spread out on the coverlet—hands ready and +willing, but debarred from work. Without moving his body, he turned his +head slowly and looked at the newcomer. This slow movement was not +from weakness or disease, it was the slow, emotionless nature of the +man speaking. +</P> + +<P> +“This is the gentleman, Silas,” said the woman, speaking over +Lestrange’s shoulder. Then she withdrew and closed the door. +</P> + +<P> +“Take a chair, sir,” said the sea captain, flapping one of his hands on +the counterpane as if in wearied protest against his own helplessness. +“I haven’t the pleasure of your name, but the missus tells me you’re +come about the advertisement I lit on yester-even.” +</P> + +<P> +He took a paper, folded small, that lay beside him, and held it out to +his visitor. It was a <i>Sidney Bulletin</i> three years old. +</P> + +<P> +“Yes,” said Lestrange, looking at the paper; “that is my advertisement.” +</P> + +<P> +“Well, it’s strange—very strange,” said Captain Fountain, “that I +should have lit on it only yesterday. I’ve had it all three years in my +chest, the way old papers get lying at the bottom with odds and ends. +Mightn’t a’ seen it now, only the missus cleared the raffle out of the +chest, and, ‘Give me that paper,’ I says, seeing it in her hand; and I +fell to reading it, for a man’ll read anything bar tracts lying in bed +eight months, as I’ve been with the dropsy. I’ve been whaler man and +boy forty year, and my last ship was the <i>Sea-Horse</i>. Over seven years +ago one of my men picked up something on a beach of one of them islands +east of the Marquesas—we’d put in to water—” +</P> + +<P> +“Yes, yes,” said Lestrange. “What was it he found?” +</P> + +<P> +“Missus!” roared the captain in a voice that shook the walls of the +room. +</P> + +<P> +The door opened, and the woman appeared. +</P> + +<P> +“Fetch me my keys out of my trousers pocket.” +</P> + +<P> +The trousers were hanging up on the back of the door, as if only +waiting to be put on. The woman fetched the keys, and he fumbled over +them and found one. He handed it to her, and pointed to the drawer of a +bureau opposite the bed. +</P> + +<P> +She knew evidently what was wanted, for she opened the drawer and +produced a box, which she handed to him. It was a small cardboard box +tied round with a bit of string. He undid the string, and disclosed a +child’s tea service: a teapot, cream jug, six little plates—all painted +with a pansy. +</P> + +<P> +It was the box which Emmeline had always been losing—lost again. +</P> + +<P> +Lestrange buried his face in his hands. He knew the things. Emmeline +had shown them to him in a burst of confidence. Out of all that vast +ocean he had searched unavailingly: they had come to him like a +message, and the awe and mystery of it bowed him down and crushed him. +</P> + +<P> +The captain had placed the things on the newspaper spread out by his +side, and he was unrolling the little spoons from their tissue-paper +covering. He counted them as if entering up the tale of some trust, and +placed them on the newspaper. +</P> + +<P> +“When did you find them?” asked Lestrange, speaking with his face still +covered. +</P> + +<P> +“A matter of over seven years ago,” replied the captain, “we’d put in +to water at a place south of the line—Palm Tree Island we whalemen +call it, because of the tree at the break of the lagoon. One of my men +brought it aboard, found it in a shanty built of sugar-canes which the +men bust up for devilment.” +</P> + +<P> +“Good God!” said Lestrange. “Was there no one there—nothing but this +box?” +</P> + +<P> +“Not a sight or sound, so the men said; just the shanty abandoned +seemingly. I had no time to land and hunt for castaways, I was after +whales.” +</P> + +<P> +“How big is the island?” +</P> + +<P> +“Oh, a fairish middle-sized island—no natives. I’ve heard tell it’s +<i>tabu</i>; why, the Lord only knows—some crank of the Kanakas, I s’pose. +Anyhow, there’s the findings—you recognise them?” +</P> + +<P> +“I do.” +</P> + +<P> +“Seems strange,” said the captain, “that I should pick ’em up; seems +strange your advertisement out, and the answer to it lying amongst my +gear, but that’s the way things go.” +</P> + +<P> +“Strange!” said the other. “It’s more than strange.” +</P> + +<P> +“Of course,” continued the captain, “they might have been on the island +hid away som’ere, there’s no saying; only appearances are against it. +Of course they might be there now unbeknownst to you or me.” +</P> + +<P> +“They <i>are</i> there now,” answered Lestrange, who was sitting up and +looking at the playthings as though he read in them some hidden +message. “They <i>are</i> there now. Have you the position of the island?” +</P> + +<P> +“I have. Missus, hand me my private log.” +</P> + +<P> +She took a bulky, greasy, black note-book from the bureau, and handed +it to him. He opened it, thumbed the pages, and then read out the +latitude and longitude. +</P> + +<P> +“I entered it on the day of finding—here’s the entry. ‘Adams brought +aboard child’s toy box out of deserted shanty, which men pulled down; +traded it to me for a caulker of rum.’ The cruise lasted three years +and eight months after that; we’d only been out three when it happened. +I forgot all about it: three years scrubbing round the world after +whales doesn’t brighten a man’s memory. Right round we went, and paid +off at Nantucket. Then, after a fortni’t on shore and a month +repairin’, the old <i>Sea-Horse</i> was off again, I with her. It was at +Honolulu this dropsy took me, and back I come here, home. That’s the +yarn. There’s not much to it, but, seein’ your advertisement, I thought +I might answer it.” +</P> + +<P> +Lestrange took Fountain’s hand and shook it. +</P> + +<P> +“You see the reward I offered?” he said. “I have not my cheque book +with me, but you shall have the cheque in an hour from now.” +</P> + +<P> +“No, <i>sir</i>,” replied the captain; “if anything comes of it, I don’t say +I’m not open to some small acknowledgment, but ten thousand dollars for +a five-cent box—that’s not my way of doing business.” +</P> + +<P> +“I can’t make you take the money now—I can’t even thank you properly +now,” said Lestrange—“I am in a fever; but when all is settled, you +and I will settle this business. My God!” +</P> + +<P> +He buried his face in his hands again. +</P> + +<P> +“I’m not wishing to be inquisitive,” said Captain Fountain, slowly +putting the things back in the box and tucking the paper shavings round +them, “but may I ask how you propose to move in this business?” +</P> + +<P> +“I will hire a ship at once and search.” +</P> + +<P> +“Ay,” said the captain, wrapping up the little spoons in a meditative +manner; “perhaps that will be best.” +</P> + +<P> +He felt certain in his own mind that the search would be fruitless, but +he did not say so. If he had been absolutely certain in his mind +without being able to produce the proof, he would not have counselled +Lestrange to any other course, knowing that the man’s mind would never +be settled until proof positive was produced. +</P> + +<P> +“The question is,” said Lestrange, “what is my quickest way to get +there?” +</P> + +<P> +“There I may be able to help you,” said Fountain, tying the string round +the box. “A schooner with good heels to her is what you want; and, if +I’m not mistaken, there’s one discharging cargo at this present minit +at O’Sullivan’s wharf. Missus!” +</P> + +<P> +The woman answered the call. Lestrange felt like a person in a dream, +and these people who were interesting themselves in his affairs seemed +to him beneficent beyond the nature of human beings. +</P> + +<P> +“Is Captain Stannistreet home, think you?” +</P> + +<P> +“I don’t know,” replied the woman; “but I can go see.” +</P> + +<P> +“Do.” +</P> + +<P> +She went. +</P> + +<P> +“He lives only a few doors down,” said Fountain, “and he’s the man for +you. Best schooner captain ever sailed out of ’Frisco. The <i>Raratonga</i> is +the name of the boat I have in my mind—best boat that ever wore +copper. Stannistreet is captain of her, owners are M’Vitie. She’s been +missionary, and she’s been pigs; copra was her last cargo, and she’s +nearly discharged it. Oh, M’Vitie would hire her out to Satan at a +price; you needn’t be afraid of their boggling at it if you can raise +the dollars. She’s had a new suit of sails only the beginning of the +year. Oh, she’ll fix you up to a T, and you take the word of S. +Fountain for that. I’ll engineer the thing from this bed if you’ll let +me put my oar in your trouble; I’ll victual her, and find a crew three +quarter price of any of those d--d skulking agents. Oh, I’ll take a +commission right enough, but I’m half paid with doing the thing—” +</P> + +<P> +He ceased, for footsteps sounded in the passage outside, and Captain +Stannistreet was shown in. He was a young man of not more than thirty, +alert, quick of eye, and pleasant of face. Fountain introduced him to +Lestrange, who had taken a fancy to him at first sight. +</P> + +<P> +When he heard about the business in hand, he seemed interested at once; +the affair seemed to appeal to him more than if it had been a purely +commercial matter, such as copra and pigs. +</P> + +<P> +“If you’ll come with me, sir, down to the wharf, I’ll show you the boat +now,” he said, when they had discussed the matter and threshed it out +thoroughly. +</P> + +<P> +He rose, bid good-day to his friend Fountain, and Lestrange followed +him, carrying the brown-paper box in his hand. +</P> + +<P> +O’Sullivan’s Wharf was not far away. A tall Cape Horner that looked +almost a twin sister of the ill-fated <i>Northumberland</i> was discharging +iron, and astern of her, graceful as a dream, with snow-white decks, +lay the <i>Raratonga</i> discharging copra. +</P> + +<P> +“That’s the boat,” said Stannistreet; “cargo nearly all out. How does +she strike your fancy?” +</P> + +<P> +“I’ll take her,” said Lestrange, “cost what it will.” +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0304"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +DUE SOUTH +</H3> + +<P> +It was on the 10th of May, so quickly did things move under the +supervision of the bedridden captain, that the <i>Raratonga</i>, with +Lestrange on board, cleared the Golden Gates, and made south, heeling +to a ten-knot breeze. +</P> + +<P> +There is no mode of travel to be compared to your sailing-ship. In a +great ship, if you have ever made a voyage in one, the vast spaces of +canvas, the sky-high spars, the <i>finesse</i> with which the wind is met and +taken advantage of, will form a memory never to be blotted out. +</P> + +<P> +A schooner is the queen of all rigs; she has a bounding buoyancy denied +to the square-rigged craft, to which she stands in the same +relationship as a young girl to a dowager; and the <i>Raratonga</i> was not +only a schooner, but the queen, acknowledged of all the schooners in +the Pacific. +</P> + +<P> +For the first few days they made good way south; then the wind became +baffling and headed them off. +</P> + +<P> +Added to Lestrange’s feverish excitement there was an anxiety, a deep +and soul-fretting anxiety, as if some half-heard voice were telling him +that the children he sought were threatened by some danger. +</P> + +<P> +These baffling winds blew upon the smouldering anxiety in his breast, +as wind blows upon embers, causing them to glow. They lasted some days, +and then, as if Fate had relented, up sprang on the starboard quarter a +spanking breeze, making the rigging sing to a merry tune, and blowing +the spindrift from the forefoot, as the <i>Raratonga</i>, heeling to its +pressure, went humming through the sea, leaving a wake spreading behind +her like a fan. +</P> + +<P> +It took them along five hundred miles, silently and with the speed of a +dream. Then it ceased. +</P> + +<P> +The ocean and the air stood still. The sky above stood solid like a +great pale blue dome; just where it met the water line of the far +horizon a delicate tracery of cloud draped the entire round of the sky. +</P> + +<P> +I have said that the ocean stood still as well as the air: to the eye +it was so, for the swell under-running the glitter on its surface was +so even, so equable, and so rhythmical, that the surface seemed not in +motion. Occasionally a dimple broke the surface, and strips of dark +sea-weed floated by, showing up the green; dim things rose to the +surface, and, guessing the presence of man, sank slowly and dissolved +from sight. +</P> + +<P> +Two days, never to be recovered, passed, and still the calm continued. +On the morning of the third day it breezed up from the nor’-nor’west, +and they continued their course, a cloud of canvas, every sail drawing, +and the music of the ripple under the forefoot. +</P> + +<P> +Captain Stannistreet was a genius in his profession; he could get more +speed out of a schooner than any other man afloat, and carry more +canvas without losing a stick. He was also, fortunately for Lestrange, +a man of refinement and education, and what was better still, +understanding. +</P> + +<P> +They were pacing the deck one afternoon, when Lestrange, who was +walking with his hands behind him, and his eyes counting the brown +dowels in the cream-white planking, broke silence. +</P> + +<P> +“You don’t believe in visions and dreams?” +</P> + +<P> +“How do you know that?” replied the other. +</P> + +<P> +“Oh, I only put it as a question; most people say they don’t.” +</P> + +<P> +“Yes, but most people do.” +</P> + +<P> +“I do,” said Lestrange. +</P> + +<P> +He was silent for a moment. +</P> + +<P> +“You know my trouble so well that I won’t bother you going over it, but +there has come over me of late a feeling—it is like a waking dream.” +</P> + +<P> +“Yes?” +</P> + +<P> +“I can’t quite explain, for it is as if I saw something which my +intelligence could not comprehend, or make an image of.” +</P> + +<P> +“I think I know what you mean.” +</P> + +<P> +“I don’t think you do. This is something quite strange. I am fifty, and +in fifty years a man has experienced, as a rule, all the ordinary and +most of the extraordinary sensations that a human being can be +subjected to. Well, I have never felt this sensation before; it comes +on only at times. I see, as you might imagine, a young baby sees, and +things are before me that I do not comprehend. It is not through my +bodily eyes that this sensation comes, but through some window of the +mind, from before which a curtain has been drawn.” +</P> + +<P> +“That’s strange,” said Stannistreet, who did not like the conversation +over-much, being simply a schooner captain and a plain man, though +intelligent enough and sympathetic. +</P> + +<P> +“This something tells me,” went on Lestrange, “that there is danger +threatening the—” He ceased, paused a minute, and then, to +Stannistreet’s relief, went on. “If I talk like that you will think I +am not right in my head: let us pass the subject by, let us forget +dreams and omens and come to realities. You know how I lost the +children; you know how I hope to find them at the place where Captain +Fountain found their traces? He says the island was uninhabited, but he +was not sure.” +</P> + +<P> +“No,” replied Stannistreet, “he only spoke of the beach.” +</P> + +<P> +“Yes. Well, suppose there were natives at the other side of the island +who had taken these children.” +</P> + +<P> +“If so, they would grow up with the natives.” +</P> + +<P> +“And become savages?” +</P> + +<P> +“Yes; but the Polynesians can’t be really called savages; they are a +very decent lot. I’ve knocked about amongst them a good while, and a +kanaka is as white as a white man—which is not saying much, but it’s +something. Most of the islands are civilised now. Of course there are a +few that aren’t, but still, suppose even that ‘savages,’ as you call +them, had come and taken the children off—” +</P> + +<P> +Lestrange’s breath caught, for this was the very fear that was in his +heart, though he had never spoken it. +</P> + +<P> +“Well?” +</P> + +<P> +“Well, they would be well treated.” +</P> + +<P> +“And brought up as savages?” +</P> + +<P> +“I suppose so.” +</P> + +<P> +Lestrange sighed. +</P> + +<P> +“Look here,” said the captain; “it’s all very well talking, but upon my +word I think that we civilised folk put on a lot of airs, and waste a +lot of pity on savages.” +</P> + +<P> +“How so?” +</P> + +<P> +“What does a man want to be but happy?” +</P> + +<P> +“Yes.” +</P> + +<P> +“Well, who is happier than a naked savage in a warm climate? Oh, he’s +happy enough, and he’s not always holding a corroboree. He’s a good +deal of a gentleman; he has perfect health; he lives the life a man was +born to live face to face with Nature. He doesn’t see the sun through +an office window or the moon through the smoke of factory chimneys; +happy and civilised too—but, bless you, where is he? The whites have +driven him out; in one or two small islands you may find him still—a +crumb or so of him.” +</P> + +<P> +“Suppose,” said Lestrange, “suppose those children had been brought up +face to face with Nature—” +</P> + +<P> +“Yes?” +</P> + +<P> +“Living that free life—” +</P> + +<P> +“Yes?” +</P> + +<P> +“Waking up under the stars”—Lestrange was speaking with his eyes +fixed, as if upon something very far away—“going to sleep as the sun +sets, feeling the air fresh, like this which blows upon us, all around +them. Suppose they were like that, would it not be a cruelty to bring +them to what we call civilisation?” +</P> + +<P> +“I think it would,” said Stannistreet. +</P> + +<P> +Lestrange said nothing, but continued pacing the deck, his head bowed +and his hands behind his back. +</P> + +<P> +One evening at sunset, Stannistreet said: +</P> + +<P> +“We’re two hundred and forty miles from the island, reckoning from +to-day’s reckoning at noon. We’re going all ten knots even with this +breeze; we ought to fetch the place this time to-morrow. Before that if +it freshens.” +</P> + +<P> +“I am greatly disturbed,” said Lestrange. +</P> + +<P> +He went below, and the schooner captain shook his head, and, locking +his arm round a ratlin, gave his body to the gentle roll of the craft +as she stole along, skirting the sunset, splendid, and to the nautical +eye full of fine weather. +</P> + +<P> +The breeze was not quite so fresh next morning, but it had been blowing +fairly all the night, and the <i>Raratonga</i> had made good way. About eleven +it began to fail. It became the lightest sailing breeze, just +sufficient to keep the sails drawing, and the wake rippling and +swirling behind. Suddenly Stannistreet, who had been standing talking +to Lestrange, climbed a few feet up the mizzen ratlins, and shaded his +eyes. +</P> + +<P> +“What is it?” asked Lestrange. +</P> + +<P> +“A boat,” he replied. “Hand me that glass you will find in the sling +there.” +</P> + +<P> +He levelled the glass, and looked for a long time without speaking. +</P> + +<P> +“It’s a boat adrift—a small boat, nothing in her. Stay! I see +something white, can’t make it out. Hi there!”—to the fellow at the +wheel “Keep her a point more to starboard.” He got on to the deck. +“We’re going dead on for her.” +</P> + +<P> +“Is there any one in her?” asked Lestrange. +</P> + +<P> +“Can’t quite make out, but I’ll lower the whale-boat and fetch her +alongside.” +</P> + +<P> +He gave orders for the whale-boat to be slung out and manned. +</P> + +<P> +As they approached nearer, it was evident that the drifting boat, which +looked like a ship’s dinghy, contained something, but what, could not +be made out. +</P> + +<P> +When he had approached near enough, Stannistreet put the helm down and +brought the schooner to, with her sails all shivering. He took his +place in the bow of the whale-boat and Lestrange in the stern. The boat +was lowered, the falls cast off, and the oars bent to the water. +</P> + +<P> +The little dinghy made a mournful picture as she floated, looking +scarcely bigger than a walnut shell. In thirty strokes the whale-boat’s +nose was touching her quarter. Stannistreet grasped her gunwale. +</P> + +<P> +In the bottom of the dinghy lay a girl, naked all but for a strip of +coloured striped material. One of her arms was clasped round the neck +of a form that was half hidden by her body, the other clasped partly to +herself, partly to her companion, the body of a baby. They were +natives, evidently, wrecked or lost by some mischance from some +inter-island schooner. Their breasts rose and fell gently, and clasped +in the girl’s hand was a branch of some tree, and on the branch a +single withered berry. +</P> + +<P> +“Are they dead?” asked Lestrange, who divined that there were people in +the boat, and who was standing up in the stern of the whale-boat trying +to see. +</P> + +<P> +“No,” said Stannistreet; “they are asleep.” +</P> + +<BR><BR> + +<P class="FINIS"> +THE END +</p> + +<!-- transcriber's notes added August, 2016 --> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + +<p class="noindent" style='text-align:center'>----- Transcriber’s Note #1 -----</p> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Introduction to the Project Gutenberg text of H. de Vere Stacpoole’s +The Blue Lagoon: A Romance<BR><BR> +by Edward A. Malone<BR> +University of Missouri-Rolla +</P> + +<P> +Born on April 9, 1863, in Kingstown, Ireland, Henry de Vere Stacpoole +grew up in a household dominated by his mother and three older sisters. +William C. Stacpoole, a doctor of divinity from Trinity College and +headmaster of Kingstown school, died some time before his son’s eighth +birthday, leaving the responsibility of supporting the family to his +Canadian-born wife, Charlotte Augusta Mountjoy Stacpoole. At a young +age, Charlotte had been led out of the Canadian backwoods by her +widowed mother and taken to Ireland, where their relatives lived. This +experience had strengthened her character and prepared her for single +parenthood. +</P> + +<P> +Charlotte cared passionately for her children and was perhaps overly +protective of her son. As a child, Henry suffered from severe +respiratory problems, misdiagnosed as chronic bronchitis by his +physician, who in the winter of 1871 advised that the boy be taken to +Southern France for his health. With her entire family in tow, +Charlotte made the long journey from Kingstown to London to Paris, +where signs of the Franco-Prussian War were still evident, settling at +last in Nice at the Hotel des Iles Britannique. Nice was like paradise +to Henry, who marveled at the city’s affluence and beauty as he played +in the warm sun. +</P> + +<P> +After several more excursions to the continent, Stacpoole was sent to +Portarlington, a bleak boarding school more than 100 miles from +Kingstown. In contrast to his sisters, the Portarlington boys were +noisy and uncouth. As Stacpoole writes in his autobiograhy Men and +Mice, 1863-1942 (1942), the boys abused him mentally and physically, +making him feel like “a little Arthur in a cage of baboons.” One night, +he escaped through an adjacent girls’ school and returned to Kingstown, +only to be betrayed by his family and dragged back to school by his +eldest sister. +</P> + +<P> +When his family moved to London, he was taken out of Portarlington and +enrolled at Malvern College, a progressive school with refined students +and plenty of air and sunshine. Stacpoole thoroughly enjoyed his new +surroundings, which he associated with the description of Malvern Hills +in Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s Aurora Leigh (1857): “Keepers of Piers +Plowman’s visions / Through the sunshine and the snow.” This +environment encouraged his interest in literature and writing. +</P> + +<P> +The idyll ended, however, when Stacpoole began his medical training. At +his mother’s prodding, he entered the medical school at St. George’s +Hospital. Twice a day, he had to traverse a park frequented by +perambulating nursemaids, and he became romantically involved with one +of them. When his mother discovered their affair, she insisted that he +transfer to University College, and he complied. +</P> + +<P> +More interested in literature than corpses, Stacpoole began to neglect +his studies and miss classes, especially the required dissections. +Finally, the dean of the medical school confronted him, and their +argument drove Stacpoole to St. Mary’s Hospital, where he completed his +medical training and qualified L. S. A. in 1891. At some point after +this date, Stacpoole made several sea voyages into the tropics (at +least once as a doctor aboard a cable-mending ship), collecting +information for future stories. +</P> + +<P> +Stacpoole’s literary career, which he once described as being “more +like a Malay fishing prahu than an honest-to-God English literary +vessel,” began inauspiciously with the publication of The Intended +(1894), a tragic novel about two look-alikes, one rich, the other poor, +who switch places on a whim. Bewildered by the novel’s lack of success, +Stacpoole consulted his friendly muse, Pearl Craigie, alias John Oliver +Hobbes, who suggested a comic rather than tragic treatment. Years +later, Stacpoole retold the story in The Man Who Lost Himself (1918), a +commercially successful comic novel about a down-and-out American who +impersonates his wealthy look-alike in England. +</P> + +<P> +Set in France during the Franco-Prussian War, Stacpoole’s second novel, +Pierrot (1896), recounts a French boy’s eerie relationship with a +patricidal doppelganger. Like its predecessor, it was a commercial +failure, and it was at this point, perhaps, that Stacpoole began to +view literary success only in terms of sales figures and numbers of +editions. +</P> + +<P> +A strange tale of reincarnation, cross dressing, and uxoricide, +Stacpoole’s third novel, Death, the Knight, and the Lady (1897), +purports to be the deathbed confession of Beatrice Sinclair, who is +both a reincarnated murderer (male) and a descendant of the murder +victim (female). She falls in love with Gerald Wilder, a man disguised +as a woman, who is both a reincarnated murder victim (female) and the +descendant of the murderer (male). Despite its originality, the novel +was killed by “Public Indifference” (Stacpoole’s term), which also +killed The Rapin (1899), a novel about an art student in Paris. +</P> + +<P> +Stacpoole spent the summer of 1898 in Sommerset, where he took over the +medical practice of an ailing country doctor. So peaceful were his days +in this pastoral setting that he had time to write The Doctor (1899), a +novel about an old-fashioned physician practicing medicine in rural +England. “It is the best book I have written,” Stacpoole declared more +than forty years later. He could also say, in retrospect, that the +book’s weak sales were a disguised blessing, “for I hadn’t ballast on +board in those days to stand up to the gale of success, which means +incidentally money.” He would be spared the gale of success for nine +more years, during which he published seven books, including a +collection of children’s stories and two collaborative novels with his +friend William Alexander Bryce. +</P> + +<P> +In 1907, two events occurred that altered the course of Stacpoole’s +life: he wrote The Blue Lagoon and he married Margaret Robson. Unable +to sleep one night, he found himself thinking about and envying the +caveman, who in his primitiveness was able to marvel at such +commonplace phenomena as sunsets and thunderstorms. Civilized, +technological man had unveiled these mysteries with his telescopes and +weather balloons, so that they were no longer “nameless wonders” to be +feared and contemplated. As a doctor, Stacpoole had witnessed countless +births and deaths, and these events no longer seemed miraculous to him. +He conceived the idea of two children growing up alone on an island and +experiencing storms, death, and birth in almost complete ignorance and +innocence. The next morning, he started writing The Blue Lagoon. The +exercise was therapeutic because he was able to experience the wonders +of life and death vicariously through his characters. +</P> + +<P> +The Blue Lagoon is the story of two cousins, Dicky and Emmeline +Lestrange, stranded on a remote island with a beautiful lagoon. As +children, they are cared for by Paddy Button, a portly sailor who +drinks himself to death after only two and a half years in paradise. +Frightened and confused by the man’s gruesome corpse, the children flee +to another part of Palm Tree Island. Over a period of five years, they +grow up and eventually fall in love. Sex and birth are as mysterious +to them as death, but they manage to copulate instinctively and +conceive a child. The birth is especially remarkable: fifteen-year-old +Emmeline, alone in the jungle, loses consciousness and awakes to find a +baby boy on the ground near her. Naming the boy Hannah (an example of +Stacpoole’s penchant for gender reversals), the Lestranges live in +familial bliss until they are unexpectedly expelled from their tropical +Eden. +</P> + +<P> +The parallels between The Blue Lagoon and the Biblical story of Adam +and Eve are obvious and intentional, but Stacpoole was also influenced +by Lewis Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland (1865), which he +invokes in a passage describing the castaways’ approach Palm Tree +Island: +</P> + +<P> +“One could see the water swirling round the coral piers, for the tide +was flooding into the lagoon; it had seized the little dinghy and was +bearing it along far swifter than the sculls could have driven it. +Sea-gulls screamed about them, the boat rocked and swayed. Dick shouted +with excitement, and Emmeline shut her eyes TIGHT. +</P> + +<P> +“Then, as though a door had been swiftly and silently closed, the sound +of the surf became suddenly less. The boat floated on an even keel; she +opened her eyes and found herself in Wonderland.” +</P> + +<P> +This direct reference to Wonderland prepares the reader for the many +parallels that follow. When their adventures begin, both girls are +about the same age, Alice seven and a half, Emmeline exactly eight. +Just as Alice joins a tea party in Wonderland, Emmeline plays with her +tiny tea set on the beach after they land. Emmeline’s former pet, like +the Cheshire Cat, “had white stripes and a white chest, and rings down +its tail” and died “showing its teeth.” Whereas Alice looks for a +poison label on a bottle that says “Drink Me,” Emmeline innocently +tries to eat “the never-wake-up berries” and receives a stern rebuke +and a lecture about poison from Paddy Button. “The Poetry of Learning” +chapter echoes Alice’s dialogue with the caterpillar. Like the wily +creature smoking a hookah, Paddy smokes a pipe and shouts “Hurroo!” as +the children teach him to write his name in the sand. The children +lose “all count of time,” just as the Mad Hatter does. Whereas Alice +grows nine feet taller, Dick sprouts “two inches taller” and Emmeline +“twice as plump.” Like the baby in the “Pig and Pepper,” Hannah sneezes +at the first sight of Dicky. The novel is artfully littered with +references to wonder, curiosity, and strangeness—all evidence of +Stacpoole’s conscious effort to invoke and honor his Victorian +predecessor. +</P> + +<P> +Stacpoole presented The Blue Lagoon to Publisher T. Fisher Unwin in +September 1907 and went to Cumberland to assist another ailing doctor +in his practice. Every day from Eden Vue in Langwathby, Stacpoole wrote +to his fiancee, Margaret Robson (or Maggie, as he called her), and +waited anxiously for their wedding day. On December 17, 1907, the +couple were married and spent their honeymoon at Stebbing Park, a +friend’s country house in Essex, about three miles from the village of +Stebbing. It was there that they stumbled upon Rose Cottage, where +Stacpoole lived for several years before he moved to Cliff Dene on the +Isle of Wight in the 1920s. +</P> + +<P> +Published in January 1908, The Blue Lagoon was an immediate success, +both with reviewers and the public. “[This] tale of the discovery of +love, and innocent mating, is as fresh as the ozone that made them +strong,” declared one reviewer. Another claimed that “for once the +title of ‘romance,’ found in so many modern stories, is really +justified.” The novel was reprinted more than twenty times in the next +twelve years and remained popular in other forms for more than eighty +years. Norman MacOwen and Charlton Mann adapted the story as a play, +which ran for 263 performances in London from August 28, 1920, to April +16, 1921. Film versions of the novel were made in 1923, 1949, and 1980. +</P> + +<P> +Stacpoole also wrote two successful sequels: The Garden of God (1923) +and The Gates of Morning (1925). These three books and two others were +combined to form The Blue Lagoon Omnibus in 1933. The Garden of God was +filmed as Return to the Blue Lagoon in 1992. +</P> + +<P> +This Gutenberg etext of The Blue Lagoon: A Romance is based on the 1908 +first American edition published by J. B. Lippincott Company of +Philadelphia. +</P> + +<p class="noindent" style='text-align:center'>----- Transcriber’s Note #2 -----</p> + +<P CLASS="noindent">The stated edition for this etext is the 1908 first American edition +published by J. B. Lippincott Company of Philadelphia. Stacpoole +delivered his original manuscript to publisher T. Fisher Unwin (London) +in September 1907. The London edition and the Lippincott (this etext) +edition were both published in 1908. Four changes were made in +creating the Lippincott edition:</p> + +<P CLASS="noindent">1. On page 18:</p> + +<div style='margin-left:2em;'> +<P CLASS="noindent">London edition: he sat with it on his knees staring at +the white sunlit main-deck barred with the black shadows +of the standing rigging.</p> + +<P CLASS="noindent">U.S. edition: he sat with it on his knees staring at +the white sunlit main-deck barred with the white shadows +of the standing rigging.</p> + +<P CLASS="noindent">Stacpoole originally indicated black shadows of the +rigging on the deck.</p> +</div> + +<P CLASS="noindent">2. On page 19:</p> + +<div style='margin-left:2em;'> +<P CLASS="noindent">London edition: It was seven bells—half-past three in the +afternoon—and the ship’s bell had just rung out.</p> + +<P CLASS="noindent">U.S. edition: It was three bells—half-past three in the +afternoon—and the ship’s bell had just rung out.</p> + +<P CLASS="noindent">The London edition is correct: seven bells is 3:30 in +the afternoon. Three bells is half-past one.</p> +</div> + +<P CLASS="noindent">3. On page 24:</p> + +<div style='margin-left:2em;'> +<P CLASS="noindent">London edition: The dinghy was rather a larger boat than +the ordinary ships’ dinghy, and possessed a small mast +and lug-sail.</p> + +<P CLASS="noindent">U.S. edition: The dinghy was rather a larger boat than +the ordinary ships’ dinghy, and possessed a small mast +and long sail.</p> + +<P CLASS="noindent">A lug-sail (modern: lugsail) is an evolved version of +the classical square sail that is correct for the boat +as described.</p> +</div> + +<P CLASS="noindent">4. On page 309:</p> + +<div style='margin-left:2em;'> +<P CLASS="noindent">London edition: “This is the gentleman, Simon,” ...</p> + +<P CLASS="noindent">U.S. edition: “This is the gentleman, Silas,” ...</p> +</div> + +<P CLASS="noindent">Other than these four changes, both 1908 editions are +essentially identical.</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Blue Lagoon, by H. de Vere Stacpoole + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BLUE LAGOON *** + +***** This file should be named 393-h.htm or 393-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/9/393/ + +Produced by Edward A. Malone. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net + + +Title: The Blue Lagoon + A Romance + +Author: H. de Vere Stacpoole + +Release Date: January 19, 2008 [EBook #393] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BLUE LAGOON *** + + + + + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<BR><BR> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +The Blue lagoon: A Romance +</H1> + +<BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +by H. de Vere Stacpoole +</H2> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Introduction to the Project Gutenberg text of H. de Vere Stacpoole's +The Blue Lagoon: A Romance +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +by Edward A. Malone +<BR><BR> +University of Missouri-Rolla +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Born on April 9, 1863, in Kingstown, Ireland, Henry de Vere Stacpoole +grew up in a household dominated by his mother and three older sisters. +William C. Stacpoole, a doctor of divinity from Trinity College and +headmaster of Kingstown school, died some time before his son's eighth +birthday, leaving the responsibility of supporting the family to his +Canadian-born wife, Charlotte Augusta Mountjoy Stacpoole. At a young +age, Charlotte had been led out of the Canadian backwoods by her +widowed mother and taken to Ireland, where their relatives lived. This +experience had strengthened her character and prepared her for single +parenthood. +</P> + +<P> +Charlotte cared passionately for her children and was perhaps overly +protective of her son. As a child, Henry suffered from severe +respiratory problems, misdiagnosed as chronic bronchitis by his +physician, who in the winter of 1871 advised that the boy be taken to +Southern France for his health. With her entire family in tow, +Charlotte made the long journey from Kingstown to London to Paris, +where signs of the Franco-Prussian War were still evident, settling at +last in Nice at the Hotel des Iles Britannique. Nice was like paradise +to Henry, who marveled at the city's affluence and beauty as he played +in the warm sun. +</P> + +<P> +After several more excursions to the continent, Stacpoole was sent to +Portarlington, a bleak boarding school more than 100 miles from +Kingstown. In contrast to his sisters, the Portarlington boys were +noisy and uncouth. As Stacpoole writes in his autobiograhy Men and +Mice, 1863-1942 (1942), the boys abused him mentally and physically, +making him feel like "a little Arthur in a cage of baboons." One night, +he escaped through an adjacent girls' school and returned to Kingstown, +only to be betrayed by his family and dragged back to school by his +eldest sister. +</P> + +<P> +When his family moved to London, he was taken out of Portarlington and +enrolled at Malvern College, a progressive school with refined students +and plenty of air and sunshine. Stacpoole thoroughly enjoyed his new +surroundings, which he associated with the description of Malvern Hills +in Elizabeth Barrett Browning's Aurora Leigh (1857): "Keepers of Piers +Plowman's visions / Through the sunshine and the snow." This +environment encouraged his interest in literature and writing. +</P> + +<P> +The idyll ended, however, when Stacpoole began his medical training. At +his mother's prodding, he entered the medical school at St. George's +Hospital. Twice a day, he had to traverse a park frequented by +perambulating nursemaids, and he became romantically involved with one +of them. When his mother discovered their affair, she insisted that he +transfer to University College, and he complied. +</P> + +<P> +More interested in literature than corpses, Stacpoole began to neglect +his studies and miss classes, especially the required dissections. +Finally, the dean of the medical school confronted him, and their +argument drove Stacpoole to St. Mary's Hospital, where he completed his +medical training and qualified L. S. A. in 1891. At some point after +this date, Stacpoole made several sea voyages into the tropics (at +least once as a doctor aboard a cable-mending ship), collecting +information for future stories. +</P> + +<P> +Stacpoole's literary career, which he once described as being "more +like a Malay fishing prahu than an honest-to-God English literary +vessel," began inauspiciously with the publication of The Intended +(1894), a tragic novel about two look-alikes, one rich, the other poor, +who switch places on a whim. Bewildered by the novel's lack of success, +Stacpoole consulted his friendly muse, Pearl Craigie, alias John Oliver +Hobbes, who suggested a comic rather than tragic treatment. Years +later, Stacpoole retold the story in The Man Who Lost Himself (1918), a +commercially successful comic novel about a down-and-out American who +impersonates his wealthy look-alike in England. +</P> + +<P> +Set in France during the Franco-Prussian War, Stacpoole's second novel, +Pierrot (1896), recounts a French boy's eerie relationship with a +patricidal doppelganger. Like its predecessor, it was a commercial +failure, and it was at this point, perhaps, that Stacpoole began to +view literary success only in terms of sales figures and numbers of +editions. +</P> + +<P> +A strange tale of reincarnation, cross dressing, and uxoricide, +Stacpoole's third novel, Death, the Knight, and the Lady (1897), +purports to be the deathbed confession of Beatrice Sinclair, who is +both a reincarnated murderer (male) and a descendant of the murder +victim (female). She falls in love with Gerald Wilder, a man disguised +as a woman, who is both a reincarnated murder victim (female) and the +descendant of the murderer (male). Despite its originality, the novel +was killed by "Public Indifference" (Stacpoole's term), which also +killed The Rapin (1899), a novel about an art student in Paris. +</P> + +<P> +Stacpoole spent the summer of 1898 in Sommerset, where he took over the +medical practice of an ailing country doctor. So peaceful were his days +in this pastoral setting that he had time to write The Doctor (1899), a +novel about an old-fashioned physician practicing medicine in rural +England. "It is the best book I have written," Stacpoole declared more +than forty years later. He could also say, in retrospect, that the +book's weak sales were a disguised blessing, "for I hadn't ballast on +board in those days to stand up to the gale of success, which means +incidentally money." He would be spared the gale of success for nine +more years, during which he published seven books, including a +collection of children's stories and two collaborative novels with his +friend William Alexander Bryce. +</P> + +<P> +In 1907, two events occurred that altered the course of Stacpoole's +life: he wrote The Blue Lagoon and he married Margaret Robson. Unable +to sleep one night, he found himself thinking about and envying the +caveman, who in his primitiveness was able to marvel at such +commonplace phenomena as sunsets and thunderstorms. Civilized, +technological man had unveiled these mysteries with his telescopes and +weather balloons, so that they were no longer "nameless wonders" to be +feared and contemplated. As a doctor, Stacpoole had witnessed countless +births and deaths, and these events no longer seemed miraculous to him. +He conceived the idea of two children growing up alone on an island and +experiencing storms, death, and birth in almost complete ignorance and +innocence. The next morning, he started writing The Blue Lagoon. The +exercise was therapeutic because he was able to experience the wonders +of life and death vicariously through his characters. +</P> + +<P> +The Blue Lagoon is the story of two cousins, Dicky and Emmeline +Lestrange, stranded on a remote island with a beautiful lagoon. As +children, they are cared for by Paddy Button, a portly sailor who +drinks himself to death after only two and a half years in paradise. +Frightened and confused by the man's gruesome corpse, the children flee +to another part of Palm Tree Island. Over a period of five years, they +grow up and eventually fall in love. Sex and birth are as mysterious +to them as death, but they manage to copulate instinctively and +conceive a child. The birth is especially remarkable: fifteen-year-old +Emmeline, alone in the jungle, loses consciousness and awakes to find a +baby boy on the ground near her. Naming the boy Hannah (an example of +Stacpoole's penchant for gender reversals), the Lestranges live in +familial bliss until they are unexpectedly expelled from their tropical +Eden. +</P> + +<P> +The parallels between The Blue Lagoon and the Biblical story of Adam +and Eve are obvious and intentional, but Stacpoole was also influenced +by Lewis Carroll's Alice's Adventures in Wonderland (1865), which he +invokes in a passage describing the castaways' approach Palm Tree +Island: +</P> + +<P> +"One could see the water swirling round the coral piers, for the tide +was flooding into the lagoon; it had seized the little dinghy and was +bearing it along far swifter than the sculls could have driven it. +Seagulls screamed about them, the boat rocked and swayed. Dick shouted +with excitement, and Emmeline shut her eyes TIGHT. +</P> + +<P> +"Then, as though a door had been swiftly and silently closed, the sound +of the surf became suddenly less. The boat floated on an even keel; she +opened her eyes and found herself in Wonderland." +</P> + +<P> +This direct reference to Wonderland prepares the reader for the many +parallels that follow. When their adventures begin, both girls are +about the same age, Alice seven and a half, Emmeline exactly eight. +Just as Alice joins a tea party in Wonderland, Emmeline plays with her +tiny tea set on the beach after they land. Emmeline's former pet, like +the Cheshire Cat, "had white stripes and a white chest, and rings down +its tail" and died "showing its teeth." Whereas Alice looks for a +poison label on a bottle that says "Drink Me," Emmeline innocently +tries to eat "the never-wake-up berries" and receives a stern rebuke +and a lecture about poison from Paddy Button. "The Poetry of Learning" +chapter echoes Alice's dialogue with the caterpillar. Like the wily +creature smoking a hookah, Paddy smokes a pipe and shouts "Hurroo!" as +the children teach him to write his name in the sand. The children +lose "all count of time," just as the Mad Hatter does. Whereas Alice +grows nine feet taller, Dick sprouts "two inches taller" and Emmeline +"twice as plump." Like the baby in the "Pig and Pepper," Hannah sneezes +at the first sight of Dicky. The novel is artfully littered with +references to wonder, curiosity, and strangeness—all evidence of +Stacpoole's conscious effort to invoke and honor his Victorian +predecessor. +</P> + +<P> +Stacpoole presented The Blue Lagoon to Publisher T. Fisher Unwin in +September 1907 and went to Cumberland to assist another ailing doctor +in his practice. Every day from Eden Vue in Langwathby, Stacpoole wrote +to his fiancee, Margaret Robson (or Maggie, as he called her), and +waited anxiously for their wedding day. On December 17, 1907, the +couple were married and spent their honeymoon at Stebbing Park, a +friend's country house in Essex, about three miles from the village of +Stebbing. It was there that they stumbled upon Rose Cottage, where +Stacpoole lived for several years before he moved to Cliff Dene on the +Isle of Wight in the 1920s. +</P> + +<P> +Published in January 1908, The Blue Lagoon was an immediate success, +both with reviewers and the public. "[This] tale of the discovery of +love, and innocent mating, is as fresh as the ozone that made them +strong," declared one reviewer. Another claimed that "for once the +title of `romance,' found in so many modern stories, is really +justified." The novel was reprinted more than twenty times in the next +twelve years and remained popular in other forms for more than eighty +years. Norman MacOwen and Charlton Mann adapted the story as a play, +which ran for 263 performances in London from August 28, 1920, to April +16, 1921. Film versions of the novel were made in 1923, 1949, and 1980. +</P> + +<P> +Stacpoole also wrote two successful sequels: The Garden of God (1923) +and The Gates of Morning (1925). These three books and two others were +combined to form The Blue Lagoon Omnibus in 1933. The Garden of God was +filmed as Return to the Blue Lagoon in 1992. +</P> + +<P> +This Gutenberg etext of The Blue Lagoon: A Romance is based on the 1908 +first American edition published by J. B. Lippincott Company of +Philadelphia. +</P> + +<BR> + +<HR> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +The Blue lagoon: A Romance +</H1> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +by H. de Vere Stacpoole +</H2> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CONTENTS +</H2> + +<BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +BOOK I +</H2> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +PART I +</H2> + +<BR> + +<TABLE ALIGN="center" WIDTH="80%"> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="15%">I. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="85%"> +<A HREF="#chap0101">WHERE THE SLUSH LAMP BURNS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">II. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0102">UNDER THE STARS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">III. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0103">THE SHADOW AND THE FIRE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0104">AND LIKE A DREAM DISSOLVED</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">V. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0105">VOICES HEARD IN THE MIST</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0106">DAWN ON A WIDE, WIDE SEA</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0107">STORY OF THE PIG AND THE BILLY-GOAT</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0108">"S-H-E-N-A-N-D-O-A-H"</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0109">SHADOWS IN THE MOONLIGHT</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">X. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0110">THE TRAGEDY OF THE BOATS</A></TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +PART II +</H2> + +<BR> + +<TABLE ALIGN="center" WIDTH="80%"> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="15%">XI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="85%"> +<A HREF="#chap0111">THE ISLAND</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0112">THE LAKE OF AZURE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0113">DEATH VEILED WITH LICHEN</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0114">ECHOES OF FAIRY-LAND</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0115">FAIR PICTURES IN THE BLUE</A></TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +PART III +</H2> + +<BR> + +<TABLE ALIGN="center" WIDTH="80%"> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="15%">XVI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="85%"> +<A HREF="#chap0116">THE POETRY OF LEARNING</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0117">THE DEVIL'S CASK</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0118">THE RAT HUNT</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0119">STARLIGHT ON THE FOAM</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0120">THE DREAMER ON THE REEF</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0121">THE GARLAND OF FLOWERS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0122">ALONE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0123">THEY MOVE AWAY</A></TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +BOOK II +</H2> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +PART I +</H2> + +<BR> + +<TABLE ALIGN="center" WIDTH="80%"> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="15%">I. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="85%"> +<A HREF="#chap0201">UNDER THE ARTU TREE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">II. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0202">HALF CHILD-HALF SAVAGE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">III. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0203">THE DEMON OF THE REEF</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0204">WHAT BEAUTY CONCEALED</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">V. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0205">THE SOUND OF A DRUM</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0206">SAILS UPON THE SEA</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0207">THE SCHOONER</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0208">LOVE STEPS IN</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0209">THE SLEEP OF PARADISE</A></TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +PART II +</H2> + +<TABLE ALIGN="center" WIDTH="80%"> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="15%">X. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="85%"> +<A HREF="#chap0210">AN ISLAND HONEYMOON</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0211">THE VANISHING OF EMMELINE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0212">THE VANISHING OF EMMELINE (CONTINUED)</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0213">THE NEWCOMER</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0214">HANNAH</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0215">THE LAGOON OF FIRE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0216">THE CYCLONE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0217">THE STRICKEN WOODS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0218">A FALLEN IDOL</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0219">THE EXPEDITION</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0220">THE KEEPER OF THE LAGOON</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0221">THE HAND OF THE SEA</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0222">TOGETHER</A></TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +BOOK III +</H2> + +<BR> + +<TABLE ALIGN="center" WIDTH="80%"> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="15%">I. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="85%"> +<A HREF="#chap0301">MAD LESTRANGE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">II. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0302">THE SECRET OF THE AZURE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">III. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0303">CAPTAIN FOUNTAIN</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0304">DUE SOUTH</A></TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0101"></A> +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +THE BLUE LAGOON +</H1> + +<BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +BOOK I +</H2> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +PART I +</H2> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER I +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +WHERE THE SLUSH LAMP BURNS +</H3> + +<P> +Mr Button was seated on a sea-chest with a fiddle under his left ear. +He was playing the "Shan van vaught," and accompanying the tune, +punctuating it, with blows of his left heel on the fo'cs'le deck. +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"O the Frinch are in the bay,<BR> +Says the Shan van vaught."<BR> +</P> + +<P> +He was dressed in dungaree trousers, a striped shirt, and a jacket +baize—green in parts from the influence of sun and salt. A typical old +shell-back, round-shouldered, hooked of finger; a figure with strong +hints of a crab about it. +</P> + +<P> +His face was like a moon, seen red through tropical mists; and as he +played it wore an expression of strained attention as though the fiddle +were telling him tales much more marvellous than the old bald statement +about Bantry Bay. +</P> + +<P> +"Left-handed Pat," was his fo'cs'le name; not because he was +left-handed, but simply because everything he did he did wrong—or +nearly so. Reefing or furling, or handling a slush tub—if a mistake +was to be made, he made it. +</P> + +<P> +He was a Celt, and all the salt seas that had flowed between him and +Connaught these forty years and more had not washed the Celtic element +from his blood, nor the belief in fairies from his soul. The Celtic +nature is a fast dye, and Mr Button's nature was such that though he +had been shanghaied by Larry Marr in 'Frisco, though he had got drunk +in most ports of the world, though he had sailed with Yankee captains +and been man-handled by Yankee mates, he still carried his fairies +about with him—they, and a very large stock of original innocence. +</P> + +<P> +Nearly over the musician's head swung a hammock from which hung a leg; +other hammocks hanging in the semi-gloom called up suggestions of +lemurs and arboreal bats. The swinging kerosene lamp cast its light +forward past the heel of the bowsprit to the knightheads, lighting here +a naked foot hanging over the side of a bunk, here a face from which +protruded a pipe, here a breast covered with dark mossy hair, here an +arm tattooed. +</P> + +<P> +It was in the days before double topsail yards had reduced ships' +crews, and the fo'cs'le of the Northumberland had a full company: a +crowd of packet rats such as often is to be found on a Cape Horner +"Dutchmen" [sic] Americans—men who were farm labourers and tending +pigs in Ohio three months back, old seasoned sailors like Paddy +Button—a mixture of the best and the worst of the earth, such as you +find nowhere else in so small a space as in a ship's fo'cs'le. +</P> + +<P> +The Northumberland had experienced a terrible rounding of the Horn. +Bound from New Orleans to 'Frisco she had spent thirty days battling +with head-winds and storms—down there, where the seas are so vast that +three waves may cover with their amplitude more than a mile of sea +space; thirty days she had passed off Cape Stiff, and just now, at the +moment of this story, she was locked in a calm south of the line. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Button finished his tune with a sweep of the bow, and drew his right +coat sleeve across his forehead. Then he took out a sooty pipe, filled +it with tobacco, and lit it. +</P> + +<P> +"Pawthrick," drawled a voice from the hammock above, from which +depended the leg, "what was that yarn you wiz beginnin' to spin ter +night 'bout a lip-me-dawn?" +</P> + +<P> +"A which me-dawn?" asked Mr Button, cocking his eye up at the bottom of +the hammock while he held the match to his pipe. +</P> + +<P> +"It vas about a green thing," came a sleepy Dutch voice from a bunk. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, a Leprachaun, you mane. Sure, me mother's sister had one down in +Connaught." +</P> + +<P> +"Vat vas it like?" asked the dreamy Dutch voice—a voice seemingly +possessed by the calm that had made the sea like a mirror for the last +three days, reducing the whole ship's company meanwhile to the level of +wasters. +</P> + +<P> +"Like? Sure, it was like a Leprachaun; and what else would it be like?" +</P> + +<P> +"What like vas that?" persisted the voice. +</P> + +<P> +"It was like a little man no bigger than a big forked radish, an' as +green as a cabbidge. Me a'nt had one in her house down in Connaught in +the ould days. O musha! musha! the ould days, the ould days! Now, you +may b'lave me or b'lave me not, but you could have put him in your +pocket, and the grass-green head of him wouldn't more than'v stuck out. +She kept him in a cupboard, and out of the cupboard he'd pop if it was +a crack open, an' into the milk pans he'd be, or under the beds, or +pullin' the stool from under you, or at some other divarsion. He'd +chase the pig—the crathur!—till it'd be all ribs like an ould +umbrilla with the fright, an' as thin as a greyhound with the runnin' +by the marnin; he'd addle the eggs so the cocks an' hens wouldn't know +what they wis afther wid the chickens comin' out wid two heads on them, +an' twinty-seven legs fore and aft. And you'd start to chase him, an' +then it'd be main-sail haul, and away he'd go, you behint him, till +you'd landed tail over snout in a ditch, an' he'd be back in the +cupboard." +</P> + +<P> +"He was a Troll," murmured the Dutch voice. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm tellin' you he was a Leprachaun, and there's no knowin' the +divilments he'd be up to. He'd pull the cabbidge, maybe, out of the pot +boilin' on the fire forenint your eyes, and baste you in the face with +it; and thin, maybe, you'd hold out your fist to him, and he'd put a +goulden soverin in it." +</P> + +<P> +"Wisht he was here!" murmured a voice from a bunk near the knightheads. +</P> + +<P> +"Pawthrick," drawled the voice from the hammock above, "what'd you do +first if you found y'self with twenty pound in your pocket?" +</P> + +<P> +"What's the use of askin' me?" replied Mr Button. "What's the use of +twenty pound to a sayman at say, where the grog's all wather an' the +beef's all horse? Gimme it ashore, an' you'd see what I'd do wid it!" +</P> + +<P> +"I guess the nearest grog-shop keeper wouldn't see you comin' for +dust," said a voice from Ohio. +</P> + +<P> +"He would not," said Mr Button; "nor you afther me. Be damned to the +grog and thim that sells it!" +</P> + +<P> +"It's all darned easy to talk," said Ohio. "You curse the grog at sea +when you can't get it; set you ashore, and you're bung full." +</P> + +<P> +"I likes me dhrunk," said Mr Button, "I'm free to admit; an' I'm the +divil when it's in me, and it'll be the end of me yet, or me ould +mother was a liar. `Pat,' she says, first time I come home from say +rowlin', `storms you may escape, an wimmen you may escape, but the +potheen 'ill have you.' Forty year ago—forty year ago!" +</P> + +<P> +"Well," said Ohio, "it hasn't had you yet." +</P> + +<P> +"No," replied Mr Button, "but it will." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0102"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER II +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +UNDER THE STARS +</H3> + +<P> +It was a wonderful night up on deck, filled with all the majesty and +beauty of starlight and a tropic calm. +</P> + +<P> +The Pacific slept; a vast, vague swell flowing from far away down south +under the night, lifted the Northumberland on its undulations to the +rattling sound of the reef points and the occasional creak of the +rudder; whilst overhead, near the fiery arch of the Milky Way, hung the +Southern Cross like a broken kite. +</P> + +<P> +Stars in the sky, stars in the sea, stars by the million and the +million; so many lamps ablaze that the firmament filled the mind with +the idea of a vast and populous city—yet from all that living and +flashing splendour not a sound. +</P> + +<P> +Down in the cabin—or saloon, as it was called by courtesy—were seated +the three passengers of the ship; one reading at the table, two playing +on the floor. +</P> + +<P> +The man at the table, Arthur Lestrange, was seated with his large, +deep-sunken eyes fixed on a book. He was most evidently in +consumption—very near, indeed, to reaping the result of that last and +most desperate remedy, a long sea voyage. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline Lestrange, his little niece—eight years of age, a mysterious +mite, small for her age, with thoughts of her own, wide-pupilled eyes +that seemed the doors for visions, and a face that seemed just to have +peeped into this world for a moment ere it was as suddenly +withdrawn—sat in a corner nursing something in her arms, and rocking +herself to the tune of her own thoughts. +</P> + +<P> +Dick, Lestrange's little son, eight and a bit, was somewhere under the +table. They were Bostonians, bound for San Francisco, or rather for the +sun and splendour of Los Angeles, where Lestrange had bought a small +estate, hoping there to enjoy the life whose lease would be renewed by +the long sea voyage. +</P> + +<P> +As he sat reading, the cabin door opened, and appeared an angular +female form. This was Mrs Stannard, the stewardess, and Mrs Stannard +meant bedtime. +</P> + +<P> +"Dicky," said Mr Lestrange, closing his book, and raising the +table-cloth a few inches, "bedtime." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, not yet, daddy!" came a sleep-freighted voice from under the +table; "I ain't ready. I dunno want to go to bed, I— Hi yow!" +</P> + +<P> +Stannard, who knew her work, had stooped under the table, seized him by +the foot, and hauled him out kicking and fighting and blubbering all at +the same time. +</P> + +<P> +As for Emmeline, she having glanced up and recognised the inevitable, +rose to her feet, and, holding the hideous rag-doll she had been +nursing, head down and dangling in one hand, she stood waiting till +Dicky, after a few last perfunctory bellows, suddenly dried his eyes +and held up a tear-wet face for his father to kiss. Then she presented +her brow solemnly to her uncle, received a kiss, and vanished, led by +the hand into a cabin on the port side of the saloon. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Lestrange returned to his book, but he had not read for long when +the cabin door was opened, and Emmeline, in her nightdress, reappeared, +holding a brown paper parcel in her hand, a parcel of about the same +size as the book you are reading. +</P> + +<P> +"My box," said she; and as she spoke, holding it up as if to prove its +safety, the little plain face altered to the face of an angel. +</P> + +<P> +She had smiled. +</P> + +<P> +When Emmeline Lestrange smiled it was absolutely as if the light of +Paradise had suddenly flashed upon her face: the happiest form of +childish beauty suddenly appeared before your eyes, dazzled them and +was gone. +</P> + +<P> +Then she vanished with her box, and Mr Lestrange resumed his book. +</P> + +<P> +This box of Emmeline's, I may say in parenthesis, had given more +trouble aboard ship than all of the rest of the passengers' luggage put +together. +</P> + +<P> +It had been presented to her on her departure from Boston by a lady +friend, and what it contained was a dark secret to all on board, save +its owner and her uncle; she was a woman, or, at all events, the +beginning of a woman, yet she kept this secret to herself—a fact which +you will please note. +</P> + +<P> +The trouble of the thing was that it was frequently being lost. +Suspecting herself, maybe, as an unpractical dreamer in a world filled +with robbers, she would cart it about with her for safety, sit down +behind a coil of rope and fall into a fit of abstraction; be recalled +to life by the evolutions of the crew reefing or furling or what not, +rise to superintend the operations—and then suddenly find she had lost +her box. +</P> + +<P> +Then she would absolutely haunt the ship. Wide-eyed and distressed of +face she would wander hither and thither, peeping into the galley, +peeping down the forescuttle, never uttering a word or wail, searching +like an uneasy ghost, but dumb. +</P> + +<P> +She seemed ashamed to tell of her loss, ashamed to let any one know of +it; but every one knew of it directly they saw her, to use Mr Button's +expression, "on the wandher," and every one hunted for it. +</P> + +<P> +Strangely enough it was Paddy Button who usually found it. He who was +always doing the wrong thing in the eyes of men, generally did the +right thing in the eyes of children. Children, in fact, when they could +get at Mr Button, went for him con amore. He was as attractive to them +as a Punch and Judy show or a German band—almost. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Lestrange after a while closed the book he was reading, looked +around him and sighed. +</P> + +<P> +The cabin of the Northumberland was a cheerful enough place, pierced by +the polished shaft of the mizzen mast, carpeted with an Axminster +carpet, and garnished with mirrors let into the white pine panelling. +Lestrange was staring at the reflection of his own face in one of these +mirrors fixed just opposite to where he sat. +</P> + +<P> +His emaciation was terrible, and it was just perhaps at this moment +that he first recognised the fact that he must not only die, but die +soon. +</P> + +<P> +He turned from the mirror and sat for a while with his chin resting +upon his hand, and his eyes fixed on an ink spot upon the table-cloth; +then he arose, and crossing the cabin climbed laboriously up the +companionway to the deck. +</P> + +<P> +As he leaned against the bulwark rail to recover his breath, the +splendour and beauty of the Southern night struck him to the heart with +a cruel pang. He took his seat on a deck chair and gazed up at the +Milky Way, that great triumphal arch built of suns that the dawn would +sweep away like a dream. +</P> + +<P> +In the Milky Way, near the Southern Cross, occurs a terrible circular +abyss, the Coal Sack. So sharply defined is it, so suggestive of a void +and bottomless cavern, that the contemplation of it afflicts the +imaginative mind with vertigo. To the naked eye it is as black and as +dismal as death, but the smallest telescope reveals it beautiful and +populous with stars. +</P> + +<P> +Lestrange's eyes travelled from this mystery to the burning cross, and +the nameless and numberless stars reaching to the sea-line, where they +paled and vanished in the light of the rising moon. Then he became +aware of a figure promenading the quarterdeck. It was the "Old Man." +</P> + +<P> +A sea captain is always the "old man," be his age what it may. Captain +Le Farges' age might have been forty-five. He was a sailor of the Jean +Bart type, of French descent, but a naturalised American. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know where the wind's gone," said the captain as he drew near +the man in the deck chair. "I guess it's blown a hole in the firmament, +and escaped somewheres to the back of beyond." +</P> + +<P> +"It's been a long voyage," said Lestrange; "and I'm thinking, Captain, +it will be a very long voyage for me. My port's not 'Frisco; I feel it." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you be thinking that sort of thing," said the other, taking his +seat in a chair close by. "There's no manner of use forecastin' the +weather a month ahead. Now we're in warm latitoods, your glass will +rise steady, and you'll be as right and spry as any one of us, before +we fetch the Golden Gates." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm thinking about the children," said Lestrange, seeming not to hear +the captain's words. "Should anything happen to me before we reach +port, I should like you to do something for me. It's only this: dispose +of my body without—without the children knowing. It has been in my +mind to ask you this for some days. Captain, those children know +nothing of death." +</P> + +<P> +Le Farge moved uneasily in his chair. +</P> + +<P> +"Little Emmeline's mother died when she was two. Her father—my +brother—died before she was born. Dicky never knew a mother; she died +giving him birth. My God, Captain, death has laid a heavy hand on my +family; can you wonder that I have hid his very name from those two +creatures that I love!" +</P> + +<P> +"Ay, ay," said Le Farge, "it's sad! it's sad!" +</P> + +<P> +"When I was quite a child," went on Lestrange, "a child no older than +Dicky, my nurse used to terrify me with tales about dead people. I was +told I'd go to hell when I died if I wasn't a good child. I cannot tell +you how much that has poisoned my life, for the thoughts we think in +childhood, Captain, are the fathers of the thoughts we think when we +are grown up. And can a diseased father have healthy children?" +</P> + +<P> +"I guess not." +</P> + +<P> +"So I just said, when these two tiny creatures came into my care, that +I would do all in my power to protect them from the terrors of life—or +rather, I should say, from the terror of death. I don't know whether I +have done right, but I have done it for the best. They had a cat, and +one day Dicky came in to me and said: `Father, pussy's in the garden +asleep, and I can't wake her.' So I just took him out for a walk; there +was a circus in the town, and I took him to it. It so filled his mind +that he quite forgot the cat. Next day he asked for her. I did not tell +him she was buried in the garden, I just said she must have run away. +In a week he had forgotten all about her—children soon forget." +</P> + +<P> +"Ay, that's true," said the sea captain. "But 'pears to me they must +learn some time they've got to die." +</P> + +<P> +"Should I pay the penalty before we reach land, and be cast into that +great, vast sea, I would not wish the children's dreams to be haunted +by the thought: just tell them I've gone on board another ship. You +will take them back to Boston; I have here, in a letter, the name of a +lady who will care for them. Dicky will be well off, as far as worldly +goods are concerned, and so will Emmeline. Just tell them I've gone on +board another ship—children soon forget." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll do what you ask," said the seaman. +</P> + +<P> +The moon was over the horizon now, and the Northumberland lay adrift in +a river of silver. Every spar was distinct, every reef point on the +great sails, and the decks lay like spaces of frost cut by shadows +black as ebony. +</P> + +<P> +As the two men sat without speaking, thinking their own thoughts, a +little white figure emerged from the saloon hatch. It was Emmeline. She +was a professed sleepwalker—a past mistress of the art. +</P> + +<P> +Scarcely had she stepped into dreamland than she had lost her precious +box, and now she was hunting for it on the decks of the Northumberland. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Lestrange put his finger to his lips, took off his shoes and +silently followed her. She searched behind a coil of rope, she tried to +open the galley door; hither and thither she wandered, wide-eyed and +troubled of face, till at last, in the shadow of the hencoop, she found +her visionary treasure. Then back she came, holding up her little +nightdress with one hand, so as not to trip, and vanished down the +saloon companion very hurriedly, as if anxious to get back to bed, her +uncle close behind, with one hand outstretched so as to catch her in +case she stumbled. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0103"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER III +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE SHADOW AND THE FIRE +</H3> + +<P> +It was the fourth day of the long calm. An awning had been rigged up on +the poop for the passengers, and under it sat Lestrange, trying to +read, and the children trying to play. The heat and monotony had +reduced even Dicky to just a surly mass, languid in movement as a grub. +As for Emmeline, she seemed dazed. The rag-doll lay a yard away from +her on the poop deck, unnursed; even the wretched box and its +whereabouts she seemed to have quite forgotten. +</P> + +<P> +"Daddy!" suddenly cried Dick, who had clambered up, and was looking +over the after-rail. +</P> + +<P> +"What?" +</P> + +<P> +"Fish!" +</P> + +<P> +Lestrange rose to his feet, came aft and looked over the rail. +</P> + +<P> +Down in the vague green of the water something moved, something pale +and long—a ghastly form. It vanished; and yet another came, neared the +surface, and displayed itself more fully. Lestrange saw its eyes, he +saw the dark fin, and the whole hideous length of the creature; a +shudder ran through him as he clasped Dicky. +</P> + +<P> +"Ain't he fine?" said the child. "I guess, daddy, I'd pull him aboard +if I had a hook. Why haven't I a hook, daddy? Why haven't I a hook, +daddy?— Ow, you're SQUEEZIN' me!" +</P> + +<P> +Something plucked at Lestrange's coat: it was Emmeline—she also wanted +to look. He lifted her up in his arms; her little pale face peeped over +the rail, but there was nothing to see: the forms of terror had +vanished, leaving the green depths untroubled and unstained. +</P> + +<P> +"What's they called, daddy?" persisted Dick, as his father took him +down from the rail, and led him back to the chair. +</P> + +<P> +"Sharks," said Lestrange, whose face was covered with perspiration. +</P> + +<P> +He picked up the book he had been reading—it was a volume of +Tennyson—and he sat with it on his knees staring at the white sunlit +main-deck barred with the white shadows of the standing rigging. +</P> + +<P> +The sea had disclosed to him a vision. Poetry, Philosophy, Beauty, Art, +the love and joy of life—was it possible that these should exist in +the same world as those? +</P> + +<P> +He glanced at the book upon his knees, and contrasted the beautiful +things in it which he remembered with the terrible things he had just +seen, the things that were waiting for their food under the keel of the +ship. +</P> + +<P> +It was three bells—half-past three in the afternoon—and the ship's +bell had just rung out. The stewardess appeared to take the children +below; and as they vanished down the saloon companionway, Captain Le +Farge came aft, on to the poop, and stood for a moment looking over the +sea on the port side, where a bank of fog had suddenly appeared like +the spectre of a country. +</P> + +<P> +"The sun has dimmed a bit," said he; "I can a'most look at it. Glass +steady enough—there's a fog coming up—ever seen a Pacific fog?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, never." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, you won't want to see another," replied the mariner, shading his +eyes and fixing them upon the sea-line. The sea-line away to starboard +had lost somewhat its distinctness, and over the day an almost +imperceptible shade had crept. +</P> + +<P> +The captain suddenly turned from his contemplation of the sea and sky, +raised his head and sniffed. +</P> + +<P> +"Something is burning somewhere—smell it? Seems to me like an old mat +or summat. It's that swab of a steward, maybe; if he isn't breaking +glass, he's upsetting lamps and burning holes in the carpet. Bless MY +soul, I'd sooner have a dozen Mary Anns an' their dustpans round the +place than one tomfool steward like Jenkins." He went to the saloon +hatch. "Below there!" +</P> + +<P> +"Ay, ay, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"What are you burning?" +</P> + +<P> +"I an't burnin' northen, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"Tell you, I smell it!" +</P> + +<P> +"There's northen burnin' here, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"Neither is there; it's all on deck. Something in the galley, +maybe—rags, most likely, they've thrown on the fire." +</P> + +<P> +"Captain!" said Lestrange. +</P> + +<P> +"Ay, ay." +</P> + +<P> +"Come here, please." +</P> + +<P> +Le Farge climbed on to the poop. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know whether it's my weakness that's affecting my eyes, but +there seems to me something strange about the main-mast." +</P> + +<P> +The main-mast near where it entered the deck, and for some distance up, +seemed in motion—a corkscrew movement most strange to watch from the +shelter of the awning. +</P> + +<P> +This apparent movement was caused by a spiral haze of smoke so vague +that one could only tell of its existence from the mirage-like tremor +of the mast round which it curled. +</P> + +<P> +"My God!" cried Le Farge, as he sprang from the poop and rushed forward. +</P> + +<P> +Lestrange followed him slowly, stopping every moment to clutch the +bulwark rail and pant for breath. He heard the shrill bird-like notes +of the bosun's pipe. He saw the hands emerging from the forecastle, +like bees out of a hive; he watched them surrounding the main-hatch. He +watched the tarpaulin and locking-bars removed. He saw the hatch +opened, and a burst of smoke—black, villainous smoke—ascend to the +sky, solid as a plume in the windless air. +</P> + +<P> +Lestrange was a man of a highly nervous temperament, and it is just +this sort of man who keeps his head in an emergency, whilst your +level-headed, phlegmatic individual loses his balance. His first +thought was of the children, his second of the boats. +</P> + +<P> +In the battering off Cape Horn the Northumberland lost several of her +boats. There were left the long-boat, a quarter-boat, and the dinghy. +He heard Le Farge's voice ordering the hatch to be closed and the pumps +manned, so as to flood the hold; and, knowing that he could do nothing +on deck, he made as swiftly as he could for the saloon companionway. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs Stannard was just coming out of the children's cabin. +</P> + +<P> +"Are the children lying down, Mrs Stannard?" asked Lestrange, almost +breathless from the excitement and exertion of the last few minutes. +</P> + +<P> +The woman glanced at him with frightened eyes. He looked like the very +herald of disaster. +</P> + +<P> +"For if they are, and you have undressed them, then you must put their +clothes on again. The ship is on fire, Mrs Stannard." +</P> + +<P> +"Good God, sir!" +</P> + +<P> +"Listen!" said Lestrange. +</P> + +<P> +From a distance, thin, and dreary as the crying of sea-gulls on a +desolate beach, came the clanking of the pumps. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0104"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +AND LIKE A DREAM DISSOLVED +</H3> + +<P> +Before the woman had time to speak a thunderous step was heard on the +companion stairs, and Le Farge broke into the saloon. The man's face +was injected with blood, his eyes were fixed and glassy like the eyes +of a drunkard, and the veins stood on his temples like twisted cords. +</P> + +<P> +"Get those children ready!" he shouted, as he rushed into his own +cabin. "Get you all ready—boats are being swung out and victualled. +Ho! where are those papers?" +</P> + +<P> +They heard him furiously searching and collecting things in his +cabin—the ship's papers, accounts, things the master mariner clings to +as he clings to his life; and as he searched, and found, and packed, he +kept bellowing orders for the children to be got on deck. Half mad he +seemed, and half mad he was with the knowledge of the terrible thing +that was stowed amidst the cargo. +</P> + +<P> +Up on deck the crew, under the direction of the first mate, were +working in an orderly manner, and with a will, utterly unconscious of +there being anything beneath their feet but an ordinary cargo on fire. +The covers had been stripped from the boats, kegs of water and bags of +biscuit placed in them. The dinghy, smallest of the boats and most +easily got away, was hanging at the port quarter-boat davits flush with +the bulwarks; and Paddy Button was in the act of stowing a keg of water +in her, when Le Farge broke on to the deck, followed by the stewardess +carrying Emmeline, and Mr Lestrange leading Dick. The dinghy was rather +a larger boat than the ordinary ships' dinghy, and possessed a small +mast and long sail. Two sailors stood ready to man the falls, and Paddy +Button was just turning to trundle forward again when the captain +seized him. +</P> + +<P> +"Into the dinghy with you," he cried, "and row these children and the +passenger out a mile from the ship—two miles, three miles, make an +offing." +</P> + +<P> +"Sure, Captain dear, I've left me fiddle in the—" +</P> + +<P> +Le Farge dropped the bundle of things he was holding under his left +arm, seized the old sailor and rushed him against the bulwarks, as if +he meant to fling him into the sea THROUGH the bulwarks. +</P> + +<P> +Next moment Mr Button was in the boat. Emmeline was handed to him, pale +of face and wide-eyed, and clasping something wrapped in a little +shawl; then Dick, and then Mr Lestrange was helped over. +</P> + +<P> +"No room for more!" cried Le Farge. "Your place will be in the +long-boat, Mrs Stannard, if we have to leave the ship. Lower away, +lower away!" +</P> + +<P> +The boat sank towards the smooth blue sea, kissed it and was afloat. +</P> + +<P> +Now Mr Button, before joining the ship at Boston, had spent a good +while lingering by the quay, having no money wherewith to enjoy himself +in a tavern. He had seen something of the lading of the Northumberland, +and heard more from a stevedore. No sooner had he cast off the falls +and seized the oars, than his knowledge awoke in his mind, living and +lurid. He gave a whoop that brought the two sailors leaning over the +side. +</P> + +<P> +"Bullies!" +</P> + +<P> +"Ay, ay!" +</P> + +<P> +"Run for your lives I've just rimimbered—there's two bar'ls of +blastin' powther in the houldt." +</P> + +<P> +Then he bent to his oars, as no man ever bent before. Lestrange, +sitting in the stern-sheets clasping Emmeline and Dick, saw nothing for +a moment after hearing these words. The children, who knew nothing of +blasting powder or its effects, though half frightened by all the +bustle and excitement, were still amused and pleased at finding +themselves in the little boat so close to the blue pretty sea. +</P> + +<P> +Dick put his finger over the side, so that it made a ripple in the +water (the most delightful experience of childhood). Emmeline, with one +hand clasped in her uncle's, watched Mr Button with a grave sort of +half pleasure. +</P> + +<P> +He certainly was a sight worth watching. His soul was filled with +tragedy and terror. His Celtic imagination heard the ship blowing up, +saw himself and the little dinghy blown to pieces—nay, saw himself in +hell, being toasted by "divils." +</P> + +<P> +But tragedy and terror could find no room for expression on his +fortunate or unfortunate face. He puffed and he blew, bulging his +cheeks out at the sky as he tugged at the oars, making a hundred and +one grimaces—all the outcome of agony of mind, but none expressing it. +Behind lay the ship, a picture not without its lighter side. The +long-boat and the quarter-boat, lowered with a rush and seaborne by the +mercy of Providence, were floating by the side of the Northumberland. +</P> + +<P> +From the ship men were casting themselves overboard like water-rats, +swimming in the water like ducks, scrambling on board the boats anyhow. +</P> + +<P> +From the half-opened main-hatch the black smoke, mixed now with sparks, +rose steadily and swiftly and spitefully, as if driven through the +half-closed teeth of a dragon. +</P> + +<P> +A mile away beyond the Northumberland stood the fog bank. It looked +solid, like a vast country that had suddenly and strangely built itself +on the sea—a country where no birds sang and no trees grew. A country +with white, precipitous cliffs, solid to look at as the cliffs of Dover. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm spint!" suddenly gasped the oarsman, resting the oar handles under +the crook of his knees, and bending down as if he was preparing to butt +at the passengers in the stern-sheets. "Blow up or blow down, I'm +spint, don't ax me, I'm spint." +</P> + +<P> +Mr Lestrange, white as a ghost, but recovered somewhat from his first +horror, gave the Spent One time to recover himself and turned to look +at the ship. She seemed a great distance off, and the boats, well away +from her, were making at a furious pace towards the dinghy. Dick was +still playing with the water, but Emmeline's eyes were entirely +occupied with Paddy Button. New things were always of vast interest to +her contemplative mind, and these evolutions of her old friend were +eminently new. +</P> + +<P> +She had seen him swilling the decks, she had seen him dancing a jig, +she had seen him going round the main deck on all fours with Dick on +his back, but she had never seen him going on like this before. +</P> + +<P> +She perceived now that he was exhausted, and in trouble about +something, and, putting her hand in the pocket of her dress, she +searched for something that she knew was there. She produced a +Tangerine orange, and leaning forward she touched the Spent One's head +with it. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Button raised his head, stared vacantly for a second, saw the +proffered orange, and at the sight of it the thought of "the childer" +and their innocence, himself and the blasting powder, cleared his +dazzled wits, and he took to the sculls again. +</P> + +<P> +"Daddy," said Dick, who had been looking astern, "there's clouds near +the ship." +</P> + +<P> +In an incredibly short space of time the solid cliffs of fog had +broken. The faint wind that had banked it had pierced it, and was now +making pictures and devices of it, most wonderful and weird to see. +Horsemen of the mist rode on the water, and were dissolved; billows +rolled on the sea, yet were not of the sea; blankets and spirals of +vapour ascended to high heaven. And all with a terrible languor of +movement. Vast and lazy and sinister, yet steadfast of purpose as Fate +or Death, the fog advanced, taking the world for its own. +</P> + +<P> +Against this grey and indescribably sombre background stood the +smouldering ship with the breeze already shivering in her sails, and +the smoke from her main-hatch blowing and beckoning as if to the +retreating boats. +</P> + +<P> +"Why's the ship smoking like that?" asked Dick. "And look at those +boats coming—when are we going back, daddy?" +</P> + +<P> +"Uncle," said Emmeline, putting her hand in his, as she gazed towards +the ship and beyond it, "I'm 'fraid." +</P> + +<P> +"What frightens you, Emmy?" he asked, drawing her to him. +</P> + +<P> +"Shapes," replied Emmeline, nestling up to his side. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Glory be to God!" gasped the old sailor, suddenly resting on his +oars. "Will yiz look at the fog that's comin'—" +</P> + +<P> +"I think we had better wait here for the boats," said Mr Lestrange; "we +are far enough now to be safe if anything happens." +</P> + +<P> +"Ay, ay," replied the oarsman, whose wits had returned. "Blow up or +blow down, she won't hit us from here." +</P> + +<P> +"Daddy," said Dick, "when are we going back? I want my tea." +</P> + +<P> +"We aren't going back, my child," replied his father. "The ship's on +fire; we are waiting for another ship." +</P> + +<P> +"Where's the other ship?" asked the child, looking round at the horizon +that was clear. +</P> + +<P> +"We can't see it yet," replied the unhappy man, "but it will come." +</P> + +<P> +The long-boat and the quarter-boat were slowly approaching. They looked +like beetles crawling over the water, and after them across the +glittering surface came a dullness that took the sparkle from the +sea—a dullness that swept and spread like an eclipse shadow. +</P> + +<P> +Now the wind struck the dinghy. It was like a wind from fairyland, +almost imperceptible, chill, and dimming the sun. A wind from Lilliput. +As it struck the dinghy, the fog took the distant ship. +</P> + +<P> +It was a most extraordinary sight, for in less than thirty seconds the +ship of wood became a ship of gauze, a tracery flickered, and was gone +forever from the sight of man. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0105"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER V +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +VOICES HEARD IN THE MIST +</H3> + +<P> +The sun became fainter still, and vanished. Though the air round the +dinghy seemed quite clear, the on-coming boats were hazy and dim, and +that part of the horizon that had been fairly clear was now blotted out. +</P> + +<P> +The long-boat was leading by a good way. When she was within hailing +distance the captain's voice came. +</P> + +<P> +"Dinghy ahoy!" +</P> + +<P> +"Ahoy!" +</P> + +<P> +"Fetch alongside here!" +</P> + +<P> +The long-boat ceased rowing to wait for the quarter-boat that was +slowly creeping up. She was a heavy boat to pull at all times, and now +she was overloaded. +</P> + +<P> +The wrath of Captain Le Farge with Paddy Button for the way he had +stampeded the crew was profound, but he had not time to give vent to it. +</P> + +<P> +"Here, get aboard us, Mr Lestrange!" said he, when the dinghy was +alongside; "we have room for one. Mrs Stannard is in the quarter-boat, +and it's overcrowded; she's better aboard the dinghy, for she can look +after the kids. Come, hurry up, the smother is coming down on us fast. +Ahoy!"—to the quarter-boat, "hurry up, hurry up." +</P> + +<P> +The quarter-boat had suddenly vanished. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Lestrange climbed into the long-boat. Paddy pushed the dinghy a few +yards away with the tip of a scull, and then lay on his oars waiting. +</P> + +<P> +"Ahoy! ahoy!" cried Le Farge. +</P> + +<P> +"Ahoy!" came from the fog bank. +</P> + +<P> +Next moment the long-boat and the dinghy vanished from each other's +sight: the great fog bank had taken them. +</P> + +<P> +Now a couple of strokes of the port scull would have brought Mr Button +alongside the long-boat, so close was he; but the quarter-boat was in +his mind, or rather imagination, so what must he do but take three +powerful strokes in the direction in which he fancied the quarter-boat +to be. +</P> + +<P> +The rest was voices. +</P> + +<P> +"Dinghy ahoy!" +</P> + +<P> +"Ahoy!" +</P> + +<P> +"Ahoy!" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't be shoutin' together, or I'll not know which way to pull. +Quarter-boat ahoy! where are yez?" +</P> + +<P> +"Port your helm!" +</P> + +<P> +"Ay, ay!" putting his helm, so to speak, to starboard—"I'll be wid yiz +in wan minute, two or three minutes' hard pulling." +</P> + +<P> +"Ahoy!"—much more faint. +</P> + +<P> +"What d'ye mane rowin' away from me?"—a dozen strokes. +</P> + +<P> +"Ahoy!" fainter still. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Button rested on his oars. +</P> + +<P> +"Divil mend them I b'lave that was the long-boat shoutin'." +</P> + +<P> +He took to his oars again and pulled vigorously. +</P> + +<P> +"Paddy," came Dick's small voice, apparently from nowhere, "where are +we now?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure, we're in a fog; where else would we be? Don't you be affeared." +</P> + +<P> +"I ain't affeared, but Em's shivering." +</P> + +<P> +"Give her me coat," said the oarsman, resting on his oars and taking it +off. "Wrap it round her; and when it's round her we'll all let one big +halloo together. There's an ould shawl som'er in the boat, but I can't +be after lookin' for it now." +</P> + +<P> +He held out the coat and an almost invisible hand took it; at the same +moment a tremendous report shook the sea and sky. +</P> + +<P> +"There she goes," said Mr Button; "an' me old fiddle an' all. Don't be +frightened, childer; it's only a gun they're firin' for divarsion. Now +we'll all halloo togither—are yiz ready?" +</P> + +<P> +"Ay, ay," said Dick, who was a picker-up of sea terms. +</P> + +<P> +"Halloo!" yelled Pat. +</P> + +<P> +"Halloo! Halloo!" piped Dick and Emmeline. +</P> + +<P> +A faint reply came, but from where, it was difficult to say. The old +man rowed a few strokes and then paused on his oars. So still was the +surface of the sea that the chuckling of the water at the boat's bow as +she drove forward under the impetus of the last powerful stroke could +be heard distinctly. It died out as she lost way, and silence closed +round them like a ring. +</P> + +<P> +The light from above, a light that seemed to come through a vast +scuttle of deeply muffed glass, faint though it was, almost to +extinction, still varied as the little boat floated through the strata +of the mist. +</P> + +<P> +A great sea fog is not homogeneous—its density varies: it is +honeycombed with streets, it has its caves of clear air, its cliffs of +solid vapour, all shifting and changing place with the subtlety of +legerdemain. It has also this wizard peculiarity, that it grows with +the sinking of the sun and the approach of darkness. +</P> + +<P> +The sun, could they have seen it, was now leaving the horizon. +</P> + +<P> +They called again. Then they waited, but there was no response. +</P> + +<P> +"There's no use bawlin' like bulls to chaps that's deaf as adders," +said the old sailor, shipping his oars; immediately upon which +declaration he gave another shout, with the same result as far as +eliciting a reply. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr Button!" came Emmeline's voice. +</P> + +<P> +"What is it, honey?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm 'fraid." +</P> + +<P> +"You wait wan minit till I find the shawl—here it is, by the same +token!—an' I'll wrap you up in it." +</P> + +<P> +He crept cautiously aft to the stern-sheets and took Emmeline in his +arms. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't want the shawl," said Emmeline; "I'm not so much afraid in your +coat." The rough, tobacco-smelling old coat gave her courage somehow. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, thin, keep it on. Dicky, are you cowld?" +</P> + +<P> +"I've got into daddy's great coat; he left it behind him." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, thin, I'll put the shawl round me own shoulders, for it's cowld +I am. Are ya hungray, childer?" +</P> + +<P> +"No," said Dick, "but I'm direfully slapy?" +</P> + +<P> +"Slapy, is it? Well, down you get in the bottom of the boat, and here's +the shawl for a pilla. I'll be rowin' again in a minit to keep meself +warm." +</P> + +<P> +He buttoned the top button of the coat. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm a'right," murmured Emmeline in a dreamy voice. +</P> + +<P> +"Shut your eyes tight," replied Mr Button, "or Billy Winker will be +dridgin' sand in them. +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +`Shoheen, shoheen, shoheen, shoheen,<BR> +Sho-hu-lo, sho-hu-lo.<BR> +Shoheen, shoheen, shoheen, shoheen,<BR> +Hush a by the babby O.'"<BR> +</P> + +<P> +It was the tag of an old nursery folk-song they sing in the hovels of +the Achill coast fixed in his memory, along with the rain and the wind +and the smell of the burning turf, and the grunting of the pig and the +knickety-knock of a rocking cradle. +</P> + +<P> +"She's off," murmured Mr Button to himself, as the form in his arms +relaxed. Then he laid her gently down beside Dick. He shifted forward, +moving like a crab. Then he put his hand to his pocket for his pipe and +tobacco and tinder box. They were in his coat pocket, but Emmeline was +in his coat. To search for them would be to awaken her. +</P> + +<P> +The darkness of night was now adding itself to the blindness of the +fog. The oarsman could not see even the thole pins. He sat adrift mind +and body. He was, to use his own expression, "moithered." Haunted by +the mist, tormented by "shapes." +</P> + +<P> +It was just in a fog like this that the Merrows could be heard +disporting in Dunbeg bay, and off the Achill coast. Sporting and +laughing, and hallooing through the mist, to lead unfortunate fishermen +astray. +</P> + +<P> +Merrows are not altogether evil, but they have green hair and teeth, +fishes' tails and fins for arms; and to hear them walloping in the +water around you like salmon, and you alone in a small boat, with the +dread of one coming floundering on board, is enough to turn a man's +hair grey. +</P> + +<P> +For a moment he thought of awakening the children to keep him company, +but he was ashamed. Then he took to the sculls again, and rowed "by the +feel of the water." The creak of the oars was like a companion's voice, +the exercise lulled his fears. Now and again, forgetful of the sleeping +children, he gave a halloo, and paused to listen. But no answer came. +</P> + +<P> +Then he continued rowing, long, steady, laborious strokes, each taking +him further and further from the boats that he was never destined to +sight again. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0106"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +DAWN ON A WIDE, WIDE SEA +</H3> + +<P> +"Is it aslape I've been?" said Mr Button, suddenly awaking with a start. +</P> + +<P> +He had shipped his oars just for a minute's rest. He must have slept +for hours, for now, behold, a warm, gentle wind was blowing, the moon +was shining, and the fog was gone. +</P> + +<P> +"Is it dhraming I've been?" continued the awakened one. +</P> + +<P> +"Where am I at all, at all? O musha! sure, here I am. O wirra! wirra! I +dreamt I'd gone aslape on the main-hatch and the ship was blown up with +powther, and it's all come true." +</P> + +<P> +"Mr Button!" came a small voice from the stern-sheets (Emmeline's). +</P> + +<P> +"What is it, honey?" +</P> + +<P> +"Where are we now?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure, we're afloat on the say, acushla; where else would we be?" +</P> + +<P> +"Where's uncle?" +</P> + +<P> +"He's beyant there in the long-boat—he'll be afther us in a minit." +</P> + +<P> +"I want a drink." +</P> + +<P> +He filled a tin pannikin that was by the beaker of water, and gave her +a drink. Then he took his pipe and tobacco from his coat pocket. +</P> + +<P> +She almost immediately fell asleep again beside Dick, who had not +stirred or moved; and the old sailor, standing up and steadying +himself, cast his eyes round the horizon. Not a sign of sail or boat +was there on all the moonlit sea. +</P> + +<P> +From the low elevation of an open boat one has a very small horizon, +and in the vague world of moonlight somewhere round about it was +possible that the boats might be near enough to show up at daybreak. +</P> + +<P> +But open boats a few miles apart may be separated by long leagues in +the course of a few hours. Nothing is more mysterious than the currents +of the sea. +</P> + +<P> +The ocean is an ocean of rivers, some swiftly flowing, some slow, and a +league from where you are drifting at the rate of a mile an hour +another boat may be drifting two. +</P> + +<P> +A slight warm breeze was frosting the water, blending moonshine and +star shimmer; the ocean lay like a lake, yet the nearest mainland was +perhaps a thousand miles away. +</P> + +<P> +The thoughts of youth may be long, long thoughts, but not longer than +the thoughts of this old sailor man smoking his pipe under the stars. +Thoughts as long as the world is round. Blazing bar rooms in +Callao—harbours over whose oily surfaces the sampans slipped like +water-beetles—the lights of Macao—the docks of London. Scarcely ever +a sea picture, pure and simple, for why should an old seaman care to +think about the sea, where life is all into the fo'cs'le and out again, +where one voyage blends and jumbles with another, where after +forty-five years of reefing topsails you can't well remember off which +ship it was Jack Rafferty fell overboard, or who it was killed who in +the fo'cs'le of what, though you can still see, as in a mirror darkly, +the fight, and the bloody face over which a man is holding a kerosene +lamp. +</P> + +<P> +I doubt if Paddy Button could have told you the name of the first ship +he ever sailed in. If you had asked him, he would probably have +replied: "I disremimber; it was to the Baltic, and cruel cowld weather, +and I was say-sick till I near brought me boots up; and it was 'O for +ould Ireland!' I was cryin' all the time, an' the captin dhrummin me +back with a rope's end to the tune uv it—but the name of the hooker—I +disremimber—bad luck to her, whoever she was!" +</P> + +<P> +So he sat smoking his pipe, whilst the candles of heaven burned above +him, and calling to mind roaring drunken scenes and palmshadowed +harbours, and the men and the women he had known—such men and such +women! The derelicts of the earth and the ocean. Then he nodded off to +sleep again, and when he awoke the moon had gone. +</P> + +<P> +Now in the eastern sky might have been seen a pale fan of light, vague +as the wing of an ephemera. It vanished and changed back to darkness. +</P> + +<P> +Presently, and almost at a stroke, a pencil of fire ruled a line along +the eastern horizon, and the eastern sky became more beautiful than a +rose leaf plucked in May. The line of fire contracted into one +increasing spot, the rim of the rising sun. +</P> + +<P> +As the light increased the sky above became of a blue impossible to +imagine unless seen, a wan blue, yet living and sparkling as if born of +the impalpable dust of sapphires. Then the whole sea flashed like the +harp of Apollo touched by the fingers of the god. The light was music +to the soul. It was day. +</P> + +<P> +"Daddy!" suddenly cried Dick, sitting up in the sunlight and rubbing +his eyes with his open palms. "Where are we?" +</P> + +<P> +"All right, Dicky, me son!" cried the old sailor, who had been standing +up casting his eyes round in a vain endeavour to sight the boats. "Your +daddy's as safe as if he was in hivin; he'll be wid us in a minit, an' +bring another ship along with him. So you're awake, are you, Em'line?" +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline, sitting up in the old pilot coat, nodded in reply without +speaking. Another child might have supplemented Dick's enquiries as to +her uncle by questions of her own, but she did not. +</P> + +<P> +Did she guess that there was some subterfuge in Mr Button's answer, and +that things were different from what he was making them out to be? Who +can tell? +</P> + +<P> +She was wearing an old cap of Dick's, which Mrs Stannard in the hurry +and confusion had popped on her head. It was pushed to one side, and +she made a quaint enough little figure as she sat up in the early +morning brightness, dressed in the old salt-stained coat beside Dick, +whose straw hat was somewhere in the bottom of the boat, and whose +auburn locks were blowing in the faint breeze. +</P> + +<P> +"Hurroo!" cried Dick, looking around at the blue and sparkling water, +and banging with a stretcher on the bottom of the boat. "I'm goin' to +be a sailor, aren't I, Paddy? You'll let me sail the boat, won't you, +Paddy, an' show me how to row?" +</P> + +<P> +"Aisy does it," said Paddy, taking hold of the child. "I haven't a +sponge or towel, but I'll just wash your face in salt wather and lave +you to dry in the sun." +</P> + +<P> +He filled the bailing tin with sea water. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't want to wash!" shouted Dick. +</P> + +<P> +"Stick your face into the water in the tin," commanded Paddy. "You +wouldn't be going about the place with your face like a sut-bag, would +you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Stick yours in!" commanded the other. +</P> + +<P> +Button did so, and made a hub-bubbling noise in the water; then he +lifted a wet and streaming face, and flung the contents of the bailing +tin overboard. +</P> + +<P> +"Now you've lost your chance," said this arch nursery strategist, "all +the water's gone." +</P> + +<P> +"There's more in the sea." +</P> + +<P> +"There's no more to wash with, not till to-morrow—the fishes don't +allow it." +</P> + +<P> +"I want to wash," grumbled Dick. "I want to stick my face in the tin, +same's you did; 'sides, Em hasn't washed." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't mind," murmured Emmeline. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, thin," said Mr Button, as if making a sudden resolve, "I'll ax +the sharks." He leaned over the boat's side, his face close to the +surface of the water. "Halloo there!" he shouted, and then bent his +head sideways to listen; the children also looked over the side, deeply +interested. +</P> + +<P> +"Halloo there! Are y'aslape? Oh, there y'are! Here's a spalpeen with a +dhirty face, an's wishful to wash it; may I take a bailin' tin of— Oh, +thank your 'arner, thank your 'arner—good day to you, and my respects." +</P> + +<P> +"What did the shark say, Mr Button?" asked Emmeline. +</P> + +<P> +"He said: `Take a bar'l full, an' welcome, Mister Button; an' it's +wishful I am I had a drop of the crathur to offer you this fine +marnin'.' Thin he popped his head under his fin and went aslape agin; +leastwise, I heard him snore." +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline nearly always "Mr Buttoned" her friend; sometimes she called +him "Mr Paddy." As for Dick, it was always "Paddy," pure and simple. +Children have etiquettes of their own. +</P> + +<P> +It must often strike landsmen and landswomen that the most terrible +experience when cast away at sea in an open boat is the total absence +of privacy. It seems an outrage on decency on the part of Providence to +herd people together so. But, whoever has gone through the experience +will bear me out that the human mind enlarges, and things that would +shock us ashore are as nothing out there, face to face with eternity. +</P> + +<P> +If so with grown-up people, how much more so with this old shell-back +and his two charges? +</P> + +<P> +And indeed Mr Button was a person who called a spade a spade, had no +more conventions than a walrus, and looked after his two charges just +as a nursemaid might look after her charges, or a walrus after its +young. +</P> + +<P> +There was a large bag of biscuits in the boat, and some tinned +stuff—mostly sardines. +</P> + +<P> +I have known a sailor to open a box of sardines with a tin tack. He was +in prison, the sardines had been smuggled into him, and he had no +can-opener. Only his genius and a tin tack. +</P> + +<P> +Paddy had a jack-knife, however, and in a marvellously short time a box +of sardines was opened, and placed on the stern-sheets beside some +biscuits. +</P> + +<P> +These, with some water and Emmeline's Tangerine orange, which she +produced and added to the common store, formed the feast, and they fell +to. When they had finished, the remains were put carefully away, and +they proceeded to step the tiny mast. +</P> + +<P> +The sailor, when the mast was in its place, stood for a moment resting +his hand on it, and gazing around him over the vast and voiceless blue. +</P> + +<P> +The Pacific has three blues: the blue of morning, the blue of midday, +and the blue of evening. But the blue of morning is the happiest: the +happiest thing in colour—sparkling, vague, newborn—the blue of heaven +and youth. +</P> + +<P> +"What are you looking for, Paddy?" asked Dick. +</P> + +<P> +"Say-gulls," replied the prevaricator; then to himself: "Not a sight or +a sound of them! Musha! musha! which way will I steer—north, south, +aist, or west? It's all wan, for if I steer to the aist, they may be in +the west; and if I steer to the west, they may be in the aist; and I +can't steer to the west, for I'd be steering right in the wind's eye. +Aist it is; I'll make a soldier's wind of it, and thrust to chance." +</P> + +<P> +He set the sail and came aft with the sheet. Then he shifted the +rudder, lit a pipe, leaned luxuriously back and gave the bellying sail +to the gentle breeze. +</P> + +<P> +It was part of his profession, part of his nature, that, steering, +maybe, straight towards death by starvation and thirst, he was as +unconcerned as if he were taking the children for a summer's sail. His +imagination dealt little with the future; almost entirely influenced by +his immediate surroundings, it could conjure up no fears from the scene +now before it. The children were the same. +</P> + +<P> +Never was there a happier starting, more joy in a little boat. During +breakfast the seaman had given his charges to understand that if Dick +did not meet his father and Emmeline her uncle in a "while or two," it +was because he had gone on board a ship, and he'd be along presently. +The terror of their position was as deeply veiled from them as eternity +is veiled from you or me. +</P> + +<P> +The Pacific was still bound by one of those glacial calms that can only +occur when the sea has been free from storms for a vast extent of its +surface, for a hurricane down by the Horn will send its swell and +disturbance beyond the Marquesas. De Bois in his table of amplitudes +points out that more than half the sea disturbances at any given space +are caused, not by the wind, but by storms at a great distance. +</P> + +<P> +But the sleep of the Pacific is only apparent. This placid lake, over +which the dinghy was pursuing the running ripple, was heaving to an +imperceptible swell and breaking on the shores of the Low Archipelago, +and the Marquesas in foam and thunder. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline's rag-doll was a shocking affair from a hygienic or artistic +standpoint. Its face was just inked on, it had no features, no arms; +yet not for all the dolls in the world would she have exchanged this +filthy and nearly formless thing. It was a fetish. +</P> + +<P> +She sat nursing it on one side of the helmsman, whilst Dick, on the +other side, hung his nose over the water, on the look-out for fish. +</P> + +<P> +"Why do you smoke, Mr Button?" asked Emmeline, who had been watching +her friend for some time in silence. +</P> + +<P> +"To aise me thrubbles," replied Paddy. +</P> + +<P> +He was leaning back with one eye shut and the other fixed on the luff +of the sail. He was in his element: nothing to do but steer and smoke, +warmed by the sun and cooled by the breeze. A landsman would have been +half demented in his condition, many a sailor would have been taciturn +and surly, on the look-out for sails, and alternately damning his soul +and praying to his God. Paddy smoked. +</P> + +<P> +"Whoop!" cried Dick. "Look, Paddy!" +</P> + +<P> +An albicore a few cables-lengths to port had taken a flying leap from +the flashing sea, turned a complete somersault and vanished. +</P> + +<P> +"It's an albicore takin' a buck lep. Hundreds I've seen before this; +he's bein' chased." +</P> + +<P> +"What's chasing him, Paddy?" +</P> + +<P> +"What's chasin' him? why, what else but the gibly-gobly ums!" +</P> + +<P> +Before Dick could enquire as to the personal appearance and habits of +the latter, a shoal of silver arrow heads passed the boat and flittered +into the water with a hissing sound. +</P> + +<P> +"Thim's flyin' fish. What are you sayin'?—fish can't fly! Where's the +eyes in your head?" +</P> + +<P> +"Are the gibblyums chasing them too?" asked Emmeline fearfully. +</P> + +<P> +"No; 'tis the Billy balloos that's afther thim. Don't be axin' me any +more questions now, or I'll be tellin' you lies in a minit." +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline, it will be remembered, had brought a small parcel with her +done up in a little shawl; it was under the boat seat, and every now +and then she would stoop down to see if it were safe. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0107"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +STORY OF THE PIG AND THE BILLY-GOAT +</H3> + +<P> +Every hour or so Mr Button would shake his lethargy off, and rise and +look round for "seagulls," but the prospect was sail-less as the +prehistoric sea, wingless, voiceless. When Dick would fret now and +then, the old sailor would always devise some means of amusing him. He +made him fishing tackle out of a bent pin and some small twine that +happened to be in the boat, and told him to fish for "pinkeens"; and +Dick, with the pathetic faith of childhood, fished. +</P> + +<P> +Then he told them things. He had spent a year at Deal long ago, where a +cousin of his was married to a boatman. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Button had put in a year as a longshoreman at Deal, and he had got a +great lot to tell of his cousin and her husband, and more especially of +one, Hannah; Hannah was his cousin's baby—a most marvellous child, who +was born with its "buck" teeth fully developed, and whose first +unnatural act on entering the world was to make a snap at the +"docther." "Hung on to his fist like a bull-dog, and him bawlin' +`Murther!'" +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs James," said Emmeline, referring to a Boston acquaintance, "had a +little baby, and it was pink." +</P> + +<P> +"Ay, ay," said Paddy; "they're mostly pink to start with, but they fade +whin they're washed." +</P> + +<P> +"It'd no teeth," said Emmeline, "for I put my finger in to see." +</P> + +<P> +"The doctor brought it in a bag," put in Dick, who was still steadily +fishing—"dug it out of a cabbage patch; an' I got a trow'l and dug all +our cabbage patch up, but there weren't any babies but there were no +end of worms." +</P> + +<P> +"I wish I had a baby," said Emmeline, "and I wouldn't send it back to +the cabbage patch. +</P> + +<P> +"The doctor," explained Dick, "took it back and planted it again; and +Mrs James cried when I asked her, and daddy said it was put back to +grow and turn into an angel." +</P> + +<P> +"Angels have wings," said Emmeline dreamily. +</P> + +<P> +"And," pursued Dick, "I told cook, and she said to Jane [that] daddy +was always stuffing children up with—something or 'nother. And I asked +daddy to let me see him stuffing up a child—and daddy said cook'd have +to go away for saying that, and she went away next day." +</P> + +<P> +"She had three big trunks and a box for her bonnet," said Emmeline, +with a far-away look as she recalled the incident. +</P> + +<P> +"And the cabman asked her hadn't she any more trunks to put on his cab, +and hadn't she forgot the parrot cage," said Dick. +</P> + +<P> +"I wish <I>I</I> had a parrot in a cage," murmured Emmeline, moving slightly +so as to get more in the shadow of the sail. +</P> + +<P> +"And what in the world would you be doin' with a par't in a cage?" +asked Mr Button. +</P> + +<P> +"I'd let it out," replied Emmeline. +</P> + +<P> +"Spakin' about lettin' par'ts out of cages, I remimber me grandfather +had an ould pig," said Paddy (they were all talking seriously together +like equals). "I was a spalpeen no bigger than the height of me knee, +and I'd go to the sty door, and he'd come to the door, and grunt an' +blow wid his nose undher it; an' I'd grunt back to vex him, an' hammer +wid me fist on it, an' shout `Halloo there! halloo there!' and `Halloo +to you!' he'd say, spakin' the pigs' language. `Let me out,' he'd say, +`and I'll give yiz a silver shilling.' +</P> + +<P> +"`Pass it under the door,' I'd answer him. Thin he'd stick the snout of +him undher the door an' I'd hit it a clip with a stick, and he'd yell +murther Irish. An' me mother'd come out an' baste me, an' well I +desarved it. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, wan day I opened the sty door, an' out he boulted and away and +beyant, over hill and hollo he goes till he gets to the edge of the +cliff overlookin' the say, and there he meets a billy-goat, and he and +the billy-goat has a division of opinion. +</P> + +<P> +"`Away wid yiz!' says the billy-goat. +</P> + +<P> +"`Away wid yourself!' says he. +</P> + +<P> +"`Whose you talkin' to?' says t'other. +</P> + +<P> +"`Yourself,' says him. +</P> + +<P> +"`Who stole the eggs?' says the billy-goat. +</P> + +<P> +"`Ax your ould grandmother!' says the pig. +</P> + +<P> +"`Ax me ould WHICH mother?' says the billy-goat. +</P> + +<P> +"`Oh, ax me—' And before he could complete the sintence, ram, blam, +the ould billygoat butts him in the chist, and away goes the both of +thim whirtlin' into the say below. +</P> + +<P> +"Thin me ould grandfather comes out, and collars me by the scruff, and +`Into the sty with you!' says he; and into the sty I wint, and there +they kep' me for a fortnit on bran mash and skim milk—and well I +desarved it." +</P> + +<P> +They dined somewhere about eleven o'clock, and at noon Paddy unstepped +the mast and made a sort of little tent or awning with the sail in the +bow of the boat to protect the children from the rays of the vertical +sun. +</P> + +<P> +Then he took his place in the bottom of the boat, in the stern, stuck +Dick's straw hat over his face to preserve it from the sun, kicked +about a bit to get a comfortable position, and fell asleep. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0108"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +"S-H-E-N-A-N-D-O-A-H" +</H3> + +<P> +He had slept an hour and more when he was brought to his senses by a +thin and prolonged shriek. It was Emmeline in a nightmare, or more +properly a day-mare, brought on by a meal of sardines and the haunting +memory of the gibbly-gobbly-ums. When she was shaken (it always took a +considerable time to bring her to, from these seizures) and comforted, +the mast was restepped. +</P> + +<P> +As Mr Button stood with his hand on the spar looking round him before +going aft with the sheet, an object struck his eye some three miles +ahead. Objects rather, for they were the masts and spars of a small +ship rising from the water. Not a vestige of sail, just the naked +spars. It might have been a couple of old skeleton trees jutting out of +the water for all a landsman could have told. +</P> + +<P> +He stared at this sight for twenty or thirty seconds without speaking, +his head projected like the head of a tortoise. Then he gave a wild +"Hurroo!" +</P> + +<P> +"What is it, Paddy?" asked Dick. +</P> + +<P> +"Hurroo!" replied Button. "Ship ahoy! ship ahoy! Lie to till I be +afther boardin' you. Sure, they are lyin' to—divil a rag of canvas on +her—are they aslape or dhramin'? Here, Dick, let me get aft wid the +sheet; the wind'll take us up to her quicker than we'll row." +</P> + +<P> +He crawled aft and took the tiller; the breeze took the sail, and the +boat forged ahead. +</P> + +<P> +"Is it daddy's ship?" asked Dick, who was almost as excited as his +friend. +</P> + +<P> +"I dinno; we'll see when we fetch her." +</P> + +<P> +"Shall we go on her, Mr Button?" asked Emmeline. +</P> + +<P> +"Ay will we, honey." +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline bent down, and fetching her parcel from under the seat, held +it in her lap. +</P> + +<P> +As they drew nearer, the outlines of the ship became more apparent. She +was a small brig, with stump topmasts, from the spars a few rags of +canvas fluttered. It was apparent soon to the old sailor's eye what was +amiss with her. +</P> + +<P> +"She's derelick, bad cess to her!" he muttered; "derelick and done +for—just me luck!" +</P> + +<P> +I can't see any people on the ship," cried Dick, who had crept<BR> +forward to the bow. "Daddy's not there." +</P> + +<P> +The old sailor let the boat off a point or two, so as to get a view of +the brig more fully; when they were within twenty cable lengths or so +he unstepped the mast and took to the sculls. +</P> + +<P> +The little brig floated very low on the water, and presented a mournful +enough appearance; her running rigging all slack, shreds of canvas +flapping at the yards, and no boats hanging at her davits. It was easy +enough to see that she was a timber ship, and that she had started a +butt, flooded herself and been abandoned. +</P> + +<P> +Paddy lay on his oars within a few strokes of her. She was floating as +placidly as though she were in the harbour of San Francisco; the green +water showed in her shadow, and in the green water waved the tropic +weeds that were growing from her copper. Her paint was blistered and +burnt absolutely as though a hot iron had been passed over it, and over +her taffrail hung a large rope whose end was lost to sight in the water. +</P> + +<P> +A few strokes brought them under the stern. The name of the ship was +there in faded letters, also the port to which she belonged. +</P> + +<P> +"Shenandoah. Martha's Vineyard." +</P> + +<P> +"There's letters on her," said Mr Button. "But I can't make thim out. +I've no larnin'." +</P> + +<P> +"I can read them," said Dick. +</P> + +<P> +"So c'n I," murmured Emmeline. +</P> + +<P> +"S-H-E-N-A-N-D-O-A-H," spelt Dick. +</P> + +<P> +"What's that?" enquired Paddy. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know," replied Dick, rather downcastedly. +</P> + +<P> +"There you are!" cried the oarsman in a disgusted manner, pulling the +boat round to the starboard side of the brig. "They pritind to tache +letters to childer in schools, pickin' their eyes out wid book-readin', +and here's letters as big as me face an' they can't make hid or tail of +them—be dashed to book-readin'!" +</P> + +<P> +The brig had old-fashioned wide channels, regular platforms; and she +floated so low in the water that they were scarcely a foot above the +level of the dinghy. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Button secured the boat by passing the painter through a channel +plate, then, with Emmeline and her parcel in his arms or rather in one +arm, he clambered over the channel and passed her over the rail on to +the deck. Then it was Dick's turn, and the children stood waiting +whilst the old sailor brought the beaker of water, the biscuit, and the +tinned stuff on board. +</P> + +<P> +It was a place to delight the heart of a boy, the deck of the +Shenandoah; forward right from the main hatchway it was laden with +timber. Running rigging lay loose on the deck in coils, and nearly the +whole of the quarter-deck was occupied by a deck-house. The place had a +delightful smell of sea-beach, decaying wood, tar, and mystery. Bights +of buntline and other ropes were dangling from above, only waiting to +be swung from. A bell was hung just forward of the foremast. In half a +moment Dick was forward hammering at the bell with a belaying pin he +had picked from the deck. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Button shouted to him to desist; the sound of the bell jarred on his +nerves. It sounded like a summons, and a summons on that deserted craft +was quite out of place. Who knew what mightn't answer it in the way of +the supernatural? +</P> + +<P> +Dick dropped the belaying pin and ran forward. He took the disengaged +hand, and the three went aft to the door of the deck-house. The door +was open, and they peeped in. +</P> + +<P> +The place had three windows on the starboard side, and through the +windows the sun was shining in a mournful manner. There was a table in +the middle of the place. A seat was pushed away from the table as if +someone had risen in a hurry. On the table lay the remains of a meal, a +teapot, two teacups, two plates. On one of the plates rested a fork +with a bit of putrifying bacon upon it that some one had evidently been +conveying to his mouth when something had happened. Near the teapot +stood a tin of condensed milk, haggled open. Some old salt had just +been in the act of putting milk in his tea when the mysterious +something had occurred. Never did a lot of dead things speak so +eloquently as these things spoke. +</P> + +<P> +One could conjure it all up. The skipper, most likely, had finished his +tea, and the mate was hard at work at his, when the leak had been +discovered, or some derelict had been run into, or whatever it was had +happened—happened. +</P> + +<P> +One thing was evident, that since the abandonment of the brig she had +experienced fine weather, else the things would not have been left +standing so trimly on the table. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Button and Dick entered the place to prosecute enquiries, but +Emmeline remained at the door. The charm of the old brig appealed to +her almost as much as to Dick, but she had a feeling about it quite +unknown to him. A ship where no one was had about it suggestions of +"other things." +</P> + +<P> +She was afraid to enter the gloomy deckhouse, and afraid to remain +alone outside; she compromised matters by sitting down on the deck. +Then she placed the small bundle beside her, and hurriedly took the +rag-doll from her pocket, into which it was stuffed head down, pulled +its calico skirt from over its head, propped it up against the coaming +of the door, and told it not to be afraid. +</P> + +<P> +There was not much to be found in the deck-house, but aft of it were +two small cabins like rabbit hutches, once inhabited by the skipper and +his mate. Here there were great findings in the way of rubbish. Old +clothes, old boots, an old top-hat of that extraordinary pattern you +may see in the streets of Pernambuco, immensely tall, and narrowing +towards the brim. A telescope without a lens, a volume of Hoyt, a +nautical almanac, a great bolt of striped flannel shirting, a box of +fish hooks. And in one corner—glorious find!—a coil of what seemed to +be ten yards or so of black rope. +</P> + +<P> +"Baccy, begorra!" shouted Pat, seizing upon his treasure. It was +pigtail. You may see coils of it in the tobacconists' windows of +seaport towns. A pipe full of it would make a hippopotamus vomit, yet +old sailors chew it and smoke it and revel in it. +</P> + +<P> +"We'll bring all the lot of the things out on deck, and see what's +worth keepin' an' what's worth leavin'," said Mr Button, taking an +immense armful of the old truck; whilst Dick, carrying the top-hat, +upon which he had instantly seized as his own special booty, led the +way. +</P> + +<P> +"Em," shouted Dick, as he emerged from the doorway, "see what I've got!" +</P> + +<P> +He popped the awful-looking structure over his head. It went right down +to his shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline gave a shriek. +</P> + +<P> +"It smells funny," said Dick, taking it off and applying his nose to +the inside of it—"smells like an old hair brush. Here, you try it on." +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline scrambled away as far as she could, till she reached the +starboard bulwarks, where she sat in the scupper, breathless and +speechless and wide-eyed. She was always dumb when frightened (unless +it were a nightmare or a very sudden shock), and this hat suddenly seen +half covering Dick frightened her out of her wits. Besides, it was a +black thing, and she hated black things—black cats, black horses; +worst of all, black dogs. +</P> + +<P> +She had once seen a hearse in the streets of Boston, an old-time hearse +with black plumes, trappings and all complete. The sight had nearly +given her a fit, though she did not know in the least the meaning of it. +</P> + +<P> +Meanwhile Mr Button was conveying armful after armful of stuff on deck. +When the heap was complete, he sat down beside it in the glorious +afternoon sunshine, and lit his pipe. +</P> + +<P> +He had searched neither for food or water as yet; content with the +treasure God had given him, for the moment the material things of life +were forgotten. And, indeed, if he had searched he would have found +only half a sack of potatoes in the caboose, for the lazarette was +awash, and the water in the scuttle-butt was stinking. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline, seeing what was in progress, crept up, Dick promising not to +put the hat on her, and they all sat round the pile. +</P> + +<P> +"Thim pair of brogues," said the old man, holding a pair of old boots +up for inspection like an auctioneer, "would fetch half a dollar any +day in the wake in any sayport in the world. Put them beside you, Dick, +and lay hold of this pair of britches by the ends of em'—stritch them." +</P> + +<P> +The trousers were stretched out, examined and approved of, and laid +beside the boots. +</P> + +<P> +"Here's a tiliscope wid wan eye shut," said Mr Button, examining the +broken telescope and pulling it in and out like a concertina. "Stick +it beside the brogues; it may come in handy for somethin'. Here's a +book"—tossing the nautical almanac to the boy. "Tell me what it says." +</P> + +<P> +Dick examined the pages of figures hopelessly. +</P> + +<P> +"I can't read 'em," said Dick; "it's numbers." +</P> + +<P> +"Buzz it overboard," said Mr Button. +</P> + +<P> +Dick did what he was told joyfully, and the proceedings resumed. +</P> + +<P> +He tried on the tall hat, and the children laughed. On her old friend's +head the thing ceased to have terror for Emmeline. +</P> + +<P> +She had two methods of laughing. The angelic smile before mentioned—a +rare thing—and, almost as rare, a laugh in which she showed her little +white teeth, whilst she pressed her hands together, the left one tight +shut, and the right clasped over it. +</P> + +<P> +He put the hat on one side, and continued the sorting, searching all +the pockets of the clothes and finding nothing. When he had arranged +what to keep, they flung the rest overboard, and the valuables were +conveyed to the captain's cabin, there to remain till wanted. +</P> + +<P> +Then the idea that food might turn up useful as well as old clothes in +their present condition struck the imaginative mind of Mr Button, and +he proceeded to search. +</P> + +<P> +The lazarette was simply a cistern full of sea water; what else it +might contain, not being a diver, he could not say. In the copper of +the caboose lay a great lump of putrifying pork or meat of some sort. +The harness cask contained nothing except huge crystals of salt. All +the meat had been taken away. Still, the provisions and water brought +on board from the dinghy would be sufficient to last them some ten days +or so, and in the course of ten days a lot of things might happen. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Button leaned over the side. The dinghy was nestling beside the brig +like a duckling beside a duck; the broad channel might have been +likened to the duck's wing half extended. He got on the channel to see +if the painter was safely attached. Having made all secure, he climbed +slowly up to the main-yard arm, and looked round upon the sea. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0109"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +SHADOWS IN THE MOONLIGHT +</H3> + +<P> +"Daddy's a long time coming," said Dick all of a sudden. +</P> + +<P> +They were seated on the baulks of timber that cumbered the deck of the +brig on either side of the caboose. An ideal perch. The sun was setting +over Australia way, in a sea that seemed like a sea of boiling gold. +Some mystery of mirage caused the water to heave and tremble as if +troubled by fervent heat. +</P> + +<P> +"Ay, is he," said Mr Button; "but it's better late than never. Now +don't be thinkin' of him, for that won't bring him. Look at the sun +goin' into the wather, and don't be spakin' a word, now, but listen and +you'll hear it hiss." +</P> + +<P> +The children gazed and listened, Paddy also. All three were mute as the +great blazing shield touched the water that leapt to meet it. +</P> + +<P> +You COULD hear the water hiss—if you had imagination enough. Once +having touched the water, the sun went down behind it, as swiftly as a +man in a hurry going down a ladder. As he vanished a ghostly and golden +twilight spread over the sea, a light exquisite but immensely forlorn. +Then the sea became a violet shadow, the west darkened as if to a +closing door, and the stars rushed over the sky. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr Button," said Emmeline, nodding towards the sun as he vanished, +"where's over there?" +</P> + +<P> +"The west," replied he, staring at the sunset. "Chainy and Injee and +all away beyant." +</P> + +<P> +"Where's the sun gone to now, Paddy?" asked Dick. +</P> + +<P> +"He's gone chasin' the moon, an' she's skedadlin' wid her dress brailed +up for all she's worth; she'll be along up in a minit. He's always +afther her, but he's never caught her yet." +</P> + +<P> +"What would he do to her if he caught her?" asked Emmeline. +</P> + +<P> +"Faith, an' maybe he'd fetch her a skelp an' well she'd desarve it." +</P> + +<P> +"Why'd she deserve it?" asked Dick, who was in one of his questioning +moods. +</P> + +<P> +"Because she's always delutherin' people an' leadin' thim asthray. +Girls or men, she moidhers thim all once she gets the comeither on +them; same as she did Buck M'Cann." +</P> + +<P> +"Who's he?" +</P> + +<P> +"Buck M'Cann? Faith, he was the village ijit where I used to live in +the ould days." +</P> + +<P> +"What's that'" +</P> + +<P> +"Hould your whisht, an' don't be axin' questions. He was always wantin' +the moon, though he was twinty an' six feet four. He'd a gob on him +that hung open like a rat-trap with a broken spring, and he was as thin +as a barber's pole, you could a' tied a reef knot in the middle of 'um; +and whin the moon was full there was no houldin' him." Mr Button gazed +at the reflection of the sunset on the water for a moment as if +recalling some form from the past, and then proceeded. "He'd sit on the +grass starin' at her, an' thin he'd start to chase her over the hills, +and they'd find him at last, maybe a day or two later, lost in the +mountains, grazin' on berries, and as green as a cabbidge from the +hunger an' the cowld, till it got so bad at long last they had to +hobble him." +</P> + +<P> +"I've seen a donkey hobbled," cried Dick. +</P> + +<P> +"Thin you've seen the twin brother of Buck M'Cann. Well, one night me +elder brother Tim was sittin' over the fire, smokin' his dudeen an' +thinkin' of his sins, when in comes Buck with the hobbles on him. +</P> + +<P> +"`Tim,' says he, `I've got her at last!' +</P> + +<P> +"`Got who?' says Tim. +</P> + +<P> +"`The moon,' says he. +</P> + +<P> +"`Got her where?' says Tim. +</P> + +<P> +"`In a bucket down by the pond,' says t'other, `safe an' sound an' not +a scratch on her; you come and look,' says he. So Tim follows him, he +hobblin', and they goes to the pond side, and there, sure enough, stood +a tin bucket full of wather, an' on the wather the refliction of the +moon. +</P> + +<P> +"`I dridged her out of the pond,' whispers Buck. `Aisy now,' says he, +`an' I'll dribble the water out gently,' says he, `an' we'll catch her +alive at the bottom of it like a trout.' So he drains the wather out +gently of the bucket till it was near all gone, an' then he looks into +the bucket expectin' to find the moon flounderin' in the bottom of it +like a flat fish. +</P> + +<P> +"`She's gone, bad 'cess to her!' says he. +</P> + +<P> +"`Try again,' says me brother, and Buck fills the bucket again, and +there was the moon sure enough when the water came to stand still. +</P> + +<P> +"`Go on,' says me brother. `Drain out the wather, but go gentle, or +she'll give yiz the slip again.' +</P> + +<P> +"`Wan minit,' says Buck, `I've got an idea,' says he; `she won't give +me the slip this time,' says he. `You wait for me,' says he; and off he +hobbles to his old mother's cabin a stone's-throw away, and back he +comes with a sieve. +</P> + +<P> +"`You hold the sieve,' says Buck, `and I'll drain the water into it; if +she 'scapes from the bucket we'll have her in the sieve.' And he pours +the wather out of the bucket as gentle as if it was crame out of a jug. +When all the wather was out he turns the bucket bottom up, and shook it. +</P> + +<P> +"`Ran dan the thing!' he cries, `she's gone again'; an' wid that he +flings the bucket into the pond, and the sieve afther the bucket, when +up comes his old mother hobbling on her stick. +</P> + +<P> +"`Where's me bucket?' says she. +</P> + +<P> +"`In the pond,' say Buck. +</P> + +<P> +"`And me sieve?' says she. +</P> + +<P> +"`Gone afther the bucket.' +</P> + +<P> +"`I'll give yiz a bucketin!' says she; and she up with the stick and +landed him a skelp, an' driv him roarin' and hobblin' before her, and +locked him up in the cabin, an' kep' him on bread an' wather for a wake +to get the moon out of his head; but she might have saved her thruble, +for that day month in it was agin.… There she comes!" +</P> + +<P> +The moon, argent and splendid, was breaking from the water. She was +full, and her light was powerful almost as the light of day. The +shadows of the children and the queer shadow of Mr Button were cast on +the wall of the caboose hard and black as silhouettes. +</P> + +<P> +"Look at our shadows!" cried Dick, taking off his broad-brimmed straw +hat and waving it. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline held up her doll to see ITS shadow, and Mr Button held up his +pipe. +</P> + +<P> +"Come now," said he, putting the pipe back in his mouth, and making to +rise, "and shadda off to bed; it's time you were aslape, the both of +you." +</P> + +<P> +Dick began to yowl. +</P> + +<P> +"<I>I</I> don't want to go to bed; I aint tired, Paddy—les's stay a little +longer." +</P> + +<P> +"Not a minit," said the other, with all the decision of a nurse; "not a +minit afther me pipe's out!" +</P> + +<P> +"Fill it again," said Dick. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Button made no reply. The pipe gurgled as he puffed at it—a kind of +death-rattle speaking of almost immediate extinction. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr Button!" said Emmeline. She was holding her nose in the air and +sniffing; seated to windward of the smoker, and out of the +pigtail-poisoned air, her delicate sense of smell perceived something +lost to the others. +</P> + +<P> +"What is it, acushla?" +</P> + +<P> +"I smell something." +</P> + +<P> +"What d'ye say you smell?" +</P> + +<P> +"Something nice." +</P> + +<P> +"What's it like?" asked Dick, sniffing hard. "<I>I</I> don't smell anything." +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline sniffed again to make sure. +</P> + +<P> +"Flowers," said she. +</P> + +<P> +The breeze, which had shifted several points since midday, was bearing +with it a faint, faint odour: a perfume of vanilla and spice so faint +as to be imperceptible to all but the most acute olfactory sense. +</P> + +<P> +"Flowers!" said the old sailor, tapping the ashes cut of his pipe +against the heel of his boot. "And where'd you get flowers in middle of +the say? It's dhramin' you are. Come now—to bed wid yiz!" +</P> + +<P> +"Fill it again," wailed Dick, referring to the pipe. +</P> + +<P> +"It's a spankin' I'll give you," replied his guardian, lifting him down +from the timber baulks, and then assisting Emmeline, "in two ticks if +you don't behave. Come along, Em'line." +</P> + +<P> +He started aft, a small hand in each of his, Dick bellowing. +</P> + +<P> +As they passed the ship's bell, Dick stretched towards the belaying pin +that was still lying on the deck, seized it, and hit the bell a mighty +bang. It was the last pleasure to be snatched before sleep, and he +snatched it. +</P> + +<P> +Paddy had made up beds for himself and his charges in the deck-house; +he had cleared the stuff off the table, broken open the windows to get +the musty smell away, and placed the mattresses from the captain and +mate's cabins on the floor. +</P> + +<P> +When the children were in bed and asleep, he went to the starboard +rail, and, leaning on it, looked over the moonlit sea. He was thinking +of ships as his wandering eye roved over the sea spaces, little +dreaming of the message that the perfumed breeze was bearing him. The +message that had been received and dimly understood by Emmeline. Then +he leaned with his back to the rail and his hands in his pockets. He +was not thinking now, he was ruminating. +</P> + +<P> +The basis of the Irish character as exemplified by Paddy Button is a +profound laziness mixed with a profound melancholy. Yet Paddy, in his +left-handed way, was as hard a worker as any man on board ship; and as +for melancholy, he was the life and soul of the fo'cs'le. Yet there +they were, the laziness and the melancholy, only waiting to be tapped. +</P> + +<P> +As he stood with his hands thrust deep in his pockets, longshore +fashion, counting the dowels in the planking of the deck by the +moonlight, he was reviewing the "old days." The tale of Buck M'Cann had +recalled them, and across all the salt seas he could see the moonlight +on the Connemara mountains, and hear the seagulls crying on the +thunderous beach where each wave has behind it three thousand miles of +sea. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly Mr Button came back from the mountains of Connemara to find +himself on the deck of the Shenandoah; and he instantly became +possessed by fears. Beyond the white deserted deck, barred by the +shadows of the standing rigging, he could see the door of the caboose. +Suppose he should suddenly see a head pop out or, worse, a shadowy form +go in? +</P> + +<P> +He turned to the deck-house, where the children were sound asleep, and +where, in a few minutes, he, too, was sound asleep beside them, whilst +all night long the brig rocked to the gentle swell of the Pacific, and +the breeze blew, bringing with it the perfume of flowers. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0110"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER X +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE TRAGEDY OF THE BOATS +</H3> + +<P> +When the fog lifted after midnight the people in the long-boat saw the +quarter-boat half a mile to starboard of them. +</P> + +<P> +"Can you see the dinghy?" asked Lestrange of the captain, who was +standing up searching the horizon. +</P> + +<P> +"Not a speck," answered Le Farge. "DAMN that Irishman! but for him I'd +have got the boats away properly victualled and all; as it is I don't +know what we've got aboard. You, Jenkins, what have you got forward +there?" +</P> + +<P> +"Two bags of bread and a breaker of water," answered the steward. +</P> + +<P> +"A breaker of water be sugared!" came another voice; "a breaker half +full, you mean." +</P> + +<P> +Then the steward's voice: "So it is; there's not more than a couple of +gallons in her." +</P> + +<P> +"My God!" said Le Farge. "DAMN that Irishman!" +</P> + +<P> +"There's not more than'll give us two half pannikins apiece all round," +said the steward. +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe," said Le Farge, "the quarter-boat's better stocked; pull for +her." +</P> + +<P> +"She's pulling for us," said the stroke oar. +</P> + +<P> +"Captain," asked Lestrange, "are you sure there's no sight of the +dinghy?" +</P> + +<P> +"None," replied Le Farge. +</P> + +<P> +The unfortunate man's head sank on his breast. He had little time to +brood over his troubles, however, for a tragedy was beginning to unfold +around him, the most shocking, perhaps, in the annals of the sea—a +tragedy to be hinted at rather than spoken of. +</P> + +<P> +When the boats were within hailing distance, a man in the bow of the +long-boat rose up. +</P> + +<P> +"Quarter-boat ahoy!" +</P> + +<P> +"Ahoy!" +</P> + +<P> +"How much water have you?" +</P> + +<P> +"None!" +</P> + +<P> +The word came floating over the placid moonlit water. At it the fellows +in the long-boat ceased rowing, and you could see the water-drops +dripping off their oars like diamonds in the moonlight. +</P> + +<P> +"Quarter-boat, ahoy!" shouted the fellow in the bow. "Lay on your oars." +</P> + +<P> +"Here, you scowbanker!" cried Le Farge, "who are you to be giving +directions—" +</P> + +<P> +"Scowbanker yourself!" replied the fellow. "Bullies, put her about!" +</P> + +<P> +The starboard oars backed water, and the boat came round. +</P> + +<P> +By chance the worst lot of the Northumberland's crew were in the +long-boat veritable—"scowbankers" scum; and how scum clings to life +you will never know, until you have been amongst it in an open boat at +sea. Le Farge had no more command over this lot than you have who are +reading this book. +</P> + +<P> +"Heave to!" came from the quarter-boat, as she laboured behind. +</P> + +<P> +"Lay on your oars, bullies!" cried the ruffian at the bow, who was +still standing up like an evil genius who had taken momentary command +over events. "Lay on your oars, bullies; they'd better have it now." +</P> + +<P> +The quarter-boat in her turn ceased rowing, and lay a cable's length +away. +</P> + +<P> +"How much water have you?" came the mate's voice. +</P> + +<P> +"Not enough to go round." +</P> + +<P> +Le Farge made to rise, and the stroke oar struck at him, catching him +in the wind and doubling him up in the bottom of the boat. +</P> + +<P> +"Give us some, for God's sake!" came the mate's voice; "we're parched +with rowing, and there's a woman on board!" +</P> + +<P> +The fellow in the bow of the long-boat, as if someone had suddenly +struck him, broke into a tornado of blasphemy. +</P> + +<P> +"Give us some," came the mate's voice, "or, by God, we'll lay you +aboard!" +</P> + +<P> +Before the words were well spoken the men in the quarter-boat carried +the threat into action. The conflict was brief: the quarter-boat was +too crowded for fighting. The starboard men in the long-boat fought +with their oars, whilst the fellows to port steadied the boat. +</P> + +<P> +The fight did not last long, and presently the quarter-boat sheered +off, half of the men in her cut about the head and bleeding—two of +them senseless. +</P> + +<BR> +<HR WIDTH="80%" ALIGN="center"> +<BR> + +<P> +It was sundown on the following day. The long-boat lay adrift. The last +drop of water had been served out eight hours before. +</P> + +<P> +The quarter-boat, like a horrible phantom, had been haunting and +pursuing her all day, begging for water when there was none. It was +like the prayers one might expect to hear in hell. +</P> + +<P> +The men in the long-boat, gloomy and morose, weighed down with a sense +of crime, tortured by thirst, and tormented by the voices imploring for +water, lay on their oars when the other boat tried to approach. +</P> + +<P> +Now and then, suddenly, and as if moved by a common impulse, they would +all shout out together: "We have none." But the quarter-boat would not +believe. It was in vain to hold the breaker with the bung out to prove +its dryness, the half-delirious creatures had it fixed in their minds +that their comrades were withholding from them the water that was not. +</P> + +<P> +Just as the sun touched the sea, Lestrange, rousing himself from a +torpor into which he had sunk, raised himself and looked over the +gunwale. He saw the quarter-boat drifting a cable's length away, lit by +the full light of sunset, and the spectres in it, seeing him, held out +in mute appeal their blackened tongues. +</P> + +<BR> +<HR WIDTH="80%" ALIGN="center"> +<BR> + +<P> +Of the night that followed it is almost impossible to speak. Thirst +was nothing to what the scowbankers suffered from the torture of the +whimpering appeal for water that came to them at intervals during the +night. +</P> + +<BR> +<HR WIDTH="80%" ALIGN="center"> +<BR> + +<P> +When at last the Arago, a French whale ship, sighted them, the crew of +the long-boat were still alive, but three of them were raving madmen. +Of the crew of the quarter-boat was saved not one. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +PART II +</H2> + +<BR> + +<A NAME="chap0111"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE ISLAND +</H3> + +<P> +"Childer!" shouted Paddy. He was at the cross-trees in the full dawn, +whilst the children standing beneath on deck were craning their faces +up to him. "There's an island forenint us." +</P> + +<P> +"Hurrah!" cried Dick. He was not quite sure what an island might be +like in the concrete, but it was something fresh, and Paddy's voice was +jubilant. +</P> + +<P> +"Land ho! it is," said he, coming down to the deck. "Come for'ard to +the bows, and I'll show it you." +</P> + +<P> +He stood on the timber in the bows and lifted Emmeline up in his arms; +and even at that humble elevation from the water she could see +something of an undecided colour—green for choice—on the horizon. +</P> + +<P> +It was not directly ahead, but on the starboard bow—or, as she would +have expressed it, to the right. When Dick had looked and expressed his +disappointment at there being so little to see, Paddy began to make +preparations for leaving the ship. +</P> + +<P> +It was only just now, with land in sight, that he recognised in some +fashion the horror of the position from which they were about to escape. +</P> + +<P> +He fed the children hurriedly with some biscuits and tinned meat, and +then, with a biscuit in his hand, eating as he went, he trotted about +the decks, collecting things and stowing them in the dinghy. The bolt +of striped flannel, all the old clothes, a housewife full of needles +and thread, such as seamen sometimes carry, the half-sack of potatoes, +a saw which he found in the caboose, the precious coil of tobacco, and +a lot of other odds and ends he transhipped, sinking the little dinghy +several strakes in the process. Also, of course, he took the breaker of +water, and the remains of the biscuit and tinned stuff they had brought +on board. These being stowed, and the dinghy ready, he went forward +with the children to the bow, to see how the island was bearing. +</P> + +<P> +It had loomed up nearer during the hour or so in which he had been +collecting and storing the things—nearer, and more to the right, which +meant that the brig was being borne by a fairly swift current, and that +she would pass it, leaving it two or three miles to starboard. It was +well they had command of the dinghy. +</P> + +<P> +"The sea's all round it," said Emmeline, who was seated on Paddy's +shoulder, holding on tight to him, and gazing upon the island, the +green of whose trees was now visible, an oasis of verdure in the +sparkling and seraphic blue. +</P> + +<P> +"Are we going there, Paddy?" asked Dick, holding on to a stay, and +straining his eyes towards the land. +</P> + +<P> +"Ay, are we," said Mr Button. "Hot foot—five knots, if we're makin' +wan; and it's ashore we'll be by noon, and maybe sooner." +</P> + +<P> +The breeze had freshened up, and was blowing dead from the island, as +though the island were making a weak attempt to blow them away from it. +</P> + +<P> +Oh, what a fresh and perfumed breeze it was! All sorts of tropical +growing things had joined their scent in one bouquet. +</P> + +<P> +"Smell it," said Emmeline, expanding her small nostrils. "That's what I +smelt last night, only it's stronger now." +</P> + +<P> +The last reckoning taken on board the Northumberland had proved the +ship to be south by east of the Marquesas; this was evidently one of +those small, lost islands that lie here and there south by east of the +Marquesas. Islands the most lonely and beautiful in the world. +</P> + +<P> +As they gazed it grew before them, and shifted still more to the right. +It was hilly and green now, though the trees could not be clearly made +out; here, the green was lighter in colour, and there, darker. A rim of +pure white marble seemed to surround its base. It was foam breaking on +the barrier reef. +</P> + +<P> +In another hour the feathery foliage of the cocoanut palms could be +made out, and the old sailor judged it time to take to the boat. +</P> + +<P> +He lifted Emmeline, who was clasping her luggage, over the rail on to +the channel, and deposited her in the sternsheets; then Dick. +</P> + +<P> +In a moment the boat was adrift, the mast steeped, and the Shenandoah +left to pursue her mysterious voyage at the will of the currents of the +sea. +</P> + +<P> +"You're not going to the island, Paddy," cried Dick, as the old man put +the boat on the port tack. +</P> + +<P> +"You be aisy," replied the other, "and don't be larnin' your +gran'mother. How the divil d'ye think I'd fetch the land sailin' dead +in the wind's eye?" +</P> + +<P> +"Has the wind eyes?" +</P> + +<P> +Mr Button did not answer the question. He was troubled in his mind. +What if the island were inhabited? He had spent several years in the +South Seas. He knew the people of the Marquesas and Samoa, and liked +them. But here he was out of his bearings. +</P> + +<P> +However, all the troubling in the world was of no use. It was a case of +the island or the deep sea, and, putting the boat on the starboard +tack, he lit his pipe and leaned back with the tiller in the crook of +his arm. His keen eyes had made out from the deck of the brig an +opening in the reef, and he was making to run the dinghy abreast of the +opening, and then take to the sculls and row her through. +</P> + +<P> +Now, as they drew nearer, a sound came on the breeze—sound faint and +sonorous and dreamy. It was the sound of the breakers on the reef. The +sea just here was heaving to a deeper swell, as if vexed in its sleep +at the resistance to it of the land. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline, sitting with her bundle in her lap, stared without speaking +at the sight before her. Even in the bright, glorious sunshine, and +despite the greenery that showed beyond, it was a desolate sight seen +from her place in the dinghy. A white, forlorn beach, over which the +breakers raced and tumbled, seagulls wheeling and screaming, and over +all the thunder of the surf. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly the break became visible, and a glimpse of smooth, blue water +beyond. Button unshipped the tiller, unstepped the mast, and took to +the sculls. +</P> + +<P> +As they drew nearer, the sea became more active, savage, and alive; the +thunder of the surf became louder, the breakers more fierce and +threatening, the opening broader. +</P> + +<P> +One could see the water swirling round the coral piers, for the tide +was flooding into the lagoon; it had seized the little dinghy and was +bearing it along far swifter than the sculls could have driven it. +Sea-gulls screamed around them, the boat rocked and swayed. Dick +shouted with excitement, and Emmeline shut her eyes TIGHT. +</P> + +<P> +Then, as though a door had been swiftly and silently closed, the sound +of the surf became suddenly less. The boat floated on an even keel; she +opened her eyes and found herself in Wonderland. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0112"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE LAKE OF AZURE +</H3> + +<P> +On either side lay a great sweep of waving blue water. Calm, almost as +a lake, sapphire here, and here with the tints of the aquamarine. Water +so clear that fathoms away below you could see the branching coral, the +schools of passing fish, and the shadows of the fish upon the spaces of +sand. +</P> + +<P> +Before them the clear water washed the sands of a white beach, the +cocoa-palms waved and whispered in the breeze; and as the oarsman lay +on his oars to look a flock of bluebirds rose, as if suddenly freed +from the treetops, wheeled, and passed soundless, like a wreath of +smoke, over the tree-tops of the higher land beyond. +</P> + +<P> +"Look!" shouted Dick, who had his nose over the side of the boat. "Look at +the FISH!" +</P> + +<P> +"Mr Button," cried Emmeline, "where are we?" +</P> + +<P> +"Bedad, I dunno; but we might be in a worse place, I'm thinkin'," +replied the old man, sweeping his eyes over the blue and tranquil +lagoon, from the barrier reef to the happy shore. +</P> + +<P> +On either side of the broad beach before them the cocoa-nut trees came +down like two regiments, and bending gazed at their own reflections in +the lagoon. Beyond lay waving chapparel, where cocoa-palms and +breadfruit trees intermixed with the mammee apple and the tendrils of +the wild vine. On one of the piers of coral at the break of the reef +stood a single cocoa-palm; bending with a slight curve, it, too, seemed +seeking its reflection in the waving water. +</P> + +<P> +But the soul of it all, the indescribable thing about this picture of +mirrored palm trees, blue lagoon, coral reef and sky, was the light. +</P> + +<P> +Away at sea the light was blinding, dazzling, cruel. Away at sea it had +nothing to focus itself upon, nothing to exhibit but infinite spaces of +blue water and desolation. +</P> + +<P> +Here it made the air a crystal, through which the gazer saw the +loveliness of the land and reef, the green of palm, the white of coral, +the wheeling gulls, the blue lagoon, all sharply outlined—burning, +coloured, arrogant, yet tender—heart-breakingly beautiful, for the +spirit of eternal morning was here, eternal happiness, eternal youth. +</P> + +<P> +As the oarsman pulled the tiny craft towards the beach, neither he nor +the children saw away behind the boat, on the water near the bending +palm tree at the break in the reef, something that for a moment +insulted the day, and was gone. Something like a small triangle of dark +canvas, that rippled through the water and sank from sight; something +that appeared and vanished like an evil thought. +</P> + +<P> +It did not take long to beach the boat. Mr Button tumbled over the side +up to his knees in water, whilst Dick crawled over the bow. +</P> + +<P> +"Catch hould of her the same as I do," cried Paddy, laying hold of the +starboard gunwale; whilst Dick, imitative as a monkey, seized the +gunwale to port. Now then: +</P> + +<P> +"Yeo ho, Chilliman,<BR> +Up wid her, up wid her,<BR> +Heave O, Chilliman.'<BR> +</P> + +<P> +"Lave her be now; she's high enough." +</P> + +<P> +He took Emmeline in his arms and carried her up on the sand. It was +from just here on the sand that you could see the true beauty of the +lagoon. That lake of sea-water forever protected from storm and trouble +by the barrier reef of coral. +</P> + +<P> +Right from where the little clear ripples ran up the strand, it led the +eye to the break in the coral reef where the palm gazed at its own +reflection in the water, and there, beyond the break, one caught a +vision of the great heaving, sparkling sea. +</P> + +<P> +The lagoon, just here, was perhaps more than a third of a mile broad. I +have never measured it, but I know that, standing by the palm tree on +the reef, flinging up one's arm and shouting to a person on the beach, +the sound took a perceptible time to cross the water: I should say, +perhaps, an almost perceptible time. The distant signal and the distant +call were almost coincident, yet not quite. +</P> + +<P> +Dick, mad with delight at the place in which he found himself, was +running about like a dog just out of the water. Mr Button was +discharging the cargo of the dinghy on the dry, white sand. Emmeline +seated herself with her precious bundle on the sand, and was watching +the operations of her friend, looking at the things around her and +feeling very strange. +</P> + +<P> +For all she knew all this was the ordinary accompaniment of a sea +voyage. Paddy's manner throughout had been set to the one idea, not to +frighten the "childer"; the weather had backed him up. But down in the +heart of her lay the knowledge that all was not as it should be. The +hurried departure from the ship, the fog in which her uncle had +vanished, those things, and others as well, she felt instinctively were +not right. But she said nothing. +</P> + +<P> +She had not long for meditation, however, for Dick was running towards +her with a live crab which he had picked up, calling out that he was +going to make it bite her. +</P> + +<P> +"Take it away!" cried Emmeline, holding both hands with fingers +widespread in front of her face. "Mr Button! Mr Button! Mr Button!" +</P> + +<P> +"Lave her be, you little divil!" roared Pat, who was depositing the +last of the cargo on the sand. "Lave her be, or it's a cow-hidin' I'll +be givin' you!" +</P> + +<P> +"What's a `divil,' Paddy?" asked Dick, panting from his exertions. +"Paddy, what's a `divil'?" +</P> + +<P> +"You're wan. Ax no questions now, for it's tired I am, an' I want to +rest me bones." +</P> + +<P> +He flung himself under the shade of a palm tree, took out his tinder +box, tobacco and pipe, cut some tobacco up, filled his pipe and lit it. +Emmeline crawled up, and sat near him, and Dick flung himself down on +the sand near Emmeline. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Button took off his coat and made a pillow of it against a cocoa-nut +tree stem. He had found the El Dorado of the weary. With his knowledge +of the South Seas a glance at the vegetation to be seen told him that +food for a regiment might be had for the taking; water, too. +</P> + +<P> +Right down the middle of the strand was a depression which in the rainy +season would be the bed of a rushing rivulet. The water just now was +not strong enough to come all the way to the lagoon, but away up there +"beyant" in the woods lay the source, and he'd find it in due time. +There was enough in the breaker for a week, and green "cucanuts" were +to be had for the climbing. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline contemplated Paddy for a while as he smoked and rested his +bones, then a great thought occurred to her. She took the little shawl +from around the parcel she was holding and exposed the mysterious box. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, begorra, the box!" said Paddy, leaning on his elbow interestedly; +"I might a' known you wouldn't a' forgot it." +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs James," said Emmeline, "made me promise not to open it till I got +on shore, for the things in it might get lost." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, you're ashore now," said Dick; "open it." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm going to," said Emmeline. +</P> + +<P> +She carefully undid the string, refusing the assistance of Paddy's +knife. Then the brown paper came off, disclosing a common cardboard +box. She raised the lid half an inch, peeped in, and shut it again. +</P> + +<P> +"OPEN it!" cried Dick, mad with curiosity. +</P> + +<P> +"What's in it, honey?" asked the old sailor, who was as interested as +Dick. +</P> + +<P> +"Things," replied Emmeline. +</P> + +<P> +Then all at once she took the lid off and disclosed a tiny tea service +of china, packed in shavings; there was a teapot with a lid, a cream +jug, cups and saucers, and six microscopic plates, each painted with a +pansy. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure, it's a tay-set!" said Paddy, in an interested voice. "Glory be +to God! will you look at the little plates wid the flowers on thim?" +</P> + +<P> +"Heugh!" said Dick in disgust; "I thought it might a' been soldiers." +</P> + +<P> +"<I>I</I> don't want soldiers," replied Emmeline, in a voice of perfect +contentment. +</P> + +<P> +She unfolded a piece of tissue paper, and took from it a sugar-tongs +and six spoons. Then she arrayed the whole lot on the sand. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, if that don't beat all!" said Paddy. +</P> + +<P> +"And whin are you goin' to ax me to tay with you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Some time," replied Emmeline, collecting the things, and carefully +repacking them. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Button finished his pipe, tapped the ashes out, and placed it in his +pocket. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll be afther riggin' up a bit of a tint," said he, as he rose to his +feet, "to shelter us from the jew to-night; but I'll first have a look +at the woods to see if I can find wather. Lave your box with the other +things, Emmeline; there's no one here to take it." +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline left her box on the heap of things that Paddy had placed in +the shadow of the cocoa-nut trees, took his hand, and the three entered +the grove on the right. +</P> + +<P> +It was like entering a pine forest; the tall symmetrical stems of the +trees seemed set by mathematical law, each at a given distance from the +other. Whichever way you entered a twilight alley set with tree boles +lay before you. Looking up you saw at an immense distance above a pale +green roof patined with sparkling and flashing points of light, where +the breeze was busy playing with the green fronds of the trees. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr Button," murmured Emmeline, "we won't get lost, will we?" +</P> + +<P> +"Lost! No, faith; sure we're goin' uphill, an' all we have to do is to +come down again, when we want to get back—'ware nuts!" A green nut +detached from up above came down rattling and tumbling and hopped on +the ground. Paddy picked it up. "It's a green cucanut," said he, +putting it in his pocket (it was not very much bigger than a Jaffa +orange), "and we'll have it for tay." +</P> + +<P> +"That's not a cocoa-nut," said Dick; "coco-anuts are brown. I had five +cents once an' I bought one, and scraped it out and y'et it." +</P> + +<P> +"When Dr. Sims made Dicky sick," said Emmeline, "he said the wonder +t'im was how Dicky held it all." +</P> + +<P> +"Come on," said Mr Button, "an' don't be talkin', or it's the +Cluricaunes will be after us." +</P> + +<P> +"What's cluricaunes?" demanded Dick. +</P> + +<P> +"Little men no bigger than your thumb that make the brogues for the +Good People." +</P> + +<P> +"Who's they?" +</P> + +<P> +"Whisht, and don't be talkin'. Mind your head, Em'leen, or the +branches'll be hittin' you in the face." +</P> + +<P> +They had left the cocoa-nut grove, and entered the chapparel. Here was +a deeper twilight, and all sorts of trees lent their foliage to make +the shade. The artu with its delicately diamonded trunk, the great +bread-fruit tall as a beech, and shadowy as a cave, the aoa, and the +eternal cocoa-nut palm all grew here like brothers. Great ropes of wild +vine twined like the snake of the laocoon from tree to tree, and all +sorts of wonderful flowers, from the orchid shaped like a butterfly to +the scarlet hibiscus, made beautiful the gloom. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly Mr Button stopped. +</P> + +<P> +"Whisht!" said he. +</P> + +<P> +Through the silence—a silence filled with the hum and the murmur of +wood insects and the faint, far song of the reef—came a tinkling, +rippling sound: it was water. He listened to make sure of the bearing +of the sound, then he made for it. +</P> + +<P> +Next moment they found themselves in a little grass-grown glade. From +the hilly ground above, over a rock black and polished like ebony, fell +a tiny cascade not much broader than one's hand; ferns grew around and +from a tree above where a great rope of wild convolvulus flowers blew their +trumpets in the enchanted twilight. +</P> + +<P> +The children cried out at the prettiness of it, and Emmeline ran and +dabbled her hands in the water. Just above the little waterfall sprang +a banana tree laden with fruit; it had immense leaves six feet long and +more, and broad as a dinner-table. One could see the golden glint of +the ripe fruit through the foliage. +</P> + +<P> +In a moment Mr Button had kicked off his shoes and was going up the +rock like a cat, absolutely, for it seemed to give him nothing to climb +by. +</P> + +<P> +"Hurroo!" cried Dick in admiration. "Look at Paddy!" +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline looked, and saw nothing but swaying leaves. +</P> + +<P> +"Stand from under!" he shouted, and next moment down came a huge bunch +of yellow-jacketed bananas. Dick shouted with delight, but Emmeline +showed no excitement: she had discovered something. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0113"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +DEATH VEILED WITH LICHEN +</H3> + +<P> +"Mr Button," said she, when the latter had descended, "there's a little +barrel"; she pointed to something green and lichen-covered that lay +between the trunks of two trees—something that eyes less sharp than +the eyes of a child might have mistaken for a boulder. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure, an' faith it's an' ould empty bar'l," said Button, wiping the +sweat from his brow and staring at the thing. "Some ship must have been +wathering here an' forgot it. It'll do for a sate whilst we have +dinner." +</P> + +<P> +He sat down upon it and distributed the bananas to the children, who +sat down on the grass. +</P> + +<P> +The barrel looked such a deserted and neglected thing that his +imagination assumed it to be empty. Empty or full, however, it made an +excellent seat, for it was quarter sunk in the green soft earth, and +immovable. +</P> + +<P> +"If ships has been here, ships will come again," said he, as he munched +his bananas. +</P> + +<P> +"Will daddy's ship come here?" asked Dick. +</P> + +<P> +"Ay, to be sure it will," replied the other, taking out his pipe. "Now +run about and play with the flowers an' lave me alone to smoke a pipe, +and then we'll all go to the top of the hill beyant, and have a look +round us. +</P> + +<P> +"Come 'long, Em!" cried Dick; and the children started off amongst the +trees, Dick pulling at the hanging vine tendrils, and Emmeline plucking +what blossoms she could find within her small reach. +</P> + +<P> +When he had finished his pipe he hallooed, and small voices answered +him from the wood. Then the children came running back, Emmeline +laughing and showing her small white teeth, a large bunch of blossoms +in her hand; Dick flowerless, but carrying what seemed a large green +stone. +</P> + +<P> +"Look at what a funny thing I've found!" he cried; "it's got holes in +it." +</P> + +<P> +"Dhrap it!" shouted Mr Button, springing from the barrel as if someone +had stuck an awl into him. "Where'd you find it? What d'you mane by +touchin' it? Give it here." +</P> + +<P> +He took it gingerly in his hands; it was a lichen-covered skull, with a +great dent in the back of it where it had been cloven by an axe or some +sharp instrument. He hove it as far as he could away amidst the trees. +</P> + +<P> +"What is it, Paddy?" asked Dick, half astonished, half frightened at +the old man's manner. +</P> + +<P> +"It's nothin' good," replied Mr Button. +</P> + +<P> +"There were two others, and I wanted to fetch them," grumbled Dick. +</P> + +<P> +"You lave them alone. Musha! musha! but there's been black doin's here +in days gone by. What is it, Emmeline?" +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline was holding out her bunch of flowers for admiration. He took a +great gaudy blossom—if flowers can ever be called gaudy—and stuck its +stalk in the pocket of his coat. Then he led the way uphill, muttering +as he went. +</P> + +<P> +The higher they got, the less dense became the trees and the fewer the +cocoa-nut palms. The cocoa-nut palm loves the sea, and the few they had +here all had their heads bent in the direction of the lagoon, as if +yearning after it. +</P> + +<P> +They passed a cane-brake where canes twenty feet high whispered +together like bulrushes. Then a sunlit sward, destitute of tree or +shrub, led them sharply upward for a hundred feet or so to where a +great rock, the highest point of the island, stood, casting its shadow +in the sunshine. The rock was about twenty feet high, and easy to +climb. Its top was almost flat, and as spacious as an ordinary +dinner-table. From it one could obtain a complete view of the island +and the sea. +</P> + +<P> +Looking down, one's eye travelled over the trembling and waving +tree-tops, to the lagoon; beyond the lagoon to the reef, beyond the +reef to the infinite-space of the Pacific. The reef encircled the whole +island, here further from the land, here closer; the song of the surf +on it came as a whisper, just like the whisper you hear in a shell; +but, a strange thing, though the sound heard on the beach was +continuous, up here one could distinguish an intermittency as breaker +after breaker dashed itself to death on the coral strand below. +</P> + +<P> +You have seen a field of green barley ruffled over by the wind, just so +from the hill-top you could see the wind in its passage over the sunlit +foliage beneath. +</P> + +<P> +It was breezing up from the south-west, and banyan and cocoa-palm, artu +and breadfruit tree, swayed and rocked in the merry wind. +</P> + +<P> +So bright and moving was the picture of the breeze-swept sea, the blue +lagoon, the foam-dashed reef, and the rocking trees that one felt one +had surprised some mysterious gala day, some festival of Nature more +than ordinarily glad. +</P> + +<P> +As if to strengthen the idea, now and then above the trees would burst +what seemed a rocket of coloured stars. The stars would drift away in a +flock on the wind and be lost. They were flights of birds. All-coloured +birds peopled the trees below blue, scarlet, dove-coloured, bright of +eye, but voiceless. From the reef you could see occasionally the +seagulls rising here and there in clouds like small puffs of smoke. +</P> + +<P> +The lagoon, here deep, here shallow, presented, according to its depth +or shallowness, the colours of ultra-marine or sky. The broadest parts +were the palest, because the most shallow; and here and there, in the +shallows, you might see a faint tracery of coral ribs almost reaching +the surface. The island at its broadest might have been three miles +across. There was not a sign of house or habitation to be seen, and not +a sail on the whole of the wide Pacific. +</P> + +<P> +It was a strange place to be, up here. To find oneself surrounded by +grass and flowers and trees, and all the kindliness of nature, to feel +the breeze blow, to smoke one's pipe, and to remember that one was in a +place uninhabited and unknown. A place to which no messages were ever +carried except by the wind or the seagulls. +</P> + +<P> +In this solitude the beetle was as carefully painted and the flower as +carefully tended as though all the peoples of the civilised world were +standing by to criticise or approve. +</P> + +<P> +Nowhere in the world, perhaps, so well as here, could you appreciate +Nature's splendid indifference to the great affairs of Man. +</P> + +<P> +The old sailor was thinking nothing of this sort. His eyes were fixed +on a small and almost imperceptible stain on the horizon to the +sou'-sou'-west. It was no doubt another island almost hull-down on the +horizon. Save for this blemish the whole wheel of the sea was empty and +serene. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline had not followed them up to the rock. She had gone botanising +where some bushes displayed great bunches of the crimson arita berries +as if to show to the sun what Earth could do in the way of +manufacturing poison. She plucked two great bunches of them, and with +this treasure came to the base of the rock. +</P> + +<P> +"Lave thim berries down!" cried Mr Button, when she had attracted his +attention. "Don't put thim in your mouth; thim's the never-wake-up +berries." +</P> + +<P> +He came down off the rock, hand over fist, flung the poisonous things +away, and looked into Emmeline's small mouth, which at his command she +opened wide. There was only a little pink tongue in it, however, curled +up like a rose-leaf; no sign of berries or poison. So, giving her a +little shake, just as a nursemaid would have done in like +circumstances, he took Dick off the rock, and led the way back to the +beach. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0114"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +ECHOES OF FAIRY-LAND +</H3> + +<P> +"Mr Buttons," said Emmeline that night, as they sat on the sand near +the tent he had improvised, "Mr Button—cats go to sleep." +</P> + +<P> +They had been questioning him about the "never-wake-up" berries. +</P> + +<P> +"Who said they didn't?" asked Mr Button. +</P> + +<P> +"I mean," said Emmeline, "they go to sleep and never wake up again. +Ours did. It had stripes on it, and a white chest, and rings all down +its tail. It went asleep in the garden, all stretched out, and showing +its teeth; an' I told Jane, and Dicky ran in an' told uncle. I went to +Mrs Sims, the doctor's wife, to tea; and when I came back I asked Jane +where pussy was and she said it was deadn' berried, but I wasn't to +tell uncle." +</P> + +<P> +"I remember," said Dick. "It was the day I went to the circus, and you +told me not to tell daddy the cat was deadn' berried. But I told Mrs +James's man when he came to do the garden; and I asked him where cats +went when they were deadn' berried, and he said he guessed they went to +hell—at least he hoped they did, for they were always scratchin' up +the flowers. Then he told me not to tell anyone he'd said that, for it +was a swear word, and he oughtn't to have said it. I asked him what +he'd give me if I didn't tell, an' he gave me five cents. That was the +day I bought the cocoa-nut." +</P> + +<P> +The tent, a makeshift affair, consisting of two sculls and a tree +branch, which Mr Button had sawed off from a dwarf aoa, and the +staysail he had brought from the brig, was pitched in the centre of the +beach, so as to be out of the way of falling cocoa-nuts, should the +breeze strengthen during the night. The sun had set, but the moon had +not yet risen as they sat in the starlight on the sand near the +temporary abode. +</P> + +<P> +"What's the things you said made the boots for the people, Paddy?" +asked Dick, after a pause. +</P> + +<P> +"Which things?" +</P> + +<P> +"You said in the wood I wasn't to talk, else—" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, the Cluricaunes—the little men that cobbles the Good People's +brogues. Is it them you mane?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Dick, not knowing quite whether it was them or not that he +meant, but anxious for information that he felt would be curious. "And +what are the good people?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure, where were you born and bred that you don't know the Good People +is the other name for the fairies—savin' their presence?" +</P> + +<P> +"There aren't any," replied Dick. "Mrs Sims said there weren't." +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs James," put in Emmeline, "said there were. She said she liked to +see children b'lieve in fairies. She was talking to another lady, who'd +got a red feather in her bonnet, and a fur muff. They were having tea, +and I was sitting on the hearthrug. She said the world was getting +too—something or another, an' then the other lady said it was, and +asked Mrs James did she see Mrs Someone in the awful hat she wore +Thanksgiving Day. They didn't say anything more about fairies, but Mrs +James—" +</P> + +<P> +"Whether you b'lave in them or not," said Paddy, "there they are. An' +maybe they're poppin' out of the wood behint us now, an' listenin' to +us talkin'; though I'm doubtful if there's any in these parts, though +down in Connaught they were as thick as blackberries in the ould days. +O musha! musha! The ould days, the ould days! when will I be seein' +thim again? Now, you may b'lave me or b'lave me not, but me own ould +father—God rest his sowl! was comin' over Croagh Patrick one night +before Christmas with a bottle of whisky in one hand of him, and a +goose, plucked an' claned an' all, in the other, which same he'd won in +a lottery, when, hearin' a tchune no louder than the buzzin' of a bee, +over a furze-bush he peeps, and there, round a big white stone, the +Good People were dancing in a ring hand in hand, an' kickin' their +heels, an' the eyes of them glowin' like the eyes of moths; and a chap +on the stone, no bigger than the joint of your thumb, playin' to thim +on a bagpipes. Wid that he let wan yell an' drops the goose an' makes +for home, over hedge an' ditch, boundin' like a buck kangaroo, an' the +face on him as white as flour when he burst in through the door, where +we was all sittin' round the fire burnin' chestnuts to see who'd be +married the first. +</P> + +<P> +"`An' what in the name of the saints is the mather wid yiz?' says me +mother. +</P> + +<P> +"`I've sane the Good People,' says he, `up on the field beyant,' says +he; `and they've got the goose,' says he, `but, begorra, I've saved the +bottle,' he says. `Dhraw the cork and give me a taste of it, for me +heart's in me throat, and me tongue's like a brick-kil.' +</P> + +<P> +"An' whin we come to prize the cork out of the bottle, there was +nothin' in it; an' whin we went next marnin' to look for the goose, it +was gone. But there was the stone, sure enough, and the marks on it of +the little brogues of the chap that'd played the bagpipes and who'd be +doubtin' there were fairies after that?" +</P> + +<P> +The children said nothing for a while, and then Dick said: +</P> + +<P> +"Tell us about Cluricaunes, and how they make the boots." +</P> + +<P> +"Whin I'm tellin' you about Cluricaunes," said Mr Button, "it's the +truth I'm tellin' you, an' out of me own knowlidge, for I've spoke to a +man that's held wan in his hand; he was me own mother's brother, Con +Cogan—rest his sowl! Con was six fut two, wid a long, white face; he'd +had his head bashed in, years before I was barn, in some ruction or +other, an' the docthers had japanned him with a five-shillin' piece +beat flat." +</P> + +<P> +Dick interposed with a question as to the process, aim, and object of +japanning, but Mr Button passed the question by. +</P> + +<P> +"He'd been bad enough for seein' fairies before they japanned him, but +afther it, begorra, he was twiced as bad. I was a slip of a lad at the +time, but me hair near turned grey wid the tales he'd tell of the Good +People and their doin's. One night they'd turn him into a harse an' +ride him half over the county, wan chap on his back an' another runnin' +behind, shovin' furze prickles under his tail to make him buck-lep. +Another night it's a dunkey he'd be, harnessed to a little cart, an' +bein' kicked in the belly and made to draw stones. Thin it's a goose +he'd be, runnin' over the common wid his neck stritched out squawkin', +an' an old fairy woman afther him wid a knife, till it fair drove him +to the dhrink; though, by the same token, he didn't want much dhrivin'. +</P> + +<P> +"And what does he do when his money was gone, but tear the +five-shillin' piece they'd japanned him wid aff the top of his hed, and +swaps it for a bottle of whisky, and that was the end of him." +</P> + +<P> +Mr Button paused to relight his pipe, which had gone out, and there was +silence for a moment. +</P> + +<P> +The moon had risen, and the song of the surf on the reef filled the +whole night with its lullaby. The broad lagoon lay waving and rippling +in the moonlight to the incoming tide. Twice as broad it always looked +seen by moonlight or starlight than when seen by day. Occasionally the +splash of a great fish would cross the silence, and the ripple of it +would pass a moment later across the placid water. +</P> + +<P> +Big things happened in the lagoon at night, unseen by eyes from the +shore. You would have found the wood behind them, had you walked +through it, full of light. A tropic forest under a tropic moon is green +as a sea cave. You can see the vine tendrils and the flowers, the +orchids and tree boles all lit as by the light of an emerald-tinted day. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Button took a long piece of string from his pocket. +</P> + +<P> +"It's bedtime," said he; "and I'm going to tether Em'leen, for fear +she'd be walkin' in her slape, and wandherin' away an' bein' lost in +the woods." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't want to be tethered," said Emmeline. +</P> + +<P> +"It's for your own good I'm doin' it," replied Mr Button, fixing the +string round her waist. "Now come 'long." +</P> + +<P> +He led her like a dog in a leash to the tent, and tied the other end of +the string to the scull, which was the tent's main prop and support. +</P> + +<P> +"Now," said he, "if you be gettin' up and walkin' about in the night, +it's down the tint will be on top of us all." +</P> + +<P> +And, sure enough, in the small hours of the morning, it was. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0115"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +FAIR PICTURES IN THE BLUE +</H3> + +<P> +"I don't want my old britches on! I don't want my old britches on!" +</P> + +<P> +Dick was darting about naked on the sand, Mr Button after him with a +pair of small trousers in his hand. A crab might just as well have +attempted to chase an antelope. +</P> + +<P> +They had been on the island a fortnight, and Dick had discovered the +keenest joy in life to be naked. To be naked and wallow in the shallows +of the lagoon, to be naked and sit drying in the sun. To be free from +the curse of clothes, to shed civilisation on the beach in the form of +breeches, boots, coat, and hat, and to be one with the wind and the sun +and the sea. +</P> + +<P> +The very first command Mr Button had given on the second morning of +their arrival was, "Strip and into the water wid you." +</P> + +<P> +Dick had resisted at first, and Emmeline (who rarely wept) had stood +weeping in her little chemise. But Mr Button was obdurate. The +difficulty at first was to get them in; the difficulty now was to keep +them out. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline was sitting as nude as the day star, drying in the morning sun +after her dip, and watching Dick's evolutions on the sand. +</P> + +<P> +The lagoon had for the children far more attraction than the land. +Woods where you might knock ripe bananas off the trees with a big cane, +sands where golden lizards would scuttle about so tame that you might +with a little caution seize them by the tail, a hill-top from whence +you might see, to use Paddy's expression, "to the back of beyond"; all +these were fine enough in their way, but they were nothing to the +lagoon. +</P> + +<P> +Deep down where the coral branches were you might watch, whilst Paddy +fished, all sorts of things disporting on the sand patches and between +the coral tufts. Hermit crabs that had evicted whelks, wearing the +evicted ones' shells—an obvious misfit; sea anemones as big as roses. +Flowers that closed up in an irritable manner if you lowered the hook +gently down and touched them; extraordinary shells that walked about on +feelers, elbowing the crabs out of the way and terrorising the whelks. +The overlords of the sand patches, these; yet touch one on the back +with a stone tied to a bit of string, and down he would go flat, +motionless and feigning death. There was a lot of human nature lurking +in the depths of the lagoon, comedy and tragedy. +</P> + +<P> +An English rock-pool has its marvels. You can fancy the marvels of this +vast rock-pool, nine miles round and varying from a third to half a +mile broad, swarming with tropic life and flights of painted fishes; +where the glittering albicore passed beneath the boat like a fire and a +shadow; where the boat's reflection lay as clear on the bottom as +though the water were air; where the sea, pacified by the reef, told, +like a little child, its dreams. +</P> + +<P> +It suited the lazy humour of Mr Button that he never pursued the lagoon +more than half a mile or so on either side of the beach. He would bring +the fish he caught ashore, and with the aid of his tinder box and dead +sticks make a blazing fire on the sand; cook fish and breadfruit and +taro roots, helped and hindered by the children. They fixed the tent +amidst the trees at the edge of the chapparel, and made it larger and +more abiding with the aid of the dinghy's sail. +</P> + +<P> +Amidst these occupations, wonders, and pleasures, the children lost all +count of the flight of time. They rarely asked about Mr Lestrange; +after a while they did'nt ask about him at all. Children soon forget. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +PART III +</H2> + +<BR> + +<A NAME="chap0116"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE POETRY OF LEARNING +</H3> + +<P> +To forget the passage of time you must live in the open air, in a warm +climate, with as few clothes as possible upon you. You must collect and +cook your own food. Then, after a while, if you have no special ties to +bind you to civilisation, Nature will begin to do for you what she does +for the savage. You will recognise that it is possible to be happy +without books or newspapers, letters or bills. You will recognise the +part sleep plays in Nature. +</P> + +<P> +After a month on the island you might have seen Dick at one moment full +of life and activity, helping Mr Button to dig up a taro root or +what-not, the next curled up to sleep like a dog. Emmeline the same. +Profound and prolonged lapses into sleep; sudden awakenings into a +world of pure air and dazzling light, the gaiety of colour all round. +Nature had indeed opened her doors to these children. +</P> + +<P> +One might have fancied her in an experimental mood, saying: "Let me put +these buds of civilisation back into my nursery and see what they will +become—how they will blossom, and what will be the end of it all." +</P> + +<P> +Just as Emmeline had brought away her treasured box from the +Northumberland, Dick had conveyed with him a small linen bag that +chinked when shaken. It contained marbles. Small olive-green marbles +and middle-sized ones of various colours; glass marbles with splendid +coloured cores; and one large old grandfather marble too big to be +played with, but none the less to be worshipped—a god marble. +</P> + +<P> +Of course one cannot play at marbles on board ship, but one can play +WITH them. They had been a great comfort to Dick on the voyage. He knew +them each personally, and he would roll them out on the mattress of his +bunk and review them nearly every day, whilst Emmeline looked on. +</P> + +<P> +One day Mr Button, noticing Dick and the girl kneeling opposite each +other on a flat, hard piece of sand near the water's edge, strolled up +to see what they were doing. They were playing marbles. He stood with +his hands in his pockets and his pipe in his mouth watching and +criticising the game, pleased that the "childer" were amused. Then he +began to be amused himself, and in a few minutes more he was down on +his knees taking a hand; Emmeline, a poor player and an unenthusiastic +one, withdrawing in his favour. +</P> + +<P> +After that it was a common thing to see them playing together, the old +sailor on his knees, one eye shut, and a marble against the nail of his +horny thumb taking aim; Dick and Emmeline on the watch to make sure he +was playing fair, their shrill voices echoing amidst the cocoa-nut +trees with cries of "Knuckle down, Paddy, knuckle down!" He entered +into all their amusements just as one of themselves. On high and rare +occasions Emmeline would open her precious box, spread its contents and +give a tea-party, Mr Button acting as guest or president as the case +might be. +</P> + +<P> +"Is your tay to your likin', ma'am?" he would enquire; and Emmeline, +sipping at her tiny cup, would invariably make answer: "Another lump of +sugar, if you please, Mr Button"; to which would come the stereotyped +reply: "Take a dozen, and welcome; and another cup for the good of your +make." +</P> + +<P> +Then Emmeline would wash the things in imaginary water, replace them in +the box, and every one would lose their company manners and become +quite natural again. +</P> + +<P> +"Have you ever seen your name, Paddy?" asked Dick one morning. +</P> + +<P> +"Seen me which?" +</P> + +<P> +"Your name?" +</P> + +<P> +"Arrah, don't be axin' me questions," replied the other. "How the divil +could I see me name?" +</P> + +<P> +"Wait and I'll show you," replied Dick. +</P> + +<P> +He ran and fetched a piece of cane, and a minute later on the +salt-white sand in face of orthography and the sun appeared these +portentous letters: +</P> + +<P> +B U T T E N +</P> + +<P> +"Faith, an' it's a cliver boy y'are," said Mr Button admiringly, as he +leaned luxuriously against a cocoa-nut tree, and contemplated Dick's +handiwork. "And that's me name, is it? What's the letters in it?" +</P> + +<P> +Dick enumerated them. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll teach you to do it, too," he said. "I'll teach you to write your +name, Paddy—would you like to write your name, Paddy?" +</P> + +<P> +"No," replied the other, who only wanted to be let smoke his pipe in +peace; "me name's no use to me." +</P> + +<P> +But Dick, with the terrible gadfly tirelessness of childhood, was not +to be put off, and the unfortunate Mr Button had to go to school +despite himself. In a few days he could achieve the act of drawing upon +the sand characters somewhat like the above, but not without prompting, +Dick and Emmeline on each side of him, breathless for fear of a mistake. +</P> + +<P> +"Which next?" would ask the sweating scribe, the perspiration pouring +from his forehead—"which next? An' be quick, for it's moithered I am." +</P> + +<P> +"N. N—that's right. Ow, you're making it crooked!—THAT'S +right—there! it's all there now—Hurroo!" +</P> + +<P> +"Hurroo!" would answer the scholar, waving his old hat over his own +name, and "Hurroo!" would answer the cocoa-nut grove echoes; whilst the +far, faint "Hi, hi!" of the wheeling gulls on the reef would come over +the blue lagoon as if in acknowledgment of the deed, and encouragement. +</P> + +<P> +The appetite comes with teaching. The pleasantest mental exercise of +childhood is the instruction of one's elders. Even Emmeline felt this. +She took the geography class one day in a timid manner, putting her +little hand first in the great horny fist of her friend. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr Button!" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, honey?" +</P> + +<P> +"I know g'ography." +</P> + +<P> +"And what's that?" asked Mr Button. +</P> + +<P> +This stumped Emmeline for a moment. +</P> + +<P> +"It's where places are," she said at last. +</P> + +<P> +"Which places?" enquired he. +</P> + +<P> +"All sorts of places," replied Emmeline. "Mr Button!" +</P> + +<P> +"What is it, darlin'?" +</P> + +<P> +"Would you like to learn g'ography?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not wishful for larnin'," said the other hurriedly. "It makes me +head buzz to hear them things they rade out of books." +</P> + +<P> +"Paddy," said Dick, who was strong on drawing that afternoon, "look +here." He drew the following on the sand: +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +[Illustration: A bad drawing of an elephant] +</P> + +<P> +"That's an elephant," he said in a dubious voice. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Button grunted, and the sound was by no means filled with +enthusiastic assent. A chill fell on the proceedings. +</P> + +<P> +Dick wiped the elephant slowly and regretfully out, whilst Emmeline +felt disheartened. Then her face suddenly cleared; the seraphic smile +came into it for a moment—a bright idea had struck her. +</P> + +<P> +"Dicky," she said, "draw Henry the Eight." +</P> + +<P> +Dick's face brightened. He cleared the sand and drew the following +figure: +</P> + +<PRE> + l l + <[ ]> + / \ +</PRE> + +<P> +"THAT'S not Henry the Eight," he explained, "but he will be in a +minute. Daddy showed me how to draw him; he's nothing till he gets his +hat on." +</P> + +<P> +"Put his hat on, put his hat on!" implored Emmeline, gazing alternately +from the figure on the sand to Mr Button's face, watching for the +delighted smile with which she was sure the old man would greet the +great king when he appeared in all his glory. +</P> + +<P> +Then Dick with a single stroke of the cane put Henry's hat on. +</P> + +<PRE> + === l + l l + <[ ]> + / \ +</PRE> + +<P> +Now no portrait could be liker to his monk-hunting majesty than the +above, created with one stroke of a cane (so to speak), yet Mr Button +remained unmoved. +</P> + +<P> +"I did it for Mrs Sims," said Dick regretfully, "and she said it was +the image of him." +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe the hat's not big enough," said Emmeline, turning her head from +side to side as she gazed at the picture. It looked right, but she felt +there must be something wrong, as Mr Button did not applaud. Has not +every true artist felt the same before the silence of some critic? +</P> + +<P> +Mr Button tapped the ashes out of his pipe and rose to stretch himself, +and the class rose and trooped down to the lagoon edge, leaving Henry +and his hat a figure on the sand to be obliterated by the wind. +</P> + +<P> +After a while, as time went on, Mr Button took to his lessons as a +matter of course, the small inventions of the children assisting their +utterly untrustworthy knowledge. Knowledge, perhaps, as useful as any +other there amidst the lovely poetry of the palm trees and the sky. +</P> + +<P> +Days slipped into weeks, and weeks into months, without the appearance +of a ship—a fact which gave Mr Button very little trouble; and even +less to his charges, who were far too busy and amused to bother about +ships. +</P> + +<P> +The rainy season came on them with a rush, and at the words "rainy +season" do not conjure up in your mind the vision of a rainy day in +Manchester. +</P> + +<P> +The rainy season here was quite a lively time. Torrential showers +followed by bursts of sunshine, rainbows, and rain-dogs in the sky, and +the delicious perfume of all manner of growing things on the earth. +</P> + +<P> +After the rains the old sailor said he'd be after making a house of +bamboos before the next rains came on them; but, maybe, before that +they'd be off the island. +</P> + +<P> +"However," said he, "I'll dra' you a picture of what it'll be like when +it's up;" and on the sand he drew a figure like this: +</P> + +<PRE> +X +</PRE> + +<P> +Having thus drawn the plans of the building, he leaned back against a +cocoa-palm and lit his pipe. But he had reckoned without Dick. +</P> + +<P> +The boy had not the least wish to live in a house, but he had a keen +desire to see one built, and help to build one. The ingenuity which is +part of the multiform basis of the American nature was aroused. +</P> + +<P> +"How're you going to keep them from slipping, if you tie them together +like that?" he asked, when Paddy had more fully explained his method. +</P> + +<P> +"Which from slippin'?" +</P> + +<P> +"The canes—one from the other?" +</P> + +<P> +"After you've fixed thim, one cross t'other, you drive a nail through +the cross-piece and a rope over all." +</P> + +<P> +"Have you any nails, Paddy?" +</P> + +<P> +"No," said Mr Button, "I haven't." +</P> + +<P> +"Then how're you goin' to build the house?" +</P> + +<P> +"Ax me no questions now; I want to smoke me pipe." +</P> + +<P> +But he had raised a devil difficult to lay. Morning, noon, and night it +was "Paddy, when are you going to begin the house?" or, "Paddy, I guess +I've got a way to make the canes stick together without nailing." Till +Mr Button, in despair, like a beaver, began to build. +</P> + +<P> +There was great cane-cutting in the canebrake above, and, when +sufficient had been procured, Mr Button struck work for three days. He +would have struck altogether, but he had found a taskmaster. +</P> + +<P> +The tireless Dick, young and active, with no original laziness in his +composition, no old bones to rest, or pipe to smoke, kept after him +like a bluebottle fly. It was in vain that he tried to stave him off +with stories about fairies and Cluricaunes. Dick wanted to build a +house. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Button didn't. He wanted to rest. He did not mind fishing or +climbing a cocoa-nut tree, which he did to admiration by passing a rope +round himself and the tree, knotting it, and using it as a support +during the climb; but house-building was monotonous work. +</P> + +<P> +He said he had no nails. Dick countered by showing how the canes could +be held together by notching them. +</P> + +<P> +"And, faith, but it's a cliver boy you are," said the weary one +admiringly, when the other had explained his method. +</P> + +<P> +"Then come along, Paddy, and stick 'em up." +</P> + +<P> +Mr Button said he had no rope, that he'd have to think about it, that +to-morrow or next day he'd be after getting some notion how to do it +without rope. But Dick pointed out that the brown cloth which Nature +has wrapped round the cocoa-palm stalks would do instead of rope if cut +in strips. Then the badgered one gave in. +</P> + +<P> +They laboured for a fortnight at the thing, and at the end of that time +had produced a rough sort of wigwam on the borders of the chapparel. +</P> + +<P> +Out on the reef, to which they often rowed in the dinghy, when the tide +was low, deep pools would be left, and in the pools fish. Paddy said +if they had a spear they might be able to spear some of these fish, as +he had seen the natives do away "beyant" in Tahiti. +</P> + +<P> +Dick enquired as to the nature of a spear, and next day produced a +ten-foot cane sharpened at the end after the fashion of a quill pen. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure, what's the use of that?" said Mr Button. "You might job it into +a fish, but he'd be aff it in two ticks; it's the barb that holds them." +</P> + +<P> +Next day the indefatigable one produced the cane amended; he had +whittled it down about three feet from the end and on one side, and +carved a fairly efficient barb. It was good enough, at all events, to +spear a "groper" with, that evening, in the sunset-lit pools of the +reef at low tide. +</P> + +<P> +"There aren't any potatoes here," said Dick one day, after the second +rains. +</P> + +<P> +"We've et 'em all months ago," replied Paddy. +</P> + +<P> +"How do potatoes grow?" enquired Dick. +</P> + +<P> +"Grow, is it? Why, they grow in the ground; and where else would they +grow?" He explained the process of potato-planting: cutting them into +pieces so that there was an eye in each piece, and so forth. "Having +done this," said Mr Button, "you just chuck the pieces in the ground; +their eyes grow, green leaves `pop up,' and then, if you dug the roots +up maybe, six months after, you'd find bushels of potatoes in the +ground, ones as big as your head, and weeny ones. It's like a family of +childer—some's big and some's little. But there they are in the +ground, and all you have to do is to take a fark and dig a potful of +them with a turn of your wrist, as many a time I've done it in the ould +days." +</P> + +<P> +"Why didn't we do that?" asked Dick. +</P> + +<P> +"Do what?" asked Mr Button. +</P> + +<P> +"Plant some of the potatoes." +</P> + +<P> +"And where'd we have found the spade to plant them with?" +</P> + +<P> +"I guess we could have fixed up a spade," replied the boy. "I made a +spade at home, out of a piece of old board once—daddy helped." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, skelp off with you, and make a spade now," replied the other, +who wanted to be quiet and think, "and you and Em'line can dig in the +sand." +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline was sitting nearby, stringing together some gorgeous blossoms +on a tendril of liana. Months of sun and ozone had made a considerable +difference in the child. She was as brown as a gipsy and freckled, not +very much taller, but twice as plump. Her eyes had lost considerably +that look as though she were contemplating futurity and immensity—not +as abstractions, but as concrete images, and she had lost the habit of +sleep-walking. +</P> + +<P> +The shock of the tent coming down on the first night she was tethered +to the scull had broken her of it, helped by the new healthful +conditions of life, the sea-bathing, and the eternal open air. There is +no narcotic to excel fresh air. +</P> + +<P> +Months of semi-savagery had made also a good deal of difference in +Dick's appearance. He was two inches taller than on the day they +landed. Freckled and tanned, he had the appearance of a boy of twelve. +He was the promise of a fine man. He was not a good-looking child, but +he was healthy-looking, with a jolly laugh, and a daring, almost +impudent expression of face. +</P> + +<P> +The question of the children's clothes was beginning to vex the mind of +the old sailor. The climate was a suit of clothes in itself. One was +much happier with almost nothing on. Of course there were changes of +temperature, but they were slight. Eternal summer, broken by torrential +rains, and occasionally a storm, that was the climate of the island; +still, the "childer" couldn't go about with nothing on. +</P> + +<P> +He took some of the striped flannel and made Emmeline a kilt. It was +funny to see him sitting on the sand, Emmeline standing before him with +her garment round her waist, being tried on; he, with a mouthful of +pins, and the housewife with the scissors, needles, and thread by his +side. +</P> + +<P> +"Turn to the lift a bit more," he'd say, "aisy does it. Stidy +so—musha! musha! where's thim scissors? Dick, be holdin' the end of +this bit of string till I get the stitches in behint. Does that hang +comfortable? well, an' you're the trouble an' all. How's THAT? That's +aisier, is it? Lift your fut till I see if it comes to your knees. Now +off with it, and lave me alone till I stitch the tags to it." +</P> + +<P> +It was the mixture of a skirt and the idea of a sail, for it had two +rows of reef points; a most ingenious idea, as it could be reefed if +the child wanted to go paddling, or in windy weather. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0117"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE DEVIL'S CASK +</H3> + +<P> +One morning, about a week after the day on which the old sailor, to use +his own expression, had bent a skirt on Emmeline, Dick came through the +woods and across the sands running. He had been on the hill-top. +</P> + +<P> +"Paddy," he cried to the old man, who was fixing a hook on a +fishing-line, "there's a ship!" +</P> + +<P> +It did not take Mr Button long to reach the hill-top, and there she +was, beating up for the island. Bluff-bowed and squab, the figure of an +old Dutch woman, and telling of her trade a league off. It was just +after the rains, the sky was not yet quite clear of clouds; you could +see showers away at sea, and the sea was green and foam-capped. +</P> + +<P> +There was the trying-out gear; there were the boats, the crow's nest, +and all complete, and labelling her a whaler. She was a ship, no doubt, +but Paddy Button would as soon have gone on board a ship manned by +devils, and captained by Lucifer, as on board a South Sea whaleman. He +had been there before, and he knew. +</P> + +<P> +He hid the children under a large banyan, and told them not to stir or +breathe till he came back, for the ship was "the devil's own ship"; and +if the men on board caught them they'd skin them alive and all. +</P> + +<P> +Then he made for the beach; he collected all the things out of the +wigwam, and all the old truck in the shape of boots and old clothes, +and stowed them away in the dinghy. He would have destroyed the house, +if he could, but he hadn't time. Then he rowed the dinghy a hundred +yards down the lagoon to the left, and moored her under the shade of an +aoa, whose branches grew right over the water. Then he came back +through the cocoa-nut grove on foot, and peered through the trees over +the lagoon to see what was to be seen. +</P> + +<P> +The wind was blowing dead on for the opening in the reef, and the old +whaleman came along breasting the swell with her bluff bows, and +entered the lagoon. There was no leadsman in her chains. She just came +in as if she knew all the soundings by heart—as probably she did—for +these whalemen know every hole and corner in the Pacific. +</P> + +<P> +The anchor fell with a splash, and she swung to it, making a strange +enough picture as she floated on the blue mirror, backed by the +graceful palm tree on the reef. Then Mr Button, without waiting to see +the boats lowered, made back to his charges, and the three camped in +the woods that night. +</P> + +<P> +Next morning the whaleman was off and away, leaving as a token of her +visit the white sand all trampled, an empty bottle, half an old +newspaper, and the wigwam torn to pieces. +</P> + +<P> +The old sailor cursed her and her crew, for the incident had brought a +new exercise into his lazy life. Every day now at noon he had to climb +the hill, on the look-out for whalemen. Whalemen haunted his dreams, +though I doubt if he would willingly have gone on board even a Royal +Mail steamer. He was quite happy where he was. After long years of the +fo'cs'le the island was a change indeed. He had tobacco enough to last +him for an indefinite time, the children for companions, and food at +his elbow. He would have been entirely happy if the island had only +been supplied by Nature with a public-house. +</P> + +<P> +The spirit of hilarity and good fellowship, however, who suddenly +discovered this error on the part of Nature, rectified it, as will be +presently seen. +</P> + +<P> +The most disastrous result of the whaleman's visit was not the +destruction of the "house," but the disappearance of Emmeline's box. +Hunt high or hunt low, it could not be found. Mr Button in his hurry +must have forgotten it when he removed the things to the dinghy—at all +events, it was gone. Probably one of the crew of the whalemen had found +it and carried it off with him; no one could say. It was gone, and +there was the end of the matter, and the beginning of great +tribulation, that lasted Emmeline for a week. +</P> + +<P> +She was intensely fond of coloured things, coloured flowers especially; +and she had the prettiest way of making them into a wreath for her own +or someone else's head. It was the hat-making instinct that was at work +in her, perhaps; at all events, it was a feminine instinct, for Dick +made no wreaths. +</P> + +<P> +One morning, as she was sitting by the old sailor engaged in stringing +shells, Dick came running along the edge of the grove. He had just come +out of the wood, and he seemed to be looking for something. Then he +found what he was in search of—a big shell—and with it in his hand +made back to the wood. +</P> + +<P> +Item.—His dress was a piece of cocoa-nut cloth tied round his middle. +Why he wore it at all, goodness knows, for he would as often as not be +running about stark naked. +</P> + +<P> +"I've found something, Paddy!" he cried, as he disappeared among the +trees. +</P> + +<P> +"What have you found?" piped Emmeline, who was always interested in new +things. +</P> + +<P> +"Something funny!" came back from amidst the trees. +</P> + +<P> +Presently he returned; but he was not running now. He was walking +slowly and carefully, holding the shell as if it contained something +precious that he was afraid would escape. +</P> + +<P> +"Paddy, I turned over the old barrel and it had a cork thing in it, and +I pulled it out, and the barrel is full of awfully funny-smelling +stuff—I've brought some for you to see." +</P> + +<P> +He gave the shell into the old sailor's hands. There was about half a +gill of yellow liquid in the shell. Paddy smelt it, tasted, and gave a +shout. +</P> + +<P> +"Rum, begorra!" +</P> + +<P> +"What is it, Paddy?" asked Emmeline. +</P> + +<P> +"WHERE did you say you got it—in the ould bar'l, did you say?" asked +Mr Button, who seemed dazed and stunned as if by a blow. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; I pulled the cork thing out—" +</P> + +<P> +"DID YIZ PUT IT BACK?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, glory be to God! Here have I been, time out of mind, sittin' on an +ould empty bar'l, with me tongue hangin' down to me heels for the want +of a drink, and it full of rum all the while!" +</P> + +<P> +He took a sip of the stuff, tossed the lot off, closed his lips tight +to keep in the fumes, and shut one eye. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline laughed. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Button scrambled to his feet. They followed him through the +chapparel till they reached the water source. There lay the little +green barrel; turned over by the restless Dick, it lay with its bung +pointing to the leaves above. You could see the hollow it had made in +the soft soil during the years. So green was it, and so like an object +of nature, a bit of old tree-bole, or a lichen-stained boulder, that +though the whalemen had actually watered from the source, its real +nature had not been discovered. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Button tapped on it with the butt-end of the shell: it was nearly +full. Why it had been left there, by whom, or how, there was no one to +tell. The old lichen-covered skulls might have told, could they have +spoken. +</P> + +<P> +"We'll rowl it down to the beach," said Paddy, when he had taken +another taste of it. +</P> + +<P> +He gave Dick a sip. The boy spat it out, and made a face, then, pushing +the barrel before them, they began to roll it downhill to the beach, +Emmeline running before them crowned with flowers. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0118"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE RAT HUNT +</H3> + +<P> +They had dinner at noon. Paddy knew how to cook fish, island fashion, +wrapping them in leaves, and baking them in a hole in the ground in +which a fire had previously been lit. They had fish and taro root +baked, and green cocoa-nuts; and after dinner Mr Button filled a big +shell with rum, and lit his pipe. +</P> + +<P> +The rum had been good originally, and age had improved it. Used as he +was to the appalling balloon juice sold in the drinking dens of the +"Barbary coast" at San Francisco, or the public-houses of the docks, +this stuff was nectar. +</P> + +<P> +Joviality radiated from him: it was infectious. The children felt that +some happy influence had fallen upon their friend. Usually after dinner +he was drowsy and "wishful to be quiet." To-day he told them stories of +the sea, and sang them songs—chantys: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"I'm a flyin' fish sailor come back from Hong Kong,<BR> +Yeo ho! blow the man down.<BR> +Blow the man down, bullies, blow the man down,<BR> +Oh, give us TIME to blow the man down.<BR> +You're a dirty black-baller come back from New York,<BR> +Yeo ho! blow the man down,<BR> +Blow the man down, bullies, blow the man down.<BR> +Oh, give us time to blow the man down."<BR> +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, give us TIME to blow the man down!" echoed Dick and Emmeline. +</P> + +<P> +Up above, in the trees, the bright-eyed birds were watching them—such +a happy party. They had all the appearance of picnickers, and the song +echoed amongst the cocoa-nut trees, and the wind carried it over the +lagoon to where the sea-gulls were wheeling and screaming, and the foam +was thundering on the reef. +</P> + +<P> +That evening, Mr Button feeling inclined for joviality, and not wishing +the children to see him under the influence, rolled the barrel through +the cocoa-nut grove to a little clearing by the edge of the water. +There, when the children were in bed and asleep, he repaired with some +green cocoa-nuts and a shell. He was generally musical when amusing +himself in this fashion, and Emmeline, waking up during the night, +heard his voice borne through the moonlit cocoa-nut grove by the wind: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"There were five or six old drunken sailors<BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">Standin' before the bar,</SPAN><BR> +And Larry, he was servin' them<BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">From a big five-gallon jar.</SPAN><BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 4em">"Chorus.—</SPAN><BR> +Hoist up the flag, long may it wave!<BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">Long may it lade us to glory or the grave.</SPAN><BR> +Stidy, boys, stidy—sound the jubilee,<BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">For Babylon has fallen, and the slaves are all set free."</SPAN><BR> +</P> + +<P> +Next morning the musician awoke beside the cask. He had not a trace of +a headache, or any bad feeling, but he made Dick do the cooking; and he +lay in the shade of the cocoa-nut trees, with his head on a "pilla" +made out of an old coat rolled up, twiddling his thumbs, smoking his +pipe, and discoursing about the "ould" days, half to himself and half +to his companions. +</P> + +<P> +That night he had another musical evening all to himself, and so it +went on for a week. Then he began to lose his appetite and sleep; and +one morning Dick found him sitting on the sand looking very queer +indeed—as well he might, for he had been "seeing things" since dawn. +</P> + +<P> +"What is it, Paddy?" said the boy, running up, followed by Emmeline. +</P> + +<P> +Mr Button was staring at a point on the sand close by. He had his right +hand raised after the manner of a person who is trying to catch a fly. +Suddenly he made a grab at the sand, and then opened his hand wide to +see what he had caught. +</P> + +<P> +"What is it, Paddy?" +</P> + +<P> +"The Cluricaune," replied Mr Button. "All dressed in green he +was—musha! musha! but it's only pretindin' I am." +</P> + +<P> +The complaint from which he was suffering has this strange thing about +it, that, though the patient sees rats, or snakes, or what-not, as +real-looking as the real things, and though they possess his mind for a +moment, almost immediately he recognises that he is suffering from a +delusion. +</P> + +<P> +The children laughed, and Mr Button laughed in a stupid sort of way. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure, it was only a game I was playin'—there was no Cluricaune at +all—it's whin I dhrink rum it puts it into me head to play games like +that. Oh, be the Holy Poker, there's red rats comin' out of the sand!" +</P> + +<P> +He got on his hands and knees and scuttle off towards the cocoanut +trees, looking over his shoulder with a bewildered expression on his +face. He would have risen to fly, only he dared not stand up. +</P> + +<P> +The children laughed and danced round him as he crawled. +</P> + +<P> +"Look at the rats, Paddy! look at the rats!" cried Dick. +</P> + +<P> +"They're in front of me!" cried the afflicted one, making a vicious +grab at an imaginary rodent's tail. "Ran dan the bastes! now they're +gone. Musha, but it's a fool I'm makin' of meself." +</P> + +<P> +"Go on, Paddy," said Dick; "don't stop. Look there—there's more rats +coming after you!" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, whisht, will you?" replied Paddy, taking his seat on the sand, and +wiping his brow. "They're aff me now." +</P> + +<P> +The children stood by, disappointed of their game. Good acting appeals +to children just as much as to grown-up people. They stood waiting for +another excess of humour to take the comedian, and they had not to wait +long. +</P> + +<P> +A thing like a flayed horse came out of the lagoon and up the beach, +and this time Button did not crawl away. He got on his feet and ran. +</P> + +<P> +"It's a harse that's afther me—it's a harse that's afther me! Dick! +Dick! hit him a skelp. Dick! Dick! dhrive him away." +</P> + +<P> +"Hurroo! Hurroo!" cried Dick, chasing the afflicted one, who was +running in a wide circle, his broad red face slewed over his left +shoulder. "Go it, Paddy! go it, Paddy!" +</P> + +<P> +"Kape off me, you baste!" shouted Paddy. "Holy Mary, Mother of God! +I'll land you a kick wid me fut if yiz come nigh me. Em'leen! Em'leen! +come betune us!" +</P> + +<P> +He tripped, and over he went on the sand, the indefatigable Dick +beating him with a little switch he had picked up to make him continue. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm better now, but I'm near wore out," said Mr Button, sitting up on +the sand. "But, bedad, if I'm chased by any more things like them it's +into the say I'll be dashin'. Dick, lend me your arum." +</P> + +<P> +He took Dick's arm and wandered over to the shade of the trees. Here +he threw himself down, and told the children to leave him to sleep. +They recognised that the game was over and left him. And he slept for +six hours on end; it was the first real sleep he had had for several +days. When he awoke he was well, but very shaky. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0119"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +STARLIGHT ON THE FOAM +</H3> + +<P> +Mr Button saw no more rats, much to Dick's disappointment. He was off +the drink. At dawn next day he got up, refreshed by a second sleep, and +wandered down to the edge of the lagoon. The opening in the reef faced +the east, and the light of the dawn came rippling in with the flooding +tide. +</P> + +<P> +"It's a baste I've been," said the repentant one, "a brute baste." +</P> + +<P> +He was quite wrong; as a matter of fact, he was only a man beset and +betrayed. +</P> + +<P> +He stood for a while, cursing the drink, "and them that sells it." Then +he determined to put himself out of the way of temptation. Pull the +bung out of the barrel, and let the contents escape? +</P> + +<P> +Such a thought never even occurred to him—or, if it did, was instantly +dismissed; for, though an old sailor-man may curse the drink, good rum +is to him a sacred thing; and to empty half a little barrel of it into +the sea, would be an act almost equivalent to child-murder. He put the +cask into the dinghy, and rowed it over to the reef. There he placed it +in the shelter of a great lump of coral, and rowed back. +</P> + +<P> +Paddy had been trained all his life to rhythmical drunkenness. Four +months or so had generally elapsed between his bouts—sometimes six; it +all depended on the length of the voyage. Six months now elapsed before +he felt even an inclination to look at the rum cask, that tiny dark +spot away on the reef. And it was just as well, for during those six +months another whale-ship arrived, watered and was avoided. +</P> + +<P> +"Blisther it!" said he; "the say here seems to breed whale-ships, and +nothin' but whaleships. It's like bugs in a bed: you kill wan, and then +another comes. Howsumever, we're shut of thim for a while." +</P> + +<P> +He walked down to the lagoon edge, looked at the little dark spot and +whistled. Then he walked back to prepare dinner. That little dark spot +began to trouble him after a while; not it, but the spirit it contained. +</P> + +<P> +Days grew long and weary, the days that had been so short and pleasant. +To the children there was no such thing as time. Having absolute and +perfect health, they enjoyed happiness as far as mortals can enjoy it. +Emmeline's highly strung nervous system, it is true, developed a +headache when she had been too long in the glare of the sun, but they +were few and far between. +</P> + +<P> +The spirit in the little cask had been whispering across the lagoon for +some weeks; at last it began to shout. Mr Button, metaphorically +speaking, stopped his ears. He busied himself with the children as much +as possible. He made another garment for Emmeline, and cut Dick's hair +with the scissors (a job which was generally performed once in a couple +of months). +</P> + +<P> +One night, to keep the rum from troubling his head, he told them the +story of Jack Dogherty and the Merrow, which is well known on the +western coast. +</P> + +<P> +The Merrow takes Jack to dinner at the bottom of the sea, and shows him +the lobster pots wherein he keeps the souls of old sailormen, and then +they have dinner, and the Merrow produces a big bottle of rum. +</P> + +<P> +It was a fatal story for him to remember and recount; for, after his +companions were asleep, the vision of the Merrow and Jack hobnobbing, +and the idea of the jollity of it, rose before him, and excited a +thirst for joviality not to be resisted. +</P> + +<P> +There were some green cocoa-nuts that he had plucked that day lying in +a little heap under a tree—half a dozen or so. He took several of +these and a shell, found the dinghy where it was moored to the aoa +tree, unmoored her, and pushed off into the lagoon. +</P> + +<P> +The lagoon and sky were full of stars. In the dark depths of the water +might have been seen phosphorescent gleams of passing fish, and the +thunder of the surf on the reef filled the night with its song. +</P> + +<P> +He fixed the boat's painter carefully round a spike of coral and landed +on the reef, and with a shellful of rum and cocoa-nut lemonade mixed +half and half, he took his perch on a high ledge of coral from whence a +view of the sea and the coral strand could be obtained. +</P> + +<P> +On a moonlight night it was fine to sit here and watch the great +breakers coming in, all marbled and clouded and rainbowed with +spindrift and sheets of spray. But the snow and the song of them under +the diffused light of the stars produced a more indescribably beautiful +and strange effect. +</P> + +<P> +The tide was going out now, and Mr Button, as he sat smoking his pipe +and drinking his grog, could see bright mirrors here and there where +the water lay in rock-pools. When he had contemplated these sights for +a considerable time in complete contentment, he returned to the lagoon +side of the reef and sat down beside the little barrel. Then, after a +while, if you had been standing on the strand opposite, you would have +heard scraps of song borne across the quivering water of the lagoon. +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Sailing down, sailing down,<BR> +On the coast of Barbaree."<BR> +</P> + +<P> +Whether the coast of Barbary in question is that at San Francisco, or +the true and proper coast, does not matter. It is an old-time song; and +when you hear it, whether on a reef of coral or a granite quay, you may +feel assured that an old-time sailor-man is singing it, and that the +old-time sailor-man is bemused. +</P> + +<P> +Presently the dinghy put off from the reef, the sculls broke the +starlit waters and great shaking circles of light made rhythmical +answer to the slow and steady creak of the thole pins against the +leather. He tied up to the aoa, saw that the sculls were safely +shipped; then, breathing heavily, he cast off his boots for fear of +waking the "childer." As the children were sleeping more than two +hundred yards away, this was a needless precaution especially as the +intervening distance was mostly soft sand. +</P> + +<P> +Green cocoa-nut juice and rum mixed together are pleasant enough to +drink, but they are better drunk separately; combined, not even the +brain of an old sailor can make anything of them but mist and +muddlement; that is to say, in the way of thought—in the way of action +they can make him do a lot. They made Paddy Button swim the lagoon. +</P> + +<P> +The recollection came to him all at once, as he was walking up the +strand towards the wigwam, that he had left the dinghy tied to the +reef. The dinghy was, as a matter of fact, safe and sound tied to the +aoa; but Mr Button's memory told him it was tied to the reef. How he +had crossed the lagoon was of no importance at all to him; the fact +that he had crossed without the boat, yet without getting wet, did not +appear to him strange. He had no time to deal with trifles like these. +The dinghy had to be fetched across the lagoon, and there was only one +way of fetching it. So he came back down the beach to the water's edge, +cast down his boots, cast off his coat, and plunged in. The lagoon was +wide, but in his present state of mind he would have swum the +Hellespont. His figure gone from the beach, the night resumed its +majesty and aspect of meditation. +</P> + +<P> +So lit was the lagoon by starshine that the head of the swimmer could +be distinguished away out in the midst of circles of light; also, as +the head neared the reef, a dark triangle that came shearing through +water past the palm tree at the pier. It was the night patrol of the +lagoon, who had heard in some mysterious manner that a drunken +sailor-man was making trouble in his waters. +</P> + +<P> +Looking, one listened, hand on heart, for the scream of the arrested +one, yet it did not come. The swimmer, scrambling on to the reef in an +exhausted manner, forgetful evidently of the object for which he had +returned, made for the rum cask, and fell down beside it as though +sleep had touched him instead of death. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0120"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE DREAMER ON THE REEF +</H3> + +<P> +"I wonder where Paddy is?" cried Dick next morning. He was coming out +of the chapparel, pulling a dead branch after him. "He's left his coat +on the sand, and the tinder box in it, so I'll make the fire. There's +no use waiting. I want my breakfast. Bother!" +</P> + +<P> +He trod the dead stick with his naked feet, breaking it into pieces. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline sat on the sand and watched him. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline had two gods of a sort: Paddy Button and Dick. Paddy was +almost an esoteric god wrapped in the fumes of tobacco and mystery. The +god of rolling ships and creaking masts—the masts and vast sail spaces +of the Northumberland were an enduring vision in her mind—the deity +who had lifted her from a little boat into this marvellous place, where +the birds were coloured and the fish were painted, where life was never +dull, and the skies scarcely ever grey. +</P> + +<P> +Dick, the other deity, was a much more understandable personage, but no +less admirable, as a companion and protector. In the two years and five +months of island life he had grown nearly three inches. He was as +strong as a boy of twelve, and could scull the boat almost as well as +Paddy himself, and light a fire. Indeed, during the last few months Mr +Button, engaged in resting his bones, and contemplating rum as an +abstract idea, had left the cooking and fishing and general gathering +of food as much as possible to Dick. +</P> + +<P> +"It amuses the craythur to pritind he's doing things," he would say, as +he watched Dick delving in the earth to make a little +oven—Island-fashion—for the cooking of fish or what-not. +</P> + +<P> +"Come along, Em," said Dick, piling the broken wood on top of some +rotten hibiscus sticks; "give me the tinder box." +</P> + +<P> +He got a spark on to a bit of punk, and then he blew at it, looking not +unlike Aeolus as represented on those old Dutch charts that smell of +schiedam and snuff, and give one mermaids and angels instead of +soundings. +</P> + +<P> +The fire was soon sparkling and crackling, and he heaped on sticks in +profusion, for there was plenty of fuel, and he wanted to cook +breadfruit. +</P> + +<P> +The breadfruit varies in size, according to age, and in colour +according to season. These that Dick was preparing to cook were as +large as small melons. Two would be more than enough for three people's +breakfast. They were green and knobbly on the outside, and they +suggested to the mind unripe lemons, rather than bread. +</P> + +<P> +He put them in the embers, just as you put potatoes to roast, and +presently they sizzled and spat little venomous jets of steam, then +they cracked, and the white inner substance became visible. He cut +them open and took the core out—the core is not fit to eat—and they +were ready. +</P> + +<P> +Meanwhile, Emmeline, under his directions, had not been idle. +</P> + +<P> +There were in the lagoon—there are in several other tropical lagoons I +know of—a fish which I can only describe as a golden herring. A bronze +herring it looks when landed, but when swimming away down against the +background of coral brains and white sand patches, it has the sheen of +burnished gold. It is as good to eat as to look at, and Emmeline was +carefully toasting several of them on a piece of cane. +</P> + +<P> +The juice of the fish kept the cane from charring, though there were +accidents at times, when a whole fish would go into the fire, amidst +shouts of derision from Dick. +</P> + +<P> +She made a pretty enough picture as she knelt, the "skirt" round the +waist looking not unlike a striped bath-towel, her small face intent, +and filled with the seriousness of the job on hand, and her lips +puckered out at the heat of the fire. +</P> + +<P> +"It's so hot!" she cried in self-defence, after the first of the +accidents. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course it's hot," said Dick, "if you stick to looward of the fire. +How often has Paddy told you to keep to windward of it!" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know which is which," confessed the unfortunate Emmeline, who +was an absolute failure at everything practical: who could neither row +nor fish, nor throw a stone, and who, though they had now been on the +island twenty-eight months or so, could not even swim. +</P> + +<P> +"You mean to say," said Dick, "that you don't know where the wind comes +from?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I know that." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, that's to windward." +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't know that." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, you know it now." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I know it now." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, then, come to windward of the fire. Why didn't you ask the +meaning of it before?" +</P> + +<P> +"I did," said Emmeline; "I asked Mr Button one day, and he told me a +lot about it. He said if he was to spit to windward and a person was to +stand to loo'ard of him, he'd be a fool; and he said if a ship went too +much to loo'ard she went on the rocks, but I didn't understand what he +meant. Dicky, I wonder where he is?" +</P> + +<P> +"Paddy!" cried Dick, pausing in the act of splitting open a breadfruit. +Echoes came from amidst the cocoa-nut trees, but nothing more. +</P> + +<P> +"Come on," said Dick; "I'm not going to wait for him. He may have gone +to fetch up the night lines"—they sometimes put down night lines in +the lagoon—"and fallen asleep over them." +</P> + +<P> +Now, though Emmeline honoured Mr Button as a minor deity, Dick had no +illusions at all upon the matter. He admired Paddy because he could +knot, and splice, and climb a cocoanut tree, and exercise his sailor +craft in other admirable ways, but he felt the old man's limitations. +They ought to have had potatoes now, but they had eaten both potatoes +and the possibility of potatoes when they consumed the contents of that +half sack. Young as he was, Dick felt the absolute thriftlessness of +this proceeding. Emmeline did not; she never thought of potatoes, +though she could have told you the colour of all the birds on the +island. +</P> + +<P> +Then, again, the house wanted rebuilding, and Mr Button said every day +he would set about seeing after it to-morrow, and on the morrow it +would be to-morrow. The necessities of the life they led were a +stimulus to the daring and active mind of the boy; but he was always +being checked by the go-as-you-please methods of his elder. Dick came +of the people who make sewing machines and typewriters. Mr Button came +of a people notable for ballads, tender hearts, and potheen. That was +the main difference. +</P> + +<P> +"Paddy!" again cried the boy, when he had eaten as much as he wanted. +"Hullo! where are you?" +</P> + +<P> +They listened, but no answer came. A bright-hued bird flew across the +sand space, a lizard scuttled across the glistening sand, the reef +spoke, and the wind in the tree-tops; but Mr Button made no reply. +</P> + +<P> +"Wait," said Dick. +</P> + +<P> +He ran through the grove towards the aoa where the dinghy was moored; +then he returned. +</P> + +<P> +"The dinghy is all right," he said. "Where on earth can he be?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know," said Emmeline, upon whose heart a feeling of loneliness +had fallen. +</P> + +<P> +"Let's go up the hill," said Dick; "perhaps we'll find him there." +</P> + +<P> +They went uphill through the wood, past the water-course. Every now and +then Dick would call out, and echoes would answer—there were quaint, +moist-voiced echoes amidst the trees or a bevy of birds would take +flight. The little waterfall gurgled and whispered, and the great +banana leaves spread their shade. +</P> + +<P> +"Come on," said Dick, when he had called again without receiving a +reply. +</P> + +<P> +They found the hill-top, and the great boulder stood casting its shadow +in the sun. The morning breeze was blowing, the sea sparkling, the reef +flashing, the foliage of the island waving in the wind like the flames +of a green-flamed torch. A deep swell was spreading itself across the +bosom of the Pacific. Some hurricane away beyond the Navigators or +Gilberts had sent this message and was finding its echo here, a +thousand miles away, in the deeper thunder of the reef. +</P> + +<P> +Nowhere else in the world could you get such a picture, such a +combination of splendour and summer, such a vision of freshness and +strength, and the delight of morning. It was the smallness of the +island, perhaps, that closed the charm and made it perfect. Just a +bunch of foliage and flowers set in the midst of the blowing wind and +sparkling blue. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly Dick, standing beside Emmeline on the rock, pointed with his +finger to the reef near the opening. +</P> + +<P> +"There he is!" cried he. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0121"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE GARLAND OF FLOWERS +</H3> + +<P> +You could just make the figure out lying on the reef near the little +cask, and comfortably sheltered from the sun by an upstanding lump of +coral. +</P> + +<P> +"He's asleep," said Dick. +</P> + +<P> +He had not thought to look towards the reef from the beach, or he might +have seen the figure before. +</P> + +<P> +"Dicky!" said Emmeline. +</P> + +<P> +"Well?" +</P> + +<P> +"How did he get over, if you said the dinghy was tied to the tree?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know," said Dick, who had not thought of this; "there he is, +anyhow. I'll tell you what, Em, we'll row across and wake him. I'll boo +into his ear and make him jump." +</P> + +<P> +They got down from the rock, and came back down through the wood. As +they came Emmeline picked flowers and began making them up into one of +her wreaths. Some scarlet hibiscus, some bluebells, a couple of pale +poppies with furry stalks and bitter perfume. +</P> + +<P> +"What are you making that for?" asked Dick, who always viewed +Emmeline's wreath-making with a mixture of compassion and vague disgust. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm going to put it on Mr Button's head," said Emmeline; "so's when +you say boo into his ear he'll jump up with it on." +</P> + +<P> +Dick chuckled with pleasure at the idea of the practical joke, and +almost admitted in his own mind for a moment, that after all there +might be a use for such futilities as wreaths. +</P> + +<P> +The dinghy was moored under the spreading shade of the aoa, the painter +tied to one of the branches that projected over the water. These dwarf +aoas branch in an extraordinary way close to the ground, throwing out +limbs like rails. The tree had made a good protection for the little +boat, protecting it from marauding hands and from the sun; besides the +protection of the tree Paddy had now and then scuttled the boat in +shallow water. It was a new boat to start with, and with precautions +like these might be expected to last many years. +</P> + +<P> +"Get in," said Dick, pulling on the painter so that the bow of the +dinghy came close to the beach. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline got carefully in, and went aft. Then Dick got in, pushed off, +and took to the sculls. Next moment they were out on the sparkling +water. +</P> + +<P> +Dick rowed cautiously, fearing to wake the sleeper. He fastened the +painter to the coral spike that seemed set there by nature for the +purpose. He scrambled on to the reef, and lying down on his stomach +drew the boat's gunwale close up so that Emmeline might land. He had no +boots on; the soles of his feet, from constant exposure, had become +insensitive as leather. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline also was without boots. The soles of her feet, as is always +the case with highly nervous people, were sensitive, and she walked +delicately, avoiding the worst places, holding her wreath in her right +hand. +</P> + +<P> +It was full tide, and the thunder of the waves outside shook the reef. +It was like being in a church when the deep bass of the organ is turned +full on, shaking the ground and the air, the walls and the roof. Dashes +of spray came over with the wind, and the melancholy "Hi, hi!" of the +wheeling gulls came like the voices of ghostly sailor-men hauling at +the halyards. +</P> + +<P> +Paddy was lying on his right side steeped in profound oblivion. His +face was buried in the crook of his right arm, and his brown tattooed +left hand lay on his left thigh, palm upwards. He had no hat, and the +breeze stirred his grizzled hair. +</P> + +<P> +Dick and Emmeline stole up to him till they got right beside him. Then +Emmeline, flashing out a laugh, flung the little wreath of flowers on +the old man's head, and Dick, popping down on his knees, shouted into +his ear. But the dreamer did not stir or move a finger. +</P> + +<P> +"Paddy," cried Dick, "wake up! wake up!" +</P> + +<P> +He pulled at the shoulder till the figure from its sideways posture +fell over on its back. The eyes were wide open and staring. The mouth +hung open, and from the mouth darted a little crab; it scuttled over +the chin and dropped on the coral. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline screamed, and screamed, and would have fallen, but the boy +caught her in his arms—one side of the face had been destroyed by the +larvae of the rocks. +</P> + +<P> +He held her to him as he stared at the terrible figure lying upon its +back, hands outspread. Then, wild with terror, he dragged her towards +the little boat. She was struggling, and panting and gasping, like a +person drowning in ice-cold water. +</P> + +<P> +His one instinct was to escape, to fly anywhere, no matter where. He +dragged the girl to the coral edge, and pulled the boat up close. Had +the reef suddenly become enveloped in flames he could not have exerted +himself more to escape from it and save his companion. A moment later +they were afloat, and he was pulling wildly for the shore. +</P> + +<P> +He did not know what had happened, nor did he pause to think: he was +fleeing from horror—nameless horror; whilst the child at his feet, +with her head resting against the gunwale, stared up open-eyed and +speechless at the great blue sky, as if at some terror visible there. +The boat grounded on the white sand, and the wash of the incoming tide +drove it up sideways. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline had fallen forward; she had lost consciousness. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0122"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +ALONE +</H3> + +<P> +The idea of spiritual life must be innate in the heart of man, for all +that terrible night, when the children lay huddled together in the +little hut in the chapparel, the fear that filled them was that their +old friend might suddenly darken the entrance and seek to lie down +beside them. +</P> + +<P> +They did not speak about him. Something had been done to him; something +had happened. Something terrible had happened to the world they knew. +But they dared not speak of it or question each other. +</P> + +<P> +Dick had carried his companion to the hut when he left the boat, and +hidden with her there; the evening had come on, and the night, and now +in the darkness, without having tasted food all day, he was telling her +not to be afraid, that he would take care of her. But not a word of +the thing that had happened. +</P> + +<P> +The thing, for them, had no precedent, and no vocabulary. They had come +across death raw and real, uncooked by religion, undeodorised by the +sayings of sages and poets. +</P> + +<P> +They knew nothing of the philosophy that tells us that death is the +common lot, and the natural sequence to birth, or the religion that +teaches us that Death is the door to Life. +</P> + +<P> +A dead old sailor-man lying like a festering carcass on a coral ledge, +eyes staring and glazed and fixed, a wide-open mouth that once had +spoken comforting words, and now spoke living crabs. +</P> + +<P> +That was the vision before them. They did not philosophise about it; +and though they were filled with terror, I do not think it was terror +that held them from speaking about it, but a vague feeling that what +they had beheld was obscene, unspeakable, and a thing to avoid. +</P> + +<P> +Lestrange had brought them up in his own way. He had told them there +was a good God who looked after the world; determined as far as he +could to exclude demonology and sin and death from their knowledge, he +had rested content with the bald statement that there was a good God +who looked after the world, without explaining fully that the same God +would torture them for ever and ever, should they fail to believe in +Him or keep His commandments. +</P> + +<P> +This knowledge of the Almighty, therefore, was but a half knowledge, +the vaguest abstraction. Had they been brought up, however, in the most +strictly Calvinistic school, this knowledge of Him would have been no +comfort now. Belief in God is no comfort to a frightened child. Teach +him as many parrot-like prayers as you please, and in distress or the +dark of what use are they to him? His cry is for his nurse, or his +mother. +</P> + +<P> +During that dreadful night these two children had no comfort to seek +anywhere in the whole wide universe but in each other. She, in a sense +of his protection, he, in a sense of being her protector. The +manliness in him greater and more beautiful than physical strength, +developed in those dark hours just as a plant under extraordinary +circumstances is hurried into bloom. +</P> + +<P> +Towards dawn Emmeline fell asleep. Dick stole out of the hut when he +had assured himself from her regular breathing that she was asleep, +and, pushing the tendrils and the branches of the mammee apples aside, +found the beach. The dawn was just breaking, and the morning breeze was +coming in from the sea. +</P> + +<P> +When he had beached the dinghy the day before, the tide was just at the +flood, and it had left her stranded. The tide was coming in now, and in +a short time it would be far enough up to push her off. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline in the night had implored him to take her away. Take her away +somewhere from there, and he had promised, without knowing in the least +how he was to perform his promise. As he stood looking at the beach, so +desolate and strangely different now from what it was the day before, +an idea of how he could fulfil his promise came to him. He ran down to +where the little boat lay on the shelving sand, with the ripples of the +incoming tide just washing the rudder, which was still shipped. He +unshipped the rudder and came back. +</P> + +<P> +Under a tree, covered with the stay-sail they had brought from the +Shenandoah, lay most of their treasures: old clothes and boots, and all +the other odds and ends. The precious tobacco stitched up in a piece of +canvas was there, and the housewife with the needles and threads. A +hole had been dug in the sand as a sort of cache for them, and the +stay-sail put over them to protect them from the dew. +</P> + +<P> +The sun was now looking over the sealine, and the tall cocoa-nut trees +were singing and whispering together under the strengthening breeze. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0123"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THEY MOVE AWAY +</H3> + +<P> +He began to collect the things, and carry them to the dinghy. He took +the stay-sail and everything that might be useful; and when he had +stowed them in the boat, he took the breaker and filled it with water +at the water source in the wood; he collected some bananas and +breadfruit, and stowed them in the dinghy with the breaker. Then he +found the remains of yesterday's breakfast, which he had hidden between +two palmetto leaves, and placed it also in the boat. +</P> + +<P> +The water was now so high that a strong push would float her. He turned +back to the hut for Emmeline. She was still asleep: so soundly asleep, +that when he lifted her up in his arms she made no movement. He placed +her carefully in the stern-sheets with her head on the sail rolled up, +and then standing in the bow pushed off with a scull. Then, taking the +sculls, he turned the boat's head up the lagoon to the left. He kept +close to the shore, but for the life of him he could not help lifting +his eyes and looking towards the reef. +</P> + +<P> +Round a certain spot on the distant white coral there was a great +commotion of birds. Huge birds some of them seemed, and the "Hi! hi! +hi!" of them came across the lagoon on the breeze as they quarrelled +together and beat the air with their wings. He turned his head away +till a bend of the shore hid the spot from sight. +</P> + +<P> +Here, sheltered more completely than opposite the break in the reef, +the artu came in places right down to the water's edge; the breadfruit +trees cast the shadow of their great scalloped leaves upon the water; +glades, thick with fern, wildernesses of the mammee apple, and bushes +of the scarlet "wild cocoanut" all slipped by, as the dinghy, hugging +the shore, crept up the lagoon. +</P> + +<P> +Gazing at the shore edge one might have imagined it the edge of a lake, +but for the thunder of the Pacific upon the distant reef; and even that +did not destroy the impression, but only lent a strangeness to it. +</P> + +<P> +A lake in the midst of the ocean, that is what the lagoon really was. +</P> + +<P> +Here and there cocoa-nut trees slanted over the water, mirroring their +delicate stems, and tracing their clear-cut shadows on the sandy bottom +a fathom deep below. +</P> + +<P> +He kept close in-shore for the sake of the shelter of the trees. His +object was to find some place where they might stop permanently, and +put up a tent. He was seeking a new home, in fact. But, pretty as were +the glades they passed, they were not attractive places to live in. +There were too many trees, or the ferns were too deep. He was seeking +air and space, and suddenly he found it. Rounding a little cape, all +blazing with the scarlet of the wild cocoa-nut, the dinghy broke into a +new world. +</P> + +<P> +Before her lay a great sweep of the palest blue wind-swept water, down +to which came a broad green sward of park-like land set on either side +with deep groves, and leading up and away to higher land, where, above +the massive and motionless green of the great breadfruit trees, the +palm trees swayed and fluttered their pale green feathers in the +breeze. The pale colour of the water was due to the extreme shallowness +of the lagoon just here. So shallow was it that one could see brown +spaces indicating beds of dead and rotten coral, and splashes of +darkest sapphire where the deep pools lay. The reef lay more than half +a mile from the shore: a great way out, it seemed, so far out that its +cramping influence was removed, and one had the impression of wide and +unbroken sea. +</P> + +<P> +Dick rested on his oars, and let the dinghy float whilst he looked +around him. He had come some four miles and a half, and this was right +at the back of the island. As the boat drifting shoreward touched the +bank, Emmeline awakened from her sleep, sat up, and looked around her. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0201"></A> +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +BOOK II +</H2> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +PART I +</H2> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER I +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +UNDER THE ARTU TREE +</H3> + +<P> +On the edge of the green sward, between a diamond-chequered artu trunk +and the massive bole of a breadfruit, a house had come into being. It +was not much larger than a big hen-house, but quite sufficient for the +needs of two people in a climate of eternal summer. It was built of +bamboos, and thatched with a double thatch of palmetto leaves, so +neatly built, and so well thatched, that one might have fancied it the +production of several skilled workmen. +</P> + +<P> +The breadfruit tree was barren of fruit, as these trees sometimes are, +whole groves of them ceasing to bear for some mysterious reason only +known to Nature. It was green now, but when suffering its yearly change +the great scalloped leaves would take all imaginable tinges of gold and +bronze and amber. Beyond the artu was a little clearing, where the +chapparel had been carefully removed and taro roots planted. +</P> + +<P> +Stepping from the house doorway on to the sward you might have fancied +yourself, except for the tropical nature of the foliage, in some +English park. +</P> + +<P> +Looking to the right, the eye became lost in the woods, where all tints +of green were tinging the foliage, and the bushes of the wild cocoa-nut +burned scarlet as hawberries. +</P> + +<P> +The house had a doorway, but no door. It might have been said to have a +double roof, for the breadfruit foliage above gave good shelter during +the rains. Inside it was bare enough. Dried, sweet-smelling ferns +covered the floor. Two sails, rolled up, lay on either side of the +doorway. There was a rude shelf attached to one of the walls, and on +the shelf some bowls made of cocoa-nut shell. The people to whom the +place belonged evidently did not trouble it much with their presence, +using it only at night, and as a refuge from the dew. +</P> + +<P> +Sitting on the grass by the doorway, sheltered by the breadfruit shade, +yet with the hot rays of the afternoon sun just touching her naked +feet, was a girl. A girl of fifteen or sixteen, naked, except for a +kilt of gaily-striped material reaching from her waist to her knees. +Her long black hair was drawn back from the forehead, and tied behind +with a loop of the elastic vine. A scarlet blossom was stuck behind her +right ear, after the fashion of a clerk's pen. Her face was beautiful, +powdered with tiny freckles; especially under the eyes, which were of a +deep, tranquil blue-grey. She half sat, half lay on her left side; +whilst before her, quite close, strutted up and down on the grass, a +bird, with blue plumage, coral-red beak, and bright, watchful eyes. +</P> + +<P> +The girl was Emmeline Lestrange. Just by her elbow stood a little bowl +made from half a cocoa-nut, and filled with some white substance with +which she was feeding the bird. Dick had found it in the woods two +years ago, quite small, deserted by its mother, and starving. They had +fed it and tamed it, and it was now one of the family, roosting on the +roof at night, and appearing regularly at meal times. +</P> + +<P> +All at once she held out her hand; the bird flew into the air, lit on +her forefinger and balanced itself, sinking its head between its +shoulders, and uttering the sound which formed its entire vocabulary +and one means of vocal expression—a sound from which it had derived +its name. +</P> + +<P> +"Koko," said Emmeline, "where is Dick?" +</P> + +<P> +The bird turned his head about, as if he were searching for his master; +and the girl lay back lazily on the grass, laughing, and holding him up +poised on her finger, as if he were some enamelled jewel she wished to +admire at a little distance. They made a pretty picture under the +cave-like shadow of the breadfruit leaves; and it was difficult to +understand how this young girl, so perfectly formed, so fully +developed, and so beautiful, had evolved from plain little Emmeline +Lestrange. And the whole thing, as far as the beauty of her was +concerned, had happened during the last six months. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0202"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER II +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +HALF CHILD—HALF SAVAGE +</H3> + +<P> +Five rainy seasons had passed and gone since the tragic occurrence on +the reef. Five long years the breakers had thundered, and the sea-gulls +had cried round the figure whose spell had drawn a mysterious barrier +across the lagoon. +</P> + +<P> +The children had never returned to the old place. They had kept +entirely to the back of the island and the woods—the lagoon, down to a +certain point, and the reef; a wide enough and beautiful enough world, +but a hopeless world, as far as help from civilisation was concerned. +For, of the few ships that touched at the island in the course of +years, how many would explore the lagoon or woods? Perhaps not one. +</P> + +<P> +Occasionally Dick would make an excursion in the dinghy to the old +place, but Emmeline refused to accompany him. He went chiefly to obtain +bananas; for on the whole island there was but one clump of banana +trees—that near the water source in the wood, where the old green +skulls had been discovered, and the little barrel. +</P> + +<P> +She had never quite recovered from the occurrence on the reef. +Something had been shown to her, the purport of which she vaguely +understood, and it had filled her with horror and a terror of the place +where it had occurred. Dick was quite different. He had been frightened +enough at first; but the feeling wore away in time. +</P> + +<P> +Dick had built three houses in succession during the five years. He had +laid out a patch of taro and another of sweet potatoes. He knew every +pool on the reef for two miles either way, and the forms of their +inhabitants; and though he did not know the names of the creatures to +be found there, he made a profound study of their habits. +</P> + +<P> +He had seen some astonishing things during these five years—from a +fight between a whale and two thrashers conducted outside the reef, +lasting an hour, and dyeing the breaking waves with blood, to the +poisoning of the fish in the lagoon by fresh water, due to an +extraordinarily heavy rainy season. +</P> + +<P> +He knew the woods of the back of the island by heart, and the forms of +life that inhabited them, butterflies and moths and birds, lizards, and +insects of strange shape; extraordinary orchids—some filthy-looking, +the very image of corruption, some beautiful, and all strange. He found +melons and guavas, and breadfruit, the red apple of Tahiti, and the +great Brazilian plum, taro in plenty, and a dozen other good +things—but there were no bananas. This made him unhappy at times, for +he was human. +</P> + +<P> +Though Emmeline had asked Koko for Dick's whereabouts, it was only a +remark made by way of making conversation, for she could hear him in +the little cane-brake which lay close by amidst the trees. +</P> + +<P> +In a few minutes he appeared, dragging after him two canes which he had +just cut, and wiping the perspiration off his brow with his naked arm. +He had an old pair of trousers on—part of the truck salved long ago +from the Shenandoah—nothing else, and he was well worth looking at and +considering, both from a physical and psychological point of view. +</P> + +<P> +Auburn-haired and tall, looking more like seventeen than sixteen, with +a restless and daring expression, half a child, half a man, half a +civilised being, half a savage, he had both progressed and retrograded +during the five years of savage life. He sat down beside Emmeline, +flung the canes beside him, tried the edge of the old butcher's knife +with which he had cut them, then, taking one of the canes across his +knee, he began whittling at it. +</P> + +<P> +"What are you making?" asked Emmeline, releasing the bird, which flew +into one of the branches of the artu and rested there, a blue point +amidst the dark green. +</P> + +<P> +"Fish-spear," replied Dick. +</P> + +<P> +Without being taciturn, he rarely wasted words. Life was all business +for him. He would talk to Emmeline, but always in short sentences; and +he had developed the habit of talking to inanimate things, to the +fish-spear he was carving, or the bowl he was fashioning from a +cocoa-nut. +</P> + +<P> +As for Emmeline, even as a child she had never been talkative. There +was something mysterious in her personality, something secretive. Her +mind seemed half submerged in twilight. Though she spoke little, and +though the subject of their conversations was almost entirely material +and relative to their everyday needs, her mind would wander into +abstract fields and the land of chimerae and dreams. What she found +there no one knew—least of all, perhaps, herself. +</P> + +<P> +As for Dick, he would sometimes talk and mutter to himself, as if in a +reverie; but if you caught the words, you would find that they referred +to no abstraction, but to some trifle he had on hand. He seemed +entirely bound up in the moment, and to have forgotten the past as +completely as though it had never been. +</P> + +<P> +Yet he had his contemplative moods. He would lie with his face over a +rock-pool by the hour, watching the strange forms of life to be seen +there, or sit in the woods motionless as a stone, watching the birds +and the swift-slipping lizards. The birds came so close that he could +easily have knocked them over, but he never hurt one or interfered in +any way with the wild life of the woods. +</P> + +<P> +The island, the lagoon, and the reef were for him the three volumes of +a great picture book, as they were for Emmeline, though in a different +manner. The colour and the beauty of it all fed some mysterious want in +her soul. Her life was a long reverie, a beautiful vision—troubled +with shadows. Across all the blue and coloured spaces that meant months +and years she could still see as in a glass dimly the Northumberland, +smoking against the wild background of fog; her uncle's face, Boston—a +vague and dark picture beyond a storm—and nearer, the tragic form on +the reef that still haunted terribly her dreams. But she never spoke of +these things to Dick. Just as she kept the secret of what was in her +box, and the secret of her trouble whenever she lost it, she kept the +secret of her feelings about these things. +</P> + +<P> +Born of these things there remained with her always a vague terror: the +terror of losing Dick. Mrs Stannard, her uncle, the dim people she had +known in Boston, all had passed away out of her life like a dream and +shadows. The other one too, most horribly. What if Dick were taken +from her as well? +</P> + +<P> +This haunting trouble had been with her a long time; up to a few months +ago it had been mainly personal and selfish—the dread of being left +alone. But lately it had altered and become more acute. Dick had +changed in her eyes, and the fear was now for him. Her own personality +had suddenly and strangely become merged in his. The idea of life +without him was unthinkable, yet the trouble remained, a menace in the +blue. +</P> + +<P> +Some days it would be worse than others. To-day, for instance, it was +worse than yesterday, as though some danger had crept close to them +during the night. Yet the sky and sea were stainless, the sun shone on +tree and flower, the west wind brought the tune of the far-away reef +like a lullaby. There was nothing to hint of danger or the need of +distrust. +</P> + +<P> +At last Dick finished his spear and rose to his feet. +</P> + +<P> +"Where are you going?" asked Emmeline. +</P> + +<P> +"The reef," he replied. "The tide's going out." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll go with you," said she. +</P> + +<P> +He went into the house and stowed the precious knife away. Then he came +out, spear in one hand, and half a fathom of liana in the other. The +liana was for the purpose of stringing the fish on, should the catch be +large. He led the way down the grassy sward to the lagoon where the +dinghy lay, close up to the bank, and moored to a post driven into the +soft soil. Emmeline got in, and, taking the sculls, he pushed off. The +tide was going out. +</P> + +<P> +I have said that the reef just here lay a great way out from the shore. +The lagoon was so shallow that at low tide one could have waded almost +right across it, were it not for pot-holes here and there—ten-feet +traps—and great beds of rotten coral, into which one would sink as +into brushwood, to say nothing of the nettle coral that stings like a +bed of nettles. There were also other dangers. Tropical shallows are +full of wild surprises in the way of life and death. +</P> + +<P> +Dick had long ago marked out in his memory the soundings of the lagoon, +and it was fortunate that he possessed the special sense of location +which is the main stand-by of the hunter and the savage, for, from the +disposition of the coral in ribs, the water from the shore edge to the +reef ran in lanes. Only two of these lanes gave a clear, fair way from +the shore edge to the reef; had you followed the others, even in a boat +of such shallow draught as the dinghy, you would have found yourself +stranded half-way across, unless, indeed, it were a spring tide. +</P> + +<P> +Half-way across the sound of the surf on the barrier became louder, and +the everlasting and monotonous cry of the gulls came on the breeze. It +was lonely out here, and, looking back, the shore seemed a great way +off. It was lonelier still on the reef. +</P> + +<P> +Dick tied up the boat to a projection of coral, and helped Emmeline to +land. The sun was creeping down into the west, the tide was nearly half +out, and large pools of water lay glittering like burnished shields in +the sunlight. Dick, with his precious spear beside him, sat calmly down +on a ledge of coral, and began to divest himself of his one and only +garment. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline turned away her head and contemplated the distant shore, which +seemed thrice as far off as it was in reality. When she turned her head +again he was racing along the edge of the surf. He and his spear +silhouetted against the spindrift and dazzling foam formed a picture +savage enough, and well in keeping with the general desolation of the +background. She watched him lie down and cling to a piece of coral, +whilst the surf rushed round and over him, and then rise and shake +himself like a dog, and pursue his gambols, his body all glittering +with the wet. +</P> + +<P> +Sometimes a whoop would come on the breeze, mixing with the sound of +the surf and the cry of the gulls, and she would see him plunge his +spear into a pool, and the next moment the spear would be held aloft +with something struggling and glittering at the end of it. +</P> + +<P> +He was quite different out here on the reef to what he was ashore. The +surroundings here seemed to develop all that was savage in him, in a +startling way; and he would kill, and kill, just for the pleasure of +killing, destroying more fish than they could possibly use. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0203"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER III +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE DEMON OF THE REEF +</H3> + +<P> +The romance of coral has still to be written. There still exists a +widespread opinion that the coral reef and the coral island are the +work of an "insect." This fabulous insect, accredited with the genius +of Brunel and the patience of Job, has been humorously enough held up +before the children of many generations as an example of industry—a +thing to be admired, a model to be followed. +</P> + +<P> +As a matter of fact, nothing could be more slothful or slow, more given +up to a life of ease and degeneracy, than the "reef-building +polypifer"—to give him his scientific name. He is the hobo of the +animal world, but, unlike the hobo, he does not even tramp for a +living. He exists as a sluggish and gelatinous worm; he attracts to +himself calcareous elements from the water to make himself a +house—mark you, the sea does the building—he dies, and he leaves his +house behind him—and a reputation for industry, beside which the +reputation of the ant turns pale, and that of the bee becomes of little +account. +</P> + +<P> +On a coral reef you are treading on rock that the reef-building +polypifers of ages have left behind them as evidences of their idle and +apparently useless lives. You might fancy that the reef is formed of +dead rock, but it is not: that is where the wonder of the thing comes +in—a coral reef is half alive. If it were not, it would not resist the +action of the sea ten years. The live part of the reef is just where +the breakers come in and beyond. The gelatinous rock-building +polypifers die almost at once, if exposed to the sun or if left +uncovered by water. +</P> + +<P> +Sometimes, at very low tide, if you have courage enough to risk being +swept away by the breakers, going as far out on the reef as you can, +you may catch a glimpse of them in their living state—great mounds and +masses of what seems rock, but which is a honeycomb of coral, whose +cells are filled with the living polypifers. Those in the uppermost +cells are usually dead, but lower down they are living. +</P> + +<P> +Always dying, always being renewed, devoured by fish, attacked by the +sea—that is the life of a coral reef. It is a thing as living as a +cabbage or a tree. Every storm tears a piece off the reef, which the +living coral replaces; wounds occur in it which actually granulate and +heal as wounds do of the human body. +</P> + +<P> +There is nothing, perhaps, more mysterious in nature than this fact of +the existence of a living land: a land that repairs itself, when +injured, by vital processes, and resists the eternal attack of the sea +by vital force, especially when we think of the extent of some of these +lagoon islands or atolls, whose existences are an eternal battle with +the waves. +</P> + +<P> +Unlike the island of this story (which is an island surrounded by a +barrier reef of coral surrounding a space of sea—the lagoon), the reef +forms the island. The reef may be grown over by trees, or it may be +perfectly destitute of important vegetation, or it may be crusted with +islets. Some islets may exist within the lagoon, but as often as not it +is just a great empty lake floored with sand and coral, peopled with +life different to the life of the outside ocean, protected from the +waves, and reflecting the sky like a mirror. +</P> + +<P> +When we remember that the atoll is a living thing, an organic whole, as +full of life, though not so highly organised, as a tortoise, the +meanest imagination must be struck with the immensity of one of the +structures. +</P> + +<P> +Vliegen atoll in the Low Archipelago, measured from lagoon edge to +lagoon edge, is sixty miles long by twenty miles broad, at its broadest +part. In the Marshall Archipelago, Rimsky Korsacoff is fifty-four miles +long and twenty miles broad; and Rimsky Korsacoff is a living thing, +secreting, excreting, and growing more highly organised than the +cocoa-nut trees that grow upon its back, or the blossoms that powder +the hotoo trees in its groves. +</P> + +<P> +The story of coral is the story of a world, and the longest chapter in +that story concerns itself with coral's infinite variety and form. +</P> + +<P> +Out on the margin of the reef where Dick was spearing fish, you might +have seen a peach-blossom-coloured lichen on the rock. This lichen was +a form of coral. Coral growing upon coral, and in the pools at the edge +of the surf branching corals also of the colour of a peach-bloom. +</P> + +<P> +Within a hundred yards of where Emmeline was sitting, the pools +contained corals of all colours, from lake-red to pure white, and the +lagoon behind her—corals of the quaintest and strangest forms. +</P> + +<P> +Dick had speared several fish, and had left them lying on the reef to +be picked up later on. Tired of killing, he was now wandering along, +examining the various living things he came across. +</P> + +<P> +Huge slugs inhabited the reef, slugs as big as parsnips, and somewhat +of the same shape; they were a species of Bech de mer. Globeshaped +jelly-fish as big as oranges, great cuttlefish bones flat and shining +and white, shark's teeth, spines of echini; sometimes a dead scarus +fish, its stomach distended with bits of coral on which it had been +feeding; crabs, sea urchins, sea-weeds of strange colour and shape; +star-fish, some tiny and of the colour of cayenne pepper, some huge and +pale. These and a thousand other things, beautiful or strange, were to +be found on the reef. +</P> + +<P> +Dick had laid his spear down, and was exploring a deep bath-like pool. +He had waded up to his knees, and was in the act of wading further when +he was suddenly seized by the foot. It was just as if his ankle had +been suddenly caught in a clove hitch and the rope drawn tight. He +screamed out with pain and terror, and suddenly and viciously a +whip-lash shot out from the water, lassoed him round the left knee, +drew itself taut, and held him. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0204"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +WHAT BEAUTY CONCEALED +</H3> + +<P> +Emmeline, seated on the coral rock, had almost forgotten Dick for a +moment. The sun was setting, and the warm amber light of the sunset +shone on reef and rock-pool. Just at sunset and low tide the reef had a +peculiar fascination for her. It had the low-tide smell of sea-weed +exposed to the air, and the torment and trouble of the breakers seemed +eased. Before her, and on either side, the foam-dashed coral glowed in +amber and gold, and the great Pacific came glassing and glittering in, +voiceless and peaceful, till it reached the strand and burst into song +and spray. +</P> + +<P> +Here, just as on the hill-top at the other side of the island, you +could mark the rhythm of the rollers. "Forever, and forever—forever, +and forever," they seemed to say. +</P> + +<P> +The cry of the gulls came mixed with the spray on the breeze. They +haunted the reef like uneasy spirits, always complaining, never at +rest; but at sunset their cry seemed farther away and less melancholy, +perhaps because just then the whole island world seemed bathed in the +spirit of peace. +</P> + +<P> +She turned from the sea prospect and looked backwards over the lagoon +to the island. She could make out the broad green glade beside which +their little house lay, and a spot of yellow, which was the thatch of +the house, just by the artu tree, and nearly hidden by the shadow of +the breadfruit. Over woods the fronds of the great cocoa-nut palms +showed above every other tree silhouetted against the dim, dark blue of +the eastern sky. +</P> + +<P> +Seen by the enchanted light of sunset, the whole picture had an unreal +look, more lovely than a dream. At dawn—and Dick would often start for +the reef before dawn, if the tide served—the picture was as beautiful; +more so, perhaps, for over the island, all in shadow, and against the +stars, you would see the palm-tops catching fire, and then the light of +day coming through the green trees and blue sky, like a spirit, across +the blue lagoon, widening and strengthening as it widened across the +white foam, out over the sea, spreading like a fan, till, all at once, +night was day, and the gulls were crying and the breakers flashing, the +dawn wind blowing, and the palm trees bending, as palm trees only know +how. Emmeline always imagined herself alone on the island with Dick, +but beauty was there, too, and beauty is a great companion. +</P> + +<P> +The girl was contemplating the scene before her. Nature in her +friendliest mood seemed to say, "Behold me! Men call me cruel; men have +called me deceitful, even treacherous. <I>I</I>—ah well! my answer is, +`Behold me!'" +</P> + +<P> +The girl was contemplating the specious beauty of it all, when on the +breeze from seaward came a shout. She turned quickly. There was Dick up +to his knees in a rockpool a hundred yards or so away, motionless, his +arms upraised, and crying out for help. She sprang to her feet. +</P> + +<P> +There had once been an islet on this part of the reef, a tiny thing, +consisting of a few palms and a handful of vegetation, and destroyed, +perhaps, in some great storm. I mention this because the existence of +this islet once upon a time was the means, indirectly, of saving Dick's +life; for where these islets have been or are, "flats" occur on the +reef formed of coral conglomerate. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline in her bare feet could never have reached him in time over +rough coral, but, fortunately, this flat and comparatively smooth +surface lay between them. +</P> + +<P> +"My spear!" shouted Dick, as she approached. +</P> + +<P> +He seemed at first tangled in brambles; then she thought ropes were +tangling round him and tying him to something in the water—whatever it +was, it was most awful, and hideous, and like a nightmare. She ran with +the speed of Atalanta to the rock where the spear was resting, all red +with the blood of new-slain fish, a foot from the point. +</P> + +<P> +As she approached Dick, spear in hand, she saw, gasping with terror, +that the ropes were alive, and that they were flickering and rippling +over his back. One of them bound his left arm to his side, but his +right arm was free. +</P> + +<P> +"Quick!" he shouted. +</P> + +<P> +In a second the spear was in his free hand, and Emmeline had cast +herself down on her knees, and was staring with terrified eyes into the +water of the pool from whence the ropes issued. She was, despite her +terror, quite prepared to fling herself in and do battle with the +thing, whatever it might be. +</P> + +<P> +What she saw was only for a second. In the deep water of the pool, +gazing up and forward and straight at Dick, she saw a face, lugubrious +and awful. The eyes were wide as saucers, stony and steadfast; a large, +heavy, parrot-like beak hung before the eyes, and worked and wobbled, +and seemed to beckon. But what froze one's heart was the expression of +the eyes, so stony and lugubrious, so passionless, so devoid of +speculation, yet so fixed of purpose and full of fate. +</P> + +<P> +From away far down he had risen with the rising tide. He had been +feeding on crabs, when the tide, betraying him, had gone out, leaving +him trapped in the rock-pool. He had slept, perhaps, and awakened to +find a being, naked and defenceless, invading his pool. He was quite +small, as octopods go, and young, yet he was large and powerful enough +to have drowned an ox. +</P> + +<P> +The octopod has only been described once, in stone, by a Japanese +artist. The statue is still extant, and it is the most terrible +masterpiece of sculpture ever executed by human hands. It represents a +man who has been bathing on a low-tide beach, and has been caught. The +man is shouting in a delirium of terror, and threatening with his free +arm the spectre that has him in its grip. The eyes of the octopod are +fixed upon the man—passionless and lugubrious eyes, but steadfast and +fixed. +</P> + +<P> +Another whip-lash shot out of the water in a shower of spray, and +seized Dick by the left thigh. At the same instant he drove the point +of the spear through the right eye of the monster, deep down through +eye and soft gelatinous carcass till the spear-point dirled and +splintered against the rock. At the same moment the water of the pool +became black as ink, the bands around him relaxed, and he was free. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline rose up and seized him, sobbing and clinging to him, and +kissing him. He clasped her with his left arm round her body, as if to +protect her, but it was a mechanical action. He was not thinking of +her. Wild with rage, and uttering hoarse cries, he plunged the broken +spear again and again into the depths of the pool, seeking utterly to +destroy the enemy that had so lately had him in its grip. Then slowly +he came to himself, and wiped his forehead, and looked at the broken +spear in his hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Beast!" he said. "Did you see its eyes? Did you see its eyes? I wish +it had a hundred eyes, and I had a hundred spears to drive into them!" +</P> + +<P> +She was clinging to him, and sobbing and laughing hysterically, and +praising him. One might have thought that he had rescued her from +death, not she him. +</P> + +<P> +The sun had nearly vanished, and he led her back to where the dinghy +was moored, recapturing and putting on his trousers on the road. He +picked up the dead fish he had speared; and as he rowed her back across +the lagoon, he talked and laughed, recounting the incidents of the +fight, taking all the glory of the thing to himself, and seeming quite +to ignore the important part she had played in it. +</P> + +<P> +This was not from any callousness or want of gratitude, but simply from +the fact that for the last five years he had been the be-all and +end-all of their tiny community—the Imperial master. And he would +just as soon have thought of thanking her for handing him the spear as +of thanking his right hand for driving it home. She was quite content, +seeking neither thanks nor praise. Everything she had came from him: +she was his shadow and his slave. He was her sun. +</P> + +<P> +He went over the fight again and again before they lay down to rest, +telling her he had done this and that, and what he would do to the next +beast of the sort. The reiteration was tiresome enough, or would have +been to an outside listener, but to Emmeline it was better than Homer. +People's minds do not improve in an intellectual sense when they are +isolated from the world, even though they are living the wild and happy +lives of savages. +</P> + +<P> +Then Dick lay down in the dried ferns and covered himself with a piece +of the striped flannel which they used for blanketing, and he snored, +and chattered in his sleep like a dog hunting imaginary game, and +Emmeline lay beside him wakeful and thinking. A new terror had come +into her life. She had seen death for the second time, but this time +active and in being. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0205"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER V +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE SOUND OF A DRUM +</H3> + +<P> +The next day Dick was sitting under the shade of the artu. He had the +box of fishhooks beside him, and he was bending a line on to one of +them. There had originally been a couple of dozen hooks, large and +small, in the box; there remained now only six—four small and two +large ones. It was a large one he was fixing to the line, for he +intended going on the morrow to the old place to fetch some bananas, +and on the way to try for a fish in the deeper parts of the lagoon. +</P> + +<P> +It was late afternoon, and the heat had gone out of the day. Emmeline, +seated on the grass opposite to him, was holding the end of the line, +whilst he got the kinks out of it, when suddenly she raised her head. +</P> + +<P> +There was not a breath of wind; the hush of the far-distant surf came +through the blue weather—the only audible sound except, now and then, +a movement and flutter from the bird perched in the branches of the +artu. All at once another sound mixed itself with the voice of the +surf—a faint, throbbing sound, like the beating of a distant drum. +</P> + +<P> +"Listen!" said Emmeline. +</P> + +<P> +Dick paused for a moment in his work. All the sounds of the island were +familiar: this was something quite strange. +</P> + +<P> +Faint and far away, now rapid, now slow; coming from where, who could +say? Sometimes it seemed to come from the sea, sometimes, if the fancy +of the listener turned that way, from the woods. As they listened, a +sigh came from overhead; the evening breeze had risen and was moving in +the leaves of the artu tree. Just as you might wipe a picture off a +slate, the breeze banished the sound. Dick went on with his work. +</P> + +<P> +Next morning early he embarked in the dinghy. He took the hook and line +with him, and some raw fish for bait. Emmeline helped him to push off, +and stood on the bank waving her hand as he rounded the little cape +covered with wild cocoa-nut. +</P> + +<P> +These expeditions of Dick's were one of her sorrows. To be left alone +was frightful; yet she never complained. She was living in a paradise, +but something told her that behind all that sun, all that splendour of +blue sea and sky, behind the flowers and the leaves, behind all that +specious and simpering appearance of happiness in nature, lurked a +frown, and the dragon of mischance. +</P> + +<P> +Dick rowed for about a mile, then he shipped his sculls, and let the +dinghy float. The water here was very deep; so deep that, despite its +clearness, the bottom was invisible; the sunlight over the reef struck +through it diagonally, filling it with sparkles. +</P> + +<P> +The fisherman baited his hook with a piece from the belly of a scarus +and lowered it down out of sight, then he belayed the line to a thole +pin, and, sitting in the bottom of the boat, hung his head over the +side and gazed deep down into the water. Sometimes there was nothing to +see but just the deep blue of the water. Then a flight of spangled +arrowheads would cross the line of sight and vanish, pursued by a form +like a moving bar of gold. Then a great fish would materialise itself +and hang in the shadow of the boat motionless as a stone, save for the +movement of its gills; next moment with a twist of the tail it would be +gone. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly the dinghy shored over, and might have capsized, only for the +fact that Dick was sitting on the opposite side to the side from which +the line hung. Then the boat righted; the line slackened, and the +surface of the lagoon, a few fathoms away, boiled as if being stirred +from below by a great silver stick. He had hooked an albicore. He tied +the end of the fishing-line to a scull, undid the line from the thole +pin, and flung the scull overboard. +</P> + +<P> +He did all this with wonderful rapidity, while the line was still +slack. Next moment the scull was rushing over the surface of the +lagoon, now towards the reef, now towards the shore, now flat, now end +up. Now it would be jerked under the surface entirely; vanish for a +moment, and then reappear. It was a most astonishing thing to watch, +for the scull seemed alive—viciously alive, and imbued with some +destructive purpose; as, in fact, it was. The most venomous of living +things, and the most intelligent could not have fought the great fish +better. +</P> + +<P> +The albicore would make a frantic dash down the lagoon, hoping, +perhaps, to find in the open sea a release from his foe. Then, half +drowned with the pull of the scull, he would pause, dart from side to +side in perplexity, and then make an equally frantic dash up the +lagoon, to be checked in the same manner. Seeking the deepest depths, +he would sink the scull a few fathoms; and once he sought the air, +leaping into the sunlight like a crescent of silver, whilst the splash +of him as he fell echoed amidst the trees bordering the lagoon. An hour +passed before the great fish showed signs of weakening. +</P> + +<P> +The struggle had taken place up to this close to the shore, but now the +scull swam out into the broad sheet of sunlit water, and slowly began +to describe large circles rippling up the peaceful blue into flashing +wavelets. It was a melancholy sight to watch, for the great fish had +made a good fight, and one could see him, through the eye of +imagination, beaten, half drowned, dazed, and moving as is the fashion +of dazed things in a circle. +</P> + +<P> +Dick, working the remaining oar at the stern of the boat, rowed out and +seized the floating scull, bringing it on board. Foot by foot he hauled +his catch towards the boat till the long gleaming line of the thing +came dimly into view. +</P> + +<P> +The fight had been heard for miles through the lagoon water by all +sorts of swimming things. The lord of the place had got sound of it. A +dark fin rippled the water; and as Dick, pulling on his line, hauled +his catch closer, a monstrous grey shadow stained the depths, and the +glittering streak that was the albicore vanished as if engulfed in a +cloud. The line came in slack, and Dick hauled in the albicore's head. +It had been divided from the body as if with a huge pair of shears. The +grey shadow slipped by the boat, and Dick, mad with rage, shouted and +shook his fist at it; then, seizing the albicore's head, from which he +had taken the hook, he hurled it at the monster in the water. +</P> + +<P> +The great shark, with a movement of the tail that caused the water to +swirl and the dinghy to rock, turned upon his back and engulfed the +head; then he slowly sank and vanished, just as if he had been +dissolved. He had come off best in this their first encounter—such as +it was. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0206"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +SAILS UPON THE SEA +</H3> + +<P> +Dick put the hook away and took to the sculls. He had a three-mile row +before him, and the tide was coming in, which did not make it any the +easier. As he rowed, he talked and grumbled to himself. He had been in +a grumbling mood for some time past: the chief cause, Emmeline. +</P> + +<P> +In the last few months she had changed; even her face had changed. A +new person had come upon the island, it seemed to him, and taken the +place of the Emmeline he had known from earliest childhood. This one +looked different. He did not know that she had grown beautiful, he just +knew that she looked different; also she had developed new ways that +displeased him—she would go off and bathe by herself, for instance. +</P> + +<P> +Up to six months or so ago he had been quite contented; sleeping and +eating, and hunting for food and cooking it, building and rebuilding +the house, exploring the woods and the reef. But lately a spirit of +restlessness had come upon him; he did not know exactly what he wanted. +He had a vague feeling that he wanted to go away from the place where +he was; not from the island, but from the place where they had pitched +their tent, or rather built their house. +</P> + +<P> +It may have been the spirit of civilisation crying out in him, telling +him of all he was missing. Of the cities, and the streets, and the +houses, and the businesses, and the striving after gold, the striving +after power. It may have been simply the man in him crying out for +Love, and not knowing yet that Love was at his elbow. +</P> + +<P> +The dinghy glided along, hugging the shore, past the little glades of +fern and the cathedral gloom of the breadfruit; then, rounding a +promontory, she opened the view of the break in the reef. A little bit +of the white strand was visible, but he was not looking that way—he +was looking towards the reef at a tiny, dark spot, not noticeable +unless searched for by the eye. Always when he came on these +expeditions, just here, he would hang on his oars and gaze over there, +where the gulls were flying and the breakers thundering. +</P> + +<P> +A few years ago the spot filled him with dread as well as curiosity, +but from familiarity and the dullness that time casts on everything, +the dread had almost vanished, but the curiosity remained: the +curiosity that makes a child look on at the slaughter of an animal even +though his soul revolts at it. He gazed for a while, then he went on +pulling, and the dinghy approached the beach. +</P> + +<P> +Something had happened on the beach. The sand was all trampled, and +stained red here and there; in the centre lay the remains of a great +fire still smouldering, and just where the water lapped the sand, lay +two deep grooves as if two heavy boats had been beached there. A South +Sea man would have told from the shape of the grooves, and the little +marks of the out-riggers, that two heavy canoes had been beached there. +And they had. +</P> + +<P> +The day before, early in the afternoon, two canoes, possibly from that +far-away island which cast a stain on the horizon to the +sou'-sou'-west, had entered the lagoon, one in pursuit of the other. +</P> + +<P> +What happened then had better be left veiled. A war drum with a +shark-skin head had set the woods throbbing; the victory was celebrated +all night, and at dawn the victors manned the two canoes and set sail +for the home, or hell, they had come from. Had you examined the strand +you would have found that a line had been drawn across the beach, +beyond which there were no footmarks: that meant that the rest of the +island was for some reason tabu. +</P> + +<P> +Dick pulled the nose of the boat up a bit on the strand, then he looked +around him. He picked up a broken spear that had been cast away or +forgotten; it was made of some hard wood and barbed with iron. On the +right-hand side of the beach something lay between the cocoa-nut trees. +He approached; it was a mass of offal; the entrails of a dozen sheep +seemed cast here in one mound, yet there were no sheep on the island, +and sheep are not carried as a rule in war canoes. +</P> + +<P> +The sand on the beach was eloquent. The foot pursuing and the foot +pursued; the knee of the fallen one, and then the forehead and +outspread hands; the heel of the chief who has slain his enemy, beaten +the body flat, burst a hole through it, through which he has put his +head, and who stands absolutely wearing his enemy as a cloak; the head +of the man dragged on his back to be butchered like a sheep—of these +things spoke the sand. +</P> + +<P> +As far as the sand traces could speak, the story of the battle was +still being told; the screams and the shouting, the clashing of clubs +and spears were gone, yet the ghost of the fight remained. +</P> + +<P> +If the sand could bear such traces, and tell such tales, who shall say +that the plastic aether was destitute of the story of the fight and the +butchery? +</P> + +<P> +However that may have been, Dick, looking around him, had the shivering +sense of having just escaped from danger. Whoever had been, had +gone—he could tell that by the canoe traces. Gone either out to sea, +or up the right stretch of the lagoon. It was important to determine +this. +</P> + +<P> +He climbed to the hill-top and swept the sea with his eyes. There, away +to the south-west, far away on the sea, he could distinguish the brown +sails of two canoes. There was something indescribably mournful and +lonely in their appearance; they looked like withered leaves—brown +moths blown to sea—derelicts of autumn. Then, remembering the beach, +these things became freighted with the most sinister thoughts for the +mind of the gazer. They were hurrying away, having done their work. +That they looked lonely and old and mournful, and like withered leaves +blown across the sea, only heightened the horror. +</P> + +<P> +Dick had never seen canoes before, but he knew that these things were +boats of some sort holding people, and that the people had left all +those traces on the beach. How much of the horror of the thing was +revealed to his subconscious intelligence, who can say? +</P> + +<P> +He had climbed the boulder, and he now sat down with his knees drawn +up, and his hands clasped round them. Whenever he came round to this +side of the island, something happened of a fateful or sinister nature. +The last time he had nearly lost the dinghy; he had beached the little +boat in such a way that she floated off, and the tide was just in the +act of stealing her, and sweeping her from the lagoon out to sea, when +he returned laden with his bananas, and, rushing into the water up to +his waist, saved her. Another time he had fallen out of a tree, and +just by a miracle escaped death. Another time a hurricane had broken, +lashing the lagoon into snow, and sending the cocoa-nuts bounding and +flying like tennis balls across the strand. This time he had just +escaped something, he knew not exactly what. It was almost as if +Providence were saying to him, "Don't come here." +</P> + +<P> +He watched the brown sails as they dwindled in the wind-blown blue, +then he came down from the hill-top and cut his bananas. He cut four +large bunches, which caused him to make two journeys to the boat. When +the bananas were stowed he pushed off. +</P> + +<P> +For a long time a great curiosity had been pulling at his +heart-strings: a curiosity of which he was dimly ashamed. Fear had +given it birth, and Fear still clung to it. It was, perhaps, the +element of fear and the awful delight of daring the unknown that made +him give way to it. +</P> + +<P> +He had rowed, perhaps, a hundred yards when he turned the boat's head +and made for the reef. It was more than five years since that day when +he rowed across the lagoon, Emmeline sitting in the stern, with her +wreath of flowers in her hand. It might have been only yesterday, for +everything seemed just the same. The thunderous surf and the flying +gulls, the blinding sunlight, and the salt, fresh smell of the sea. The +palm tree at the entrance of the lagoon still bent gazing into the +water, and round the projection of coral to which he had last moored +the boat still lay a fragment of the rope which he had cut in his hurry +to escape. +</P> + +<P> +Ships had come into the lagoon, perhaps, during the five years, but no +one had noticed anything on the reef, for it was only from the hill-top +that a full view of what was there could be seen, and then only by eyes +knowing where to look. From the beach there was visible just a speck. +It might have been, perhaps, a bit of old wreckage flung there by a +wave in some big storm. A piece of old wreckage that had been tossed +hither and thither for years, and had at last found a place of rest. +</P> + +<P> +Dick tied the boat up, and stepped on to the reef. It was high tide +just as before; the breeze was blowing strongly, and overhead a +man-of-war's bird, black as ebony, with a blood-red bill, came sailing, +the wind doming out his wings. He circled in the air, and cried out +fiercely, as if resenting the presence of the intruder, then he passed +away, let himself be blown away, as it were, across the lagoon, +wheeled, circled, and passed out to sea. +</P> + +<P> +Dick approached the place he knew, and there lay the little old barrel +all warped by the powerful sun; the staves stood apart, and the hooping +was rusted and broken, and whatever it had contained in the way of +spirit and conviviality had long ago drained away. +</P> + +<P> +Beside the barrel lay a skeleton, round which lay a few rags of cloth. +The skull had fallen to one side, and the lower jaw had fallen from the +skull; the bones of the hands and feet were still articulated, and the +ribs had not fallen in. It was all white and bleached, and the sun +shone on it as indifferently as on the coral, this shell and framework +that had once been a man. There was nothing dreadful about it, but a +whole world of wonder. +</P> + +<P> +To Dick, who had not been broken into the idea of death, who had not +learned to associate it with graves and funerals, sorrow, eternity, and +hell, the thing spoke as it never could have spoken to you or me. +</P> + +<P> +Looking at it, things linked themselves together in his mind: the +skeletons of birds he had found in the woods, the fish he had slain, +even trees lying dead and rotten—even the shells of crabs. +</P> + +<P> +If you had asked him what lay before him, and if he could have +expressed the thought in his mind, he would have answered you "change." +</P> + +<P> +All the philosophy in the world could not have told him more than he +knew just then about death—he, who even did not know its name. +</P> + +<P> +He was held spellbound by the marvel and miracle of the thing and the +thoughts that suddenly crowded his mind like a host of spectres for +whom a door has just been opened. +</P> + +<P> +Just as a child by unanswerable logic knows that a fire which has +burned him once will burn him again, or will burn another person, he +knew that just as the form before him was, his form would be some +day—and Emmeline's. +</P> + +<P> +Then came the vague question which is born not of the brain, but the +heart, and which is the basis of all religions—where shall I be then? +His mind was not of an introspective nature, and the question just +strayed across it and was gone. And still the wonder of the thing held +him. He was for the first time in his life in a reverie; the corpse +that had shocked and terrified him five years ago had cast seeds of +thought with its dead fingers upon his mind, the skeleton had brought +them to maturity. The full fact of universal death suddenly appeared +before him, and he recognised it. +</P> + +<P> +He stood for a long time motionless, and then with a deep sigh turned +to the boat and pushed off without once looking back at the reef. He +crossed the lagoon and rowed slowly homewards, keeping in the shelter +of the tree shadows as much as possible. +</P> + +<P> +Even looking at him from the shore you might have noticed a difference +in him. Your savage paddles his canoe, or sculls his boat, alert, +glancing about him, at touch with nature at all points; though he be +lazy as a cat and sleeps half the day, awake he is all ears and eyes—a +creature reacting to the least external impression. +</P> + +<P> +Dick, as he rowed back, did not look about him: he was thinking or +retrospecting. The savage in him had received a check. As he turned the +little cape where the wild cocoanut blazed, he looked over his +shoulder. A figure was standing on the sward by the edge of the water. +It was Emmeline. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0207"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE SCHOONER +</H3> + +<P> +They carried the bananas up to the house, and hung them from a branch +of the artu. Then Dick, on his knees, lit the fire to prepare the +evening meal. When it was over he went down to where the boat was +moored, and returned with something in his hand. It was the javelin +with the iron point or, rather, the two pieces of it. He had said +nothing of what he had seen to the girl. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline was seated on the grass; she had a long strip of the striped +flannel stuff about her, worn like a scarf, and she had another piece +in her hand which she was hemming. The bird was hopping about, pecking +at a banana which they had thrown to him; a light breeze made the +shadow of the artu leaves dance upon the grass, and the serrated leaves +of the breadfruit to patter one on the other with the sound of +rain-drops falling upon glass. +</P> + +<P> +"Where did you get it?" asked Emmeline, staring at the piece of the +javelin which Dick had flung down almost beside her whilst he went into +the house to fetch the knife. +</P> + +<P> +"It was on the beach over there," he replied, taking his seat and +examining the two fragments to see how he could splice them together. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline looked at the pieces, putting them together in her mind. She +did not like the look of the thing: so keen and savage, and stained +dark a foot and more from the point. +</P> + +<P> +"People had been there," said Dick, putting the two pieces together and +examining the fracture critically. +</P> + +<P> +"Where?" +</P> + +<P> +"Over there. This was lying on the sand, and the sand was all trod up." +</P> + +<P> +"Dick," said Emmeline, "who were the people?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know; I went up the hill and saw their boats going away—far +away out. This was lying on the sand." +</P> + +<P> +"Dick," said Emmeline, "do you remember the noise yesterday?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Dick. +</P> + +<P> +"I heard it in the night." +</P> + +<P> +"When?" +</P> + +<P> +"In the night before the moon went away." +</P> + +<P> +"That was them," said Dick. +</P> + +<P> +"Dick!" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes?" +</P> + +<P> +"Who were they?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know," replied Dick. +</P> + +<P> +"It was in the night, before the moon went away, and it went on and on +beating in the trees. I thought I was asleep, and then I knew I was +awake; you were asleep, and I pushed you to listen, but you couldn't +wake, you were so asleep; then the moon went away, and the noise went +on. How did they make the noise?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know," replied Dick, "but it was them; and they left this on +the sand, and the sand was all trod up, and I saw their boats from the +hill, away out far." +</P> + +<P> +"I thought I heard voices," said Emmeline, "but I was not sure." +</P> + +<P> +She fell into meditation, watching her companion at work on the savage +and sinister-looking thing in his hands. He was splicing the two pieces +together with a strip of the brown cloth-like stuff which is wrapped +round the stalks of the cocoa-palm fronds. The thing seemed to have +been hurled here out of the blue by some unseen hand. +</P> + +<P> +When he had spliced the pieces, doing so with marvellous dexterity, he +took the thing short down near the point, and began thrusting it into +the soft earth to clean it; then, with a bit of flannel, he polished it +till it shone. He felt a keen delight in it. It was useless as a +fish-spear, because it had no barb, but it was a weapon. It was useless +as a weapon, because there was no foe on the island to use it against; +still, it was a weapon. +</P> + +<P> +When he had finished scrubbing at it, he rose, hitched his old trousers +up, tightened the belt of cocoa-cloth which Emmeline had made for him, +went into the house and got his fish-spear, and stalked off to the +boat, calling out to Emmeline to follow him. They crossed over to the +reef, where, as usual, he divested himself of clothing. +</P> + +<P> +It was strange that out here he would go about stark naked, yet on the +island he always wore some covering. But not so strange, perhaps, after +all. +</P> + +<P> +The sea is a great purifier, both of the mind and the body; before that +great sweet spirit people do not think in the same way as they think +far inland. What woman would appear in a town or on a country road, or +even bathing in a river, as she appears bathing in the sea? +</P> + +<P> +Some instinct made Dick cover himself up on shore, and strip naked on +the reef. In a minute he was down by the edge of the surf, javelin in +one hand, fish-spear in the other. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline, by a little pool the bottom of which was covered with +branching coral, sat gazing down into its depths, lost in a reverie +like that into which we fall when gazing at shapes in the fire. She had +sat some time like this when a shout from Dick aroused her. She +started to her feet and gazed to where he was pointing. An amazing +thing was there. +</P> + +<P> +To the east, just rounding the curve of the reef, and scarcely a +quarter of a mile from it, was coming a big topsail schooner; a +beautiful sight she was, heeling to the breeze with every sail drawing, +and the white foam like a feather at her fore-foot. +</P> + +<P> +Dick, with the javelin in his hand, was standing gazing at her; he had +dropped his fishspear, and he stood as motionless as though he were +carved out of stone. Emmeline ran to him and stood beside him; neither +of them spoke a word as the vessel drew closer. +</P> + +<P> +Everything was visible, so close was she now, from the reef points on +the great mainsail, luminous with the sunlight, and white as the wing +of a gull, to the rail of the bulwarks. A crowd of men were hanging +over the port bulwarks gazing at the island and the figures on the +reef. Browned by the sun and sea-breeze, Emmeline's hair blowing on the +wind, and the point of Dick's javelin flashing in the sun, they looked +an ideal pair of savages, seen from the schooner's deck. +</P> + +<P> +"They are going away," said Emmeline, with a long-drawn breath of +relief. +</P> + +<P> +Dick made no reply; he stared at the schooner a moment longer in +silence, then, having made sure that she was standing away from the +land, he began to run up and down, calling out wildly, and beckoning to +the vessel as if to call her back. +</P> + +<P> +A moment later a sound came on the breeze, a faint hail; a flag was run +up to the peak and dipped as in derision, and the vessel continued on +her course. +</P> + +<P> +As a matter of fact, she had been on the point of putting about. Her +captain had for a moment been undecided as to whether the forms on the +reef were those of castaways or savages. But the javelin in Dick's hand +had turned the scale of his opinion in favour of the theory of savages. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0208"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +LOVE STEPS IN +</H3> + +<P> +Two birds were sitting in the branches of the artu tree: Koko had taken +a mate. They had built a nest out of fibres pulled from the wrappings +of the cocoa-nut fronds, bits of stick and wire grass—anything, in +fact; even fibres from the palmetto thatch of the house below. The +pilferings of birds, the building of nests, what charming incidents +they are in the great episode of spring! +</P> + +<P> +The hawthorn tree never bloomed here, the climate was that of eternal +summer, yet the spirit of May came just as she comes to the English +countryside or the German forest. The doings in the artu branches +greatly interested Emmeline. +</P> + +<P> +The love-making and the nest-building were conducted quite in the usual +manner, according to rules laid down by Nature and carried out by men +and birds. All sorts of quaint sounds came filtering down through the +leaves from the branch where the sapphire-coloured lovers sat side by +side, or the fork where the nest was beginning to form: croonings and +cluckings, sounds like the flirting of a fan, the sounds of a squabble, +followed by the sounds that told of the squabble made up. Sometimes +after one of these squabbles a pale blue downy feather or two would +come floating earthwards, touch the palmetto leaves of the house-roof +and cling there, or be blown on to the grass. +</P> + +<P> +It was some days after the appearance of the schooner, and Dick was +making ready to go into the woods and pick guavas. He had all the +morning been engaged in making a basket to carry them in. In +civilisation he would, judging from his mechanical talent, perhaps have +been an engineer, building bridges and ships, instead of palmetto-leaf +baskets and cane houses—who knows if he would have been happier? +</P> + +<P> +The heat of midday had passed, when, with the basket hanging over his +shoulder on a piece of cane, he started for the woods, Emmeline +following. The place they were going to always filled her with a vague +dread; not for a great deal would she have gone there alone. Dick had +discovered it in one of his rambles. +</P> + +<P> +They entered the wood and passed a little well, a well without apparent +source or outlet and a bottom of fine white sand. How the sand had +formed there, it would be impossible to say; but there it was, and +around the margin grew ferns redoubling themselves on the surface of +the crystal-clear water. They left this to the right and struck into +the heart of the wood. The heat of midday still lurked here; the way +was clear, for there was a sort of path between the trees, as if, in +very ancient days, there had been a road. +</P> + +<P> +Right across this path, half lost in shadow, half sunlit, the lianas +hung their ropes. The hotoo tree, with its powdering of delicate +blossoms, here stood, showing its lost loveliness to the sun; in the +shade the scarlet hibiscus burned like a flame. Artu and breadfruit +trees and cocoa-nut bordered the way. +</P> + +<P> +As they proceeded the trees grew denser and the path more obscure. All +at once, rounding a sharp turn, the path ended in a valley carpeted +with fern. This was the place that always filled Emmeline with an +undefined dread. One side of it was all built up in terraces with huge +blocks of stone—blocks of stone so enormous, that the wonder was how +the ancient builders had put them in their places. +</P> + +<P> +Trees grew along the terraces, thrusting their roots between the +interstices of the blocks. At their base, slightly tilted forward as if +with the sinkage of years, stood a great stone figure roughly carved, +thirty feet high at least—mysterious-looking, the very spirit of the +place. This figure and the terraces, the valley itself, and the very +trees that grew there, inspired Emmeline with deep curiosity and vague +fear. +</P> + +<P> +People had been here once; sometimes she could fancy she saw dark +shadows moving amidst the trees, and the whisper of the foliage seemed +to her to hide voices at times, even as its shadow concealed forms. It +was indeed an uncanny place to be alone in even under the broad light +of day. All across the Pacific for thousands of miles you find relics +of the past, like these scattered through the islands. +</P> + +<P> +These temple places are nearly all the same: great terraces of stone, +massive idols, desolation overgrown with foliage. They hint at one +religion, and a time when the sea space of the Pacific was a continent, +which, sinking slowly through the ages, has left only its higher lands +and hill-tops visible in the form of islands. Round these places the +woods are thicker than elsewhere, hinting at the presence there, once, +of sacred groves. The idols are immense, their faces are vague; the +storms and the suns and the rains of the ages have cast over them a +veil. The sphinx is understandable and a toy compared to these things, +some of which have a stature of fifty feet, whose creation is veiled in +absolute mystery—the gods of a people for ever and for ever lost. +</P> + +<P> +The "stone man" was the name Emmeline had given the idol of the valley; +and sometimes at nights, when her thoughts would stray that way, she +would picture him standing all alone in the moonlight or starlight +staring straight before him. +</P> + +<P> +He seemed for ever listening; unconsciously one fell to listening too, +and then the valley seemed steeped in a supernatural silence. He was +not good to be alone with. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline sat down amidst the fears just at his base. When one was close +up to him he lost the suggestion of life, and was simply a great stone +which cast a shadow in the sun. +</P> + +<P> +Dick threw himself down also to rest. Then he rose up and went off +amidst the guava bushes, plucking the fruit and filling his basket. +Since he had seen the schooner, the white men on her decks, her great +masts and sails, and general appearance of freedom and speed and +unknown adventure, he had been more than ordinarily glum and restless. +Perhaps he connected her in his mind with the far-away vision of the +Northumberland, and the idea of other places and lands, and the +yearning for change [that] the idea of them inspired. +</P> + +<P> +He came back with his basket full of the ripe fruit, gave some to the +girl and sat down beside her. When she had finished eating them she +took the cane that he used for carrying the basket and held it in her +hands. She was bending it in the form of a bow when it slipped, flew +out and struck her companion a sharp blow on the side of his face. +</P> + +<P> +Almost on the instant he turned and slapped her on the shoulder. She +stared at him for a moment in troubled amazement, a sob came in her +throat. Then some veil seemed lifted, some wizard's wand stretched out, +some mysterious vial broken. As she looked at him like that, he +suddenly and fiercely clasped her in his arms. He held her like this +for a moment, dazed, stupefied, not knowing what to do with her. Then +her lips told him, for they met his in an endless kiss. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0209"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE SLEEP OF PARADISE +</H3> + +<P> +The moon rose up that evening and shot her silver arrows at the house +under the artu tree. The house was empty. Then the moon came across the +sea and across the reef. +</P> + +<P> +She lit the lagoon to its dark, dim heart. She lit the coral brains and +sand spaces, and the fish, casting their shadows on the sand and the +coral. The keeper of the lagoon rose to greet her, and the fin of him +broke her reflection on the mirror-like surface into a thousand +glittering ripples. She saw the white staring ribs of the form on the +reef. Then, peeping over the trees, she looked down into the valley, +where the great idol of stone had kept its solitary vigil for five +thousand years, perhaps, or more. +</P> + +<P> +At his base, in his shadow, looking as if under his protection, lay two +human beings, naked, clasped in each other's arms, and fast asleep. One +could scarcely pity his vigil, had it been marked sometimes through the +years by such an incident as this. The thing had been conducted just as +the birds conduct their love affairs. An affair absolutely natural, +absolutely blameless, and without sin. +</P> + +<P> +It was a marriage according to Nature, without feast or guests, +consummated with accidental cynicism under the shadow of a religion a +thousand years dead. +</P> + +<P> +So happy in their ignorance were they, that they only knew that +suddenly life had changed, that the skies and the sea were bluer, and +that they had become in some magical way one a part of the other. The +birds on the tree above were equally as happy in their ignorance, and +in their love. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +PART II +</H2> + +<BR> + +<A NAME="chap0210"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER X +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +AN ISLAND HONEYMOON +</H3> + +<P> +One day Dick climbed on to the tree above the house, and, driving +Madame Koko off the nest upon which she was sitting, peeped in. There +were several pale green eggs in it. He did not disturb them, but +climbed down again, and the bird resumed her seat as if nothing had +happened. Such an occurrence would have terrified a bird used to the +ways of men, but here the birds were so fearless and so full of +confidence that often they would follow Emmeline in the wood, flying +from branch to branch, peering at her through the leaves, lighting +quite close to her—once, even, on her shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +The days passed. Dick had lost his restlessness: his wish to wander had +vanished. He had no reason to wander; perhaps that was the reason why. +In all the broad earth he could not have found anything more desirable +than what he had. +</P> + +<P> +Instead now of finding a half-naked savage followed dog-like by his +mate, you would have found of an evening a pair of lovers wandering on +the reef. They had in a pathetic sort of way attempted to adorn the +house with a blue flowering creeper taken from the wood and trained +over the entrance. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline, up to this, had mostly done the cooking, such as it was; Dick +helped her now, always. He talked to her no longer in short sentences +flung out as if to a dog; and she, almost losing the strange reserve +that had clung to her from childhood, half showed him her mind. It was +a curious mind: the mind of a dreamer, almost the mind of a poet. The +Cluricaunes dwelt there, and vague shapes born of things she had heard +about or dreamt of: she had thoughts about the sea and stars, the +flowers and birds. +</P> + +<P> +Dick would listen to her as she talked, as a man might listen to the +sound of a rivulet. His practical mind could take no share in the +dreams of his other half, but her conversation pleased him. +</P> + +<P> +He would look at her for a long time together, absorbed in thought. He +was admiring her. +</P> + +<P> +Her hair, blue-black and glossy, tangled him in its meshes; he would +stroke it, so to speak, with his eyes, and then pull her close to him +and bury his face in it; the smell of it was intoxicating. He breathed +her as one does the perfume of a rose. +</P> + +<P> +Her ears were small, and like little white shells. He would take one +between finger and thumb and play with it as if it were a toy, pulling +at the lobe of it, or trying to flatten out the curved part. Her +breasts, her shoulders, her knees, her little feet, every bit of her, +he would examine and play with and kiss. She would lie and let him, +seeming absorbed in some far-away thought, of which he was the object, +then all at once her arms would go round him. All this used to go on in +the broad light of day, under the shadow of the artu leaves, with no +one to watch except the bright-eyed birds in the leaves above. +</P> + +<P> +Not all their time would be spent in this fashion. Dick was just as +keen after the fish. He dug up with a spade—improvised from one of the +boards of the dinghy—a space of soft earth near the taro patch and +planted the seeds of melons he found in the wood; he rethatched the +house. They were, in short, as busy as they could be in such a climate, +but love-making would come on them in fits, and then everything would +be forgotten. Just as one revisits some spot to renew the memory of a +painful or pleasant experience received there, they would return to the +valley of the idol and spend a whole afternoon in its shade. The +absolute happiness of wandering through the woods together, discovering +new flowers, getting lost, and finding their way again, was a thing +beyond expression. +</P> + +<P> +Dick had suddenly stumbled upon Love. His courtship had lasted only +some twenty minutes; it was being gone over again now, and extended. +</P> + +<P> +One day, hearing a curious noise from the tree above the house, he +climbed it. The noise came from the nest, which had been temporarily +left by the mother bird. It was a gasping, wheezing sound, and it came +from four wide-open beaks, so anxious to be fed that one could almost +see into the very crops of the owners. They were Koko's children. In +another year each of those ugly downy things would, if permitted to +live, be a beautiful sapphire-coloured bird with a few dove-coloured +tail feathers, coral beak, and bright, intelligent eyes. A few days ago +each of these things was imprisoned in a pale green egg. A month ago +they were nowhere. +</P> + +<P> +Something hit Dick on the cheek. It was the mother bird returned with +food for the young ones. Dick drew his head aside, and she proceeded +without more ado to fill their crops. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0211"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE VANISHING OF EMMELINE +</H3> + +<P> +Months passed away. Only one bird remained in the branches of the artu: +Koko's children and mate had vanished, but he remained. The breadfruit +leaves had turned from green to pale gold and darkest amber, and now +the new green leaves were being presented to the spring. +</P> + +<P> +Dick, who had a complete chart of the lagoon in his head, and knew all +the soundings and best fishing places, the locality of the stinging +coral, and the places where you could wade right across at low +tide—Dick, one morning, was gathering his things together for a +fishing expedition. The place he was going to lay some two and a half +miles away across the island, and as the road was bad he was going +alone. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline had been passing a new thread through the beads of the +necklace she sometimes wore. This necklace had a history. In the +shallows not far away, Dick had found a bed of shell-fish; wading out +at low tide, he had taken some of them out to examine. They were +oysters. The first one he opened, so disgusting did its appearance seem +to him, might have been the last, only that under the beard of the +thing lay a pearl. It was about twice the size of a large pea, and so +lustrous that even he could not but admire its beauty, though quite +unconscious of its value. +</P> + +<P> +He flung the unopened oysters down, and took the thing to Emmeline. +Next day, returning by chance to the same spot, he found the oysters he +had cast down all dead and open in the sun. He examined them, and +found another pearl embedded in one of them. Then he collected nearly a +bushel of the oysters, and left them to die and open. The idea had +occurred to him of making a necklace for his companion. She had one +made of shells, he intended to make her one of pearls. +</P> + +<P> +It took a long time, but it was something to do. He pierced them with a +big needle, and at the end of four months or so the thing was complete. +Great pearls most of them were—pure white, black, pink, some perfectly +round, some tear shaped, some irregular. The thing was worth fifteen, +or perhaps twenty thousand pounds, for he only used the biggest he +could find, casting away the small ones as useless. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline this morning had just finished restringing them on a double +thread. She looked pale and not at all well and had been restless all +night. +</P> + +<P> +As he went off, armed with his spear and fishing tackle, she waved her +hand to him without getting up. Usually she followed him a bit into the +wood when he was going away like this, but this morning she just sat at +the doorway of the little house, the necklace in her lap, following him +with her eyes until he was lost amidst the trees. +</P> + +<P> +He had no compass to guide him, and he needed none. He knew the woods +by heart. The mysterious line beyond which scarcely an artu tree was to +be found. The long strip of mammee apple—a regular sheet of it a +hundred yards broad, and reaching from the middle of the island right +down to the lagoon. The clearings, some almost circular where the ferns +grew knee-deep. Then he came to the bad part. +</P> + +<P> +The vegetation here had burst into a riot. All sorts of great sappy +stalks of unknown plants barred the way and tangled the foot; and there +were boggy places into which one sank horribly. Pausing to wipe one's +brow, the stalks and tendrils one had beaten down, or beaten aside, +rose up and closed together, making one a prisoner almost as closely +surrounded as a fly in amber. +</P> + +<P> +All the noontides that had ever fallen upon the island seemed to have +left some of their heat behind them here. The air was damp and close +like the air of a laundry; and the mournful and perpetual buzz of +insects filled the silence without destroying it. +</P> + +<P> +A hundred men with scythes might make a road through the place to-day; +a month or two later, searching for the road, you would find none—the +vegetation would have closed in as water closes when divided. +</P> + +<P> +This was the haunt of the jug orchid—a veritable jug, lid and all. +Raising the lid you would find the jug half filled with water. +Sometimes in the tangle up above, between two trees, you would see a +thing like a bird come to ruin. Orchids grew here as in a hothouse. All +the trees—the few there were—had a spectral and miserable appearance. +They were half starved by the voluptuous growth of the gigantic weeds. +</P> + +<P> +If one had much imagination one felt afraid in this place, for one felt +not alone. At any moment it seemed that one might be touched on the +elbow by a hand reaching out from the surrounding tangle. Even Dick +felt this, unimaginative and fearless as he was. It took him nearly +three-quarters of an hour to get through, and then, at last, came the +blessed air of real day, and a glimpse of the lagoon between the +tree-boles. +</P> + +<P> +He would have rowed round in the dinghy, only that at low tide the +shallows of the north of the island were a bar to the boat's passage. +Of course he might have rowed all the way round by way of the strand +and reef entrance, but that would have meant a circuit of six miles or +more. When he came between the trees down to the lagoon edge it was +about eleven o'clock in the morning, and the tide was nearly at the +full. +</P> + +<P> +The lagoon just here was like a trough, and the reef was very near, +scarcely a quarter of a mile from the shore. The water did not shelve, +it went down sheer fifty fathoms or more, and one could fish from the +bank just as from a pier head. He had brought some food with him, and +he placed it under a tree whilst he prepared his line, which had a lump +of coral for a sinker. He baited the hook, and whirling the sinker +round in the air sent it flying out a hundred feet from shore. There +was a baby cocoa-nut tree growing just at the edge of the water. He +fastened the end of his line round the narrow stem, in case of +eventualities, and then, holding the line itself, he fished. +</P> + +<P> +He had promised Emmeline to return before sundown. +</P> + +<P> +He was a fisherman. That is to say, a creature with the enduring +patience of a cat, tireless and heedless of time as an oyster. He came +here for sport more than for fish. Large things were to be found in +this part of the lagoon. The last time he had hooked a horror in the +form of a cat-fish; at least in outward appearance it was likest to a +Mississippi cat-fish. Unlike the cat-fish, it was coarse and useless as +food, but it gave good sport. +</P> + +<P> +The tide was now going out, and it was at the going-out of the tide +that the best fishing was to be had. There was no wind, and the lagoon +lay like a sheet of glass, with just a dimple here and there where the +outgoing tide made a swirl in the water. +</P> + +<P> +As he fished he thought of Emmeline and the little house under the +trees. Scarcely one could call it thinking. Pictures passed before his +mind's eye—pleasant and happy pictures, sunlit, moonlit, starlit. +</P> + +<P> +Three hours passed thus without a bite or symptom that the lagoon +contained anything else but sea-water, and disappointment; but he did +not grumble. He was a fisherman. Then he left the line tied to the tree +and sat down to eat the food he had brought with him. He had scarcely +finished his meal when the baby cocoa-nut tree shivered and became +convulsed, and he did not require to touch the taut line to know that +it was useless to attempt to cope with the thing at the end of it. The +only course was to let it tug and drown itself. So he sat down and +watched. +</P> + +<P> +After a few minutes the line slackened, and the little cocoa-nut tree +resumed its attitude of pensive meditation and repose. He pulled the +line up: there was nothing at the end of it but a hook. He did not +grumble; he baited the hook again, and flung it in, for it was quite +likely that the ferocious thing in the water would bite again. +</P> + +<P> +Full of this idea and heedless of time he fished and waited. The sun +was sinking into the west—he did not heed it. He had quite forgotten +that he had promised Emmeline to return before sunset; it was nearly +sunset now. Suddenly, just behind him, from among the trees, he heard +her voice, crying: +</P> + +<P> +"Dick!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0212"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE VANISHING OF EMMELINE (continued) +</H3> + +<P> +He dropped the line, and turned with a start. There was no one visible. +He ran amongst the trees calling out her name, but only echoes +answered. Then he came back to the lagoon edge. +</P> + +<P> +He felt sure that what he had heard was only fancy, but it was nearly +sunset, and more than time to be off. He pulled in his line, wrapped it +up, took his fish-spear and started. +</P> + +<P> +It was just in the middle of the bad place that dread came to him. +What if anything had happened to her? It was dusk here, and never had +the weeds seemed so thick, dimness so dismal, the tendrils of the vines +so gin-like. Then he lost his way—he who was so sure of his way +always! The hunter's instinct had been crossed, and for a time he went +hither and thither helpless as a ship without a compass. At last he +broke into the real wood, but far to the right of where he ought to +have been. He felt like a beast escaped from a trap, and hurried along, +led by the sound of the surf. +</P> + +<P> +When he reached the clear sward that led down to the lagoon the sun had +just vanished beyond the sea-line. A streak of red cloud floated like +the feather of a flamingo in the western sky close to the sea, and +twilight had already filled the world. He could see the house dimly, +under the shadow of the trees, and he ran towards it, crossing the +sward diagonally. +</P> + +<P> +Always before, when he had been away, the first thing to greet his eyes +on his return had been the figure of Emmeline. Either at the lagoon +edge or the house door he would find her waiting for him. +</P> + +<P> +She was not waiting for him to-night. When he reached the house she was +not there, and he paused, after searching the place, a prey to the most +horrible perplexity, and unable for the moment to think or act. +</P> + +<P> +Since the shock of the occurrence on the reef she had been subjected at +times to occasional attacks of headache; and when the pain was more +than she could bear she would go off and hide. Dick would hunt for her +amidst the trees, calling out her name and hallooing. A faint "halloo" +would answer when she heard him, and then he would find her under a +tree or bush, with her unfortunate head between her hands, a picture of +misery. +</P> + +<P> +He remembered this now, and started off along the borders of the wood, +calling to her, and pausing to listen. No answer came. +</P> + +<P> +He searched amidst the trees as far as the little well, waking the +echoes with his voice; then he came back slowly, peering about him in +the deep dusk that now was yielding to the starlight. He sat down +before the door of the house, and, looking at him, you might have +fancied him in the last stages of exhaustion. Profound grief and +profound exhaustion act on the frame very much in the same way. He sat +with his chin resting on his chest, his hands helpless. He could hear +her voice, still as he heard it over at the other side of the island. +She had been in danger and called to him, and he had been calmly +fishing, unconscious of it all. +</P> + +<P> +This thought maddened him. He sat up, stared around him and beat the +ground with the palms of his hands; then he sprang to his feet and made +for the dinghy. He rowed to the reef: the action of a madman, for she +could not possibly be there. +</P> + +<P> +There was no moon, the starlight both lit and veiled the world, and no +sound but the majestic thunder of the waves. As he stood, the night +wind blowing on his face, the white foam seething before him, and +Canopus burning in the great silence overhead, the fact that he stood +in the centre of an awful and profound indifference came to his +untutored mind with a pang. +</P> + +<P> +He returned to the shore: the house was still deserted. A little bowl +made from the shell of a cocoa-nut stood on the grass near the doorway. +He had last seen it in her hands, and he took it up and held it for a +moment, pressing it tightly to his breast. Then he threw himself down +before the doorway, and lay upon his face, with head resting upon his +arms in the attitude of a person who is profoundly asleep. +</P> + +<P> +He must have searched through the woods again that night just as a +somnambulist searches, for he found himself towards dawn in the valley +before the idol. Then it was daybreak—the world was full of light and +colour. He was seated before the house door, worn out and exhausted, +when, raising his head, he saw Emmeline's figure coming out from amidst +the distant trees on the other side of the sward. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0213"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE NEWCOMER +</H3> + +<P> +He could not move for a moment, then he sprang to his feet and ran +towards her. She looked pale and dazed, and she held something in her +arms; something wrapped up in her scarf. As he pressed her to him, the +something in the bundle struggled against his breast and emitted a +squall—just like the squall of a cat. He drew back, and Emmeline, +tenderly moving her scarf a bit aside, exposed a wee face. It was +brick-red and wrinkled; there were two bright eyes, and a tuft of dark +hair over the forehead. Then the eyes closed, the face screwed itself +up, and the thing sneezed twice. +</P> + +<P> +"Where did you GET it?" he asked, absolutely lost in astonishment as +she covered the face again gently with the scarf. +</P> + +<P> +"I found it in the woods," replied Emmeline. +</P> + +<P> +Dumb with amazement, he helped her along to the house, and she sat +down, resting her head against the bamboos of the wall. +</P> + +<P> +"I felt so bad," she explained; "and then I went off to sit in the +woods, and then I remembered nothing more, and when I woke up it was +there." +</P> + +<P> +"It's a baby!" said Dick. +</P> + +<P> +"I know," replied Emmeline. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs James's baby, seen in the long ago, had risen up before their +mind's eyes, a messenger from the past to explain what the new thing +was. Then she told him things—things that completely shattered the old +"cabbage bed" theory, supplanting it with a truth far more wonderful, +far more poetical, too, to he who can appreciate the marvel and the +mystery of life. +</P> + +<P> +"It has something funny tied on to it," she went on, as if she were +referring to a parcel she had just received. +</P> + +<P> +"Let's look," said Dick. +</P> + +<P> +"No," she replied; "leave it alone." +</P> + +<P> +She sat rocking the thing gently, seeming oblivious to the whole world, +and quite absorbed in it, as, indeed, was Dick. A physician would have +shuddered, but, perhaps fortunately enough, there was no physician on +the island. Only Nature, and she put everything to rights in her own +time and way. +</P> + +<P> +When Dick had sat marvelling long enough, he set to and lit the fire. +He had eaten nothing since the day before, and he was nearly as +exhausted as the girl. He cooked some breadfruit, there was some cold +fish left over from the day before; this, with some bananas, he served +up on two broad leaves, making Emmeline eat first. +</P> + +<P> +Before they had finished, the creature in the bundle, as though it had +smelt the food, began to scream. Emmeline drew the scarf aside. It +looked hungry; its mouth would now be pinched up and now wide open, its +eyes opened and closed. The girl touched it on the lips with her +finger, and it seized upon her fingertip and sucked it. Her eyes filled +with tears, she looked appealingly at Dick, who was on his knees; he +took a banana, peeled it, broke off a bit and handed it to her. She +approached it to the baby's mouth. It tried to suck it, failed, blew +bubbles at the sun and squalled. +</P> + +<P> +"Wait a minute," said Dick. +</P> + +<P> +There were some green cocoa-nuts he had gathered the day before close +by. He took one, removed the green husk, and opened one of the eyes, +making an opening also in the opposite side of the shell. The +unfortunate infant sucked ravenously at the nut, filled its stomach +with the young cocoa-nut juice, vomited violently, and wailed. Emmeline +in despair clasped it to her naked breast, wherefrom, in a moment, it +was hanging like a leech. It knew more about babies than they did. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0214"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +HANNAH +</H3> + +<P> +At noon, in the shallows of the reef, under the burning sun, the water +would be quite warm. They would carry the baby down here, and Emmeline +would wash it with a bit of flannel. After a few days it scarcely ever +screamed, even when she washed it. It would lie on her knees during the +process, striking valiantly out with its arms and legs, staring +straight up at the sky. Then when she turned it on its face, it would +lay its head down and chuckle, and blow bubbles at the coral of the +reef, examining, apparently, the pattern of the coral with deep and +philosophic attention. +</P> + +<P> +Dick would sit by with his knees up to his chin, watching it all. He +felt himself to be part proprietor in the thing—as, indeed, he was. +The mystery of the affair still hung over them both. A week ago they +two had been alone, and suddenly from nowhere this new individual had +appeared. +</P> + +<P> +It was so complete. It had hair on its head, tiny finger-nails, and +hands that would grasp you. It had a whole host of little ways of its +own, and every day added to them. +</P> + +<P> +In a week the extreme ugliness of the newborn child had vanished. Its +face, which had seemed carved in the imitation of a monkey's face from +half a brick, became the face of a happy and healthy baby. It seemed to +see things, and sometimes it would laugh and chuckle as though it had +been told a good joke. Its black hair all came off and was supplanted +by a sort of down. It had no teeth. It would lie on its back and kick +and crow, and double its fists up and try to swallow them alternately, +and cross its feet and play with its toes. In fact, it was exactly like +any of the thousand-and-one babies that are born into the world at +every tick of the clock. +</P> + +<P> +"What will we call it?" said Dick one day, as he sat watching his son +and heir crawling about on the grass under the shade of the breadfruit +leaves. +</P> + +<P> +"Hannah," said Emmeline promptly. +</P> + +<P> +The recollection of another baby once heard about was in her mind, and +it was as good a name as any other, perhaps, in that lonely place, +notwithstanding the fact that Hannah was a boy. +</P> + +<P> +Koko took a vast interest in the new arrival. He would hop round it and +peer at it with his head on one side; and Hannah would crawl after the +bird and try to grab it by the tail. In a few months so valiant and +strong did he become that he would pursue his own father, crawling +behind him on the grass, and you might have seen the mother and father +and child playing all together like three children, the bird sometimes +hovering overhead like a good spirit, sometimes joining in the fun. +</P> + +<P> +Sometimes Emmeline would sit and brood over the child, a troubled +expression on her face and a far-away look in her eyes. The old vague +fear of mischance had returned—the dread of that viewless form her +imagination half pictured behind the smile on the face of Nature. Her +happiness was so great that she dreaded to lose it. +</P> + +<P> +There is nothing more wonderful than the birth of a man, and all that +goes to bring it about. Here, on this island, in the very heart of the +sea, amidst the sunshine and the wind-blown trees, under the great blue +arch of the sky, in perfect purity of thought, they would discuss the +question from beginning to end without a blush, the object of their +discussion crawling before them on the grass, and attempting to grab +feathers from Koko's tail. +</P> + +<P> +It was the loneliness of the place as well as their ignorance of life +that made the old, old miracle appear so strange and fresh—as +beautiful as the miracle of death had appeared awful. In thoughts vague +and beyond expression in words, they linked this new occurrence with +that old occurrence on the reef six years before. The vanishing and the +coming of a man. +</P> + +<P> +Hannah, despite his unfortunate name, was certainly a most virile and +engaging baby. The black hair which had appeared and vanished like some +practical joke played by Nature, gave place to a down at first as +yellow as sun-bleached wheat, but in a few months' time tinged with +auburn. +</P> + +<P> +One day—he had been uneasy and biting at his thumbs for some time +past—Emmeline, looking into his mouth, saw something white and like a +grain of rice protruding from his gum. It was a tooth just born. He +could eat bananas now, and breadfruit, and they often fed him on +fish—a fact which again might have caused a medical man to shudder; +yet he throve on it all, and waxed stouter every day. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline, with a profound and natural wisdom, let him crawl about stark +naked, dressed in ozone and sunlight. Taking him out on the reef, she +would let him paddle in the shallow pools, holding him under the +armpits whilst he splashed the diamond-bright water into spray with his +feet, and laughed and shouted. +</P> + +<P> +They were beginning now to experience a phenomenon, as wonderful as the +birth of the child's body—the birth of his intelligence, the peeping +out of a little personality with predilections of its own, likes and +dislikes. +</P> + +<P> +He knew Dick from Emmeline; and when Emmeline had satisfied his +material wants, he would hold out his arms to go to Dick if he were by. +He looked upon Koko as a friend, but when a friend of Koko's—a bird +with an inquisitive mind and three red feathers in his tail—dropped in +one day to inspect the newcomer, he resented the intrusion, and +screamed. +</P> + +<P> +He had a passion for flowers, or anything bright. He would laugh and +shout when taken on the lagoon in the dinghy, and make as if to jump +into the water to get at the bright-coloured corals below. +</P> + +<P> +Ah me, we laugh at young mothers, and all the miraculous things they +tell us about their babies! They see what we cannot see: the first +unfolding of that mysterious flower, the mind. +</P> + +<P> +One day they were out on the lagoon. Dick had been rowing; he had +ceased, and was letting the boat drift for a bit. Emmeline was dancing +the child on her knee, when it suddenly held out its arms to the +oarsman and said: +</P> + +<P> +"Dick!" +</P> + +<P> +The little word, so often heard and easily repeated, was its first word +on earth. +</P> + +<P> +A voice that had never spoken in the world before had spoken; and to +hear his name thus mysteriously uttered by a being he has created is +the sweetest and perhaps the saddest thing a man can ever know. +</P> + +<P> +Dick took the child on his knee, and from that moment his love for it +was more than his love for Emmeline or anything else on earth. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0215"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE LAGOON OF FIRE +</H3> + +<P> +Ever since the tragedy of six years ago there had been forming in the +mind of Emmeline Lestrange a something—shall I call it a deep +mistrust? She had never been clever; lessons had saddened and wearied +her, without making her much the wiser. Yet her mind was of that order +into which profound truths come by short-cuts. She was intuitive. +</P> + +<P> +Great knowledge may lurk in the human mind without the owner of the +mind being aware. He or she acts in such or such a way, or thinks in +such and such a manner from intuition; in other words, as the outcome +of the profoundest reasoning. +</P> + +<P> +When we have learnt to call storms, storms, and death, death, and +birth, birth, when we have mastered the sailor's horn-book, and Mr +Piddington's law of cyclones, Ellis's anatomy, and Lewer's midwifery, +we have already made ourself half blind. We have become hypnotized by +words and names. We think in words and names, not in ideas; the +commonplace has triumphed, the true intellect is half crushed. +</P> + +<P> +Storms had burst over the island before this. And what Emmeline +remembered of them might be expressed by an instance. +</P> + +<P> +The morning would be bright and happy, never so bright the sun, or so +balmy the breeze, or so peaceful the blue lagoon; then, with a horrid +suddenness, as if sick with dissimulation and mad to show itself, +something would blacken the sun, and with a yell stretch out a hand and +ravage the island, churn the lagoon into foam, beat down the coconut +trees, and slay the birds. And one bird would be left and another +taken, one tree destroyed and another left standing. The fury of the +thing was less fearful than the blindness of it, and the indifference +of it. +</P> + +<P> +One night, when the child was asleep, just after the last star was lit, +Dick appeared at the doorway of the house. He had been down to the +water's edge and had now returned. He beckoned Emmeline to follow him, +and, putting down the child, she did so. +</P> + +<P> +"Come here and look," said he. +</P> + +<P> +He led the way to the water; and as they approached it Emmeline became +aware that there was something strange about the lagoon. From a +distance it looked pale and solid; it might have been a great stretch +of grey marble veined with black. Then, as she drew nearer, she saw +that the dull grey appearance was a deception of the eye. +</P> + +<P> +The lagoon was alight and burning. +</P> + +<P> +The phosphoric fire was in its very heart and being; every coral branch +was a torch, every fish a passing lantern. The incoming tide moving the +waters made the whole glittering floor of the lagoon move and shiver, +and the tiny waves to lap the bank, leaving behind them glow-worm +traces. +</P> + +<P> +"Look!" said Dick. +</P> + +<P> +He knelt down and plunged his forearm into the water. The immersed part +burned like a smouldering torch. Emmeline could see it as plainly as +though it were lit by sunlight. Then he drew his arm out, and as far as +the water had reached, it was covered by a glowing glove. +</P> + +<P> +They had seen the phosphorescence of the lagoon before; indeed, any +night you might watch the passing fish like bars of silver, when the +moon was away; but this was something quite new, and it was entrancing. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline knelt down and dabbled her hands, and made herself a pair of +phosphoric gloves, and cried out with pleasure, and laughed. It was all +the pleasure of playing with fire without the danger of being burnt. +Then Dick rubbed his face with the water till it glowed. +</P> + +<P> +"Wait!" he cried; and, running up to the house, he fetched out Hannah. +</P> + +<P> +He came running down with him to the water's edge, gave Emmeline the +child, unmoored the boat, and started out from shore. +</P> + +<P> +The sculls, as far as they were immersed, were like bars of glistening +silver; under them passed the fish, leaving cometic tails; each coral +clump was a lamp, lending its lustre till the great lagoon was luminous +as a lit-up ballroom. Even the child on Emmeline's lap crowed and cried +out at the strangeness of the sight. +</P> + +<P> +They landed on the reef and wandered over the flat. The sea was white +and bright as snow, and the foam looked like a hedge of fire. +</P> + +<P> +As they stood gazing on this extraordinary sight, suddenly, almost as +instantaneously as the switching off of an electric light, the +phosphorescence of the sea flickered and vanished. +</P> + +<P> +The moon was rising. Her crest was just breaking from the water, and as +her face came slowly into view behind a belt of vapour that lay on the +horizon, it looked fierce and red, stained with smoke like the face of +Eblis. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0216"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE CYCLONE +</H3> + +<P> +When they awoke next morning the day was dark. A solid roof of cloud, +lead-coloured and without a ripple on it, lay over the sky, almost to +the horizon. There was not a breath of wind, and the birds flew wildly +about as if disturbed by some unseen enemy in the wood. +</P> + +<P> +As Dick lit the fire to prepare the breakfast, Emmeline walked up and +down, holding her baby to her breast; she felt restless and uneasy. +</P> + +<P> +As the morning wore on the darkness increased; a breeze rose up, and +the leaves of the breadfruit trees pattered together with the sound of +rain falling upon glass. A storm was coming, but there was something +different in its approach to the approach of the storms they had +already known. +</P> + +<P> +As the breeze increased a sound filled the air, coming from far away +beyond the horizon. It was like the sound of a great multitude of +people, and yet so faint and vague was it that sudden bursts of the +breeze through the leaves above would drown it utterly. Then it ceased, +and nothing could be heard but the rocking of the branches and the +tossing of the leaves under the increasing wind, which was now blowing +sharply and fiercely and with a steady rush dead from the west, +fretting the lagoon, and sending clouds and masses of foam right over +the reef. The sky that had been so leaden and peaceful and like a solid +roof was now all in a hurry, flowing eastward like a great turbulent +river in spate. +</P> + +<P> +And now, again, one could hear the sound in the distance—the thunder +of the captains of the storm and the shouting; but still so faint, so +vague, so indeterminate and unearthly that it seemed like the sound in +a dream. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline sat amidst the ferns on the floor cowed and dumb, holding the +baby to her breast. It was fast asleep. Dick stood at the doorway. He +was disturbed in mind, but he did not show it. +</P> + +<P> +The whole beautiful island world had now taken on the colour of ashes +and the colour of lead. Beauty had utterly vanished, all seemed sadness +and distress. +</P> + +<P> +The cocoa-palms, under the wind that had lost its steady rush and was +now blowing in hurricane blasts, flung themselves about in all the +attitudes of distress; and whoever has seen a tropical storm will know +what a cocoa-palm can express by its movements under the lash of the +wind. +</P> + +<P> +Fortunately the house was so placed that it was protected by the whole +depth of the grove between it and the lagoon; and fortunately, too, it +was sheltered by the dense foliage of the breadfruit, for suddenly, +with a crash of thunder as if the hammer of Thor had been flung from +sky to earth, the clouds split and the rain came down in a great +slanting wave. It roared on the foliage above, which, bending leaf on +leaf, made a slanting roof from which it rushed in a steady sheet-like +cascade. +</P> + +<P> +Dick had darted into the house, and was now sitting beside Emmeline, +who was shivering and holding the child, which had awakened at the +sound of the thunder. +</P> + +<P> +For an hour they sat, the rain ceasing and coming again, the thunder +shaking earth and sea, and the wind passing overhead with a piercing, +monotonous cry. +</P> + +<P> +Then all at once the wind dropped, the rain ceased, and a pale spectral +light, like the light of dawn, fell before the doorway. +</P> + +<P> +"It's over!" cried Dick, making to get up. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, listen!" said Emmeline, clinging to him, and holding the baby to +his breast as if the touch of him would give it protection. She had +divined that there was something approaching worse than a storm. +</P> + +<P> +Then, listening in the silence, away from the other side of the island, +they heard a sound like the droning of a great top. +</P> + +<P> +It was the centre of the cyclone approaching. +</P> + +<P> +A cyclone is a circular storm: a storm in the form of a ring. This ring +of hurricane travels across the ocean with inconceivable speed and +fury, yet its centre is a haven of peace. +</P> + +<P> +As they listened the sound increased, sharpened, and became a tang that +pierced the ear-drums: a sound that shook with hurry and speed, +increasing, bringing with it the bursting and crashing of trees, and +breaking at last overhead in a yell that stunned the brain like the +blow of a bludgeon. In a second the house was torn away, and they were +clinging to the roots of the breadfruit, deaf, blinded, half-lifeless. +</P> + +<P> +The terror and the prolonged shock of it reduced them from thinking +beings to the level of frightened animals whose one instinct is +preservation. +</P> + +<P> +How long the horror lasted they could not tell, when, like a madman who +pauses for a moment in the midst of his struggles and stands +stock-still, the wind ceased blowing, and there was peace. The centre +of the cyclone was passing over the island. +</P> + +<P> +Looking up, one saw a marvellous sight. The air was full of birds, +butterflies, insects—all hanging in the heart of the storm and +travelling with it under its protection. +</P> + +<P> +Though the air was still as the air of a summer's day, from north, +south, east, and west, from every point of the compass, came the yell +of the hurricane. +</P> + +<P> +There was something shocking in this. +</P> + +<P> +In a storm one is so beaten about by the wind that one has no time to +think: one is half stupefied. But in the dead centre of a cyclone one +is in perfect peace. The trouble is all around, but it is not here. One +has time to examine the thing like a tiger in a cage, listen to its +voice and shudder at its ferocity. +</P> + +<P> +The girl, holding the baby to her breast, sat up gasping. The baby had +come to no harm; it had cried at first when the thunder broke, but now +it seemed impassive, almost dazed. Dick stepped from under the tree and +looked at the prodigy in the air. +</P> + +<P> +The cyclone had gathered on its way sea-birds and birds from the land; +there were gulls, electric white and black man-of-war birds, +butterflies, and they all seemed imprisoned under a great drifting dome +of glass. As they went, travelling like things without volition and in +a dream, with a hum and a roar the south-west quadrant of the cyclone +burst on the island, and the whole bitter business began over again. +</P> + +<P> +It lasted for hours, then towards midnight the wind fell; and when the +sun rose next morning he came through a cloudless sky, without a trace +of apology for the destruction caused by his children the winds. He +showed trees uprooted and birds lying dead, three or four canes +remaining of what had once been a house, the lagoon the colour of a +pale sapphire, and a glass-green, foam-capped sea racing in thunder +against the reef. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0217"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE STRICKEN WOODS +</H3> + +<P> +At first they thought they were ruined; then Dick, searching, found the +old saw under a tree, and the butcher's knife near it, as though the +knife and saw had been trying to escape in company and had failed. +</P> + +<P> +Bit by bit they began to recover something of their scattered property. +The remains of the flannel had been taken by the cyclone and wrapped +round and round a slender cocoa-nut tree, till the trunk looked like a +gaily bandaged leg. The box of fish-hooks had been jammed into the +centre of a cooked breadfruit, both having been picked up by the +fingers of the wind and hurled against the same tree; and the stay-sail +of the Shenandoah was out on the reef, with a piece of coral carefully +placed on it as if to keep it down. As for the lug-sail belonging to +the dinghy, it was never seen again. +</P> + +<P> +There is humour sometimes in a cyclone, if you can only appreciate it; +no other form of air disturbance produces such quaint effects. Beside +the great main whirlpool of wind, there are subsidiary whirlpools, each +actuated by its own special imp. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline had felt Hannah nearly snatched from her arms twice by these +little ferocious gimlet winds; and that the whole business of the great +storm was set about with the object of snatching Hannah from her, and +blowing him out to sea, was a belief which she held, perhaps, in the +innermost recesses of her mind. +</P> + +<P> +The dinghy would have been utterly destroyed, had it not heeled over +and sunk in shallow water at the first onset of the wind; as it was, +Dick was able to bail it out at the next low tide, when it floated as +bravely as ever, not having started a single seam. +</P> + +<P> +But the destruction amidst the trees was pitiful. Looking at the woods +as a mass, one noticed gaps here and there, but what had really +happened could not be seen till one was amongst the trees. Great, +beautiful cocoa-nut palms, not dead, but just dying, lay crushed and +broken as if trampled upon by some enormous foot. You would come +across half a dozen lianas twisted into one great cable. Where +cocoa-nut palms were, you could not move a yard without kicking against +a fallen nut; you might have picked up full-grown, half-grown, and wee +baby nuts, not bigger than small apples, for on the same tree you will +find nuts of all sizes and conditions. +</P> + +<P> +One never sees a perfectly straight-stemmed cocoa-palm; they all have +an inclination from the perpendicular more or less; perhaps that is why +a cyclone has more effect on them than on other trees. +</P> + +<P> +Artus, once so pretty a picture with their diamond-chequered trunks, +lay broken and ruined; and right through the belt of mammee apple, +right through the bad lands, lay a broad road, as if an army, horse, +foot, and artillery, had passed that way from lagoon edge to lagoon +edge. This was the path left by the great fore-foot of the storm; but +had you searched the woods on either side, you would have found paths +where the lesser winds had been at work, where the baby whirlwinds had +been at play. +</P> + +<P> +From the bruised woods, like an incense offered to heaven, rose a +perfume of blossoms gathered and scattered, of rain-wet leaves, of +lianas twisted and broken and oozing their sap; the perfume of +newly-wrecked and ruined trees—the essence and soul of the artu, the +banyan and cocoa-palm cast upon the wind. +</P> + +<P> +You would have found dead butterflies in the woods, dead birds too; but +in the great path of the storm you would have found dead butterflies' +wings, feathers, leaves frayed as if by fingers, branches of the aoa, +and sticks of the hibiscus broken into little fragments. +</P> + +<P> +Powerful enough to rip a ship open, root up a tree, half ruin a city. +Delicate enough to tear a butterfly wing from wing—that is a cyclone. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline, wandering about in the woods with Dick on the day after the +storm, looking at the ruin of great tree and little bird, and +recollecting the land birds she had caught a glimpse of yesterday being +carried along safely by the storm out to sea to be drowned, felt a +great weight lifting from her heart. Mischance had come, and spared +them and the baby. The blue had spoken, but had not called them. +</P> + +<P> +She felt that something—the something which we in civilisation call +Fate—was for the present gorged; and, without being annihilated, her +incessant hypochondriacal dread condensed itself into a point, leaving +her horizon sunlit and clear. +</P> + +<P> +The cyclone had indeed treated them almost, one might say, amiably. It +had taken the house but that was a small matter, for it had left them +nearly all their small possessions. The tinder box and flint and steel +would have been a much more serious loss than a dozen houses, for, +without it, they would have had absolutely no means of making a fire. +</P> + +<P> +If anything, the cyclone had been almost too kind to them; had let them +pay off too little of that mysterious debt they owed to the gods. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0218"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A FALLEN IDOL +</H3> + +<P> +The next day Dick began to rebuild the house. He had fetched the +stay-sail from the reef and rigged up a temporary tent. +</P> + +<P> +It was a great business cutting the canes and dragging them out in the +open. Emmeline helped; whilst Hannah, seated on the grass, played with +the bird that had vanished during the storm, but reappeared the evening +after. +</P> + +<P> +The child and the bird had grown fast friends; they were friendly +enough even at first, but now the bird would sometimes let the tiny +hands clasp him right round his body—at least, as far as the hands +would go. +</P> + +<P> +It is a rare experience for a man to hold a tame and unstruggling and +unfrightened bird in his hands; next to pressing a woman in his arms, +it is the pleasantest tactile sensation he will ever experience, +perhaps, in life. He will feel a desire to press it to his heart, if he +has such a thing. +</P> + +<P> +Hannah would press Koko to his little brown stomach, as if in artless +admission of where his heart lay. +</P> + +<P> +He was an extraordinarily bright and intelligent child. He did not +promise to be talkative, for, having achieved the word "Dick," he +rested content for a long while before advancing further into the +labyrinth of language; but though he did not use his tongue, he spoke +in a host of other ways. With his eyes, that were as bright as Koko's, +and full of all sorts of mischief; with his hands and feet and the +movements of his body. He had a way of shaking his hands before him +when highly delighted, a way of expressing nearly all the shades of +pleasure; and though he rarely expressed anger, when he did so, he +expressed it fully. +</P> + +<P> +He was just now passing over the frontier into toyland. In civilisation +he would no doubt have been the possessor of an india-rubber dog or a +woolly lamb, but there were no toys here at all. Emmeline's old doll +had been left behind when they took flight from the other side of the +island, and Dick, a year or so ago, on one of his expeditions, had +found it lying half buried in the sand of the beach. +</P> + +<P> +He had brought it back now more as a curiosity than anything else, and +they had kept it on the shelf in the house. The cyclone had impaled it +on a tree-twig near by, if in derision; and Hannah, when it was +presented to him as a plaything, flung it away from him as if in +disgust. But he would play with flowers or bright shells, or bits of +coral, making vague patterns with them on the sward. +</P> + +<P> +All the toy lambs in the world would not have pleased him better than +those things, the toys of the Troglodyte children—the children of the +Stone Age. To clap two oyster shells together and make a noise—what, +after all, could a baby want better than that? +</P> + +<P> +One afternoon, when the house was beginning to take some sort of form, +they ceased work and went off into the woods; Emmeline carrying the +baby and Dick taking turns with him. They were going to the valley of +the idol. +</P> + +<P> +Since the coming of Hannah, and even before, the stone figure standing +in its awful and mysterious solitude had ceased to be an object of +dread to Emmeline, and had become a thing vaguely benevolent. Love had +come to her under its shade; and under its shade the spirit of the +child had entered into her from where, who knows? But certainly through +heaven. +</P> + +<P> +Perhaps the thing which had been the god of some unknown people had +inspired her with the instinct of religion; if so, she was his last +worshipper on earth, for when they entered the valley they found him +lying upon his face. Great blocks of stone lay around him: there had +evidently been a landslip, a catastrophe preparing for ages, and +determined, perhaps, by the torrential rain of the cyclone. +</P> + +<P> +In Ponape, Huahine, in Easter Island, you may see great idols that have +been felled like this, temples slowly dissolving from sight, and +terraces, seemingly as solid as the hills, turning softly and subtly +into shapeless mounds of stone. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0219"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE EXPEDITION +</H3> + +<P> +Next morning the light of day filtering through the trees awakened +Emmeline in the tent which they had improvised whilst the house was +building. Dawn came later here than on the other side of the island +which faced east later, and in a different manner for there is the +difference of worlds between dawn coming over a wooded hill, and dawn +coming over the sea. +</P> + +<P> +Over at the other side, sitting on the sand with the break of the reef +which faced the east before you, scarcely would the east change colour +before the sea-line would be on fire, the sky lit up into an +illimitable void of blue, and the sunlight flooding into the lagoon, +the ripples of light seeming to chase the ripples of water. +</P> + +<P> +On this side it was different. The sky would be dark and full of stars, +and the woods, great spaces of velvety shadow. Then through the leaves +of the artu would come a sigh, and the leaves of the breadfruit would +patter, and the sound of the reef become faint. The land breeze had +awakened, and in a while, as if it had blown them away, looking up, you +would find the stars gone, and the sky a veil of palest blue. In this +indirect approach of dawn there was something ineffably mysterious. One +could see, but the things seen were indecisive and vague, just as they +are in the gloaming of an English summer's day. +</P> + +<P> +Scarcely had Emmeline arisen when Dick woke also, and they went out on +to the sward, and then down to the water's edge. Dick went in for a +swim, and the girl, holding the baby, stood on the bank watching him. +</P> + +<P> +Always after a great storm the weather of the island would become more +bracing and exhilarating, and this morning the air seemed filled with +the spirit of spring. Emmeline felt it, and as she watched the swimmer +disporting in the water, she laughed, and held the child up to watch +him. She was fey. The breeze, filled with all sorts of sweet perfumes +from the woods, blew her black hair about her shoulders, and the full +light of morning coming over the palm fronds of the woods beyond the +sward touched her and the child. Nature seemed caressing them. +</P> + +<P> +Dick came ashore, and then ran about to dry himself in the wind. Then +he went to the dinghy and examined her; for he had determined to leave +the house-building for half a day, and row round to the old place to +see how the banana trees had fared during the storm. His anxiety about +them was not to be wondered at. The island was his larder, and the +bananas were a most valuable article of food. He had all the feelings +of a careful housekeeper about them, and he could not rest till he had +seen for himself the extent of damage, if damage there was any. +</P> + +<P> +He examined the boat, and then they all went back to breakfast. Living +their lives, they had to use forethought. They would put away, for +instance, all the shells of the cocoa-nuts they used for fuel; and you +never could imagine the blazing splendour there lives in the shell of a +cocoa-nut till you see it burning. Yesterday, Dick, with his usual +prudence, had placed a heap of sticks, all wet with the rain of the +storm, to dry in the sun: as a consequence, they had plenty of fuel to +make a fire with this morning. +</P> + +<P> +When they had finished breakfast he got the knife to cut the bananas +with if there were any left to cut and, taking the javelin, he went +down to the boat, followed by Emmeline and the child. +</P> + +<P> +Dick had stepped into the boat, and was on the point of unmooring her, +and pushing her off, when Emmeline stopped him. +</P> + +<P> +"Dick!" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes?" +</P> + +<P> +"I will go with you." +</P> + +<P> +"You!" said he in astonishment. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I'm—not afraid any more." +</P> + +<P> +It was a fact; since the coming of the child she had lost that dread of +the other side of the island or almost lost it. +</P> + +<P> +Death is a great darkness, birth is a great light—they had intermixed +in her mind; the darkness was still there, but it was no longer +terrible to her, for it was infused with the light. The result was a +twilight sad, but beautiful, and unpeopled with forms of fear. +</P> + +<P> +Years ago she had seen a mysterious door close and shut a human being +out for ever from the world. The sight had filled her with dread +unimaginable, for she had no words for the thing, no religion or +philosophy to explain it away or gloss it over. Just recently she had +seen an equally mysterious door open and admit a human being; and deep +down in her mind, in the place where the dreams were, the one great +fact had explained and justified the other. Life had vanished into the +void, but life had come from there. There was life in the void, and it +was no longer terrible. +</P> + +<P> +Perhaps all religions were born on a day when some woman, seated upon a +rock by the prehistoric sea, looked at her newborn child and recalled +to mind her man who had been slain, thus closing the charm and +imprisoning the idea of a future state. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline, with the child in her arms, stepped into the little boat and +took her seat in the stern, whilst Dick pushed off. Scarcely had he put +out the sculls than a new passenger arrived. It was Koko. He would +often accompany them to the reef, though, strangely enough, he would +never go there alone of his own accord. He made a circle or two over +them, and then lit on the gunwale in the bow, and perched there, humped +up, and with his long dove-coloured tail feathers presented to the +water. +</P> + +<P> +The oarsman kept close in-shore, and as they rounded the little cape +all gay with wild cocoa-nut the bushes brushed the boat, and the child, +excited by their colour, held out his hands to them. Emmeline +stretched out her hand and broke off a branch; but it was not a branch +of the wild cocoa-nut she had plucked, it was a branch of the +never-wake-up berries. The berries that will cause a man to sleep, +should he eat of them—to sleep and dream, and never wake up again. +</P> + +<P> +"Throw them away!" cried Dick, who remembered. +</P> + +<P> +"I will in a minute," she replied. +</P> + +<P> +She was holding them up before the child, who was laughing and trying +to grasp them. Then she forgot them, and dropped them in the bottom of +the boat, for something had struck the keel with a thud, and the water +was boiling all round. +</P> + +<P> +There was a savage fight going on below. In the breeding season great +battles would take place sometimes in the lagoon, for fish have their +jealousies just like men—love affairs, friendships. The two great +forms could be dimly perceived, one in pursuit of the other, and they +terrified Emmeline, who implored Dick to row on. +</P> + +<P> +They slipped by the pleasant shores that Emmeline had never seen +before, having been sound asleep when they came past them those years +ago. +</P> + +<P> +Just before putting off she had looked back at the beginnings of the +little house under the artu tree, and as she looked at the strange +glades and groves, the picture of it rose before her, and seemed to +call her back. +</P> + +<P> +It was a tiny possession, but it was home; and so little used to change +was she that already a sort of home-sickness was upon her; but it +passed away almost as soon as it came, and she fell to wondering at the +things around her, and pointing them out to the child. +</P> + +<P> +When they came to the place where Dick had hooked the albicore, he hung +on his oars and told her about it. It was the first time she had heard +of it; a fact which shows into what a state of savagery he had been +lapsing. He had mentioned about the canoes, for he had to account for +the javelin; but as for telling her of the incidents of the chase, he +no more thought of doing so than a red Indian would think of detailing +to his squaw the incidents of a bear hunt. Contempt for women is the +first law of savagery, and perhaps the last law of some old and +profound philosophy. +</P> + +<P> +She listened, and when it came to the incident of the shark, she +shuddered. +</P> + +<P> +"I wish I had a hook big enough to catch him with," said he, staring +into the water as if in search of his enemy. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't think of him, Dick," said Emmeline, holding the child more +tightly to her heart. "Row on." +</P> + +<P> +He resumed the sculls, but you could have seen from his face that he +was recounting to himself the incident. +</P> + +<P> +When they had rounded the last promontory, and the strand and the break +in the reef opened before them, Emmeline caught her breath. The place +had changed in some subtle manner; everything was there as before, yet +everything seemed different—the lagoon seemed narrower, the reef +nearer, the cocoa-palms not nearly so tall. She was contrasting the +real things with the recollection of them when seen by a child. The +black speck had vanished from the reef; the storm had swept it utterly +away. +</P> + +<P> +Dick beached the boat on the shelving sand, and left Emmeline seated in +the stern of it, whilst he went in search of the bananas; she would +have accompanied him, but the child had fallen asleep. +</P> + +<P> +Hannah asleep was even a pleasanter picture than when awake. He looked +like a little brown Cupid without wings, bow or arrow. He had all the +grace of a curled-up feather. Sleep was always in pursuit of him, and +would catch him up at the most unexpected moments—when he was at play, +or indeed at any time. Emmeline would sometimes find him with a +coloured shell or bit of coral that he had been playing with in his +hand fast asleep, a happy expression on his face, as if his mind were +pursuing its earthly avocations on some fortunate beach in dreamland. +</P> + +<P> +Dick had plucked a huge breadfruit leaf and given it to her as a +shelter from the sun, and she sat holding it over her, and gazing +straight before her, over the white, sunlit sands. +</P> + +<P> +The flight of the mind in reverie is not in a direct line. To her, +dreaming as she sat, came all sorts of coloured pictures, recalled by +the scene before her: the green water under the stern of a ship, and +the word Shenandoah vaguely reflected on it; their landing, and the +little tea-set spread out on the white sand—she could still see the +pansies painted on the plates, and she counted in memory the lead +spoons; the great stars that burned over the reef at nights; the +Cluricaunes and fairies; the cask by the well where the convolvulus +blossomed, and the wind-blown trees seen from the summit of the +hill—all these pictures drifted before her, dissolving and replacing +each other as they went. +</P> + +<P> +There was sadness in the contemplation of them, but pleasure too. She +felt at peace with the world. All trouble seemed far behind her. It was +as if the great storm that had left them unharmed had been an +ambassador from the powers above to assure her of their forbearance, +protection, and love. +</P> + +<P> +All at once she noticed that between the boat's bow and the sand there +lay a broad, blue, sparkling line. The dinghy was afloat. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0220"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE KEEPER OF THE LAGOON +</H3> + +<P> +The woods here had been less affected by the cyclone than those upon +the other side of the island, but there had been destruction enough. To +reach the place he wanted, Dick had to climb over felled trees and +fight his way through a tangle of vines that had once hung overhead. +</P> + +<P> +The banana trees had not suffered at all; as if by some special +dispensation of Providence even the great bunches of fruit had been +scarcely injured, and he proceeded to climb and cut them. He cut two +bunches, and with one across his shoulder came back down through the +trees. +</P> + +<P> +He had got half across the sands, his head bent under the load, when a +distant call came to him, and, raising his head, he saw the boat adrift +in the middle of the lagoon, and the figure of the girl in the bow of +it waving to him with her arm. He saw a scull floating on the water +half-way between the boat and the shore, which she had no doubt lost in +an attempt to paddle the boat back. He remembered that the tide was +going out. +</P> + +<P> +He flung his load aside, and ran down the beach; in a moment he was in +the water. Emmeline, standing up in the boat, watched him. +</P> + +<P> +When she found herself adrift, she had made an effort to row back, and +in her hurry shipping the sculls she had lost one. With a single scull +she was quite helpless, as she had not the art of sculling a boat from +the stern. At first she was not frightened, because she knew that Dick +would soon return to her assistance; but as the distance between boat +and shore increased, a cold hand seemed laid upon her heart. Looking at +the shore it seemed very far away, and the view towards the reef was +terrific, for the opening had increased in apparent size, and the great +sea beyond seemed drawing her to it. +</P> + +<P> +She saw Dick coming out of the wood with the load on his shoulder, and +she called to him. At first he did not seem to hear, then she saw him +look up, cast the bananas away, and come running down the sand to the +water's edge. She watched him swimming, she saw him seize the scull, +and her heart gave a great leap of joy. +</P> + +<P> +Towing the scull and swimming with one arm, he rapidly approached the +boat. He was quite close, only ten feet away, when Emmeline saw behind +him, shearing through the clear rippling water, and advancing with +speed, a dark triangle that seemed made of canvas stretched upon a +sword-point. +</P> + +<P> +Forty years ago he had floated adrift on the sea in the form and +likeness of a small shabby pine-cone, a prey to anything that might +find him. He had escaped the jaws of the dog-fish, and the jaws of the +dog-fish are a very wide door; he had escaped the albicore and squid: +his life had been one long series of miraculous escapes from death. Out +of a billion like him born in the same year, he and a few others only +had survived. +</P> + +<P> +For thirty years he had kept the lagoon to himself, as a ferocious +tiger keeps a jungle. He had known the palm tree on the reef when it +was a seedling, and he had known the reef even before the palm tree was +there. The things he had devoured, flung one upon another, would have +made a mountain; yet he was as clear of enmity as a sword, as cruel and +as soulless. He was the spirit of the lagoon. +</P> + +<P> +Emmeline screamed, and pointed to the thing behind the swimmer. He +turned, saw it, dropped the oar and made for the boat. She had seized +the remaining scull and stood with it poised, then she hurled it blade +foremost at the form in the water, now fully visible, and close on its +prey. +</P> + +<P> +She could not throw a stone straight, yet the scull went like an arrow +to the mark, balking the pursuer and saving the pursued. In a moment +more his leg was over the gunwale, and he was saved. +</P> + +<P> +But the scull was lost. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0221"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE HAND OF THE SEA +</H3> + +<P> +There was nothing in the boat that could possibly be used as a paddle; +the scull was only five or six yards away, but to attempt to swim to it +was certain death, yet they were being swept out to sea. He might have +made the attempt, only that on the starboard quarter the form of the +shark, gently swimming at the same pace as they were drifting, could be +made out only half veiled by the water. +</P> + +<P> +The bird perched on the gunwale seemed to divine their trouble, for he +rose in the air, made a circle, and resumed his perch with all his +feathers ruffled. +</P> + +<P> +Dick stood in despair, helpless, his hands clasping his head. The shore +was drawing away before him, the surf loudening behind him, yet he +could do nothing. The island was being taken away from them by the +great hand of the sea. +</P> + +<P> +Then, suddenly, the little boat entered the race formed by the +confluence of the tides, from the right and left arms of the lagoon; +the sound of the surf suddenly increased as though a door had been +flung open. The breakers were falling and the sea-gulls crying on +either side of them, and for a moment the ocean seemed to hesitate as +to whether they were to be taken away into her wastes, or dashed on the +coral strand. Only for a moment this seeming hesitation lasted; then +the power of the tide prevailed over the power of the swell, and the +little boat taken by the current drifted gently out to sea. +</P> + +<P> +Dick flung himself down beside Emmeline, who was seated in the bottom +of the boat holding the child to her breast. The bird, seeing the land +retreat, and wise in its instinct, rose into the air. It circled +thrice round the drifting boat, and then, like a beautiful but +faithless spirit, passed away to the shore. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0222"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +TOGETHER +</H3> + +<P> +The island had sunk slowly from sight; at sundown it was just a trace, +a stain on the south-western horizon. It was before the new moon, and +the little boat lay drifting. It drifted from the light of sunset into +a world of vague violet twilight, and now it lay drifting under the +stars. +</P> + +<P> +The girl, clasping the baby to her breast, leaned against her +companion's shoulder; neither of them spoke. All the wonders in their +short existence had culminated in this final wonder, this passing away +together from the world of Time. This strange voyage they had embarked +on—to where? +</P> + +<P> +Now that the first terror was over they felt neither sorrow nor fear. +They were together. Come what might, nothing could divide them; even +should they sleep and never wake up, they would sleep together. Had one +been left and the other taken! +</P> + +<P> +As though the thought had occurred to them simultaneously, they turned +one to the other, and their lips met, their souls met, mingling in one +dream; whilst above in the windless heaven space answered space with +flashes of siderial light, and Canopus shone and burned like the +pointed sword of Azrael. +</P> + +<P> +Clasped in Emmeline's hand was the last and most mysterious gift of the +mysterious world they had known—the branch of crimson berries. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0301"></A> +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +BOOK III +</H2> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER I +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +MAD LESTRANGE +</H3> + +<P> +They knew him upon the Pacific slope as "Mad Lestrange." He was not +mad, but he was a man with a fixed idea. He was pursued by a vision: +the vision of two children and an old sailor adrift in a little boat +upon a wide blue sea. +</P> + +<P> +When the Arago, bound for Papetee, picked up the boats of the +Northumberland, only the people in the long-boat were alive. Le Farge, +the captain, was mad, and he never recovered his reason. Lestrange was +utterly shattered; the awful experience in the boats and the loss of +the children had left him a seemingly helpless wreck. The scowbankers, +like all their class, had fared better, and in a few days were about +the ship and sitting in the sun. Four days after the rescue the Arago +spoke the Newcastle, bound for San Francisco, and transshipped the +shipwrecked men. +</P> + +<P> +Had a physician seen Lestrange on board the Northumberland as she lay +in that long, long calm before the fire, he would have declared that +nothing but a miracle could prolong his life. The miracle came about. +</P> + +<P> +In the general hospital of San Francisco, as the clouds cleared from +his mind, they unveiled the picture of the children and the little +boat. The picture had been there daily, seen but not truly +comprehended; the horrors gone through in the open boat, the sheer +physical exhaustion, had merged all the accidents of the great disaster +into one mournful half-comprehended fact. When his brain cleared all +the other incidents fell out of focus, and memory, with her eyes set +upon the children, began to paint a picture that he was ever more to +see. +</P> + +<P> +Memory cannot produce a picture that Imagination has not retouched; and +her pictures, even the ones least touched by Imagination, are no mere +photographs, but the world of an artist. All that is inessential she +casts away, all that is essential she retains; she idealises, and that +is why her picture of a lost mistress has had power to keep a man a +celibate to the end of his days, and why she can break a human heart +with the picture of a dead child. She is a painter, but she is also a +poet. +</P> + +<P> +The picture before the mind of Lestrange was filled with this almost +diabolical poetry, for in it the little boat and her helpless crew were +represented adrift on a blue and sunlit sea. A sea most beautiful to +look at, yet most terrible, bearing as it did the recollections of +thirst. +</P> + +<P> +He had been dying, when, raising himself on his elbow, so to say, he +looked at this picture. It recalled him to life. His willpower asserted +itself, and he refused to die. +</P> + +<P> +The will of a man has, if it is strong enough, the power to reject +death. He was not in the least conscious of the exercise of this power; +he only knew that a great and absorbing interest had suddenly arisen in +him, and that a great aim stood before him—the recovery of the +children. +</P> + +<P> +The disease that was killing him ceased its ravages, or rather was +slain in its turn by the increased vitality against which it had to +strive. He left the hospital and took up his quarters at the Palace +Hotel, and then, like the General of an army, he began to formulate his +plan of campaign against Fate. +</P> + +<P> +When the crew of the Northumberland had stampeded, hurling their +officers aside, lowering the boats with a rush, and casting themselves +into the sea, everything had been lost in the way of ship's papers; the +charts, the two logs—everything, in fact, that could indicate the +latitude and longitude of the disaster. The first and second officers +and a midshipman had shared the fate of the quarter-boat; of the +fore-mast hands saved, not one, of course, could give the slightest +hint as to the locality of the spot. +</P> + +<P> +A time reckoning from the Horn told little, for there was no record of +the log. All that could be said was that the disaster had occurred +somewhere south of the line. +</P> + +<P> +In Le Farge's brain lay for a certainty the position, and Lestrange +went to see the captain in the "Maison de Sante," where he was being +looked after, and found him quite recovered from the furious mania that +he had been suffering from. Quite recovered, and playing with a ball of +coloured worsted. +</P> + +<P> +There remained the log of the Arago; in it would be found the latitude +and longitude of the boats she had picked up. +</P> + +<P> +The Arago, due at Papetee, became overdue. Lestrange watched the +overdue lists from day to day, from week to week, from month to month, +uselessly, for the Arago never was heard of again. One could not affirm +even that she was wrecked; she was simply one of the ships that never +come back from the sea. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0302"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER II +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE SECRET OF THE AZURE +</H3> + +<P> +To lose a child he loves is undoubtedly the greatest catastrophe that +can happen to a man. I do not refer to its death. +</P> + +<P> +A child wanders into the street, or is left by its nurse for a moment, +and vanishes. At first the thing is not realised. There is a pang and +hurry at the heart which half vanishes, whilst the understanding +explains that in a civilised city, if a child gets lost, it will be +found and brought back by the neighbours or the police. +</P> + +<P> +But the police know nothing of the matter, or the neighbours, and the +hours pass. Any minute may bring back the wanderer; but the minutes +pass, and the day wears into evening, and the evening to night, and the +night to dawn, and the common sounds of a new day begin. +</P> + +<P> +You cannot remain at home for restlessness; you go out, only to return +hurriedly for news. You are eternally listening, and what you hear +shocks you; the common sounds of life, the roll of the carts and cabs +in the street, the footsteps of the passers-by, are full of an +indescribable mournfulness; music increases your misery into madness, +and the joy of others is monstrous as laughter heard in hell. +</P> + +<P> +If someone were to bring you the dead body of the child, you might +weep, but you would bless him, for it is the uncertainty that kills. +</P> + +<P> +You go mad, or go on living. Years pass by, and you are an old man. +You say to yourself: "He would have been twenty years of age to-day." +</P> + +<P> +There is not in the old ferocious penal code of our forefathers a +punishment adequate to the case of the man or woman who steals a child. +</P> + +<P> +Lestrange was a wealthy man, and one hope remained to him, that the +children might have been rescued by some passing ship. It was not the +case of children lost in a city, but in the broad Pacific, where ships +travel from all ports to all ports, and to advertise his loss +adequately it was necessary to placard the world. Ten thousand dollars +was the reward offered for news of the lost ones, twenty thousand for +the recovery; and the advertisement appeared in every newspaper likely +to reach the eyes of a sailor, from the Liverpool Post to the Dead Bird. +</P> + +<P> +The years passed without anything definite coming in answer to all +these advertisements. Once news came of two children saved from the sea +in the neighbourhood of the Gilberts, and it was not false news, but +they were not the children he was seeking for. This incident at once +depressed and stimulated him, for it seemed to say, "If these children +have been saved, why not yours?" +</P> + +<P> +The strange thing was, that in his heart he felt a certainty that they +were alive. His intellect suggested their death in twenty different +forms; but a whisper, somewhere out of that great blue ocean, told him +at intervals that what he sought was there, living, and waiting for him. +</P> + +<P> +He was somewhat of the same temperament as Emmeline—a dreamer, with a +mind tuned to receive and record the fine rays that fill this world +flowing from intellect to intellect, and even from what we call +inanimate things. A coarser nature would, though feeling, perhaps, as +acutely the grief, have given up in despair the search. But he kept on; +and at the end of the fifth year, so far from desisting, he chartered a +schooner and passed eighteen months in a fruitless search, calling at +little-known islands, and once, unknowing, at an island only three +hundred miles away from the tiny island of this story. +</P> + +<P> +If you wish to feel the hopelessness of this unguided search, do not +look at a map of the Pacific, but go there. Hundreds and hundreds of +thousands of square leagues of sea, thousands of islands, reefs, atolls. +</P> + +<P> +Up to a few years ago there were many small islands utterly unknown; +even still there are some, though the charts of the Pacific are the +greatest triumphs of hydrography; and though the island of the story +was actually on the Admiralty charts, of what use was that fact to +Lestrange? +</P> + +<P> +He would have continued searching, but he dared not, for the desolation +of the sea had touched him. +</P> + +<P> +In that eighteen months the Pacific explained itself to him in part, +explained its vastness, its secrecy and inviolability. The schooner +lifted veil upon veil of distance, and veil upon veil lay beyond. He +could only move in a right line; to search the wilderness of water with +any hope, one would have to be endowed with the gift of moving in all +directions at once. +</P> + +<P> +He would often lean over the bulwark rail and watch the swell slip by, +as if questioning the water. Then the sunsets began to weigh upon his +heart, and the stars to speak to him in a new language, and he knew +that it was time to return, if he would return with a whole mind. +</P> + +<P> +When he got back to San Francisco he called upon his agent, Wannamaker +of Kearney Street, but there was still no news. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0303"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER III +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CAPTAIN FOUNTAIN +</H3> + +<P> +He had a suite of rooms at the Palace Hotel, and he lived the life of +any other rich man who is not addicted to pleasure. He knew some of the +best people in the city, and conducted himself so sanely in all +respects that a casual stranger would never have guessed his reputation +for madness; but when you knew him better, you would find sometimes in +the middle of a conversation that his mind was away from the subject; +and were you to follow him in the street, you would hear him in +conversation with himself. Once at a dinner-party he rose and left the +room, and did not return. Trifles, but sufficient to establish a +reputation of a sort. +</P> + +<P> +One morning—to be precise, it was the second day of May, exactly eight +years and five months after the wreck of the Northumberland—Lestrange +was in his sitting-room reading, when the bell of the telephone, which +stood in the corner of the room, rang. He went to the instrument. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you there?" came a high American voice. "Lestrange—right—come +down and see me—Wannamaker—I have news for you." +</P> + +<P> +Lestrange held the receiver for a moment, then he put it back in the +rest. He went to a chair and sat down, holding his head between his +hands, then he rose and went to the telephone again; but he dared not +use it, he dare not shatter the newborn hope. +</P> + +<P> +"News!" What a world lies in that word. +</P> + +<P> +In Kearney Street he stood before the door of Wannamaker's office +collecting himself and watching the crowd drifting by, then he entered +and went up the stairs. He pushed open a swing-door and entered a great +room. The clink and rattle of a dozen typewriters filled the place, and +all the hurry of business; clerks passed and came with sheaves of +correspondence in their hands; and Wannamaker himself, rising from +bending over a message which he was correcting on one of the +typewriters' tables, saw the newcomer and led him to the private office. +</P> + +<P> +"What is it?" said Lestrange. +</P> + +<P> +"Only this," said the other, taking up a slip of paper with a name and +address on it. "Simon J. Fountain, of 45 Rathray Street, West—that's +down near the wharves—says he has seen your ad. in an old number of a +paper, and he thinks he can tell you something. He did not specify the +nature of the intelligence, but it might be worth finding out. +</P> + +<P> +"I will go there," said Lestrange. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know Rathray Street?" +</P> + +<P> +"No." +</P> + +<P> +Wannamaker went out and called a boy and gave him some directions; then +Lestrange and the boy started. +</P> + +<P> +Lestrange left the office without saying "Thank you," or taking leave +in any way of the advertising agent who did not feel in the least +affronted, for he knew his customer. +</P> + +<P> +Rathray Street is, or was before the earthquake, a street of small +clean houses. It had a seafaring look that was accentuated by the +marine perfumes from the wharves close by and the sound of steam +winches loading or discharging cargo—a sound that ceased not a night +or day as the work went on beneath the sun or the sizzling arc lamps. +</P> + +<P> +No. 45 was almost exactly like its fellows, neither better nor worse; +and the door was opened by a neat, prim woman, small, and of middle +age. Commonplace she was, no doubt, but not commonplace to Lestrange. +</P> + +<P> +"Is Mr Fountain in?" he asked. "I have come about the advertisement." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, have you, sir?" she replied, making way for him to enter, and +showing him into a little sitting-room on the left of the passage. +"The Captain is in bed; he is a great invalid, but he was expecting, +perhaps, someone would call, and he will be able to see you in a +minute, if you don't mind waiting." +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks," said Lestrange; "I can wait." +</P> + +<P> +He had waited eight years, what mattered a few minutes now? But at no +time in the eight years had he suffered such suspense, for his heart +knew that now, just now in this commonplace little house, from the lips +of, perhaps, the husband of that commonplace woman, he was going to +learn either what he feared to hear, or what he hoped. +</P> + +<P> +It was a depressing little room; it was so clean, and looked as though +it were never used. A ship imprisoned in a glass bottle stood upon the +mantelpiece, and there were shells from far-away places, pictures of +ships in sand—all the things one finds as a rule adorning an old +sailor's home. +</P> + +<P> +Lestrange, as he sat waiting, could hear movements from the next +room—probably the invalid's, which they were preparing for his +reception. The distant sounds of the derricks and winches came muted +through the tightly shut window that looked as though it never had been +opened. A square of sunlight lit the upper part of the cheap lace +curtain on the right of the window, and repeated its pattern vaguely on +the lower part of the wall opposite. Then a bluebottle fly awoke +suddenly into life and began to buzz and drum against the window pane, +and Lestrange wished that they would come. +</P> + +<P> +A man of his temperament must necessarily, even under the happiest +circumstances, suffer in going through the world; the fine fibre always +suffers when brought into contact with the coarse. These people were as +kindly disposed as anyone else. The advertisement and the face and +manners of the visitor might have told them that it was not the time +for delay, yet they kept him waiting whilst they arranged bed-quilts +and put medicine bottles straight as if he could see! +</P> + +<P> +At last the door opened, and the woman said: +</P> + +<P> +"Will you step this way, sir?" +</P> + +<P> +She showed him into a bedroom opening off the passage. The room was +neat and clean, and had that indescribable appearance which marks the +bedroom of the invalid. +</P> + +<P> +In the bed, making a mountain under the counterpane with an enormously +distended stomach, lay a man, black-bearded, and with his large, +capable, useless hands spread out on the coverlet—hands ready and +willing, but debarred from work. Without moving his body, he turned his +head slowly and looked at the newcomer. This slow movement was not +from weakness or disease, it was the slow, emotionless nature of the +man speaking. +</P> + +<P> +"This is the gentleman, Silas," said the woman, speaking over +Lestrange's shoulder. Then she withdrew and closed the door. +</P> + +<P> +"Take a chair, sir," said the sea captain, flapping one of his hands on +the counterpane as if in wearied protest against his own helplessness. +"I haven't the pleasure of your name, but the missus tells me you're +come about the advertisement I lit on yester-even." +</P> + +<P> +He took a paper, folded small, that lay beside him, and held it out to +his visitor. It was a Sidney Bulletin three years old. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Lestrange, looking at the paper; "that is my advertisement." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, it's strange—very strange," said Captain Fountain, "that I +should have lit on it only yesterday. I've had it all three years in my +chest, the way old papers get lying at the bottom with odds and ends. +Mightn't a' seen it now, only the missus cleared the raffle out of the +chest, and, `Give me that paper,' I says, seeing it in her hand; and I +fell to reading it, for a man'll read anything bar tracts lying in bed +eight months, as I've been with the dropsy. I've been whaler man and +boy forty year, and my last ship was the Sea-Horse. Over seven years +ago one of my men picked up something on a beach of one of them islands +east of the Marquesas—we'd put in to water." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, yes," said Lestrange. "What was it he found?" +</P> + +<P> +"Missus!" roared the captain in a voice that shook the walls of the +room. +</P> + +<P> +The door opened, and the woman appeared. +</P> + +<P> +"Fetch me my keys out of my trousers pocket." +</P> + +<P> +The trousers were hanging up on the back of the door, as if only +waiting to be put on. The woman fetched the keys, and he fumbled over +them and found one. He handed it to her, and pointed to the drawer of a +bureau opposite the bed. +</P> + +<P> +She knew evidently what was wanted, for she opened the drawer and +produced a box, which she handed to him. It was a small cardboard box +tied round with a bit of string. He undid the string, and disclosed a +child's tea service: a teapot, cream jug, six little plates all painted +with a pansy. +</P> + +<P> +It was the box which Emmeline had always been losing—lost again. +</P> + +<P> +Lestrange buried his face in his hands. He knew the things. Emmeline +had shown them to him in a burst of confidence. Out of all that vast +ocean he had searched unavailingly: they had come to him like a +message, and the awe and mystery of it bowed him down and crushed him. +</P> + +<P> +The captain had placed the things on the newspaper spread out by his +side, and he was unrolling the little spoons from their tissue-paper +covering. He counted them as if entering up the tale of some trust, and +placed them on the newspaper. +</P> + +<P> +"When did you find them?" asked Lestrange, speaking with his face still +covered. +</P> + +<P> +"A matter of over seven years ago," replied the captain, "we'd put in +to water at a place south of the line—Palm Tree Island we whalemen +call it, because of the tree at the break of the lagoon. One of my men +brought it aboard, found it in a shanty built of sugarcanes which the +men bust up for devilment." +</P> + +<P> +"Good God!" said Lestrange. "Was there no one there—nothing but this +box?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not a sight or sound, so the men said; just the shanty, abandoned +seemingly. I had no time to land and hunt for castaways, I was after +whales." +</P> + +<P> +"How big is the island?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, a fairish middle-sized island—no natives. I've heard tell it's +tabu; why, the Lord only knows—some crank of the Kanakas I s'pose. +Anyhow, there's the findings—you recognise them?" +</P> + +<P> +"I do." +</P> + +<P> +"Seems strange," said the captain, "that I should pick em up; seems +strange your advertisement out, and the answer to it lying amongst my +gear, but that's the way things go." +</P> + +<P> +"Strange!" said the other. "It's more than strange." +</P> + +<P> +"Of course," continued the captain, "they might have been on the island +hid away som'ere, there's no saying; only appearances are against it. +Of course they might be there now unbeknownst to you or me." +</P> + +<P> +"They are there now," answered Lestrange, who was sitting up and +looking at the playthings as though he read in them some hidden +message. "They are there now. Have you the position of the island?" +</P> + +<P> +"I have. Missus, hand me my private log." +</P> + +<P> +She took a bulky, greasy, black note-book from the bureau, and handed +it to him. He opened it, thumbed the pages, and then read out the +latitude and longitude. +</P> + +<P> +"I entered it on the day of finding—here's the entry. `Adams brought +aboard child's toy box out of deserted shanty, which men pulled down; +traded it to me for a caulker of rum.' The cruise lasted three years +and eight months after that; we'd only been out three when it happened. +I forgot all about it: three years scrubbing round the world after +whales doesn't brighten a man's memory. Right round we went, and paid +off at Nantucket. Then, after a fortni't on shore and a month +repairin', the old Sea-Horse was off again, I with her. It was at +Honolulu this dropsy took me, and back I come here, home. That's the +yarn. There's not much to it, but, seein' your advertisement, I thought +I might answer it." +</P> + +<P> +Lestrange took Fountain's hand and shook it. +</P> + +<P> +"You see the reward I offered?" he said. "I have not my cheque book +with me, but you shall have the cheque in an hour from now." +</P> + +<P> +"No, SIR," replied the captain; "if anything comes of it, I don't say +I'm not open to some small acknowledgment, but ten thousand dollars for +a five-cent box—that's not my way of doing business." +</P> + +<P> +"I can't make you take the money now—I can't even thank you properly +now," said Lestrange—"I am in a fever; but when all is settled, you +and I will settle this business. My God!" +</P> + +<P> +He buried his face in his hands again. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not wishing to be inquisitive," said Captain Fountain, slowly +putting the things back in the box and tucking the paper shavings round +them, "but may I ask how you propose to move in this business?" +</P> + +<P> +"I will hire a ship at once and search." +</P> + +<P> +"Ay," said the captain, wrapping up the little spoons in a meditative +manner; "perhaps that will be best." +</P> + +<P> +He felt certain in his own mind that the search would be fruitless, but +he did not say so. If he had been absolutely certain in his mind +without being able to produce the proof, he would not have counselled +Lestrange to any other course, knowing that the man's mind would never +be settled until proof positive was produced. +</P> + +<P> +"The question is," said Lestrange, "what is my quickest way to get +there?" +</P> + +<P> +"There I may be able to help you," said Fountain tying the string round +the box "A schooner with good heels to her is what you want; and, if +I'm not mistaken, there's one discharging cargo at this present minit +at O'Sullivan's wharf. Missus!" +</P> + +<P> +The woman answered the call. Lestrange felt like a person in a dream, +and these people who were interesting themselves in his affairs seemed +to him beneficent beyond the nature of human beings. +</P> + +<P> +"Is Captain Stannistreet home, think you?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know," replied the woman; "but I can go see." +</P> + +<P> +"Do." +</P> + +<P> +She went. +</P> + +<P> +"He lives only a few doors down," said Fountain, "and he's the man for +you. Best schooner captain ever sailed out of 'Frisco. The Raratonga is +the name of the boat I have in my mind—best boat that ever wore +copper. Stannistreet is captain of her, owners are M'Vitie. She's been +missionary, and she's been pigs; copra was her last cargo, and she's +nearly discharged it. Oh, M'Vitie would hire her out to Satan at a +price; you needn't be afraid of their boggling at it if you can raise +the dollars. She's had a new suit of sails only the beginning of the +year. Oh, she'll fix you up to a T, and you take the word of S. +Fountain for that. I'll engineer the thing from this bed if you'll let +me put my oar in your trouble; I'll victual her, and find a crew three +quarter price of any of those d——d skulking agents. Oh, I'll take a +commission right enough, but I'm half paid with doing the thing." +</P> + +<P> +He ceased, for footsteps sounded in the passage outside, and Captain +Stannistreet was shown in. He was a young man of not more than thirty, +alert, quick of eye, and pleasant of face. Fountain introduced him to +Lestrange, who had taken a fancy to him at first sight. +</P> + +<P> +When he heard about the business in hand, he seemed interested at once; +the affair seemed to appeal to him more than if it had been a purely +commercial matter, much as copra and pigs. +</P> + +<P> +"If you'll come with me, sir, down to the wharf, I'll show you the boat +now," he said, when they had discussed the matter and threshed it out +thoroughly. +</P> + +<P> +He rose, bid good-day to his friend Fountain, and Lestrange followed +him, carrying the brown paper box in his hand. +</P> + +<P> +O'Sullivan's Wharf was not far away. A tall Cape Horner that looked +almost a twin sister of the ill-fated Northumberland was discharging +iron, and astern of her, graceful as a dream, with snow-white decks, +lay the Raratonga discharging copra. +</P> + +<P> +"That's the boat," said Stannistreet; "cargo nearly all out. How does +she strike your fancy?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll take her," said Lestrange, "cost what it will." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0304"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +DUE SOUTH +</H3> + +<P> +It was on the 10th of May, so quickly did things move under the +supervision of the bedridden captain, that the Raratonga, with +Lestrange on board, cleared the Golden Gates, and made south, heeling +to a ten-knot breeze. +</P> + +<P> +There is no mode of travel to be compared to your sailing-ship. In a +great ship, if you have ever made a voyage in one, the vast spaces of +canvas, the sky-high spars, the finesse with which the wind is met and +taken advantage of, will form a memory never to be blotted out. +</P> + +<P> +A schooner is the queen of all rigs; she has a bounding buoyancy denied +to the square-rigged craft, to which she stands in the same +relationship as a young girl to a dowager; and the Raratonga was not +only a schooner, but the queen, acknowledged of all the schooners in +the Pacific. +</P> + +<P> +For the first few days they made good way south; then the wind became +baffling and headed them off. +</P> + +<P> +Added to Lestrange's feverish excitement there was an anxiety, a deep +and soul-fretting anxiety, as if some half-heard voice were telling him +that the children he sought were threatened by some danger. +</P> + +<P> +These baffling winds blew upon the smouldering anxiety in his breast, +as wind blows upon embers, causing them to glow. They lasted some days, +and then, as if Fate had relented, up sprang on the starboard quarter a +spanking breeze, making the rigging sing to a merry tune, and blowing +the spindrift from the forefoot, as the Raratonga, heeling to its +pressure, went humming through the sea, leaving a wake spreading behind +her like a fan. +</P> + +<P> +It took them along five hundred miles, silently and with the speed of a +dream. Then it ceased. +</P> + +<P> +The ocean and the air stood still. The sky above stood solid like a +great pale blue dome; just where it met the water line of the far +horizon a delicate tracery of cloud draped the entire round of the sky. +</P> + +<P> +I have said that the ocean stood still as well as the air: to the eye +it was so, for the swell under-running the glitter on its surface was +so even, so equable, and so rhythmical, that the surface seemed not in +motion. Occasionally a dimple broke the surface, and strips of dark +sea-weed floated by, showing up the green; dim things rose to the +surface and, guessing the presence of man, sank slowly and dissolved +from sight. +</P> + +<P> +Two days, never to be recovered, passed, and still the calm continued. +On the morning of the third day it breezed up from the nor'-nor'west, +and they continued their course, a cloud of canvas, every sail drawing, +and the music of the ripple under the forefoot. +</P> + +<P> +Captain Stannistreet was a genius in his profession; he could get more +speed out of a schooner than any other man afloat, and carry more +canvas without losing a stick. He was also, fortunately for Lestrange, +a man of refinement and education, and what was better still, +understanding. +</P> + +<P> +They were pacing the deck one afternoon, when Lestrange, who was +walking with his hands behind him, and his eyes counting the brown +dowels in the cream-white planking, broke silence. +</P> + +<P> +"You don't believe in visions and dreams?" +</P> + +<P> +"How do you know that?" replied the other. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I only put it as a question; most people say they don't." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, but most people do." +</P> + +<P> +"I do," said Lestrange. +</P> + +<P> +He was silent for a moment. +</P> + +<P> +"You know my trouble so well that I won't bother you going over it, but +there has come over me of late a feeling—it is like a waking dream." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes?" +</P> + +<P> +"I can't quite explain, for it is as if I saw something which my +intelligence could not comprehend, or make an image of." +</P> + +<P> +"I think I know what you mean." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't think you do. This is something quite strange. I am fifty, and +in fifty years a man has experienced, as a rule, all the ordinary and +most of the extraordinary sensations that a human being can be +subjected to. Well, I have never felt this sensation before; it comes +on only at times. I see, as you might imagine, a young baby sees, and +things are before me that I do not comprehend. It is not through my +bodily eyes that this sensation comes, but through some window of the +mind, from before which a curtain has been drawn." +</P> + +<P> +"That's strange," said Stannistreet, who did not like the conversation +over-much, being simply a schooner captain and a plain man, though +intelligent enough and sympathetic. +</P> + +<P> +"This something tells me," went on Lestrange, "that there is danger +threatening the—" He ceased, paused a minute, and then, to +Stannistreet's relief, went on. "If I talk like that you will think I +am not right in my head: let us pass the subject by, let us forget +dreams and omens and come to realities. You know how I lost the +children; you know how I hope to find them at the place where Captain +Fountain found their traces? He says the island was uninhabited, but he +was not sure." +</P> + +<P> +"No," replied Stannistreet, "he only spoke of the beach." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. Well, suppose there were natives at the other side of the island +who had taken these children." +</P> + +<P> +"If so, they would grow up with the natives." +</P> + +<P> +"And become savages?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; but the Polynesians can't be really called savages; they are a +very decent lot I've knocked about amongst them a good while, and a +kanaka is as white as a white man—which is not saying much, but it's +something. Most of the islands are civilised now. Of course there are a +few that aren't, but still, suppose even that `savages,' as you call +them, had come and taken the children off—" +</P> + +<P> +Lestrange's breath caught, for this was the very fear that was in his +heart, though he had never spoken it. +</P> + +<P> +"Well?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, they would be well treated." +</P> + +<P> +"And brought up as savages?" +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose so." +</P> + +<P> +Lestrange sighed. +</P> + +<P> +"Look here," said the captain; "it's all very well talking, but upon my +word I think that we civilised folk put on a lot of airs, and waste a +lot of pity on savages." +</P> + +<P> +"How so?" +</P> + +<P> +"What does a man want to be but happy?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, who is happier than a naked savage in a warm climate? Oh, he's +happy enough, and he's not always holding a corroboree. He's a good +deal of a gentleman; he has perfect health; he lives the life a man was +born to live—face to face with Nature. He doesn't see the sun through +an office window or the moon through the smoke of factory chimneys; +happy and civilised too but, bless you, where is he? The whites have +driven him out; in one or two small islands you may find him still—a +crumb or so of him." +</P> + +<P> +"Suppose," said Lestrange, "suppose those children had been brought up +face to face with Nature—" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes?" +</P> + +<P> +"Living that free life—" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes?" +</P> + +<P> +"Waking up under the stars"—Lestrange was speaking with his eyes +fixed, as if upon something very far away—"going to sleep as the sun +sets, feeling the air fresh, like this which blows upon us, all around +them. Suppose they were like that, would it not be a cruelty to bring +them to what we call civilisation?" +</P> + +<P> +"I think it would," said Stannistreet. +</P> + +<P> +Lestrange said nothing, but continued pacing the deck, his head bowed +and his hands behind his back. +</P> + +<P> +One evening at sunset, Stannistreet said: +</P> + +<P> +"We're two hundred and forty miles from the island, reckoning from +to-day's reckoning at noon. We're going all ten knots even with this +breeze; we ought to fetch the place this time to-morrow. Before that if +it freshens." +</P> + +<P> +"I am greatly disturbed," said Lestrange. +</P> + +<P> +He went below, and the schooner captain shook his head, and, locking +his arm round a ratlin, gave his body to the gentle roll of the craft +as she stole along, skirting the sunset, splendid, and to the nautical +eye full of fine weather. +</P> + +<P> +The breeze was not quite so fresh next morning, but it had been blowing +fairly all the night, and the Raratonga had made good way. About eleven +it began to fail. It became the lightest sailing breeze, just +sufficient to keep the sails drawing, and the wake rippling and +swirling behind. Suddenly Stannistreet, who had been standing talking +to Lestrange, climbed a few feet up the mizzen ratlins, and shaded his +eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"What is it?" asked Lestrange. +</P> + +<P> +"A boat," he replied. "Hand me that glass you will find in the sling +there." +</P> + +<P> +He levelled the glass, and looked for a long time without speaking. +</P> + +<P> +"It's a boat adrift—a small boat, nothing in her. Stay! I see +something white, can't make it out. Hi there!"—to the fellow at the +wheel. "Keep her a point more to starboard." He got on to the deck. +"We're going dead on for her." +</P> + +<P> +"Is there any one in her?" asked Lestrange. +</P> + +<P> +"Can't quite make out, but I'll lower the whale-boat and fetch her +alongside." +</P> + +<P> +He gave orders for the whale-boat to be slung out and manned. +</P> + +<P> +As they approached nearer, it was evident that the drifting boat, which +looked like a ship's dinghy, contained something, but what, could not +be made out. +</P> + +<P> +When he had approached near enough, Stannistreet put the helm down and +brought the schooner to, with her sails all shivering. He took his +place in the bow of the whale-boat and Lestrange in the stern. The boat +was lowered, the falls cast off, and the oars bent to the water. +</P> + +<P> +The little dinghy made a mournful picture as she floated, looking +scarcely bigger than a walnut shell. In thirty strokes the whaleboat's +nose was touching her quarter. Stannistreet grasped her gunwale. +</P> + +<P> +In the bottom of the dinghy lay a girl, naked all but for a strip of +coloured striped material. One of her arms was clasped round the neck +of a form that was half hidden by her body, the other clasped partly to +herself, partly to her companion, the body of a baby. They were +natives, evidently, wrecked or lost by some mischance from some +inter-island schooner. Their breasts rose and fell gently, and clasped +in the girl's hand was a branch of some tree, and on the branch a +single withered berry. +</P> + +<P> +"Are they dead?" asked Lestrange, who divined that there were people in +the boat, and who was standing up in the stern of the whale-boat trying +to see. +</P> + +<P> +"No," said Stannistreet; "they are asleep." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Blue Lagoon, by H. de Vere Stacpoole + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BLUE LAGOON *** + +***** This file should be named 393-h.htm or 393-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/9/393/ + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net + + +Title: The Blue Lagoon + A Romance + +Author: H. de Vere Stacpoole + +Release Date: January 19, 2008 [EBook #393] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BLUE LAGOON *** + + + + + + + + + +The Blue lagoon: A Romance + +by H. de Vere Stacpoole + + + + +Introduction to the Project Gutenberg text of H. de Vere Stacpoole's +The Blue Lagoon: A Romance + + +by Edward A. Malone + +University of Missouri-Rolla + + +Born on April 9, 1863, in Kingstown, Ireland, Henry de Vere Stacpoole +grew up in a household dominated by his mother and three older sisters. +William C. Stacpoole, a doctor of divinity from Trinity College and +headmaster of Kingstown school, died some time before his son's eighth +birthday, leaving the responsibility of supporting the family to his +Canadian-born wife, Charlotte Augusta Mountjoy Stacpoole. At a young +age, Charlotte had been led out of the Canadian backwoods by her +widowed mother and taken to Ireland, where their relatives lived. This +experience had strengthened her character and prepared her for single +parenthood. + +Charlotte cared passionately for her children and was perhaps overly +protective of her son. As a child, Henry suffered from severe +respiratory problems, misdiagnosed as chronic bronchitis by his +physician, who in the winter of 1871 advised that the boy be taken to +Southern France for his health. With her entire family in tow, +Charlotte made the long journey from Kingstown to London to Paris, +where signs of the Franco-Prussian War were still evident, settling at +last in Nice at the Hotel des Iles Britannique. Nice was like paradise +to Henry, who marveled at the city's affluence and beauty as he played +in the warm sun. + +After several more excursions to the continent, Stacpoole was sent to +Portarlington, a bleak boarding school more than 100 miles from +Kingstown. In contrast to his sisters, the Portarlington boys were +noisy and uncouth. As Stacpoole writes in his autobiograhy Men and +Mice, 1863-1942 (1942), the boys abused him mentally and physically, +making him feel like "a little Arthur in a cage of baboons." One night, +he escaped through an adjacent girls' school and returned to Kingstown, +only to be betrayed by his family and dragged back to school by his +eldest sister. + +When his family moved to London, he was taken out of Portarlington and +enrolled at Malvern College, a progressive school with refined students +and plenty of air and sunshine. Stacpoole thoroughly enjoyed his new +surroundings, which he associated with the description of Malvern Hills +in Elizabeth Barrett Browning's Aurora Leigh (1857): "Keepers of Piers +Plowman's visions / Through the sunshine and the snow." This +environment encouraged his interest in literature and writing. + +The idyll ended, however, when Stacpoole began his medical training. At +his mother's prodding, he entered the medical school at St. George's +Hospital. Twice a day, he had to traverse a park frequented by +perambulating nursemaids, and he became romantically involved with one +of them. When his mother discovered their affair, she insisted that he +transfer to University College, and he complied. + +More interested in literature than corpses, Stacpoole began to neglect +his studies and miss classes, especially the required dissections. +Finally, the dean of the medical school confronted him, and their +argument drove Stacpoole to St. Mary's Hospital, where he completed his +medical training and qualified L. S. A. in 1891. At some point after +this date, Stacpoole made several sea voyages into the tropics (at +least once as a doctor aboard a cable-mending ship), collecting +information for future stories. + +Stacpoole's literary career, which he once described as being "more +like a Malay fishing prahu than an honest-to-God English literary +vessel," began inauspiciously with the publication of The Intended +(1894), a tragic novel about two look-alikes, one rich, the other poor, +who switch places on a whim. Bewildered by the novel's lack of success, +Stacpoole consulted his friendly muse, Pearl Craigie, alias John Oliver +Hobbes, who suggested a comic rather than tragic treatment. Years +later, Stacpoole retold the story in The Man Who Lost Himself (1918), a +commercially successful comic novel about a down-and-out American who +impersonates his wealthy look-alike in England. + +Set in France during the Franco-Prussian War, Stacpoole's second novel, +Pierrot (1896), recounts a French boy's eerie relationship with a +patricidal doppelganger. Like its predecessor, it was a commercial +failure, and it was at this point, perhaps, that Stacpoole began to +view literary success only in terms of sales figures and numbers of +editions. + +A strange tale of reincarnation, cross dressing, and uxoricide, +Stacpoole's third novel, Death, the Knight, and the Lady (1897), +purports to be the deathbed confession of Beatrice Sinclair, who is +both a reincarnated murderer (male) and a descendant of the murder +victim (female). She falls in love with Gerald Wilder, a man disguised +as a woman, who is both a reincarnated murder victim (female) and the +descendant of the murderer (male). Despite its originality, the novel +was killed by "Public Indifference" (Stacpoole's term), which also +killed The Rapin (1899), a novel about an art student in Paris. + +Stacpoole spent the summer of 1898 in Sommerset, where he took over the +medical practice of an ailing country doctor. So peaceful were his days +in this pastoral setting that he had time to write The Doctor (1899), a +novel about an old-fashioned physician practicing medicine in rural +England. "It is the best book I have written," Stacpoole declared more +than forty years later. He could also say, in retrospect, that the +book's weak sales were a disguised blessing, "for I hadn't ballast on +board in those days to stand up to the gale of success, which means +incidentally money." He would be spared the gale of success for nine +more years, during which he published seven books, including a +collection of children's stories and two collaborative novels with his +friend William Alexander Bryce. + +In 1907, two events occurred that altered the course of Stacpoole's +life: he wrote The Blue Lagoon and he married Margaret Robson. Unable +to sleep one night, he found himself thinking about and envying the +caveman, who in his primitiveness was able to marvel at such +commonplace phenomena as sunsets and thunderstorms. Civilized, +technological man had unveiled these mysteries with his telescopes and +weather balloons, so that they were no longer "nameless wonders" to be +feared and contemplated. As a doctor, Stacpoole had witnessed countless +births and deaths, and these events no longer seemed miraculous to him. +He conceived the idea of two children growing up alone on an island and +experiencing storms, death, and birth in almost complete ignorance and +innocence. The next morning, he started writing The Blue Lagoon. The +exercise was therapeutic because he was able to experience the wonders +of life and death vicariously through his characters. + +The Blue Lagoon is the story of two cousins, Dicky and Emmeline +Lestrange, stranded on a remote island with a beautiful lagoon. As +children, they are cared for by Paddy Button, a portly sailor who +drinks himself to death after only two and a half years in paradise. +Frightened and confused by the man's gruesome corpse, the children flee +to another part of Palm Tree Island. Over a period of five years, they +grow up and eventually fall in love. Sex and birth are as mysterious +to them as death, but they manage to copulate instinctively and +conceive a child. The birth is especially remarkable: fifteen-year-old +Emmeline, alone in the jungle, loses consciousness and awakes to find a +baby boy on the ground near her. Naming the boy Hannah (an example of +Stacpoole's penchant for gender reversals), the Lestranges live in +familial bliss until they are unexpectedly expelled from their tropical +Eden. + +The parallels between The Blue Lagoon and the Biblical story of Adam +and Eve are obvious and intentional, but Stacpoole was also influenced +by Lewis Carroll's Alice's Adventures in Wonderland (1865), which he +invokes in a passage describing the castaways' approach Palm Tree +Island: + +"One could see the water swirling round the coral piers, for the tide +was flooding into the lagoon; it had seized the little dinghy and was +bearing it along far swifter than the sculls could have driven it. +Seagulls screamed about them, the boat rocked and swayed. Dick shouted +with excitement, and Emmeline shut her eyes TIGHT. + +"Then, as though a door had been swiftly and silently closed, the sound +of the surf became suddenly less. The boat floated on an even keel; she +opened her eyes and found herself in Wonderland." + +This direct reference to Wonderland prepares the reader for the many +parallels that follow. When their adventures begin, both girls are +about the same age, Alice seven and a half, Emmeline exactly eight. +Just as Alice joins a tea party in Wonderland, Emmeline plays with her +tiny tea set on the beach after they land. Emmeline's former pet, like +the Cheshire Cat, "had white stripes and a white chest, and rings down +its tail" and died "showing its teeth." Whereas Alice looks for a +poison label on a bottle that says "Drink Me," Emmeline innocently +tries to eat "the never-wake-up berries" and receives a stern rebuke +and a lecture about poison from Paddy Button. "The Poetry of Learning" +chapter echoes Alice's dialogue with the caterpillar. Like the wily +creature smoking a hookah, Paddy smokes a pipe and shouts "Hurroo!" as +the children teach him to write his name in the sand. The children +lose "all count of time," just as the Mad Hatter does. Whereas Alice +grows nine feet taller, Dick sprouts "two inches taller" and Emmeline +"twice as plump." Like the baby in the "Pig and Pepper," Hannah sneezes +at the first sight of Dicky. The novel is artfully littered with +references to wonder, curiosity, and strangeness--all evidence of +Stacpoole's conscious effort to invoke and honor his Victorian +predecessor. + +Stacpoole presented The Blue Lagoon to Publisher T. Fisher Unwin in +September 1907 and went to Cumberland to assist another ailing doctor +in his practice. Every day from Eden Vue in Langwathby, Stacpoole wrote +to his fiancee, Margaret Robson (or Maggie, as he called her), and +waited anxiously for their wedding day. On December 17, 1907, the +couple were married and spent their honeymoon at Stebbing Park, a +friend's country house in Essex, about three miles from the village of +Stebbing. It was there that they stumbled upon Rose Cottage, where +Stacpoole lived for several years before he moved to Cliff Dene on the +Isle of Wight in the 1920s. + +Published in January 1908, The Blue Lagoon was an immediate success, +both with reviewers and the public. "[This] tale of the discovery of +love, and innocent mating, is as fresh as the ozone that made them +strong," declared one reviewer. Another claimed that "for once the +title of `romance,' found in so many modern stories, is really +justified." The novel was reprinted more than twenty times in the next +twelve years and remained popular in other forms for more than eighty +years. Norman MacOwen and Charlton Mann adapted the story as a play, +which ran for 263 performances in London from August 28, 1920, to April +16, 1921. Film versions of the novel were made in 1923, 1949, and 1980. + +Stacpoole also wrote two successful sequels: The Garden of God (1923) +and The Gates of Morning (1925). These three books and two others were +combined to form The Blue Lagoon Omnibus in 1933. The Garden of God was +filmed as Return to the Blue Lagoon in 1992. + +This Gutenberg etext of The Blue Lagoon: A Romance is based on the 1908 +first American edition published by J. B. Lippincott Company of +Philadelphia. + +========================================================== + + + + +The Blue lagoon: A Romance + +by H. de Vere Stacpoole + + + + + +CONTENTS + + +BOOK I + +PART I + + I. WHERE THE SLUSH LAMP BURNS + II. UNDER THE STARS + III. THE SHADOW AND THE FIRE + IV. AND LIKE A DREAM DISSOLVED + V. VOICES HEARD IN THE MIST + VI. DAWN ON A WIDE, WIDE SEA + VII. STORY OF THE PIG AND THE BILLY-GOAT + VIII. "S-H-E-N-A-N-D-O-A-H" + IX. SHADOWS IN THE MOONLIGHT + X. THE TRAGEDY OF THE BOATS + + +PART II + + XI. THE ISLAND + XII. THE LAKE OF AZURE + XIII. DEATH VEILED WITH LICHEN + XIV. ECHOES OF FAIRY-LAND + XV. FAIR PICTURES IN THE BLUE + + +PART III + + XVI. THE POETRY OF LEARNING + XVII. THE DEVIL'S CASK + XVIII. THE RAT HUNT + XIX. STARLIGHT ON THE FOAM + XX. THE DREAMER ON THE REEF + XXI. THE GARLAND OF FLOWERS + XXII. ALONE + XXIII. THEY MOVE AWAY + + + +BOOK II + +PART I + + I. UNDER THE ARTU TREE + II. HALF CHILD-HALF SAVAGE + III. THE DEMON OF THE REEF + IV. WHAT BEAUTY CONCEALED + V. THE SOUND OF A DRUM + VI. SAILS UPON THE SEA + VII. THE SCHOONER + VIII. LOVE STEPS IN + IX. THE SLEEP OF PARADISE + + +PART II + + X. AN ISLAND HONEYMOON + XI. THE VANISHING OF EMMELINE + XII. THE VANISHING OF EMMELINE (CONTINUED) + XIII. THE NEWCOMER + XIV. HANNAH + XV. THE LAGOON OF FIRE + XVI. THE CYCLONE + XVII. THE STRICKEN WOODS + XVIII. A FALLEN IDOL + XIX. THE EXPEDITION + XX. THE KEEPER OF THE LAGOON + XXI. THE HAND OF THE SEA + XXII. TOGETHER + + +BOOK III + + I. MAD LESTRANGE + II. THE SECRET OF THE AZURE + III. CAPTAIN FOUNTAIN + IV. DUE SOUTH + + + + +THE BLUE LAGOON + + +BOOK I + +PART I + +CHAPTER I + +WHERE THE SLUSH LAMP BURNS + +Mr Button was seated on a sea-chest with a fiddle under his left ear. +He was playing the "Shan van vaught," and accompanying the tune, +punctuating it, with blows of his left heel on the fo'cs'le deck. + + "O the Frinch are in the bay, + Says the Shan van vaught." + +He was dressed in dungaree trousers, a striped shirt, and a jacket +baize--green in parts from the influence of sun and salt. A typical old +shell-back, round-shouldered, hooked of finger; a figure with strong +hints of a crab about it. + +His face was like a moon, seen red through tropical mists; and as he +played it wore an expression of strained attention as though the fiddle +were telling him tales much more marvellous than the old bald statement +about Bantry Bay. + +"Left-handed Pat," was his fo'cs'le name; not because he was +left-handed, but simply because everything he did he did wrong--or +nearly so. Reefing or furling, or handling a slush tub--if a mistake +was to be made, he made it. + +He was a Celt, and all the salt seas that had flowed between him and +Connaught these forty years and more had not washed the Celtic element +from his blood, nor the belief in fairies from his soul. The Celtic +nature is a fast dye, and Mr Button's nature was such that though he +had been shanghaied by Larry Marr in 'Frisco, though he had got drunk +in most ports of the world, though he had sailed with Yankee captains +and been man-handled by Yankee mates, he still carried his fairies +about with him--they, and a very large stock of original innocence. + +Nearly over the musician's head swung a hammock from which hung a leg; +other hammocks hanging in the semi-gloom called up suggestions of +lemurs and arboreal bats. The swinging kerosene lamp cast its light +forward past the heel of the bowsprit to the knightheads, lighting here +a naked foot hanging over the side of a bunk, here a face from which +protruded a pipe, here a breast covered with dark mossy hair, here an +arm tattooed. + +It was in the days before double topsail yards had reduced ships' +crews, and the fo'cs'le of the Northumberland had a full company: a +crowd of packet rats such as often is to be found on a Cape Horner +"Dutchmen" [sic] Americans--men who were farm labourers and tending +pigs in Ohio three months back, old seasoned sailors like Paddy +Button--a mixture of the best and the worst of the earth, such as you +find nowhere else in so small a space as in a ship's fo'cs'le. + +The Northumberland had experienced a terrible rounding of the Horn. +Bound from New Orleans to 'Frisco she had spent thirty days battling +with head-winds and storms--down there, where the seas are so vast that +three waves may cover with their amplitude more than a mile of sea +space; thirty days she had passed off Cape Stiff, and just now, at the +moment of this story, she was locked in a calm south of the line. + +Mr Button finished his tune with a sweep of the bow, and drew his right +coat sleeve across his forehead. Then he took out a sooty pipe, filled +it with tobacco, and lit it. + +"Pawthrick," drawled a voice from the hammock above, from which +depended the leg, "what was that yarn you wiz beginnin' to spin ter +night 'bout a lip-me-dawn?" + +"A which me-dawn?" asked Mr Button, cocking his eye up at the bottom of +the hammock while he held the match to his pipe. + +"It vas about a green thing," came a sleepy Dutch voice from a bunk. + +"Oh, a Leprachaun, you mane. Sure, me mother's sister had one down in +Connaught." + +"Vat vas it like?" asked the dreamy Dutch voice--a voice seemingly +possessed by the calm that had made the sea like a mirror for the last +three days, reducing the whole ship's company meanwhile to the level of +wasters. + +"Like? Sure, it was like a Leprachaun; and what else would it be like?" + +"What like vas that?" persisted the voice. + +"It was like a little man no bigger than a big forked radish, an' as +green as a cabbidge. Me a'nt had one in her house down in Connaught in +the ould days. O musha! musha! the ould days, the ould days! Now, you +may b'lave me or b'lave me not, but you could have put him in your +pocket, and the grass-green head of him wouldn't more than'v stuck out. +She kept him in a cupboard, and out of the cupboard he'd pop if it was +a crack open, an' into the milk pans he'd be, or under the beds, or +pullin' the stool from under you, or at some other divarsion. He'd +chase the pig--the crathur!--till it'd be all ribs like an ould +umbrilla with the fright, an' as thin as a greyhound with the runnin' +by the marnin; he'd addle the eggs so the cocks an' hens wouldn't know +what they wis afther wid the chickens comin' out wid two heads on them, +an' twinty-seven legs fore and aft. And you'd start to chase him, an' +then it'd be main-sail haul, and away he'd go, you behint him, till +you'd landed tail over snout in a ditch, an' he'd be back in the +cupboard." + +"He was a Troll," murmured the Dutch voice. + +"I'm tellin' you he was a Leprachaun, and there's no knowin' the +divilments he'd be up to. He'd pull the cabbidge, maybe, out of the pot +boilin' on the fire forenint your eyes, and baste you in the face with +it; and thin, maybe, you'd hold out your fist to him, and he'd put a +goulden soverin in it." + +"Wisht he was here!" murmured a voice from a bunk near the knightheads. + +"Pawthrick," drawled the voice from the hammock above, "what'd you do +first if you found y'self with twenty pound in your pocket?" + +"What's the use of askin' me?" replied Mr Button. "What's the use of +twenty pound to a sayman at say, where the grog's all wather an' the +beef's all horse? Gimme it ashore, an' you'd see what I'd do wid it!" + +"I guess the nearest grog-shop keeper wouldn't see you comin' for +dust," said a voice from Ohio. + +"He would not," said Mr Button; "nor you afther me. Be damned to the +grog and thim that sells it!" + +"It's all darned easy to talk," said Ohio. "You curse the grog at sea +when you can't get it; set you ashore, and you're bung full." + +"I likes me dhrunk," said Mr Button, "I'm free to admit; an' I'm the +divil when it's in me, and it'll be the end of me yet, or me ould +mother was a liar. `Pat,' she says, first time I come home from say +rowlin', `storms you may escape, an wimmen you may escape, but the +potheen 'ill have you.' Forty year ago--forty year ago!" + +"Well," said Ohio, "it hasn't had you yet." + +"No," replied Mr Button, "but it will." + + + + +CHAPTER II + +UNDER THE STARS + +It was a wonderful night up on deck, filled with all the majesty and +beauty of starlight and a tropic calm. + +The Pacific slept; a vast, vague swell flowing from far away down south +under the night, lifted the Northumberland on its undulations to the +rattling sound of the reef points and the occasional creak of the +rudder; whilst overhead, near the fiery arch of the Milky Way, hung the +Southern Cross like a broken kite. + +Stars in the sky, stars in the sea, stars by the million and the +million; so many lamps ablaze that the firmament filled the mind with +the idea of a vast and populous city--yet from all that living and +flashing splendour not a sound. + +Down in the cabin--or saloon, as it was called by courtesy--were seated +the three passengers of the ship; one reading at the table, two playing +on the floor. + +The man at the table, Arthur Lestrange, was seated with his large, +deep-sunken eyes fixed on a book. He was most evidently in +consumption--very near, indeed, to reaping the result of that last and +most desperate remedy, a long sea voyage. + +Emmeline Lestrange, his little niece--eight years of age, a mysterious +mite, small for her age, with thoughts of her own, wide-pupilled eyes +that seemed the doors for visions, and a face that seemed just to have +peeped into this world for a moment ere it was as suddenly +withdrawn--sat in a corner nursing something in her arms, and rocking +herself to the tune of her own thoughts. + +Dick, Lestrange's little son, eight and a bit, was somewhere under the +table. They were Bostonians, bound for San Francisco, or rather for the +sun and splendour of Los Angeles, where Lestrange had bought a small +estate, hoping there to enjoy the life whose lease would be renewed by +the long sea voyage. + +As he sat reading, the cabin door opened, and appeared an angular +female form. This was Mrs Stannard, the stewardess, and Mrs Stannard +meant bedtime. + +"Dicky," said Mr Lestrange, closing his book, and raising the +table-cloth a few inches, "bedtime." + +"Oh, not yet, daddy!" came a sleep-freighted voice from under the +table; "I ain't ready. I dunno want to go to bed, I-- Hi yow!" + +Stannard, who knew her work, had stooped under the table, seized him by +the foot, and hauled him out kicking and fighting and blubbering all at +the same time. + +As for Emmeline, she having glanced up and recognised the inevitable, +rose to her feet, and, holding the hideous rag-doll she had been +nursing, head down and dangling in one hand, she stood waiting till +Dicky, after a few last perfunctory bellows, suddenly dried his eyes +and held up a tear-wet face for his father to kiss. Then she presented +her brow solemnly to her uncle, received a kiss, and vanished, led by +the hand into a cabin on the port side of the saloon. + +Mr Lestrange returned to his book, but he had not read for long when +the cabin door was opened, and Emmeline, in her nightdress, reappeared, +holding a brown paper parcel in her hand, a parcel of about the same +size as the book you are reading. + +"My box," said she; and as she spoke, holding it up as if to prove its +safety, the little plain face altered to the face of an angel. + +She had smiled. + +When Emmeline Lestrange smiled it was absolutely as if the light of +Paradise had suddenly flashed upon her face: the happiest form of +childish beauty suddenly appeared before your eyes, dazzled them and +was gone. + +Then she vanished with her box, and Mr Lestrange resumed his book. + +This box of Emmeline's, I may say in parenthesis, had given more +trouble aboard ship than all of the rest of the passengers' luggage put +together. + +It had been presented to her on her departure from Boston by a lady +friend, and what it contained was a dark secret to all on board, save +its owner and her uncle; she was a woman, or, at all events, the +beginning of a woman, yet she kept this secret to herself--a fact which +you will please note. + +The trouble of the thing was that it was frequently being lost. +Suspecting herself, maybe, as an unpractical dreamer in a world filled +with robbers, she would cart it about with her for safety, sit down +behind a coil of rope and fall into a fit of abstraction; be recalled +to life by the evolutions of the crew reefing or furling or what not, +rise to superintend the operations--and then suddenly find she had lost +her box. + +Then she would absolutely haunt the ship. Wide-eyed and distressed of +face she would wander hither and thither, peeping into the galley, +peeping down the forescuttle, never uttering a word or wail, searching +like an uneasy ghost, but dumb. + +She seemed ashamed to tell of her loss, ashamed to let any one know of +it; but every one knew of it directly they saw her, to use Mr Button's +expression, "on the wandher," and every one hunted for it. + +Strangely enough it was Paddy Button who usually found it. He who was +always doing the wrong thing in the eyes of men, generally did the +right thing in the eyes of children. Children, in fact, when they could +get at Mr Button, went for him con amore. He was as attractive to them +as a Punch and Judy show or a German band--almost. + +Mr Lestrange after a while closed the book he was reading, looked +around him and sighed. + +The cabin of the Northumberland was a cheerful enough place, pierced by +the polished shaft of the mizzen mast, carpeted with an Axminster +carpet, and garnished with mirrors let into the white pine panelling. +Lestrange was staring at the reflection of his own face in one of these +mirrors fixed just opposite to where he sat. + +His emaciation was terrible, and it was just perhaps at this moment +that he first recognised the fact that he must not only die, but die +soon. + +He turned from the mirror and sat for a while with his chin resting +upon his hand, and his eyes fixed on an ink spot upon the table-cloth; +then he arose, and crossing the cabin climbed laboriously up the +companionway to the deck. + +As he leaned against the bulwark rail to recover his breath, the +splendour and beauty of the Southern night struck him to the heart with +a cruel pang. He took his seat on a deck chair and gazed up at the +Milky Way, that great triumphal arch built of suns that the dawn would +sweep away like a dream. + +In the Milky Way, near the Southern Cross, occurs a terrible circular +abyss, the Coal Sack. So sharply defined is it, so suggestive of a void +and bottomless cavern, that the contemplation of it afflicts the +imaginative mind with vertigo. To the naked eye it is as black and as +dismal as death, but the smallest telescope reveals it beautiful and +populous with stars. + +Lestrange's eyes travelled from this mystery to the burning cross, and +the nameless and numberless stars reaching to the sea-line, where they +paled and vanished in the light of the rising moon. Then he became +aware of a figure promenading the quarterdeck. It was the "Old Man." + +A sea captain is always the "old man," be his age what it may. Captain +Le Farges' age might have been forty-five. He was a sailor of the Jean +Bart type, of French descent, but a naturalised American. + +"I don't know where the wind's gone," said the captain as he drew near +the man in the deck chair. "I guess it's blown a hole in the firmament, +and escaped somewheres to the back of beyond." + +"It's been a long voyage," said Lestrange; "and I'm thinking, Captain, +it will be a very long voyage for me. My port's not 'Frisco; I feel it." + +"Don't you be thinking that sort of thing," said the other, taking his +seat in a chair close by. "There's no manner of use forecastin' the +weather a month ahead. Now we're in warm latitoods, your glass will +rise steady, and you'll be as right and spry as any one of us, before +we fetch the Golden Gates." + +"I'm thinking about the children," said Lestrange, seeming not to hear +the captain's words. "Should anything happen to me before we reach +port, I should like you to do something for me. It's only this: dispose +of my body without--without the children knowing. It has been in my +mind to ask you this for some days. Captain, those children know +nothing of death." + +Le Farge moved uneasily in his chair. + +"Little Emmeline's mother died when she was two. Her father--my +brother--died before she was born. Dicky never knew a mother; she died +giving him birth. My God, Captain, death has laid a heavy hand on my +family; can you wonder that I have hid his very name from those two +creatures that I love!" + +"Ay, ay," said Le Farge, "it's sad! it's sad!" + +"When I was quite a child," went on Lestrange, "a child no older than +Dicky, my nurse used to terrify me with tales about dead people. I was +told I'd go to hell when I died if I wasn't a good child. I cannot tell +you how much that has poisoned my life, for the thoughts we think in +childhood, Captain, are the fathers of the thoughts we think when we +are grown up. And can a diseased father have healthy children?" + +"I guess not." + +"So I just said, when these two tiny creatures came into my care, that +I would do all in my power to protect them from the terrors of life--or +rather, I should say, from the terror of death. I don't know whether I +have done right, but I have done it for the best. They had a cat, and +one day Dicky came in to me and said: `Father, pussy's in the garden +asleep, and I can't wake her.' So I just took him out for a walk; there +was a circus in the town, and I took him to it. It so filled his mind +that he quite forgot the cat. Next day he asked for her. I did not tell +him she was buried in the garden, I just said she must have run away. +In a week he had forgotten all about her--children soon forget." + +"Ay, that's true," said the sea captain. "But 'pears to me they must +learn some time they've got to die." + +"Should I pay the penalty before we reach land, and be cast into that +great, vast sea, I would not wish the children's dreams to be haunted +by the thought: just tell them I've gone on board another ship. You +will take them back to Boston; I have here, in a letter, the name of a +lady who will care for them. Dicky will be well off, as far as worldly +goods are concerned, and so will Emmeline. Just tell them I've gone on +board another ship--children soon forget." + +"I'll do what you ask," said the seaman. + +The moon was over the horizon now, and the Northumberland lay adrift in +a river of silver. Every spar was distinct, every reef point on the +great sails, and the decks lay like spaces of frost cut by shadows +black as ebony. + +As the two men sat without speaking, thinking their own thoughts, a +little white figure emerged from the saloon hatch. It was Emmeline. She +was a professed sleepwalker--a past mistress of the art. + +Scarcely had she stepped into dreamland than she had lost her precious +box, and now she was hunting for it on the decks of the Northumberland. + +Mr Lestrange put his finger to his lips, took off his shoes and +silently followed her. She searched behind a coil of rope, she tried to +open the galley door; hither and thither she wandered, wide-eyed and +troubled of face, till at last, in the shadow of the hencoop, she found +her visionary treasure. Then back she came, holding up her little +nightdress with one hand, so as not to trip, and vanished down the +saloon companion very hurriedly, as if anxious to get back to bed, her +uncle close behind, with one hand outstretched so as to catch her in +case she stumbled. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE SHADOW AND THE FIRE + +It was the fourth day of the long calm. An awning had been rigged up on +the poop for the passengers, and under it sat Lestrange, trying to +read, and the children trying to play. The heat and monotony had +reduced even Dicky to just a surly mass, languid in movement as a grub. +As for Emmeline, she seemed dazed. The rag-doll lay a yard away from +her on the poop deck, unnursed; even the wretched box and its +whereabouts she seemed to have quite forgotten. + +"Daddy!" suddenly cried Dick, who had clambered up, and was looking +over the after-rail. + +"What?" + +"Fish!" + +Lestrange rose to his feet, came aft and looked over the rail. + +Down in the vague green of the water something moved, something pale +and long--a ghastly form. It vanished; and yet another came, neared the +surface, and displayed itself more fully. Lestrange saw its eyes, he +saw the dark fin, and the whole hideous length of the creature; a +shudder ran through him as he clasped Dicky. + +"Ain't he fine?" said the child. "I guess, daddy, I'd pull him aboard +if I had a hook. Why haven't I a hook, daddy? Why haven't I a hook, +daddy?-- Ow, you're SQUEEZIN' me!" + +Something plucked at Lestrange's coat: it was Emmeline--she also wanted +to look. He lifted her up in his arms; her little pale face peeped over +the rail, but there was nothing to see: the forms of terror had +vanished, leaving the green depths untroubled and unstained. + +"What's they called, daddy?" persisted Dick, as his father took him +down from the rail, and led him back to the chair. + +"Sharks," said Lestrange, whose face was covered with perspiration. + +He picked up the book he had been reading--it was a volume of +Tennyson--and he sat with it on his knees staring at the white sunlit +main-deck barred with the white shadows of the standing rigging. + +The sea had disclosed to him a vision. Poetry, Philosophy, Beauty, Art, +the love and joy of life--was it possible that these should exist in +the same world as those? + +He glanced at the book upon his knees, and contrasted the beautiful +things in it which he remembered with the terrible things he had just +seen, the things that were waiting for their food under the keel of the +ship. + +It was three bells--half-past three in the afternoon--and the ship's +bell had just rung out. The stewardess appeared to take the children +below; and as they vanished down the saloon companionway, Captain Le +Farge came aft, on to the poop, and stood for a moment looking over the +sea on the port side, where a bank of fog had suddenly appeared like +the spectre of a country. + +"The sun has dimmed a bit," said he; "I can a'most look at it. Glass +steady enough--there's a fog coming up--ever seen a Pacific fog?" + +"No, never." + +"Well, you won't want to see another," replied the mariner, shading his +eyes and fixing them upon the sea-line. The sea-line away to starboard +had lost somewhat its distinctness, and over the day an almost +imperceptible shade had crept. + +The captain suddenly turned from his contemplation of the sea and sky, +raised his head and sniffed. + +"Something is burning somewhere--smell it? Seems to me like an old mat +or summat. It's that swab of a steward, maybe; if he isn't breaking +glass, he's upsetting lamps and burning holes in the carpet. Bless MY +soul, I'd sooner have a dozen Mary Anns an' their dustpans round the +place than one tomfool steward like Jenkins." He went to the saloon +hatch. "Below there!" + +"Ay, ay, sir." + +"What are you burning?" + +"I an't burnin' northen, sir." + +"Tell you, I smell it!" + +"There's northen burnin' here, sir." + +"Neither is there; it's all on deck. Something in the galley, +maybe--rags, most likely, they've thrown on the fire." + +"Captain!" said Lestrange. + +"Ay, ay." + +"Come here, please." + +Le Farge climbed on to the poop. + +"I don't know whether it's my weakness that's affecting my eyes, but +there seems to me something strange about the main-mast." + +The main-mast near where it entered the deck, and for some distance up, +seemed in motion--a corkscrew movement most strange to watch from the +shelter of the awning. + +This apparent movement was caused by a spiral haze of smoke so vague +that one could only tell of its existence from the mirage-like tremor +of the mast round which it curled. + +"My God!" cried Le Farge, as he sprang from the poop and rushed forward. + +Lestrange followed him slowly, stopping every moment to clutch the +bulwark rail and pant for breath. He heard the shrill bird-like notes +of the bosun's pipe. He saw the hands emerging from the forecastle, +like bees out of a hive; he watched them surrounding the main-hatch. He +watched the tarpaulin and locking-bars removed. He saw the hatch +opened, and a burst of smoke--black, villainous smoke--ascend to the +sky, solid as a plume in the windless air. + +Lestrange was a man of a highly nervous temperament, and it is just +this sort of man who keeps his head in an emergency, whilst your +level-headed, phlegmatic individual loses his balance. His first +thought was of the children, his second of the boats. + +In the battering off Cape Horn the Northumberland lost several of her +boats. There were left the long-boat, a quarter-boat, and the dinghy. +He heard Le Farge's voice ordering the hatch to be closed and the pumps +manned, so as to flood the hold; and, knowing that he could do nothing +on deck, he made as swiftly as he could for the saloon companionway. + +Mrs Stannard was just coming out of the children's cabin. + +"Are the children lying down, Mrs Stannard?" asked Lestrange, almost +breathless from the excitement and exertion of the last few minutes. + +The woman glanced at him with frightened eyes. He looked like the very +herald of disaster. + +"For if they are, and you have undressed them, then you must put their +clothes on again. The ship is on fire, Mrs Stannard." + +"Good God, sir!" + +"Listen!" said Lestrange. + +From a distance, thin, and dreary as the crying of sea-gulls on a +desolate beach, came the clanking of the pumps. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +AND LIKE A DREAM DISSOLVED + +Before the woman had time to speak a thunderous step was heard on the +companion stairs, and Le Farge broke into the saloon. The man's face +was injected with blood, his eyes were fixed and glassy like the eyes +of a drunkard, and the veins stood on his temples like twisted cords. + +"Get those children ready!" he shouted, as he rushed into his own +cabin. "Get you all ready--boats are being swung out and victualled. +Ho! where are those papers?" + +They heard him furiously searching and collecting things in his +cabin--the ship's papers, accounts, things the master mariner clings to +as he clings to his life; and as he searched, and found, and packed, he +kept bellowing orders for the children to be got on deck. Half mad he +seemed, and half mad he was with the knowledge of the terrible thing +that was stowed amidst the cargo. + +Up on deck the crew, under the direction of the first mate, were +working in an orderly manner, and with a will, utterly unconscious of +there being anything beneath their feet but an ordinary cargo on fire. +The covers had been stripped from the boats, kegs of water and bags of +biscuit placed in them. The dinghy, smallest of the boats and most +easily got away, was hanging at the port quarter-boat davits flush with +the bulwarks; and Paddy Button was in the act of stowing a keg of water +in her, when Le Farge broke on to the deck, followed by the stewardess +carrying Emmeline, and Mr Lestrange leading Dick. The dinghy was rather +a larger boat than the ordinary ships' dinghy, and possessed a small +mast and long sail. Two sailors stood ready to man the falls, and Paddy +Button was just turning to trundle forward again when the captain +seized him. + +"Into the dinghy with you," he cried, "and row these children and the +passenger out a mile from the ship--two miles, three miles, make an +offing." + +"Sure, Captain dear, I've left me fiddle in the--" + +Le Farge dropped the bundle of things he was holding under his left +arm, seized the old sailor and rushed him against the bulwarks, as if +he meant to fling him into the sea THROUGH the bulwarks. + +Next moment Mr Button was in the boat. Emmeline was handed to him, pale +of face and wide-eyed, and clasping something wrapped in a little +shawl; then Dick, and then Mr Lestrange was helped over. + +"No room for more!" cried Le Farge. "Your place will be in the +long-boat, Mrs Stannard, if we have to leave the ship. Lower away, +lower away!" + +The boat sank towards the smooth blue sea, kissed it and was afloat. + +Now Mr Button, before joining the ship at Boston, had spent a good +while lingering by the quay, having no money wherewith to enjoy himself +in a tavern. He had seen something of the lading of the Northumberland, +and heard more from a stevedore. No sooner had he cast off the falls +and seized the oars, than his knowledge awoke in his mind, living and +lurid. He gave a whoop that brought the two sailors leaning over the +side. + +"Bullies!" + +"Ay, ay!" + +"Run for your lives I've just rimimbered--there's two bar'ls of +blastin' powther in the houldt." + +Then he bent to his oars, as no man ever bent before. Lestrange, +sitting in the stern-sheets clasping Emmeline and Dick, saw nothing for +a moment after hearing these words. The children, who knew nothing of +blasting powder or its effects, though half frightened by all the +bustle and excitement, were still amused and pleased at finding +themselves in the little boat so close to the blue pretty sea. + +Dick put his finger over the side, so that it made a ripple in the +water (the most delightful experience of childhood). Emmeline, with one +hand clasped in her uncle's, watched Mr Button with a grave sort of +half pleasure. + +He certainly was a sight worth watching. His soul was filled with +tragedy and terror. His Celtic imagination heard the ship blowing up, +saw himself and the little dinghy blown to pieces--nay, saw himself in +hell, being toasted by "divils." + +But tragedy and terror could find no room for expression on his +fortunate or unfortunate face. He puffed and he blew, bulging his +cheeks out at the sky as he tugged at the oars, making a hundred and +one grimaces--all the outcome of agony of mind, but none expressing it. +Behind lay the ship, a picture not without its lighter side. The +long-boat and the quarter-boat, lowered with a rush and seaborne by the +mercy of Providence, were floating by the side of the Northumberland. + +From the ship men were casting themselves overboard like water-rats, +swimming in the water like ducks, scrambling on board the boats anyhow. + +From the half-opened main-hatch the black smoke, mixed now with sparks, +rose steadily and swiftly and spitefully, as if driven through the +half-closed teeth of a dragon. + +A mile away beyond the Northumberland stood the fog bank. It looked +solid, like a vast country that had suddenly and strangely built itself +on the sea--a country where no birds sang and no trees grew. A country +with white, precipitous cliffs, solid to look at as the cliffs of Dover. + +"I'm spint!" suddenly gasped the oarsman, resting the oar handles under +the crook of his knees, and bending down as if he was preparing to butt +at the passengers in the stern-sheets. "Blow up or blow down, I'm +spint, don't ax me, I'm spint." + +Mr Lestrange, white as a ghost, but recovered somewhat from his first +horror, gave the Spent One time to recover himself and turned to look +at the ship. She seemed a great distance off, and the boats, well away +from her, were making at a furious pace towards the dinghy. Dick was +still playing with the water, but Emmeline's eyes were entirely +occupied with Paddy Button. New things were always of vast interest to +her contemplative mind, and these evolutions of her old friend were +eminently new. + +She had seen him swilling the decks, she had seen him dancing a jig, +she had seen him going round the main deck on all fours with Dick on +his back, but she had never seen him going on like this before. + +She perceived now that he was exhausted, and in trouble about +something, and, putting her hand in the pocket of her dress, she +searched for something that she knew was there. She produced a +Tangerine orange, and leaning forward she touched the Spent One's head +with it. + +Mr Button raised his head, stared vacantly for a second, saw the +proffered orange, and at the sight of it the thought of "the childer" +and their innocence, himself and the blasting powder, cleared his +dazzled wits, and he took to the sculls again. + +"Daddy," said Dick, who had been looking astern, "there's clouds near +the ship." + +In an incredibly short space of time the solid cliffs of fog had +broken. The faint wind that had banked it had pierced it, and was now +making pictures and devices of it, most wonderful and weird to see. +Horsemen of the mist rode on the water, and were dissolved; billows +rolled on the sea, yet were not of the sea; blankets and spirals of +vapour ascended to high heaven. And all with a terrible languor of +movement. Vast and lazy and sinister, yet steadfast of purpose as Fate +or Death, the fog advanced, taking the world for its own. + +Against this grey and indescribably sombre background stood the +smouldering ship with the breeze already shivering in her sails, and +the smoke from her main-hatch blowing and beckoning as if to the +retreating boats. + +"Why's the ship smoking like that?" asked Dick. "And look at those +boats coming--when are we going back, daddy?" + +"Uncle," said Emmeline, putting her hand in his, as she gazed towards +the ship and beyond it, "I'm 'fraid." + +"What frightens you, Emmy?" he asked, drawing her to him. + +"Shapes," replied Emmeline, nestling up to his side. + +"Oh, Glory be to God!" gasped the old sailor, suddenly resting on his +oars. "Will yiz look at the fog that's comin'--" + +"I think we had better wait here for the boats," said Mr Lestrange; "we +are far enough now to be safe if anything happens." + +"Ay, ay," replied the oarsman, whose wits had returned. "Blow up or +blow down, she won't hit us from here." + +"Daddy," said Dick, "when are we going back? I want my tea." + +"We aren't going back, my child," replied his father. "The ship's on +fire; we are waiting for another ship." + +"Where's the other ship?" asked the child, looking round at the horizon +that was clear. + +"We can't see it yet," replied the unhappy man, "but it will come." + +The long-boat and the quarter-boat were slowly approaching. They looked +like beetles crawling over the water, and after them across the +glittering surface came a dullness that took the sparkle from the +sea--a dullness that swept and spread like an eclipse shadow. + +Now the wind struck the dinghy. It was like a wind from fairyland, +almost imperceptible, chill, and dimming the sun. A wind from Lilliput. +As it struck the dinghy, the fog took the distant ship. + +It was a most extraordinary sight, for in less than thirty seconds the +ship of wood became a ship of gauze, a tracery flickered, and was gone +forever from the sight of man. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +VOICES HEARD IN THE MIST + +The sun became fainter still, and vanished. Though the air round the +dinghy seemed quite clear, the on-coming boats were hazy and dim, and +that part of the horizon that had been fairly clear was now blotted out. + +The long-boat was leading by a good way. When she was within hailing +distance the captain's voice came. + +"Dinghy ahoy!" + +"Ahoy!" + +"Fetch alongside here!" + +The long-boat ceased rowing to wait for the quarter-boat that was +slowly creeping up. She was a heavy boat to pull at all times, and now +she was overloaded. + +The wrath of Captain Le Farge with Paddy Button for the way he had +stampeded the crew was profound, but he had not time to give vent to it. + +"Here, get aboard us, Mr Lestrange!" said he, when the dinghy was +alongside; "we have room for one. Mrs Stannard is in the quarter-boat, +and it's overcrowded; she's better aboard the dinghy, for she can look +after the kids. Come, hurry up, the smother is coming down on us fast. +Ahoy!"--to the quarter-boat, "hurry up, hurry up." + +The quarter-boat had suddenly vanished. + +Mr Lestrange climbed into the long-boat. Paddy pushed the dinghy a few +yards away with the tip of a scull, and then lay on his oars waiting. + +"Ahoy! ahoy!" cried Le Farge. + +"Ahoy!" came from the fog bank. + +Next moment the long-boat and the dinghy vanished from each other's +sight: the great fog bank had taken them. + +Now a couple of strokes of the port scull would have brought Mr Button +alongside the long-boat, so close was he; but the quarter-boat was in +his mind, or rather imagination, so what must he do but take three +powerful strokes in the direction in which he fancied the quarter-boat +to be. + +The rest was voices. + +"Dinghy ahoy!" + +"Ahoy!" + +"Ahoy!" + +"Don't be shoutin' together, or I'll not know which way to pull. +Quarter-boat ahoy! where are yez?" + +"Port your helm!" + +"Ay, ay!" putting his helm, so to speak, to starboard--"I'll be wid yiz +in wan minute, two or three minutes' hard pulling." + +"Ahoy!"--much more faint. + +"What d'ye mane rowin' away from me?"--a dozen strokes. + +"Ahoy!" fainter still. + +Mr Button rested on his oars. + +"Divil mend them I b'lave that was the long-boat shoutin'." + +He took to his oars again and pulled vigorously. + +"Paddy," came Dick's small voice, apparently from nowhere, "where are +we now?" + +"Sure, we're in a fog; where else would we be? Don't you be affeared." + +"I ain't affeared, but Em's shivering." + +"Give her me coat," said the oarsman, resting on his oars and taking it +off. "Wrap it round her; and when it's round her we'll all let one big +halloo together. There's an ould shawl som'er in the boat, but I can't +be after lookin' for it now." + +He held out the coat and an almost invisible hand took it; at the same +moment a tremendous report shook the sea and sky. + +"There she goes," said Mr Button; "an' me old fiddle an' all. Don't be +frightened, childer; it's only a gun they're firin' for divarsion. Now +we'll all halloo togither--are yiz ready?" + +"Ay, ay," said Dick, who was a picker-up of sea terms. + +"Halloo!" yelled Pat. + +"Halloo! Halloo!" piped Dick and Emmeline. + +A faint reply came, but from where, it was difficult to say. The old +man rowed a few strokes and then paused on his oars. So still was the +surface of the sea that the chuckling of the water at the boat's bow as +she drove forward under the impetus of the last powerful stroke could +be heard distinctly. It died out as she lost way, and silence closed +round them like a ring. + +The light from above, a light that seemed to come through a vast +scuttle of deeply muffed glass, faint though it was, almost to +extinction, still varied as the little boat floated through the strata +of the mist. + +A great sea fog is not homogeneous--its density varies: it is +honeycombed with streets, it has its caves of clear air, its cliffs of +solid vapour, all shifting and changing place with the subtlety of +legerdemain. It has also this wizard peculiarity, that it grows with +the sinking of the sun and the approach of darkness. + +The sun, could they have seen it, was now leaving the horizon. + +They called again. Then they waited, but there was no response. + +"There's no use bawlin' like bulls to chaps that's deaf as adders," +said the old sailor, shipping his oars; immediately upon which +declaration he gave another shout, with the same result as far as +eliciting a reply. + +"Mr Button!" came Emmeline's voice. + +"What is it, honey?" + +"I'm 'fraid." + +"You wait wan minit till I find the shawl--here it is, by the same +token!--an' I'll wrap you up in it." + +He crept cautiously aft to the stern-sheets and took Emmeline in his +arms. + +"Don't want the shawl," said Emmeline; "I'm not so much afraid in your +coat." The rough, tobacco-smelling old coat gave her courage somehow. + +"Well, thin, keep it on. Dicky, are you cowld?" + +"I've got into daddy's great coat; he left it behind him." + +"Well, thin, I'll put the shawl round me own shoulders, for it's cowld +I am. Are ya hungray, childer?" + +"No," said Dick, "but I'm direfully slapy?" + +"Slapy, is it? Well, down you get in the bottom of the boat, and here's +the shawl for a pilla. I'll be rowin' again in a minit to keep meself +warm." + +He buttoned the top button of the coat. + +"I'm a'right," murmured Emmeline in a dreamy voice. + +"Shut your eyes tight," replied Mr Button, "or Billy Winker will be +dridgin' sand in them. + + `Shoheen, shoheen, shoheen, shoheen, + Sho-hu-lo, sho-hu-lo. + Shoheen, shoheen, shoheen, shoheen, + Hush a by the babby O.'" + +It was the tag of an old nursery folk-song they sing in the hovels of +the Achill coast fixed in his memory, along with the rain and the wind +and the smell of the burning turf, and the grunting of the pig and the +knickety-knock of a rocking cradle. + +"She's off," murmured Mr Button to himself, as the form in his arms +relaxed. Then he laid her gently down beside Dick. He shifted forward, +moving like a crab. Then he put his hand to his pocket for his pipe and +tobacco and tinder box. They were in his coat pocket, but Emmeline was +in his coat. To search for them would be to awaken her. + +The darkness of night was now adding itself to the blindness of the +fog. The oarsman could not see even the thole pins. He sat adrift mind +and body. He was, to use his own expression, "moithered." Haunted by +the mist, tormented by "shapes." + +It was just in a fog like this that the Merrows could be heard +disporting in Dunbeg bay, and off the Achill coast. Sporting and +laughing, and hallooing through the mist, to lead unfortunate fishermen +astray. + +Merrows are not altogether evil, but they have green hair and teeth, +fishes' tails and fins for arms; and to hear them walloping in the +water around you like salmon, and you alone in a small boat, with the +dread of one coming floundering on board, is enough to turn a man's +hair grey. + +For a moment he thought of awakening the children to keep him company, +but he was ashamed. Then he took to the sculls again, and rowed "by the +feel of the water." The creak of the oars was like a companion's voice, +the exercise lulled his fears. Now and again, forgetful of the sleeping +children, he gave a halloo, and paused to listen. But no answer came. + +Then he continued rowing, long, steady, laborious strokes, each taking +him further and further from the boats that he was never destined to +sight again. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +DAWN ON A WIDE, WIDE SEA + +"Is it aslape I've been?" said Mr Button, suddenly awaking with a start. + +He had shipped his oars just for a minute's rest. He must have slept +for hours, for now, behold, a warm, gentle wind was blowing, the moon +was shining, and the fog was gone. + +"Is it dhraming I've been?" continued the awakened one. + +"Where am I at all, at all? O musha! sure, here I am. O wirra! wirra! I +dreamt I'd gone aslape on the main-hatch and the ship was blown up with +powther, and it's all come true." + +"Mr Button!" came a small voice from the stern-sheets (Emmeline's). + +"What is it, honey?" + +"Where are we now?" + +"Sure, we're afloat on the say, acushla; where else would we be?" + +"Where's uncle?" + +"He's beyant there in the long-boat--he'll be afther us in a minit." + +"I want a drink." + +He filled a tin pannikin that was by the beaker of water, and gave her +a drink. Then he took his pipe and tobacco from his coat pocket. + +She almost immediately fell asleep again beside Dick, who had not +stirred or moved; and the old sailor, standing up and steadying +himself, cast his eyes round the horizon. Not a sign of sail or boat +was there on all the moonlit sea. + +From the low elevation of an open boat one has a very small horizon, +and in the vague world of moonlight somewhere round about it was +possible that the boats might be near enough to show up at daybreak. + +But open boats a few miles apart may be separated by long leagues in +the course of a few hours. Nothing is more mysterious than the currents +of the sea. + +The ocean is an ocean of rivers, some swiftly flowing, some slow, and a +league from where you are drifting at the rate of a mile an hour +another boat may be drifting two. + +A slight warm breeze was frosting the water, blending moonshine and +star shimmer; the ocean lay like a lake, yet the nearest mainland was +perhaps a thousand miles away. + +The thoughts of youth may be long, long thoughts, but not longer than +the thoughts of this old sailor man smoking his pipe under the stars. +Thoughts as long as the world is round. Blazing bar rooms in +Callao--harbours over whose oily surfaces the sampans slipped like +water-beetles--the lights of Macao--the docks of London. Scarcely ever +a sea picture, pure and simple, for why should an old seaman care to +think about the sea, where life is all into the fo'cs'le and out again, +where one voyage blends and jumbles with another, where after +forty-five years of reefing topsails you can't well remember off which +ship it was Jack Rafferty fell overboard, or who it was killed who in +the fo'cs'le of what, though you can still see, as in a mirror darkly, +the fight, and the bloody face over which a man is holding a kerosene +lamp. + +I doubt if Paddy Button could have told you the name of the first ship +he ever sailed in. If you had asked him, he would probably have +replied: "I disremimber; it was to the Baltic, and cruel cowld weather, +and I was say-sick till I near brought me boots up; and it was 'O for +ould Ireland!' I was cryin' all the time, an' the captin dhrummin me +back with a rope's end to the tune uv it--but the name of the hooker--I +disremimber--bad luck to her, whoever she was!" + +So he sat smoking his pipe, whilst the candles of heaven burned above +him, and calling to mind roaring drunken scenes and palmshadowed +harbours, and the men and the women he had known--such men and such +women! The derelicts of the earth and the ocean. Then he nodded off to +sleep again, and when he awoke the moon had gone. + +Now in the eastern sky might have been seen a pale fan of light, vague +as the wing of an ephemera. It vanished and changed back to darkness. + +Presently, and almost at a stroke, a pencil of fire ruled a line along +the eastern horizon, and the eastern sky became more beautiful than a +rose leaf plucked in May. The line of fire contracted into one +increasing spot, the rim of the rising sun. + +As the light increased the sky above became of a blue impossible to +imagine unless seen, a wan blue, yet living and sparkling as if born of +the impalpable dust of sapphires. Then the whole sea flashed like the +harp of Apollo touched by the fingers of the god. The light was music +to the soul. It was day. + +"Daddy!" suddenly cried Dick, sitting up in the sunlight and rubbing +his eyes with his open palms. "Where are we?" + +"All right, Dicky, me son!" cried the old sailor, who had been standing +up casting his eyes round in a vain endeavour to sight the boats. "Your +daddy's as safe as if he was in hivin; he'll be wid us in a minit, an' +bring another ship along with him. So you're awake, are you, Em'line?" + +Emmeline, sitting up in the old pilot coat, nodded in reply without +speaking. Another child might have supplemented Dick's enquiries as to +her uncle by questions of her own, but she did not. + +Did she guess that there was some subterfuge in Mr Button's answer, and +that things were different from what he was making them out to be? Who +can tell? + +She was wearing an old cap of Dick's, which Mrs Stannard in the hurry +and confusion had popped on her head. It was pushed to one side, and +she made a quaint enough little figure as she sat up in the early +morning brightness, dressed in the old salt-stained coat beside Dick, +whose straw hat was somewhere in the bottom of the boat, and whose +auburn locks were blowing in the faint breeze. + +"Hurroo!" cried Dick, looking around at the blue and sparkling water, +and banging with a stretcher on the bottom of the boat. "I'm goin' to +be a sailor, aren't I, Paddy? You'll let me sail the boat, won't you, +Paddy, an' show me how to row?" + +"Aisy does it," said Paddy, taking hold of the child. "I haven't a +sponge or towel, but I'll just wash your face in salt wather and lave +you to dry in the sun." + +He filled the bailing tin with sea water. + +"I don't want to wash!" shouted Dick. + +"Stick your face into the water in the tin," commanded Paddy. "You +wouldn't be going about the place with your face like a sut-bag, would +you?" + +"Stick yours in!" commanded the other. + +Button did so, and made a hub-bubbling noise in the water; then he +lifted a wet and streaming face, and flung the contents of the bailing +tin overboard. + +"Now you've lost your chance," said this arch nursery strategist, "all +the water's gone." + +"There's more in the sea." + +"There's no more to wash with, not till to-morrow--the fishes don't +allow it." + +"I want to wash," grumbled Dick. "I want to stick my face in the tin, +same's you did; 'sides, Em hasn't washed." + +"I don't mind," murmured Emmeline. + +"Well, thin," said Mr Button, as if making a sudden resolve, "I'll ax +the sharks." He leaned over the boat's side, his face close to the +surface of the water. "Halloo there!" he shouted, and then bent his +head sideways to listen; the children also looked over the side, deeply +interested. + +"Halloo there! Are y'aslape? Oh, there y'are! Here's a spalpeen with a +dhirty face, an's wishful to wash it; may I take a bailin' tin of-- Oh, +thank your 'arner, thank your 'arner--good day to you, and my respects." + +"What did the shark say, Mr Button?" asked Emmeline. + +"He said: `Take a bar'l full, an' welcome, Mister Button; an' it's +wishful I am I had a drop of the crathur to offer you this fine +marnin'.' Thin he popped his head under his fin and went aslape agin; +leastwise, I heard him snore." + +Emmeline nearly always "Mr Buttoned" her friend; sometimes she called +him "Mr Paddy." As for Dick, it was always "Paddy," pure and simple. +Children have etiquettes of their own. + +It must often strike landsmen and landswomen that the most terrible +experience when cast away at sea in an open boat is the total absence +of privacy. It seems an outrage on decency on the part of Providence to +herd people together so. But, whoever has gone through the experience +will bear me out that the human mind enlarges, and things that would +shock us ashore are as nothing out there, face to face with eternity. + +If so with grown-up people, how much more so with this old shell-back +and his two charges? + +And indeed Mr Button was a person who called a spade a spade, had no +more conventions than a walrus, and looked after his two charges just +as a nursemaid might look after her charges, or a walrus after its +young. + +There was a large bag of biscuits in the boat, and some tinned +stuff--mostly sardines. + +I have known a sailor to open a box of sardines with a tin tack. He was +in prison, the sardines had been smuggled into him, and he had no +can-opener. Only his genius and a tin tack. + +Paddy had a jack-knife, however, and in a marvellously short time a box +of sardines was opened, and placed on the stern-sheets beside some +biscuits. + +These, with some water and Emmeline's Tangerine orange, which she +produced and added to the common store, formed the feast, and they fell +to. When they had finished, the remains were put carefully away, and +they proceeded to step the tiny mast. + +The sailor, when the mast was in its place, stood for a moment resting +his hand on it, and gazing around him over the vast and voiceless blue. + +The Pacific has three blues: the blue of morning, the blue of midday, +and the blue of evening. But the blue of morning is the happiest: the +happiest thing in colour--sparkling, vague, newborn--the blue of heaven +and youth. + +"What are you looking for, Paddy?" asked Dick. + +"Say-gulls," replied the prevaricator; then to himself: "Not a sight or +a sound of them! Musha! musha! which way will I steer--north, south, +aist, or west? It's all wan, for if I steer to the aist, they may be in +the west; and if I steer to the west, they may be in the aist; and I +can't steer to the west, for I'd be steering right in the wind's eye. +Aist it is; I'll make a soldier's wind of it, and thrust to chance." + +He set the sail and came aft with the sheet. Then he shifted the +rudder, lit a pipe, leaned luxuriously back and gave the bellying sail +to the gentle breeze. + +It was part of his profession, part of his nature, that, steering, +maybe, straight towards death by starvation and thirst, he was as +unconcerned as if he were taking the children for a summer's sail. His +imagination dealt little with the future; almost entirely influenced by +his immediate surroundings, it could conjure up no fears from the scene +now before it. The children were the same. + +Never was there a happier starting, more joy in a little boat. During +breakfast the seaman had given his charges to understand that if Dick +did not meet his father and Emmeline her uncle in a "while or two," it +was because he had gone on board a ship, and he'd be along presently. +The terror of their position was as deeply veiled from them as eternity +is veiled from you or me. + +The Pacific was still bound by one of those glacial calms that can only +occur when the sea has been free from storms for a vast extent of its +surface, for a hurricane down by the Horn will send its swell and +disturbance beyond the Marquesas. De Bois in his table of amplitudes +points out that more than half the sea disturbances at any given space +are caused, not by the wind, but by storms at a great distance. + +But the sleep of the Pacific is only apparent. This placid lake, over +which the dinghy was pursuing the running ripple, was heaving to an +imperceptible swell and breaking on the shores of the Low Archipelago, +and the Marquesas in foam and thunder. + +Emmeline's rag-doll was a shocking affair from a hygienic or artistic +standpoint. Its face was just inked on, it had no features, no arms; +yet not for all the dolls in the world would she have exchanged this +filthy and nearly formless thing. It was a fetish. + +She sat nursing it on one side of the helmsman, whilst Dick, on the +other side, hung his nose over the water, on the look-out for fish. + +"Why do you smoke, Mr Button?" asked Emmeline, who had been watching +her friend for some time in silence. + +"To aise me thrubbles," replied Paddy. + +He was leaning back with one eye shut and the other fixed on the luff +of the sail. He was in his element: nothing to do but steer and smoke, +warmed by the sun and cooled by the breeze. A landsman would have been +half demented in his condition, many a sailor would have been taciturn +and surly, on the look-out for sails, and alternately damning his soul +and praying to his God. Paddy smoked. + +"Whoop!" cried Dick. "Look, Paddy!" + +An albicore a few cables-lengths to port had taken a flying leap from +the flashing sea, turned a complete somersault and vanished. + +"It's an albicore takin' a buck lep. Hundreds I've seen before this; +he's bein' chased." + +"What's chasing him, Paddy?" + +"What's chasin' him? why, what else but the gibly-gobly ums!" + +Before Dick could enquire as to the personal appearance and habits of +the latter, a shoal of silver arrow heads passed the boat and flittered +into the water with a hissing sound. + +"Thim's flyin' fish. What are you sayin'?--fish can't fly! Where's the +eyes in your head?" + +"Are the gibblyums chasing them too?" asked Emmeline fearfully. + +"No; 'tis the Billy balloos that's afther thim. Don't be axin' me any +more questions now, or I'll be tellin' you lies in a minit." + +Emmeline, it will be remembered, had brought a small parcel with her +done up in a little shawl; it was under the boat seat, and every now +and then she would stoop down to see if it were safe. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +STORY OF THE PIG AND THE BILLY-GOAT + +Every hour or so Mr Button would shake his lethargy off, and rise and +look round for "seagulls," but the prospect was sail-less as the +prehistoric sea, wingless, voiceless. When Dick would fret now and +then, the old sailor would always devise some means of amusing him. He +made him fishing tackle out of a bent pin and some small twine that +happened to be in the boat, and told him to fish for "pinkeens"; and +Dick, with the pathetic faith of childhood, fished. + +Then he told them things. He had spent a year at Deal long ago, where a +cousin of his was married to a boatman. + +Mr Button had put in a year as a longshoreman at Deal, and he had got a +great lot to tell of his cousin and her husband, and more especially of +one, Hannah; Hannah was his cousin's baby--a most marvellous child, who +was born with its "buck" teeth fully developed, and whose first +unnatural act on entering the world was to make a snap at the +"docther." "Hung on to his fist like a bull-dog, and him bawlin' +`Murther!'" + +"Mrs James," said Emmeline, referring to a Boston acquaintance, "had a +little baby, and it was pink." + +"Ay, ay," said Paddy; "they're mostly pink to start with, but they fade +whin they're washed." + +"It'd no teeth," said Emmeline, "for I put my finger in to see." + +"The doctor brought it in a bag," put in Dick, who was still steadily +fishing--"dug it out of a cabbage patch; an' I got a trow'l and dug all +our cabbage patch up, but there weren't any babies but there were no +end of worms." + +"I wish I had a baby," said Emmeline, "and I wouldn't send it back to +the cabbage patch. + +"The doctor," explained Dick, "took it back and planted it again; and +Mrs James cried when I asked her, and daddy said it was put back to +grow and turn into an angel." + +"Angels have wings," said Emmeline dreamily. + +"And," pursued Dick, "I told cook, and she said to Jane [that] daddy +was always stuffing children up with--something or 'nother. And I asked +daddy to let me see him stuffing up a child--and daddy said cook'd have +to go away for saying that, and she went away next day." + +"She had three big trunks and a box for her bonnet," said Emmeline, +with a far-away look as she recalled the incident. + +"And the cabman asked her hadn't she any more trunks to put on his cab, +and hadn't she forgot the parrot cage," said Dick. + +"I wish _I_ had a parrot in a cage," murmured Emmeline, moving slightly +so as to get more in the shadow of the sail. + +"And what in the world would you be doin' with a par't in a cage?" +asked Mr Button. + +"I'd let it out," replied Emmeline. + +"Spakin' about lettin' par'ts out of cages, I remimber me grandfather +had an ould pig," said Paddy (they were all talking seriously together +like equals). "I was a spalpeen no bigger than the height of me knee, +and I'd go to the sty door, and he'd come to the door, and grunt an' +blow wid his nose undher it; an' I'd grunt back to vex him, an' hammer +wid me fist on it, an' shout `Halloo there! halloo there!' and `Halloo +to you!' he'd say, spakin' the pigs' language. `Let me out,' he'd say, +`and I'll give yiz a silver shilling.' + +"`Pass it under the door,' I'd answer him. Thin he'd stick the snout of +him undher the door an' I'd hit it a clip with a stick, and he'd yell +murther Irish. An' me mother'd come out an' baste me, an' well I +desarved it. + +"Well, wan day I opened the sty door, an' out he boulted and away and +beyant, over hill and hollo he goes till he gets to the edge of the +cliff overlookin' the say, and there he meets a billy-goat, and he and +the billy-goat has a division of opinion. + +"`Away wid yiz!' says the billy-goat. + +"`Away wid yourself!' says he. + +"`Whose you talkin' to?' says t'other. + +"`Yourself,' says him. + +"`Who stole the eggs?' says the billy-goat. + +"`Ax your ould grandmother!' says the pig. + +"`Ax me ould WHICH mother?' says the billy-goat. + +"`Oh, ax me--' And before he could complete the sintence, ram, blam, +the ould billygoat butts him in the chist, and away goes the both of +thim whirtlin' into the say below. + +"Thin me ould grandfather comes out, and collars me by the scruff, and +`Into the sty with you!' says he; and into the sty I wint, and there +they kep' me for a fortnit on bran mash and skim milk--and well I +desarved it." + +They dined somewhere about eleven o'clock, and at noon Paddy unstepped +the mast and made a sort of little tent or awning with the sail in the +bow of the boat to protect the children from the rays of the vertical +sun. + +Then he took his place in the bottom of the boat, in the stern, stuck +Dick's straw hat over his face to preserve it from the sun, kicked +about a bit to get a comfortable position, and fell asleep. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +"S-H-E-N-A-N-D-O-A-H" + +He had slept an hour and more when he was brought to his senses by a +thin and prolonged shriek. It was Emmeline in a nightmare, or more +properly a day-mare, brought on by a meal of sardines and the haunting +memory of the gibbly-gobbly-ums. When she was shaken (it always took a +considerable time to bring her to, from these seizures) and comforted, +the mast was restepped. + +As Mr Button stood with his hand on the spar looking round him before +going aft with the sheet, an object struck his eye some three miles +ahead. Objects rather, for they were the masts and spars of a small +ship rising from the water. Not a vestige of sail, just the naked +spars. It might have been a couple of old skeleton trees jutting out of +the water for all a landsman could have told. + +He stared at this sight for twenty or thirty seconds without speaking, +his head projected like the head of a tortoise. Then he gave a wild +"Hurroo!" + +"What is it, Paddy?" asked Dick. + +"Hurroo!" replied Button. "Ship ahoy! ship ahoy! Lie to till I be +afther boardin' you. Sure, they are lyin' to--divil a rag of canvas on +her--are they aslape or dhramin'? Here, Dick, let me get aft wid the +sheet; the wind'll take us up to her quicker than we'll row." + +He crawled aft and took the tiller; the breeze took the sail, and the +boat forged ahead. + +"Is it daddy's ship?" asked Dick, who was almost as excited as his +friend. + +"I dinno; we'll see when we fetch her." + +"Shall we go on her, Mr Button?" asked Emmeline. + +"Ay will we, honey." + +Emmeline bent down, and fetching her parcel from under the seat, held +it in her lap. + +As they drew nearer, the outlines of the ship became more apparent. She +was a small brig, with stump topmasts, from the spars a few rags of +canvas fluttered. It was apparent soon to the old sailor's eye what was +amiss with her. + +"She's derelick, bad cess to her!" he muttered; "derelick and done +for--just me luck!" + + "I can't see any people on the ship," cried Dick, who had crept +forward to the bow. "Daddy's not there." + +The old sailor let the boat off a point or two, so as to get a view of +the brig more fully; when they were within twenty cable lengths or so +he unstepped the mast and took to the sculls. + +The little brig floated very low on the water, and presented a mournful +enough appearance; her running rigging all slack, shreds of canvas +flapping at the yards, and no boats hanging at her davits. It was easy +enough to see that she was a timber ship, and that she had started a +butt, flooded herself and been abandoned. + +Paddy lay on his oars within a few strokes of her. She was floating as +placidly as though she were in the harbour of San Francisco; the green +water showed in her shadow, and in the green water waved the tropic +weeds that were growing from her copper. Her paint was blistered and +burnt absolutely as though a hot iron had been passed over it, and over +her taffrail hung a large rope whose end was lost to sight in the water. + +A few strokes brought them under the stern. The name of the ship was +there in faded letters, also the port to which she belonged. + +"Shenandoah. Martha's Vineyard." + +"There's letters on her," said Mr Button. "But I can't make thim out. +I've no larnin'." + +"I can read them," said Dick. + +"So c'n I," murmured Emmeline. + +"S-H-E-N-A-N-D-O-A-H," spelt Dick. + +"What's that?" enquired Paddy. + +"I don't know," replied Dick, rather downcastedly. + +"There you are!" cried the oarsman in a disgusted manner, pulling the +boat round to the starboard side of the brig. "They pritind to tache +letters to childer in schools, pickin' their eyes out wid book-readin', +and here's letters as big as me face an' they can't make hid or tail of +them--be dashed to book-readin'!" + +The brig had old-fashioned wide channels, regular platforms; and she +floated so low in the water that they were scarcely a foot above the +level of the dinghy. + +Mr Button secured the boat by passing the painter through a channel +plate, then, with Emmeline and her parcel in his arms or rather in one +arm, he clambered over the channel and passed her over the rail on to +the deck. Then it was Dick's turn, and the children stood waiting +whilst the old sailor brought the beaker of water, the biscuit, and the +tinned stuff on board. + +It was a place to delight the heart of a boy, the deck of the +Shenandoah; forward right from the main hatchway it was laden with +timber. Running rigging lay loose on the deck in coils, and nearly the +whole of the quarter-deck was occupied by a deck-house. The place had a +delightful smell of sea-beach, decaying wood, tar, and mystery. Bights +of buntline and other ropes were dangling from above, only waiting to +be swung from. A bell was hung just forward of the foremast. In half a +moment Dick was forward hammering at the bell with a belaying pin he +had picked from the deck. + +Mr Button shouted to him to desist; the sound of the bell jarred on his +nerves. It sounded like a summons, and a summons on that deserted craft +was quite out of place. Who knew what mightn't answer it in the way of +the supernatural? + +Dick dropped the belaying pin and ran forward. He took the disengaged +hand, and the three went aft to the door of the deck-house. The door +was open, and they peeped in. + +The place had three windows on the starboard side, and through the +windows the sun was shining in a mournful manner. There was a table in +the middle of the place. A seat was pushed away from the table as if +someone had risen in a hurry. On the table lay the remains of a meal, a +teapot, two teacups, two plates. On one of the plates rested a fork +with a bit of putrifying bacon upon it that some one had evidently been +conveying to his mouth when something had happened. Near the teapot +stood a tin of condensed milk, haggled open. Some old salt had just +been in the act of putting milk in his tea when the mysterious +something had occurred. Never did a lot of dead things speak so +eloquently as these things spoke. + +One could conjure it all up. The skipper, most likely, had finished his +tea, and the mate was hard at work at his, when the leak had been +discovered, or some derelict had been run into, or whatever it was had +happened--happened. + +One thing was evident, that since the abandonment of the brig she had +experienced fine weather, else the things would not have been left +standing so trimly on the table. + +Mr Button and Dick entered the place to prosecute enquiries, but +Emmeline remained at the door. The charm of the old brig appealed to +her almost as much as to Dick, but she had a feeling about it quite +unknown to him. A ship where no one was had about it suggestions of +"other things." + +She was afraid to enter the gloomy deckhouse, and afraid to remain +alone outside; she compromised matters by sitting down on the deck. +Then she placed the small bundle beside her, and hurriedly took the +rag-doll from her pocket, into which it was stuffed head down, pulled +its calico skirt from over its head, propped it up against the coaming +of the door, and told it not to be afraid. + +There was not much to be found in the deck-house, but aft of it were +two small cabins like rabbit hutches, once inhabited by the skipper and +his mate. Here there were great findings in the way of rubbish. Old +clothes, old boots, an old top-hat of that extraordinary pattern you +may see in the streets of Pernambuco, immensely tall, and narrowing +towards the brim. A telescope without a lens, a volume of Hoyt, a +nautical almanac, a great bolt of striped flannel shirting, a box of +fish hooks. And in one corner--glorious find!--a coil of what seemed to +be ten yards or so of black rope. + +"Baccy, begorra!" shouted Pat, seizing upon his treasure. It was +pigtail. You may see coils of it in the tobacconists' windows of +seaport towns. A pipe full of it would make a hippopotamus vomit, yet +old sailors chew it and smoke it and revel in it. + +"We'll bring all the lot of the things out on deck, and see what's +worth keepin' an' what's worth leavin'," said Mr Button, taking an +immense armful of the old truck; whilst Dick, carrying the top-hat, +upon which he had instantly seized as his own special booty, led the +way. + +"Em," shouted Dick, as he emerged from the doorway, "see what I've got!" + +He popped the awful-looking structure over his head. It went right down +to his shoulders. + +Emmeline gave a shriek. + +"It smells funny," said Dick, taking it off and applying his nose to +the inside of it--"smells like an old hair brush. Here, you try it on." + +Emmeline scrambled away as far as she could, till she reached the +starboard bulwarks, where she sat in the scupper, breathless and +speechless and wide-eyed. She was always dumb when frightened (unless +it were a nightmare or a very sudden shock), and this hat suddenly seen +half covering Dick frightened her out of her wits. Besides, it was a +black thing, and she hated black things--black cats, black horses; +worst of all, black dogs. + +She had once seen a hearse in the streets of Boston, an old-time hearse +with black plumes, trappings and all complete. The sight had nearly +given her a fit, though she did not know in the least the meaning of it. + +Meanwhile Mr Button was conveying armful after armful of stuff on deck. +When the heap was complete, he sat down beside it in the glorious +afternoon sunshine, and lit his pipe. + +He had searched neither for food or water as yet; content with the +treasure God had given him, for the moment the material things of life +were forgotten. And, indeed, if he had searched he would have found +only half a sack of potatoes in the caboose, for the lazarette was +awash, and the water in the scuttle-butt was stinking. + +Emmeline, seeing what was in progress, crept up, Dick promising not to +put the hat on her, and they all sat round the pile. + +"Thim pair of brogues," said the old man, holding a pair of old boots +up for inspection like an auctioneer, "would fetch half a dollar any +day in the wake in any sayport in the world. Put them beside you, Dick, +and lay hold of this pair of britches by the ends of em'--stritch them." + +The trousers were stretched out, examined and approved of, and laid +beside the boots. + +"Here's a tiliscope wid wan eye shut," said Mr Button, examining the +broken telescope and pulling it in and out like a concertina. "Stick +it beside the brogues; it may come in handy for somethin'. Here's a +book"--tossing the nautical almanac to the boy. "Tell me what it says." + +Dick examined the pages of figures hopelessly. + +"I can't read 'em," said Dick; "it's numbers." + +"Buzz it overboard," said Mr Button. + +Dick did what he was told joyfully, and the proceedings resumed. + +He tried on the tall hat, and the children laughed. On her old friend's +head the thing ceased to have terror for Emmeline. + +She had two methods of laughing. The angelic smile before mentioned--a +rare thing--and, almost as rare, a laugh in which she showed her little +white teeth, whilst she pressed her hands together, the left one tight +shut, and the right clasped over it. + +He put the hat on one side, and continued the sorting, searching all +the pockets of the clothes and finding nothing. When he had arranged +what to keep, they flung the rest overboard, and the valuables were +conveyed to the captain's cabin, there to remain till wanted. + +Then the idea that food might turn up useful as well as old clothes in +their present condition struck the imaginative mind of Mr Button, and +he proceeded to search. + +The lazarette was simply a cistern full of sea water; what else it +might contain, not being a diver, he could not say. In the copper of +the caboose lay a great lump of putrifying pork or meat of some sort. +The harness cask contained nothing except huge crystals of salt. All +the meat had been taken away. Still, the provisions and water brought +on board from the dinghy would be sufficient to last them some ten days +or so, and in the course of ten days a lot of things might happen. + +Mr Button leaned over the side. The dinghy was nestling beside the brig +like a duckling beside a duck; the broad channel might have been +likened to the duck's wing half extended. He got on the channel to see +if the painter was safely attached. Having made all secure, he climbed +slowly up to the main-yard arm, and looked round upon the sea. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +SHADOWS IN THE MOONLIGHT + +"Daddy's a long time coming," said Dick all of a sudden. + +They were seated on the baulks of timber that cumbered the deck of the +brig on either side of the caboose. An ideal perch. The sun was setting +over Australia way, in a sea that seemed like a sea of boiling gold. +Some mystery of mirage caused the water to heave and tremble as if +troubled by fervent heat. + +"Ay, is he," said Mr Button; "but it's better late than never. Now +don't be thinkin' of him, for that won't bring him. Look at the sun +goin' into the wather, and don't be spakin' a word, now, but listen and +you'll hear it hiss." + +The children gazed and listened, Paddy also. All three were mute as the +great blazing shield touched the water that leapt to meet it. + +You COULD hear the water hiss--if you had imagination enough. Once +having touched the water, the sun went down behind it, as swiftly as a +man in a hurry going down a ladder. As he vanished a ghostly and golden +twilight spread over the sea, a light exquisite but immensely forlorn. +Then the sea became a violet shadow, the west darkened as if to a +closing door, and the stars rushed over the sky. + +"Mr Button," said Emmeline, nodding towards the sun as he vanished, +"where's over there?" + +"The west," replied he, staring at the sunset. "Chainy and Injee and +all away beyant." + +"Where's the sun gone to now, Paddy?" asked Dick. + +"He's gone chasin' the moon, an' she's skedadlin' wid her dress brailed +up for all she's worth; she'll be along up in a minit. He's always +afther her, but he's never caught her yet." + +"What would he do to her if he caught her?" asked Emmeline. + +"Faith, an' maybe he'd fetch her a skelp an' well she'd desarve it." + +"Why'd she deserve it?" asked Dick, who was in one of his questioning +moods. + +"Because she's always delutherin' people an' leadin' thim asthray. +Girls or men, she moidhers thim all once she gets the comeither on +them; same as she did Buck M'Cann." + +"Who's he?" + +"Buck M'Cann? Faith, he was the village ijit where I used to live in +the ould days." + +"What's that'" + +"Hould your whisht, an' don't be axin' questions. He was always wantin' +the moon, though he was twinty an' six feet four. He'd a gob on him +that hung open like a rat-trap with a broken spring, and he was as thin +as a barber's pole, you could a' tied a reef knot in the middle of 'um; +and whin the moon was full there was no houldin' him." Mr Button gazed +at the reflection of the sunset on the water for a moment as if +recalling some form from the past, and then proceeded. "He'd sit on the +grass starin' at her, an' thin he'd start to chase her over the hills, +and they'd find him at last, maybe a day or two later, lost in the +mountains, grazin' on berries, and as green as a cabbidge from the +hunger an' the cowld, till it got so bad at long last they had to +hobble him." + +"I've seen a donkey hobbled," cried Dick. + +"Thin you've seen the twin brother of Buck M'Cann. Well, one night me +elder brother Tim was sittin' over the fire, smokin' his dudeen an' +thinkin' of his sins, when in comes Buck with the hobbles on him. + +"`Tim,' says he, `I've got her at last!' + +"`Got who?' says Tim. + +"`The moon,' says he. + +"`Got her where?' says Tim. + +"`In a bucket down by the pond,' says t'other, `safe an' sound an' not +a scratch on her; you come and look,' says he. So Tim follows him, he +hobblin', and they goes to the pond side, and there, sure enough, stood +a tin bucket full of wather, an' on the wather the refliction of the +moon. + +"`I dridged her out of the pond,' whispers Buck. `Aisy now,' says he, +`an' I'll dribble the water out gently,' says he, `an' we'll catch her +alive at the bottom of it like a trout.' So he drains the wather out +gently of the bucket till it was near all gone, an' then he looks into +the bucket expectin' to find the moon flounderin' in the bottom of it +like a flat fish. + +"`She's gone, bad 'cess to her!' says he. + +"`Try again,' says me brother, and Buck fills the bucket again, and +there was the moon sure enough when the water came to stand still. + +"`Go on,' says me brother. `Drain out the wather, but go gentle, or +she'll give yiz the slip again.' + +"`Wan minit,' says Buck, `I've got an idea,' says he; `she won't give +me the slip this time,' says he. `You wait for me,' says he; and off he +hobbles to his old mother's cabin a stone's-throw away, and back he +comes with a sieve. + +"`You hold the sieve,' says Buck, `and I'll drain the water into it; if +she 'scapes from the bucket we'll have her in the sieve.' And he pours +the wather out of the bucket as gentle as if it was crame out of a jug. +When all the wather was out he turns the bucket bottom up, and shook it. + +"`Ran dan the thing!' he cries, `she's gone again'; an' wid that he +flings the bucket into the pond, and the sieve afther the bucket, when +up comes his old mother hobbling on her stick. + +"`Where's me bucket?' says she. + +"`In the pond,' say Buck. + +"`And me sieve?' says she. + +"`Gone afther the bucket.' + +"`I'll give yiz a bucketin!' says she; and she up with the stick and +landed him a skelp, an' driv him roarin' and hobblin' before her, and +locked him up in the cabin, an' kep' him on bread an' wather for a wake +to get the moon out of his head; but she might have saved her thruble, +for that day month in it was agin. . . . There she comes!" + +The moon, argent and splendid, was breaking from the water. She was +full, and her light was powerful almost as the light of day. The +shadows of the children and the queer shadow of Mr Button were cast on +the wall of the caboose hard and black as silhouettes. + +"Look at our shadows!" cried Dick, taking off his broad-brimmed straw +hat and waving it. + +Emmeline held up her doll to see ITS shadow, and Mr Button held up his +pipe. + +"Come now," said he, putting the pipe back in his mouth, and making to +rise, "and shadda off to bed; it's time you were aslape, the both of +you." + +Dick began to yowl. + +"_I_ don't want to go to bed; I aint tired, Paddy--les's stay a little +longer." + +"Not a minit," said the other, with all the decision of a nurse; "not a +minit afther me pipe's out!" + +"Fill it again," said Dick. + +Mr Button made no reply. The pipe gurgled as he puffed at it--a kind of +death-rattle speaking of almost immediate extinction. + +"Mr Button!" said Emmeline. She was holding her nose in the air and +sniffing; seated to windward of the smoker, and out of the +pigtail-poisoned air, her delicate sense of smell perceived something +lost to the others. + +"What is it, acushla?" + +"I smell something." + +"What d'ye say you smell?" + +"Something nice." + +"What's it like?" asked Dick, sniffing hard. "_I_ don't smell anything." + +Emmeline sniffed again to make sure. + +"Flowers," said she. + +The breeze, which had shifted several points since midday, was bearing +with it a faint, faint odour: a perfume of vanilla and spice so faint +as to be imperceptible to all but the most acute olfactory sense. + +"Flowers!" said the old sailor, tapping the ashes cut of his pipe +against the heel of his boot. "And where'd you get flowers in middle of +the say? It's dhramin' you are. Come now--to bed wid yiz!" + +"Fill it again," wailed Dick, referring to the pipe. + +"It's a spankin' I'll give you," replied his guardian, lifting him down +from the timber baulks, and then assisting Emmeline, "in two ticks if +you don't behave. Come along, Em'line." + +He started aft, a small hand in each of his, Dick bellowing. + +As they passed the ship's bell, Dick stretched towards the belaying pin +that was still lying on the deck, seized it, and hit the bell a mighty +bang. It was the last pleasure to be snatched before sleep, and he +snatched it. + +Paddy had made up beds for himself and his charges in the deck-house; +he had cleared the stuff off the table, broken open the windows to get +the musty smell away, and placed the mattresses from the captain and +mate's cabins on the floor. + +When the children were in bed and asleep, he went to the starboard +rail, and, leaning on it, looked over the moonlit sea. He was thinking +of ships as his wandering eye roved over the sea spaces, little +dreaming of the message that the perfumed breeze was bearing him. The +message that had been received and dimly understood by Emmeline. Then +he leaned with his back to the rail and his hands in his pockets. He +was not thinking now, he was ruminating. + +The basis of the Irish character as exemplified by Paddy Button is a +profound laziness mixed with a profound melancholy. Yet Paddy, in his +left-handed way, was as hard a worker as any man on board ship; and as +for melancholy, he was the life and soul of the fo'cs'le. Yet there +they were, the laziness and the melancholy, only waiting to be tapped. + +As he stood with his hands thrust deep in his pockets, longshore +fashion, counting the dowels in the planking of the deck by the +moonlight, he was reviewing the "old days." The tale of Buck M'Cann had +recalled them, and across all the salt seas he could see the moonlight +on the Connemara mountains, and hear the seagulls crying on the +thunderous beach where each wave has behind it three thousand miles of +sea. + +Suddenly Mr Button came back from the mountains of Connemara to find +himself on the deck of the Shenandoah; and he instantly became +possessed by fears. Beyond the white deserted deck, barred by the +shadows of the standing rigging, he could see the door of the caboose. +Suppose he should suddenly see a head pop out or, worse, a shadowy form +go in? + +He turned to the deck-house, where the children were sound asleep, and +where, in a few minutes, he, too, was sound asleep beside them, whilst +all night long the brig rocked to the gentle swell of the Pacific, and +the breeze blew, bringing with it the perfume of flowers. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE TRAGEDY OF THE BOATS + +When the fog lifted after midnight the people in the long-boat saw the +quarter-boat half a mile to starboard of them. + +"Can you see the dinghy?" asked Lestrange of the captain, who was +standing up searching the horizon. + +"Not a speck," answered Le Farge. "DAMN that Irishman! but for him I'd +have got the boats away properly victualled and all; as it is I don't +know what we've got aboard. You, Jenkins, what have you got forward +there?" + +"Two bags of bread and a breaker of water," answered the steward. + +"A breaker of water be sugared!" came another voice; "a breaker half +full, you mean." + +Then the steward's voice: "So it is; there's not more than a couple of +gallons in her." + +"My God!" said Le Farge. "DAMN that Irishman!" + +"There's not more than'll give us two half pannikins apiece all round," +said the steward. + +"Maybe," said Le Farge, "the quarter-boat's better stocked; pull for +her." + +"She's pulling for us," said the stroke oar. + +"Captain," asked Lestrange, "are you sure there's no sight of the +dinghy?" + +"None," replied Le Farge. + +The unfortunate man's head sank on his breast. He had little time to +brood over his troubles, however, for a tragedy was beginning to unfold +around him, the most shocking, perhaps, in the annals of the sea--a +tragedy to be hinted at rather than spoken of. + +When the boats were within hailing distance, a man in the bow of the +long-boat rose up. + +"Quarter-boat ahoy!" + +"Ahoy!" + +"How much water have you?" + +"None!" + +The word came floating over the placid moonlit water. At it the fellows +in the long-boat ceased rowing, and you could see the water-drops +dripping off their oars like diamonds in the moonlight. + +"Quarter-boat, ahoy!" shouted the fellow in the bow. "Lay on your oars." + +"Here, you scowbanker!" cried Le Farge, "who are you to be giving +directions--" + +"Scowbanker yourself!" replied the fellow. "Bullies, put her about!" + +The starboard oars backed water, and the boat came round. + +By chance the worst lot of the Northumberland's crew were in the +long-boat veritable--"scowbankers" scum; and how scum clings to life +you will never know, until you have been amongst it in an open boat at +sea. Le Farge had no more command over this lot than you have who are +reading this book. + +"Heave to!" came from the quarter-boat, as she laboured behind. + +"Lay on your oars, bullies!" cried the ruffian at the bow, who was +still standing up like an evil genius who had taken momentary command +over events. "Lay on your oars, bullies; they'd better have it now." + +The quarter-boat in her turn ceased rowing, and lay a cable's length +away. + +"How much water have you?" came the mate's voice. + +"Not enough to go round." + +Le Farge made to rise, and the stroke oar struck at him, catching him +in the wind and doubling him up in the bottom of the boat. + +"Give us some, for God's sake!" came the mate's voice; "we're parched +with rowing, and there's a woman on board!" + +The fellow in the bow of the long-boat, as if someone had suddenly +struck him, broke into a tornado of blasphemy. + +"Give us some," came the mate's voice, "or, by God, we'll lay you +aboard!" + +Before the words were well spoken the men in the quarter-boat carried +the threat into action. The conflict was brief: the quarter-boat was +too crowded for fighting. The starboard men in the long-boat fought +with their oars, whilst the fellows to port steadied the boat. + +The fight did not last long, and presently the quarter-boat sheered +off, half of the men in her cut about the head and bleeding--two of +them senseless. + + * * * * * * + +It was sundown on the following day. The long-boat lay adrift. The last +drop of water had been served out eight hours before. + +The quarter-boat, like a horrible phantom, had been haunting and +pursuing her all day, begging for water when there was none. It was +like the prayers one might expect to hear in hell. + +The men in the long-boat, gloomy and morose, weighed down with a sense +of crime, tortured by thirst, and tormented by the voices imploring for +water, lay on their oars when the other boat tried to approach. + +Now and then, suddenly, and as if moved by a common impulse, they would +all shout out together: "We have none." But the quarter-boat would not +believe. It was in vain to hold the breaker with the bung out to prove +its dryness, the half-delirious creatures had it fixed in their minds +that their comrades were withholding from them the water that was not. + +Just as the sun touched the sea, Lestrange, rousing himself from a +torpor into which he had sunk, raised himself and looked over the +gunwale. He saw the quarter-boat drifting a cable's length away, lit by +the full light of sunset, and the spectres in it, seeing him, held out +in mute appeal their blackened tongues. + + * * * * * * + +Of the night that followed it is almost impossible to speak. Thirst +was nothing to what the scowbankers suffered from the torture of the +whimpering appeal for water that came to them at intervals during the +night. + + * * * * * * + +When at last the Arago, a French whale ship, sighted them, the crew of +the long-boat were still alive, but three of them were raving madmen. +Of the crew of the quarter-boat was saved not one. + + + + +PART II + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE ISLAND + +"Childer!" shouted Paddy. He was at the cross-trees in the full dawn, +whilst the children standing beneath on deck were craning their faces +up to him. "There's an island forenint us." + +"Hurrah!" cried Dick. He was not quite sure what an island might be +like in the concrete, but it was something fresh, and Paddy's voice was +jubilant. + +"Land ho! it is," said he, coming down to the deck. "Come for'ard to +the bows, and I'll show it you." + +He stood on the timber in the bows and lifted Emmeline up in his arms; +and even at that humble elevation from the water she could see +something of an undecided colour--green for choice--on the horizon. + +It was not directly ahead, but on the starboard bow--or, as she would +have expressed it, to the right. When Dick had looked and expressed his +disappointment at there being so little to see, Paddy began to make +preparations for leaving the ship. + +It was only just now, with land in sight, that he recognised in some +fashion the horror of the position from which they were about to escape. + +He fed the children hurriedly with some biscuits and tinned meat, and +then, with a biscuit in his hand, eating as he went, he trotted about +the decks, collecting things and stowing them in the dinghy. The bolt +of striped flannel, all the old clothes, a housewife full of needles +and thread, such as seamen sometimes carry, the half-sack of potatoes, +a saw which he found in the caboose, the precious coil of tobacco, and +a lot of other odds and ends he transhipped, sinking the little dinghy +several strakes in the process. Also, of course, he took the breaker of +water, and the remains of the biscuit and tinned stuff they had brought +on board. These being stowed, and the dinghy ready, he went forward +with the children to the bow, to see how the island was bearing. + +It had loomed up nearer during the hour or so in which he had been +collecting and storing the things--nearer, and more to the right, which +meant that the brig was being borne by a fairly swift current, and that +she would pass it, leaving it two or three miles to starboard. It was +well they had command of the dinghy. + +"The sea's all round it," said Emmeline, who was seated on Paddy's +shoulder, holding on tight to him, and gazing upon the island, the +green of whose trees was now visible, an oasis of verdure in the +sparkling and seraphic blue. + +"Are we going there, Paddy?" asked Dick, holding on to a stay, and +straining his eyes towards the land. + +"Ay, are we," said Mr Button. "Hot foot--five knots, if we're makin' +wan; and it's ashore we'll be by noon, and maybe sooner." + +The breeze had freshened up, and was blowing dead from the island, as +though the island were making a weak attempt to blow them away from it. + +Oh, what a fresh and perfumed breeze it was! All sorts of tropical +growing things had joined their scent in one bouquet. + +"Smell it," said Emmeline, expanding her small nostrils. "That's what I +smelt last night, only it's stronger now." + +The last reckoning taken on board the Northumberland had proved the +ship to be south by east of the Marquesas; this was evidently one of +those small, lost islands that lie here and there south by east of the +Marquesas. Islands the most lonely and beautiful in the world. + +As they gazed it grew before them, and shifted still more to the right. +It was hilly and green now, though the trees could not be clearly made +out; here, the green was lighter in colour, and there, darker. A rim of +pure white marble seemed to surround its base. It was foam breaking on +the barrier reef. + +In another hour the feathery foliage of the cocoanut palms could be +made out, and the old sailor judged it time to take to the boat. + +He lifted Emmeline, who was clasping her luggage, over the rail on to +the channel, and deposited her in the sternsheets; then Dick. + +In a moment the boat was adrift, the mast steeped, and the Shenandoah +left to pursue her mysterious voyage at the will of the currents of the +sea. + +"You're not going to the island, Paddy," cried Dick, as the old man put +the boat on the port tack. + +"You be aisy," replied the other, "and don't be larnin' your +gran'mother. How the divil d'ye think I'd fetch the land sailin' dead +in the wind's eye?" + +"Has the wind eyes?" + +Mr Button did not answer the question. He was troubled in his mind. +What if the island were inhabited? He had spent several years in the +South Seas. He knew the people of the Marquesas and Samoa, and liked +them. But here he was out of his bearings. + +However, all the troubling in the world was of no use. It was a case of +the island or the deep sea, and, putting the boat on the starboard +tack, he lit his pipe and leaned back with the tiller in the crook of +his arm. His keen eyes had made out from the deck of the brig an +opening in the reef, and he was making to run the dinghy abreast of the +opening, and then take to the sculls and row her through. + +Now, as they drew nearer, a sound came on the breeze--sound faint and +sonorous and dreamy. It was the sound of the breakers on the reef. The +sea just here was heaving to a deeper swell, as if vexed in its sleep +at the resistance to it of the land. + +Emmeline, sitting with her bundle in her lap, stared without speaking +at the sight before her. Even in the bright, glorious sunshine, and +despite the greenery that showed beyond, it was a desolate sight seen +from her place in the dinghy. A white, forlorn beach, over which the +breakers raced and tumbled, seagulls wheeling and screaming, and over +all the thunder of the surf. + +Suddenly the break became visible, and a glimpse of smooth, blue water +beyond. Button unshipped the tiller, unstepped the mast, and took to +the sculls. + +As they drew nearer, the sea became more active, savage, and alive; the +thunder of the surf became louder, the breakers more fierce and +threatening, the opening broader. + +One could see the water swirling round the coral piers, for the tide +was flooding into the lagoon; it had seized the little dinghy and was +bearing it along far swifter than the sculls could have driven it. +Sea-gulls screamed around them, the boat rocked and swayed. Dick +shouted with excitement, and Emmeline shut her eyes TIGHT. + +Then, as though a door had been swiftly and silently closed, the sound +of the surf became suddenly less. The boat floated on an even keel; she +opened her eyes and found herself in Wonderland. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE LAKE OF AZURE + +On either side lay a great sweep of waving blue water. Calm, almost as +a lake, sapphire here, and here with the tints of the aquamarine. Water +so clear that fathoms away below you could see the branching coral, the +schools of passing fish, and the shadows of the fish upon the spaces of +sand. + +Before them the clear water washed the sands of a white beach, the +cocoa-palms waved and whispered in the breeze; and as the oarsman lay +on his oars to look a flock of bluebirds rose, as if suddenly freed +from the treetops, wheeled, and passed soundless, like a wreath of +smoke, over the tree-tops of the higher land beyond. + +"Look!" shouted Dick, who had his nose over the side of the boat. "Look at +the FISH!" + +"Mr Button," cried Emmeline, "where are we?" + +"Bedad, I dunno; but we might be in a worse place, I'm thinkin'," +replied the old man, sweeping his eyes over the blue and tranquil +lagoon, from the barrier reef to the happy shore. + +On either side of the broad beach before them the cocoa-nut trees came +down like two regiments, and bending gazed at their own reflections in +the lagoon. Beyond lay waving chapparel, where cocoa-palms and +breadfruit trees intermixed with the mammee apple and the tendrils of +the wild vine. On one of the piers of coral at the break of the reef +stood a single cocoa-palm; bending with a slight curve, it, too, seemed +seeking its reflection in the waving water. + +But the soul of it all, the indescribable thing about this picture of +mirrored palm trees, blue lagoon, coral reef and sky, was the light. + +Away at sea the light was blinding, dazzling, cruel. Away at sea it had +nothing to focus itself upon, nothing to exhibit but infinite spaces of +blue water and desolation. + +Here it made the air a crystal, through which the gazer saw the +loveliness of the land and reef, the green of palm, the white of coral, +the wheeling gulls, the blue lagoon, all sharply outlined--burning, +coloured, arrogant, yet tender--heart-breakingly beautiful, for the +spirit of eternal morning was here, eternal happiness, eternal youth. + +As the oarsman pulled the tiny craft towards the beach, neither he nor +the children saw away behind the boat, on the water near the bending +palm tree at the break in the reef, something that for a moment +insulted the day, and was gone. Something like a small triangle of dark +canvas, that rippled through the water and sank from sight; something +that appeared and vanished like an evil thought. + +It did not take long to beach the boat. Mr Button tumbled over the side +up to his knees in water, whilst Dick crawled over the bow. + +"Catch hould of her the same as I do," cried Paddy, laying hold of the +starboard gunwale; whilst Dick, imitative as a monkey, seized the +gunwale to port. Now then: + + "Yeo ho, Chilliman, + Up wid her, up wid her, + Heave O, Chilliman.' + +"Lave her be now; she's high enough." + +He took Emmeline in his arms and carried her up on the sand. It was +from just here on the sand that you could see the true beauty of the +lagoon. That lake of sea-water forever protected from storm and trouble +by the barrier reef of coral. + +Right from where the little clear ripples ran up the strand, it led the +eye to the break in the coral reef where the palm gazed at its own +reflection in the water, and there, beyond the break, one caught a +vision of the great heaving, sparkling sea. + +The lagoon, just here, was perhaps more than a third of a mile broad. I +have never measured it, but I know that, standing by the palm tree on +the reef, flinging up one's arm and shouting to a person on the beach, +the sound took a perceptible time to cross the water: I should say, +perhaps, an almost perceptible time. The distant signal and the distant +call were almost coincident, yet not quite. + +Dick, mad with delight at the place in which he found himself, was +running about like a dog just out of the water. Mr Button was +discharging the cargo of the dinghy on the dry, white sand. Emmeline +seated herself with her precious bundle on the sand, and was watching +the operations of her friend, looking at the things around her and +feeling very strange. + +For all she knew all this was the ordinary accompaniment of a sea +voyage. Paddy's manner throughout had been set to the one idea, not to +frighten the "childer"; the weather had backed him up. But down in the +heart of her lay the knowledge that all was not as it should be. The +hurried departure from the ship, the fog in which her uncle had +vanished, those things, and others as well, she felt instinctively were +not right. But she said nothing. + +She had not long for meditation, however, for Dick was running towards +her with a live crab which he had picked up, calling out that he was +going to make it bite her. + +"Take it away!" cried Emmeline, holding both hands with fingers +widespread in front of her face. "Mr Button! Mr Button! Mr Button!" + +"Lave her be, you little divil!" roared Pat, who was depositing the +last of the cargo on the sand. "Lave her be, or it's a cow-hidin' I'll +be givin' you!" + +"What's a `divil,' Paddy?" asked Dick, panting from his exertions. +"Paddy, what's a `divil'?" + +"You're wan. Ax no questions now, for it's tired I am, an' I want to +rest me bones." + +He flung himself under the shade of a palm tree, took out his tinder +box, tobacco and pipe, cut some tobacco up, filled his pipe and lit it. +Emmeline crawled up, and sat near him, and Dick flung himself down on +the sand near Emmeline. + +Mr Button took off his coat and made a pillow of it against a cocoa-nut +tree stem. He had found the El Dorado of the weary. With his knowledge +of the South Seas a glance at the vegetation to be seen told him that +food for a regiment might be had for the taking; water, too. + +Right down the middle of the strand was a depression which in the rainy +season would be the bed of a rushing rivulet. The water just now was +not strong enough to come all the way to the lagoon, but away up there +"beyant" in the woods lay the source, and he'd find it in due time. +There was enough in the breaker for a week, and green "cucanuts" were +to be had for the climbing. + +Emmeline contemplated Paddy for a while as he smoked and rested his +bones, then a great thought occurred to her. She took the little shawl +from around the parcel she was holding and exposed the mysterious box. + +"Oh, begorra, the box!" said Paddy, leaning on his elbow interestedly; +"I might a' known you wouldn't a' forgot it." + +"Mrs James," said Emmeline, "made me promise not to open it till I got +on shore, for the things in it might get lost." + +"Well, you're ashore now," said Dick; "open it." + +"I'm going to," said Emmeline. + +She carefully undid the string, refusing the assistance of Paddy's +knife. Then the brown paper came off, disclosing a common cardboard +box. She raised the lid half an inch, peeped in, and shut it again. + +"OPEN it!" cried Dick, mad with curiosity. + +"What's in it, honey?" asked the old sailor, who was as interested as +Dick. + +"Things," replied Emmeline. + +Then all at once she took the lid off and disclosed a tiny tea service +of china, packed in shavings; there was a teapot with a lid, a cream +jug, cups and saucers, and six microscopic plates, each painted with a +pansy. + +"Sure, it's a tay-set!" said Paddy, in an interested voice. "Glory be +to God! will you look at the little plates wid the flowers on thim?" + +"Heugh!" said Dick in disgust; "I thought it might a' been soldiers." + +"_I_ don't want soldiers," replied Emmeline, in a voice of perfect +contentment. + +She unfolded a piece of tissue paper, and took from it a sugar-tongs +and six spoons. Then she arrayed the whole lot on the sand. + +"Well, if that don't beat all!" said Paddy. + +"And whin are you goin' to ax me to tay with you?" + +"Some time," replied Emmeline, collecting the things, and carefully +repacking them. + +Mr Button finished his pipe, tapped the ashes out, and placed it in his +pocket. + +"I'll be afther riggin' up a bit of a tint," said he, as he rose to his +feet, "to shelter us from the jew to-night; but I'll first have a look +at the woods to see if I can find wather. Lave your box with the other +things, Emmeline; there's no one here to take it." + +Emmeline left her box on the heap of things that Paddy had placed in +the shadow of the cocoa-nut trees, took his hand, and the three entered +the grove on the right. + +It was like entering a pine forest; the tall symmetrical stems of the +trees seemed set by mathematical law, each at a given distance from the +other. Whichever way you entered a twilight alley set with tree boles +lay before you. Looking up you saw at an immense distance above a pale +green roof patined with sparkling and flashing points of light, where +the breeze was busy playing with the green fronds of the trees. + +"Mr Button," murmured Emmeline, "we won't get lost, will we?" + +"Lost! No, faith; sure we're goin' uphill, an' all we have to do is to +come down again, when we want to get back--'ware nuts!" A green nut +detached from up above came down rattling and tumbling and hopped on +the ground. Paddy picked it up. "It's a green cucanut," said he, +putting it in his pocket (it was not very much bigger than a Jaffa +orange), "and we'll have it for tay." + +"That's not a cocoa-nut," said Dick; "coco-anuts are brown. I had five +cents once an' I bought one, and scraped it out and y'et it." + +"When Dr. Sims made Dicky sick," said Emmeline, "he said the wonder +t'im was how Dicky held it all." + +"Come on," said Mr Button, "an' don't be talkin', or it's the +Cluricaunes will be after us." + +"What's cluricaunes?" demanded Dick. + +"Little men no bigger than your thumb that make the brogues for the +Good People." + +"Who's they?" + +"Whisht, and don't be talkin'. Mind your head, Em'leen, or the +branches'll be hittin' you in the face." + +They had left the cocoa-nut grove, and entered the chapparel. Here was +a deeper twilight, and all sorts of trees lent their foliage to make +the shade. The artu with its delicately diamonded trunk, the great +bread-fruit tall as a beech, and shadowy as a cave, the aoa, and the +eternal cocoa-nut palm all grew here like brothers. Great ropes of wild +vine twined like the snake of the laocoon from tree to tree, and all +sorts of wonderful flowers, from the orchid shaped like a butterfly to +the scarlet hibiscus, made beautiful the gloom. + +Suddenly Mr Button stopped. + +"Whisht!" said he. + +Through the silence--a silence filled with the hum and the murmur of +wood insects and the faint, far song of the reef--came a tinkling, +rippling sound: it was water. He listened to make sure of the bearing +of the sound, then he made for it. + +Next moment they found themselves in a little grass-grown glade. From +the hilly ground above, over a rock black and polished like ebony, fell +a tiny cascade not much broader than one's hand; ferns grew around and +from a tree above where a great rope of wild convolvulus flowers blew their +trumpets in the enchanted twilight. + +The children cried out at the prettiness of it, and Emmeline ran and +dabbled her hands in the water. Just above the little waterfall sprang +a banana tree laden with fruit; it had immense leaves six feet long and +more, and broad as a dinner-table. One could see the golden glint of +the ripe fruit through the foliage. + +In a moment Mr Button had kicked off his shoes and was going up the +rock like a cat, absolutely, for it seemed to give him nothing to climb +by. + +"Hurroo!" cried Dick in admiration. "Look at Paddy!" + +Emmeline looked, and saw nothing but swaying leaves. + +"Stand from under!" he shouted, and next moment down came a huge bunch +of yellow-jacketed bananas. Dick shouted with delight, but Emmeline +showed no excitement: she had discovered something. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +DEATH VEILED WITH LICHEN + +"Mr Button," said she, when the latter had descended, "there's a little +barrel"; she pointed to something green and lichen-covered that lay +between the trunks of two trees--something that eyes less sharp than +the eyes of a child might have mistaken for a boulder. + +"Sure, an' faith it's an' ould empty bar'l," said Button, wiping the +sweat from his brow and staring at the thing. "Some ship must have been +wathering here an' forgot it. It'll do for a sate whilst we have +dinner." + +He sat down upon it and distributed the bananas to the children, who +sat down on the grass. + +The barrel looked such a deserted and neglected thing that his +imagination assumed it to be empty. Empty or full, however, it made an +excellent seat, for it was quarter sunk in the green soft earth, and +immovable. + +"If ships has been here, ships will come again," said he, as he munched +his bananas. + +"Will daddy's ship come here?" asked Dick. + +"Ay, to be sure it will," replied the other, taking out his pipe. "Now +run about and play with the flowers an' lave me alone to smoke a pipe, +and then we'll all go to the top of the hill beyant, and have a look +round us. + +"Come 'long, Em!" cried Dick; and the children started off amongst the +trees, Dick pulling at the hanging vine tendrils, and Emmeline plucking +what blossoms she could find within her small reach. + +When he had finished his pipe he hallooed, and small voices answered +him from the wood. Then the children came running back, Emmeline +laughing and showing her small white teeth, a large bunch of blossoms +in her hand; Dick flowerless, but carrying what seemed a large green +stone. + +"Look at what a funny thing I've found!" he cried; "it's got holes in +it." + +"Dhrap it!" shouted Mr Button, springing from the barrel as if someone +had stuck an awl into him. "Where'd you find it? What d'you mane by +touchin' it? Give it here." + +He took it gingerly in his hands; it was a lichen-covered skull, with a +great dent in the back of it where it had been cloven by an axe or some +sharp instrument. He hove it as far as he could away amidst the trees. + +"What is it, Paddy?" asked Dick, half astonished, half frightened at +the old man's manner. + +"It's nothin' good," replied Mr Button. + +"There were two others, and I wanted to fetch them," grumbled Dick. + +"You lave them alone. Musha! musha! but there's been black doin's here +in days gone by. What is it, Emmeline?" + +Emmeline was holding out her bunch of flowers for admiration. He took a +great gaudy blossom--if flowers can ever be called gaudy--and stuck its +stalk in the pocket of his coat. Then he led the way uphill, muttering +as he went. + +The higher they got, the less dense became the trees and the fewer the +cocoa-nut palms. The cocoa-nut palm loves the sea, and the few they had +here all had their heads bent in the direction of the lagoon, as if +yearning after it. + +They passed a cane-brake where canes twenty feet high whispered +together like bulrushes. Then a sunlit sward, destitute of tree or +shrub, led them sharply upward for a hundred feet or so to where a +great rock, the highest point of the island, stood, casting its shadow +in the sunshine. The rock was about twenty feet high, and easy to +climb. Its top was almost flat, and as spacious as an ordinary +dinner-table. From it one could obtain a complete view of the island +and the sea. + +Looking down, one's eye travelled over the trembling and waving +tree-tops, to the lagoon; beyond the lagoon to the reef, beyond the +reef to the infinite-space of the Pacific. The reef encircled the whole +island, here further from the land, here closer; the song of the surf +on it came as a whisper, just like the whisper you hear in a shell; +but, a strange thing, though the sound heard on the beach was +continuous, up here one could distinguish an intermittency as breaker +after breaker dashed itself to death on the coral strand below. + +You have seen a field of green barley ruffled over by the wind, just so +from the hill-top you could see the wind in its passage over the sunlit +foliage beneath. + +It was breezing up from the south-west, and banyan and cocoa-palm, artu +and breadfruit tree, swayed and rocked in the merry wind. + +So bright and moving was the picture of the breeze-swept sea, the blue +lagoon, the foam-dashed reef, and the rocking trees that one felt one +had surprised some mysterious gala day, some festival of Nature more +than ordinarily glad. + +As if to strengthen the idea, now and then above the trees would burst +what seemed a rocket of coloured stars. The stars would drift away in a +flock on the wind and be lost. They were flights of birds. All-coloured +birds peopled the trees below blue, scarlet, dove-coloured, bright of +eye, but voiceless. From the reef you could see occasionally the +seagulls rising here and there in clouds like small puffs of smoke. + +The lagoon, here deep, here shallow, presented, according to its depth +or shallowness, the colours of ultra-marine or sky. The broadest parts +were the palest, because the most shallow; and here and there, in the +shallows, you might see a faint tracery of coral ribs almost reaching +the surface. The island at its broadest might have been three miles +across. There was not a sign of house or habitation to be seen, and not +a sail on the whole of the wide Pacific. + +It was a strange place to be, up here. To find oneself surrounded by +grass and flowers and trees, and all the kindliness of nature, to feel +the breeze blow, to smoke one's pipe, and to remember that one was in a +place uninhabited and unknown. A place to which no messages were ever +carried except by the wind or the seagulls. + +In this solitude the beetle was as carefully painted and the flower as +carefully tended as though all the peoples of the civilised world were +standing by to criticise or approve. + +Nowhere in the world, perhaps, so well as here, could you appreciate +Nature's splendid indifference to the great affairs of Man. + +The old sailor was thinking nothing of this sort. His eyes were fixed +on a small and almost imperceptible stain on the horizon to the +sou'-sou'-west. It was no doubt another island almost hull-down on the +horizon. Save for this blemish the whole wheel of the sea was empty and +serene. + +Emmeline had not followed them up to the rock. She had gone botanising +where some bushes displayed great bunches of the crimson arita berries +as if to show to the sun what Earth could do in the way of +manufacturing poison. She plucked two great bunches of them, and with +this treasure came to the base of the rock. + +"Lave thim berries down!" cried Mr Button, when she had attracted his +attention. "Don't put thim in your mouth; thim's the never-wake-up +berries." + +He came down off the rock, hand over fist, flung the poisonous things +away, and looked into Emmeline's small mouth, which at his command she +opened wide. There was only a little pink tongue in it, however, curled +up like a rose-leaf; no sign of berries or poison. So, giving her a +little shake, just as a nursemaid would have done in like +circumstances, he took Dick off the rock, and led the way back to the +beach. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +ECHOES OF FAIRY-LAND + +"Mr Buttons," said Emmeline that night, as they sat on the sand near +the tent he had improvised, "Mr Button--cats go to sleep." + +They had been questioning him about the "never-wake-up" berries. + +"Who said they didn't?" asked Mr Button. + +"I mean," said Emmeline, "they go to sleep and never wake up again. +Ours did. It had stripes on it, and a white chest, and rings all down +its tail. It went asleep in the garden, all stretched out, and showing +its teeth; an' I told Jane, and Dicky ran in an' told uncle. I went to +Mrs Sims, the doctor's wife, to tea; and when I came back I asked Jane +where pussy was and she said it was deadn' berried, but I wasn't to +tell uncle." + +"I remember," said Dick. "It was the day I went to the circus, and you +told me not to tell daddy the cat was deadn' berried. But I told Mrs +James's man when he came to do the garden; and I asked him where cats +went when they were deadn' berried, and he said he guessed they went to +hell--at least he hoped they did, for they were always scratchin' up +the flowers. Then he told me not to tell anyone he'd said that, for it +was a swear word, and he oughtn't to have said it. I asked him what +he'd give me if I didn't tell, an' he gave me five cents. That was the +day I bought the cocoa-nut." + +The tent, a makeshift affair, consisting of two sculls and a tree +branch, which Mr Button had sawed off from a dwarf aoa, and the +staysail he had brought from the brig, was pitched in the centre of the +beach, so as to be out of the way of falling cocoa-nuts, should the +breeze strengthen during the night. The sun had set, but the moon had +not yet risen as they sat in the starlight on the sand near the +temporary abode. + +"What's the things you said made the boots for the people, Paddy?" +asked Dick, after a pause. + +"Which things?" + +"You said in the wood I wasn't to talk, else--" + +"Oh, the Cluricaunes--the little men that cobbles the Good People's +brogues. Is it them you mane?" + +"Yes," said Dick, not knowing quite whether it was them or not that he +meant, but anxious for information that he felt would be curious. "And +what are the good people?" + +"Sure, where were you born and bred that you don't know the Good People +is the other name for the fairies--savin' their presence?" + +"There aren't any," replied Dick. "Mrs Sims said there weren't." + +"Mrs James," put in Emmeline, "said there were. She said she liked to +see children b'lieve in fairies. She was talking to another lady, who'd +got a red feather in her bonnet, and a fur muff. They were having tea, +and I was sitting on the hearthrug. She said the world was getting +too--something or another, an' then the other lady said it was, and +asked Mrs James did she see Mrs Someone in the awful hat she wore +Thanksgiving Day. They didn't say anything more about fairies, but Mrs +James--" + +"Whether you b'lave in them or not," said Paddy, "there they are. An' +maybe they're poppin' out of the wood behint us now, an' listenin' to +us talkin'; though I'm doubtful if there's any in these parts, though +down in Connaught they were as thick as blackberries in the ould days. +O musha! musha! The ould days, the ould days! when will I be seein' +thim again? Now, you may b'lave me or b'lave me not, but me own ould +father--God rest his sowl! was comin' over Croagh Patrick one night +before Christmas with a bottle of whisky in one hand of him, and a +goose, plucked an' claned an' all, in the other, which same he'd won in +a lottery, when, hearin' a tchune no louder than the buzzin' of a bee, +over a furze-bush he peeps, and there, round a big white stone, the +Good People were dancing in a ring hand in hand, an' kickin' their +heels, an' the eyes of them glowin' like the eyes of moths; and a chap +on the stone, no bigger than the joint of your thumb, playin' to thim +on a bagpipes. Wid that he let wan yell an' drops the goose an' makes +for home, over hedge an' ditch, boundin' like a buck kangaroo, an' the +face on him as white as flour when he burst in through the door, where +we was all sittin' round the fire burnin' chestnuts to see who'd be +married the first. + +"`An' what in the name of the saints is the mather wid yiz?' says me +mother. + +"`I've sane the Good People,' says he, `up on the field beyant,' says +he; `and they've got the goose,' says he, `but, begorra, I've saved the +bottle,' he says. `Dhraw the cork and give me a taste of it, for me +heart's in me throat, and me tongue's like a brick-kil.' + +"An' whin we come to prize the cork out of the bottle, there was +nothin' in it; an' whin we went next marnin' to look for the goose, it +was gone. But there was the stone, sure enough, and the marks on it of +the little brogues of the chap that'd played the bagpipes and who'd be +doubtin' there were fairies after that?" + +The children said nothing for a while, and then Dick said: + +"Tell us about Cluricaunes, and how they make the boots." + +"Whin I'm tellin' you about Cluricaunes," said Mr Button, "it's the +truth I'm tellin' you, an' out of me own knowlidge, for I've spoke to a +man that's held wan in his hand; he was me own mother's brother, Con +Cogan--rest his sowl! Con was six fut two, wid a long, white face; he'd +had his head bashed in, years before I was barn, in some ruction or +other, an' the docthers had japanned him with a five-shillin' piece +beat flat." + +Dick interposed with a question as to the process, aim, and object of +japanning, but Mr Button passed the question by. + +"He'd been bad enough for seein' fairies before they japanned him, but +afther it, begorra, he was twiced as bad. I was a slip of a lad at the +time, but me hair near turned grey wid the tales he'd tell of the Good +People and their doin's. One night they'd turn him into a harse an' +ride him half over the county, wan chap on his back an' another runnin' +behind, shovin' furze prickles under his tail to make him buck-lep. +Another night it's a dunkey he'd be, harnessed to a little cart, an' +bein' kicked in the belly and made to draw stones. Thin it's a goose +he'd be, runnin' over the common wid his neck stritched out squawkin', +an' an old fairy woman afther him wid a knife, till it fair drove him +to the dhrink; though, by the same token, he didn't want much dhrivin'. + +"And what does he do when his money was gone, but tear the +five-shillin' piece they'd japanned him wid aff the top of his hed, and +swaps it for a bottle of whisky, and that was the end of him." + +Mr Button paused to relight his pipe, which had gone out, and there was +silence for a moment. + +The moon had risen, and the song of the surf on the reef filled the +whole night with its lullaby. The broad lagoon lay waving and rippling +in the moonlight to the incoming tide. Twice as broad it always looked +seen by moonlight or starlight than when seen by day. Occasionally the +splash of a great fish would cross the silence, and the ripple of it +would pass a moment later across the placid water. + +Big things happened in the lagoon at night, unseen by eyes from the +shore. You would have found the wood behind them, had you walked +through it, full of light. A tropic forest under a tropic moon is green +as a sea cave. You can see the vine tendrils and the flowers, the +orchids and tree boles all lit as by the light of an emerald-tinted day. + +Mr Button took a long piece of string from his pocket. + +"It's bedtime," said he; "and I'm going to tether Em'leen, for fear +she'd be walkin' in her slape, and wandherin' away an' bein' lost in +the woods." + +"I don't want to be tethered," said Emmeline. + +"It's for your own good I'm doin' it," replied Mr Button, fixing the +string round her waist. "Now come 'long." + +He led her like a dog in a leash to the tent, and tied the other end of +the string to the scull, which was the tent's main prop and support. + +"Now," said he, "if you be gettin' up and walkin' about in the night, +it's down the tint will be on top of us all." + +And, sure enough, in the small hours of the morning, it was. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +FAIR PICTURES IN THE BLUE + +"I don't want my old britches on! I don't want my old britches on!" + +Dick was darting about naked on the sand, Mr Button after him with a +pair of small trousers in his hand. A crab might just as well have +attempted to chase an antelope. + +They had been on the island a fortnight, and Dick had discovered the +keenest joy in life to be naked. To be naked and wallow in the shallows +of the lagoon, to be naked and sit drying in the sun. To be free from +the curse of clothes, to shed civilisation on the beach in the form of +breeches, boots, coat, and hat, and to be one with the wind and the sun +and the sea. + +The very first command Mr Button had given on the second morning of +their arrival was, "Strip and into the water wid you." + +Dick had resisted at first, and Emmeline (who rarely wept) had stood +weeping in her little chemise. But Mr Button was obdurate. The +difficulty at first was to get them in; the difficulty now was to keep +them out. + +Emmeline was sitting as nude as the day star, drying in the morning sun +after her dip, and watching Dick's evolutions on the sand. + +The lagoon had for the children far more attraction than the land. +Woods where you might knock ripe bananas off the trees with a big cane, +sands where golden lizards would scuttle about so tame that you might +with a little caution seize them by the tail, a hill-top from whence +you might see, to use Paddy's expression, "to the back of beyond"; all +these were fine enough in their way, but they were nothing to the +lagoon. + +Deep down where the coral branches were you might watch, whilst Paddy +fished, all sorts of things disporting on the sand patches and between +the coral tufts. Hermit crabs that had evicted whelks, wearing the +evicted ones' shells--an obvious misfit; sea anemones as big as roses. +Flowers that closed up in an irritable manner if you lowered the hook +gently down and touched them; extraordinary shells that walked about on +feelers, elbowing the crabs out of the way and terrorising the whelks. +The overlords of the sand patches, these; yet touch one on the back +with a stone tied to a bit of string, and down he would go flat, +motionless and feigning death. There was a lot of human nature lurking +in the depths of the lagoon, comedy and tragedy. + +An English rock-pool has its marvels. You can fancy the marvels of this +vast rock-pool, nine miles round and varying from a third to half a +mile broad, swarming with tropic life and flights of painted fishes; +where the glittering albicore passed beneath the boat like a fire and a +shadow; where the boat's reflection lay as clear on the bottom as +though the water were air; where the sea, pacified by the reef, told, +like a little child, its dreams. + +It suited the lazy humour of Mr Button that he never pursued the lagoon +more than half a mile or so on either side of the beach. He would bring +the fish he caught ashore, and with the aid of his tinder box and dead +sticks make a blazing fire on the sand; cook fish and breadfruit and +taro roots, helped and hindered by the children. They fixed the tent +amidst the trees at the edge of the chapparel, and made it larger and +more abiding with the aid of the dinghy's sail. + +Amidst these occupations, wonders, and pleasures, the children lost all +count of the flight of time. They rarely asked about Mr Lestrange; +after a while they did'nt ask about him at all. Children soon forget. + + + + +PART III + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE POETRY OF LEARNING + +To forget the passage of time you must live in the open air, in a warm +climate, with as few clothes as possible upon you. You must collect and +cook your own food. Then, after a while, if you have no special ties to +bind you to civilisation, Nature will begin to do for you what she does +for the savage. You will recognise that it is possible to be happy +without books or newspapers, letters or bills. You will recognise the +part sleep plays in Nature. + +After a month on the island you might have seen Dick at one moment full +of life and activity, helping Mr Button to dig up a taro root or +what-not, the next curled up to sleep like a dog. Emmeline the same. +Profound and prolonged lapses into sleep; sudden awakenings into a +world of pure air and dazzling light, the gaiety of colour all round. +Nature had indeed opened her doors to these children. + +One might have fancied her in an experimental mood, saying: "Let me put +these buds of civilisation back into my nursery and see what they will +become--how they will blossom, and what will be the end of it all." + +Just as Emmeline had brought away her treasured box from the +Northumberland, Dick had conveyed with him a small linen bag that +chinked when shaken. It contained marbles. Small olive-green marbles +and middle-sized ones of various colours; glass marbles with splendid +coloured cores; and one large old grandfather marble too big to be +played with, but none the less to be worshipped--a god marble. + +Of course one cannot play at marbles on board ship, but one can play +WITH them. They had been a great comfort to Dick on the voyage. He knew +them each personally, and he would roll them out on the mattress of his +bunk and review them nearly every day, whilst Emmeline looked on. + +One day Mr Button, noticing Dick and the girl kneeling opposite each +other on a flat, hard piece of sand near the water's edge, strolled up +to see what they were doing. They were playing marbles. He stood with +his hands in his pockets and his pipe in his mouth watching and +criticising the game, pleased that the "childer" were amused. Then he +began to be amused himself, and in a few minutes more he was down on +his knees taking a hand; Emmeline, a poor player and an unenthusiastic +one, withdrawing in his favour. + +After that it was a common thing to see them playing together, the old +sailor on his knees, one eye shut, and a marble against the nail of his +horny thumb taking aim; Dick and Emmeline on the watch to make sure he +was playing fair, their shrill voices echoing amidst the cocoa-nut +trees with cries of "Knuckle down, Paddy, knuckle down!" He entered +into all their amusements just as one of themselves. On high and rare +occasions Emmeline would open her precious box, spread its contents and +give a tea-party, Mr Button acting as guest or president as the case +might be. + +"Is your tay to your likin', ma'am?" he would enquire; and Emmeline, +sipping at her tiny cup, would invariably make answer: "Another lump of +sugar, if you please, Mr Button"; to which would come the stereotyped +reply: "Take a dozen, and welcome; and another cup for the good of your +make." + +Then Emmeline would wash the things in imaginary water, replace them in +the box, and every one would lose their company manners and become +quite natural again. + +"Have you ever seen your name, Paddy?" asked Dick one morning. + +"Seen me which?" + +"Your name?" + +"Arrah, don't be axin' me questions," replied the other. "How the divil +could I see me name?" + +"Wait and I'll show you," replied Dick. + +He ran and fetched a piece of cane, and a minute later on the +salt-white sand in face of orthography and the sun appeared these +portentous letters: + +B U T T E N + +"Faith, an' it's a cliver boy y'are," said Mr Button admiringly, as he +leaned luxuriously against a cocoa-nut tree, and contemplated Dick's +handiwork. "And that's me name, is it? What's the letters in it?" + +Dick enumerated them. + +"I'll teach you to do it, too," he said. "I'll teach you to write your +name, Paddy--would you like to write your name, Paddy?" + +"No," replied the other, who only wanted to be let smoke his pipe in +peace; "me name's no use to me." + +But Dick, with the terrible gadfly tirelessness of childhood, was not +to be put off, and the unfortunate Mr Button had to go to school +despite himself. In a few days he could achieve the act of drawing upon +the sand characters somewhat like the above, but not without prompting, +Dick and Emmeline on each side of him, breathless for fear of a mistake. + +"Which next?" would ask the sweating scribe, the perspiration pouring +from his forehead--"which next? An' be quick, for it's moithered I am." + +"N. N--that's right. Ow, you're making it crooked!--THAT'S +right--there! it's all there now--Hurroo!" + +"Hurroo!" would answer the scholar, waving his old hat over his own +name, and "Hurroo!" would answer the cocoa-nut grove echoes; whilst the +far, faint "Hi, hi!" of the wheeling gulls on the reef would come over +the blue lagoon as if in acknowledgment of the deed, and encouragement. + +The appetite comes with teaching. The pleasantest mental exercise of +childhood is the instruction of one's elders. Even Emmeline felt this. +She took the geography class one day in a timid manner, putting her +little hand first in the great horny fist of her friend. + +"Mr Button!" + +"Well, honey?" + +"I know g'ography." + +"And what's that?" asked Mr Button. + +This stumped Emmeline for a moment. + +"It's where places are," she said at last. + +"Which places?" enquired he. + +"All sorts of places," replied Emmeline. "Mr Button!" + +"What is it, darlin'?" + +"Would you like to learn g'ography?" + +"I'm not wishful for larnin'," said the other hurriedly. "It makes me +head buzz to hear them things they rade out of books." + +"Paddy," said Dick, who was strong on drawing that afternoon, "look +here." He drew the following on the sand: + +[Illustration: A bad drawing of an elephant] + +"That's an elephant," he said in a dubious voice. + +Mr Button grunted, and the sound was by no means filled with +enthusiastic assent. A chill fell on the proceedings. + +Dick wiped the elephant slowly and regretfully out, whilst Emmeline +felt disheartened. Then her face suddenly cleared; the seraphic smile +came into it for a moment--a bright idea had struck her. + +"Dicky," she said, "draw Henry the Eight." + +Dick's face brightened. He cleared the sand and drew the following +figure: + + l l + <[ ]> + / \ + +"THAT'S not Henry the Eight," he explained, "but he will be in a +minute. Daddy showed me how to draw him; he's nothing till he gets his +hat on." + +"Put his hat on, put his hat on!" implored Emmeline, gazing alternately +from the figure on the sand to Mr Button's face, watching for the +delighted smile with which she was sure the old man would greet the +great king when he appeared in all his glory. + +Then Dick with a single stroke of the cane put Henry's hat on. + + === l + l l + <[ ]> + / \ + +Now no portrait could be liker to his monk-hunting majesty than the +above, created with one stroke of a cane (so to speak), yet Mr Button +remained unmoved. + +"I did it for Mrs Sims," said Dick regretfully, "and she said it was +the image of him." + +"Maybe the hat's not big enough," said Emmeline, turning her head from +side to side as she gazed at the picture. It looked right, but she felt +there must be something wrong, as Mr Button did not applaud. Has not +every true artist felt the same before the silence of some critic? + +Mr Button tapped the ashes out of his pipe and rose to stretch himself, +and the class rose and trooped down to the lagoon edge, leaving Henry +and his hat a figure on the sand to be obliterated by the wind. + +After a while, as time went on, Mr Button took to his lessons as a +matter of course, the small inventions of the children assisting their +utterly untrustworthy knowledge. Knowledge, perhaps, as useful as any +other there amidst the lovely poetry of the palm trees and the sky. + +Days slipped into weeks, and weeks into months, without the appearance +of a ship--a fact which gave Mr Button very little trouble; and even +less to his charges, who were far too busy and amused to bother about +ships. + +The rainy season came on them with a rush, and at the words "rainy +season" do not conjure up in your mind the vision of a rainy day in +Manchester. + +The rainy season here was quite a lively time. Torrential showers +followed by bursts of sunshine, rainbows, and rain-dogs in the sky, and +the delicious perfume of all manner of growing things on the earth. + +After the rains the old sailor said he'd be after making a house of +bamboos before the next rains came on them; but, maybe, before that +they'd be off the island. + +"However," said he, "I'll dra' you a picture of what it'll be like when +it's up;" and on the sand he drew a figure like this: + +X + +Having thus drawn the plans of the building, he leaned back against a +cocoa-palm and lit his pipe. But he had reckoned without Dick. + +The boy had not the least wish to live in a house, but he had a keen +desire to see one built, and help to build one. The ingenuity which is +part of the multiform basis of the American nature was aroused. + +"How're you going to keep them from slipping, if you tie them together +like that?" he asked, when Paddy had more fully explained his method. + +"Which from slippin'?" + +"The canes--one from the other?" + +"After you've fixed thim, one cross t'other, you drive a nail through +the cross-piece and a rope over all." + +"Have you any nails, Paddy?" + +"No," said Mr Button, "I haven't." + +"Then how're you goin' to build the house?" + +"Ax me no questions now; I want to smoke me pipe." + +But he had raised a devil difficult to lay. Morning, noon, and night it +was "Paddy, when are you going to begin the house?" or, "Paddy, I guess +I've got a way to make the canes stick together without nailing." Till +Mr Button, in despair, like a beaver, began to build. + +There was great cane-cutting in the canebrake above, and, when +sufficient had been procured, Mr Button struck work for three days. He +would have struck altogether, but he had found a taskmaster. + +The tireless Dick, young and active, with no original laziness in his +composition, no old bones to rest, or pipe to smoke, kept after him +like a bluebottle fly. It was in vain that he tried to stave him off +with stories about fairies and Cluricaunes. Dick wanted to build a +house. + +Mr Button didn't. He wanted to rest. He did not mind fishing or +climbing a cocoa-nut tree, which he did to admiration by passing a rope +round himself and the tree, knotting it, and using it as a support +during the climb; but house-building was monotonous work. + +He said he had no nails. Dick countered by showing how the canes could +be held together by notching them. + +"And, faith, but it's a cliver boy you are," said the weary one +admiringly, when the other had explained his method. + +"Then come along, Paddy, and stick 'em up." + +Mr Button said he had no rope, that he'd have to think about it, that +to-morrow or next day he'd be after getting some notion how to do it +without rope. But Dick pointed out that the brown cloth which Nature +has wrapped round the cocoa-palm stalks would do instead of rope if cut +in strips. Then the badgered one gave in. + +They laboured for a fortnight at the thing, and at the end of that time +had produced a rough sort of wigwam on the borders of the chapparel. + +Out on the reef, to which they often rowed in the dinghy, when the tide +was low, deep pools would be left, and in the pools fish. Paddy said +if they had a spear they might be able to spear some of these fish, as +he had seen the natives do away "beyant" in Tahiti. + +Dick enquired as to the nature of a spear, and next day produced a +ten-foot cane sharpened at the end after the fashion of a quill pen. + +"Sure, what's the use of that?" said Mr Button. "You might job it into +a fish, but he'd be aff it in two ticks; it's the barb that holds them." + +Next day the indefatigable one produced the cane amended; he had +whittled it down about three feet from the end and on one side, and +carved a fairly efficient barb. It was good enough, at all events, to +spear a "groper" with, that evening, in the sunset-lit pools of the +reef at low tide. + +"There aren't any potatoes here," said Dick one day, after the second +rains. + +"We've et 'em all months ago," replied Paddy. + +"How do potatoes grow?" enquired Dick. + +"Grow, is it? Why, they grow in the ground; and where else would they +grow?" He explained the process of potato-planting: cutting them into +pieces so that there was an eye in each piece, and so forth. "Having +done this," said Mr Button, "you just chuck the pieces in the ground; +their eyes grow, green leaves `pop up,' and then, if you dug the roots +up maybe, six months after, you'd find bushels of potatoes in the +ground, ones as big as your head, and weeny ones. It's like a family of +childer--some's big and some's little. But there they are in the +ground, and all you have to do is to take a fark and dig a potful of +them with a turn of your wrist, as many a time I've done it in the ould +days." + +"Why didn't we do that?" asked Dick. + +"Do what?" asked Mr Button. + +"Plant some of the potatoes." + +"And where'd we have found the spade to plant them with?" + +"I guess we could have fixed up a spade," replied the boy. "I made a +spade at home, out of a piece of old board once--daddy helped." + +"Well, skelp off with you, and make a spade now," replied the other, +who wanted to be quiet and think, "and you and Em'line can dig in the +sand." + +Emmeline was sitting nearby, stringing together some gorgeous blossoms +on a tendril of liana. Months of sun and ozone had made a considerable +difference in the child. She was as brown as a gipsy and freckled, not +very much taller, but twice as plump. Her eyes had lost considerably +that look as though she were contemplating futurity and immensity--not +as abstractions, but as concrete images, and she had lost the habit of +sleep-walking. + +The shock of the tent coming down on the first night she was tethered +to the scull had broken her of it, helped by the new healthful +conditions of life, the sea-bathing, and the eternal open air. There is +no narcotic to excel fresh air. + +Months of semi-savagery had made also a good deal of difference in +Dick's appearance. He was two inches taller than on the day they +landed. Freckled and tanned, he had the appearance of a boy of twelve. +He was the promise of a fine man. He was not a good-looking child, but +he was healthy-looking, with a jolly laugh, and a daring, almost +impudent expression of face. + +The question of the children's clothes was beginning to vex the mind of +the old sailor. The climate was a suit of clothes in itself. One was +much happier with almost nothing on. Of course there were changes of +temperature, but they were slight. Eternal summer, broken by torrential +rains, and occasionally a storm, that was the climate of the island; +still, the "childer" couldn't go about with nothing on. + +He took some of the striped flannel and made Emmeline a kilt. It was +funny to see him sitting on the sand, Emmeline standing before him with +her garment round her waist, being tried on; he, with a mouthful of +pins, and the housewife with the scissors, needles, and thread by his +side. + +"Turn to the lift a bit more," he'd say, "aisy does it. Stidy +so--musha! musha! where's thim scissors? Dick, be holdin' the end of +this bit of string till I get the stitches in behint. Does that hang +comfortable? well, an' you're the trouble an' all. How's THAT? That's +aisier, is it? Lift your fut till I see if it comes to your knees. Now +off with it, and lave me alone till I stitch the tags to it." + +It was the mixture of a skirt and the idea of a sail, for it had two +rows of reef points; a most ingenious idea, as it could be reefed if +the child wanted to go paddling, or in windy weather. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE DEVIL'S CASK + +One morning, about a week after the day on which the old sailor, to use +his own expression, had bent a skirt on Emmeline, Dick came through the +woods and across the sands running. He had been on the hill-top. + +"Paddy," he cried to the old man, who was fixing a hook on a +fishing-line, "there's a ship!" + +It did not take Mr Button long to reach the hill-top, and there she +was, beating up for the island. Bluff-bowed and squab, the figure of an +old Dutch woman, and telling of her trade a league off. It was just +after the rains, the sky was not yet quite clear of clouds; you could +see showers away at sea, and the sea was green and foam-capped. + +There was the trying-out gear; there were the boats, the crow's nest, +and all complete, and labelling her a whaler. She was a ship, no doubt, +but Paddy Button would as soon have gone on board a ship manned by +devils, and captained by Lucifer, as on board a South Sea whaleman. He +had been there before, and he knew. + +He hid the children under a large banyan, and told them not to stir or +breathe till he came back, for the ship was "the devil's own ship"; and +if the men on board caught them they'd skin them alive and all. + +Then he made for the beach; he collected all the things out of the +wigwam, and all the old truck in the shape of boots and old clothes, +and stowed them away in the dinghy. He would have destroyed the house, +if he could, but he hadn't time. Then he rowed the dinghy a hundred +yards down the lagoon to the left, and moored her under the shade of an +aoa, whose branches grew right over the water. Then he came back +through the cocoa-nut grove on foot, and peered through the trees over +the lagoon to see what was to be seen. + +The wind was blowing dead on for the opening in the reef, and the old +whaleman came along breasting the swell with her bluff bows, and +entered the lagoon. There was no leadsman in her chains. She just came +in as if she knew all the soundings by heart--as probably she did--for +these whalemen know every hole and corner in the Pacific. + +The anchor fell with a splash, and she swung to it, making a strange +enough picture as she floated on the blue mirror, backed by the +graceful palm tree on the reef. Then Mr Button, without waiting to see +the boats lowered, made back to his charges, and the three camped in +the woods that night. + +Next morning the whaleman was off and away, leaving as a token of her +visit the white sand all trampled, an empty bottle, half an old +newspaper, and the wigwam torn to pieces. + +The old sailor cursed her and her crew, for the incident had brought a +new exercise into his lazy life. Every day now at noon he had to climb +the hill, on the look-out for whalemen. Whalemen haunted his dreams, +though I doubt if he would willingly have gone on board even a Royal +Mail steamer. He was quite happy where he was. After long years of the +fo'cs'le the island was a change indeed. He had tobacco enough to last +him for an indefinite time, the children for companions, and food at +his elbow. He would have been entirely happy if the island had only +been supplied by Nature with a public-house. + +The spirit of hilarity and good fellowship, however, who suddenly +discovered this error on the part of Nature, rectified it, as will be +presently seen. + +The most disastrous result of the whaleman's visit was not the +destruction of the "house," but the disappearance of Emmeline's box. +Hunt high or hunt low, it could not be found. Mr Button in his hurry +must have forgotten it when he removed the things to the dinghy--at all +events, it was gone. Probably one of the crew of the whalemen had found +it and carried it off with him; no one could say. It was gone, and +there was the end of the matter, and the beginning of great +tribulation, that lasted Emmeline for a week. + +She was intensely fond of coloured things, coloured flowers especially; +and she had the prettiest way of making them into a wreath for her own +or someone else's head. It was the hat-making instinct that was at work +in her, perhaps; at all events, it was a feminine instinct, for Dick +made no wreaths. + +One morning, as she was sitting by the old sailor engaged in stringing +shells, Dick came running along the edge of the grove. He had just come +out of the wood, and he seemed to be looking for something. Then he +found what he was in search of--a big shell--and with it in his hand +made back to the wood. + +Item.--His dress was a piece of cocoa-nut cloth tied round his middle. +Why he wore it at all, goodness knows, for he would as often as not be +running about stark naked. + +"I've found something, Paddy!" he cried, as he disappeared among the +trees. + +"What have you found?" piped Emmeline, who was always interested in new +things. + +"Something funny!" came back from amidst the trees. + +Presently he returned; but he was not running now. He was walking +slowly and carefully, holding the shell as if it contained something +precious that he was afraid would escape. + +"Paddy, I turned over the old barrel and it had a cork thing in it, and +I pulled it out, and the barrel is full of awfully funny-smelling +stuff--I've brought some for you to see." + +He gave the shell into the old sailor's hands. There was about half a +gill of yellow liquid in the shell. Paddy smelt it, tasted, and gave a +shout. + +"Rum, begorra!" + +"What is it, Paddy?" asked Emmeline. + +"WHERE did you say you got it--in the ould bar'l, did you say?" asked +Mr Button, who seemed dazed and stunned as if by a blow. + +"Yes; I pulled the cork thing out--" + +"DID YIZ PUT IT BACK?" + +"Yes." + +"Oh, glory be to God! Here have I been, time out of mind, sittin' on an +ould empty bar'l, with me tongue hangin' down to me heels for the want +of a drink, and it full of rum all the while!" + +He took a sip of the stuff, tossed the lot off, closed his lips tight +to keep in the fumes, and shut one eye. + +Emmeline laughed. + +Mr Button scrambled to his feet. They followed him through the +chapparel till they reached the water source. There lay the little +green barrel; turned over by the restless Dick, it lay with its bung +pointing to the leaves above. You could see the hollow it had made in +the soft soil during the years. So green was it, and so like an object +of nature, a bit of old tree-bole, or a lichen-stained boulder, that +though the whalemen had actually watered from the source, its real +nature had not been discovered. + +Mr Button tapped on it with the butt-end of the shell: it was nearly +full. Why it had been left there, by whom, or how, there was no one to +tell. The old lichen-covered skulls might have told, could they have +spoken. + +"We'll rowl it down to the beach," said Paddy, when he had taken +another taste of it. + +He gave Dick a sip. The boy spat it out, and made a face, then, pushing +the barrel before them, they began to roll it downhill to the beach, +Emmeline running before them crowned with flowers. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +THE RAT HUNT + +They had dinner at noon. Paddy knew how to cook fish, island fashion, +wrapping them in leaves, and baking them in a hole in the ground in +which a fire had previously been lit. They had fish and taro root +baked, and green cocoa-nuts; and after dinner Mr Button filled a big +shell with rum, and lit his pipe. + +The rum had been good originally, and age had improved it. Used as he +was to the appalling balloon juice sold in the drinking dens of the +"Barbary coast" at San Francisco, or the public-houses of the docks, +this stuff was nectar. + +Joviality radiated from him: it was infectious. The children felt that +some happy influence had fallen upon their friend. Usually after dinner +he was drowsy and "wishful to be quiet." To-day he told them stories of +the sea, and sang them songs--chantys: + + "I'm a flyin' fish sailor come back from Hong Kong, + Yeo ho! blow the man down. + Blow the man down, bullies, blow the man down, + Oh, give us TIME to blow the man down. + You're a dirty black-baller come back from New York, + Yeo ho! blow the man down, + Blow the man down, bullies, blow the man down. + Oh, give us time to blow the man down." + +"Oh, give us TIME to blow the man down!" echoed Dick and Emmeline. + +Up above, in the trees, the bright-eyed birds were watching them--such +a happy party. They had all the appearance of picnickers, and the song +echoed amongst the cocoa-nut trees, and the wind carried it over the +lagoon to where the sea-gulls were wheeling and screaming, and the foam +was thundering on the reef. + +That evening, Mr Button feeling inclined for joviality, and not wishing +the children to see him under the influence, rolled the barrel through +the cocoa-nut grove to a little clearing by the edge of the water. +There, when the children were in bed and asleep, he repaired with some +green cocoa-nuts and a shell. He was generally musical when amusing +himself in this fashion, and Emmeline, waking up during the night, +heard his voice borne through the moonlit cocoa-nut grove by the wind: + + "There were five or six old drunken sailors + Standin' before the bar, + And Larry, he was servin' them + From a big five-gallon jar. + + "Chorus.-- + Hoist up the flag, long may it wave! + Long may it lade us to glory or the grave. + Stidy, boys, stidy--sound the jubilee, + For Babylon has fallen, and the slaves are all set free." + +Next morning the musician awoke beside the cask. He had not a trace of +a headache, or any bad feeling, but he made Dick do the cooking; and he +lay in the shade of the cocoa-nut trees, with his head on a "pilla" +made out of an old coat rolled up, twiddling his thumbs, smoking his +pipe, and discoursing about the "ould" days, half to himself and half +to his companions. + +That night he had another musical evening all to himself, and so it +went on for a week. Then he began to lose his appetite and sleep; and +one morning Dick found him sitting on the sand looking very queer +indeed--as well he might, for he had been "seeing things" since dawn. + +"What is it, Paddy?" said the boy, running up, followed by Emmeline. + +Mr Button was staring at a point on the sand close by. He had his right +hand raised after the manner of a person who is trying to catch a fly. +Suddenly he made a grab at the sand, and then opened his hand wide to +see what he had caught. + +"What is it, Paddy?" + +"The Cluricaune," replied Mr Button. "All dressed in green he +was--musha! musha! but it's only pretindin' I am." + +The complaint from which he was suffering has this strange thing about +it, that, though the patient sees rats, or snakes, or what-not, as +real-looking as the real things, and though they possess his mind for a +moment, almost immediately he recognises that he is suffering from a +delusion. + +The children laughed, and Mr Button laughed in a stupid sort of way. + +"Sure, it was only a game I was playin'--there was no Cluricaune at +all--it's whin I dhrink rum it puts it into me head to play games like +that. Oh, be the Holy Poker, there's red rats comin' out of the sand!" + +He got on his hands and knees and scuttle off towards the cocoanut +trees, looking over his shoulder with a bewildered expression on his +face. He would have risen to fly, only he dared not stand up. + +The children laughed and danced round him as he crawled. + +"Look at the rats, Paddy! look at the rats!" cried Dick. + +"They're in front of me!" cried the afflicted one, making a vicious +grab at an imaginary rodent's tail. "Ran dan the bastes! now they're +gone. Musha, but it's a fool I'm makin' of meself." + +"Go on, Paddy," said Dick; "don't stop. Look there--there's more rats +coming after you!" + +"Oh, whisht, will you?" replied Paddy, taking his seat on the sand, and +wiping his brow. "They're aff me now." + +The children stood by, disappointed of their game. Good acting appeals +to children just as much as to grown-up people. They stood waiting for +another excess of humour to take the comedian, and they had not to wait +long. + +A thing like a flayed horse came out of the lagoon and up the beach, +and this time Button did not crawl away. He got on his feet and ran. + +"It's a harse that's afther me--it's a harse that's afther me! Dick! +Dick! hit him a skelp. Dick! Dick! dhrive him away." + +"Hurroo! Hurroo!" cried Dick, chasing the afflicted one, who was +running in a wide circle, his broad red face slewed over his left +shoulder. "Go it, Paddy! go it, Paddy!" + +"Kape off me, you baste!" shouted Paddy. "Holy Mary, Mother of God! +I'll land you a kick wid me fut if yiz come nigh me. Em'leen! Em'leen! +come betune us!" + +He tripped, and over he went on the sand, the indefatigable Dick +beating him with a little switch he had picked up to make him continue. + +"I'm better now, but I'm near wore out," said Mr Button, sitting up on +the sand. "But, bedad, if I'm chased by any more things like them it's +into the say I'll be dashin'. Dick, lend me your arum." + +He took Dick's arm and wandered over to the shade of the trees. Here +he threw himself down, and told the children to leave him to sleep. +They recognised that the game was over and left him. And he slept for +six hours on end; it was the first real sleep he had had for several +days. When he awoke he was well, but very shaky. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +STARLIGHT ON THE FOAM + +Mr Button saw no more rats, much to Dick's disappointment. He was off +the drink. At dawn next day he got up, refreshed by a second sleep, and +wandered down to the edge of the lagoon. The opening in the reef faced +the east, and the light of the dawn came rippling in with the flooding +tide. + +"It's a baste I've been," said the repentant one, "a brute baste." + +He was quite wrong; as a matter of fact, he was only a man beset and +betrayed. + +He stood for a while, cursing the drink, "and them that sells it." Then +he determined to put himself out of the way of temptation. Pull the +bung out of the barrel, and let the contents escape? + +Such a thought never even occurred to him--or, if it did, was instantly +dismissed; for, though an old sailor-man may curse the drink, good rum +is to him a sacred thing; and to empty half a little barrel of it into +the sea, would be an act almost equivalent to child-murder. He put the +cask into the dinghy, and rowed it over to the reef. There he placed it +in the shelter of a great lump of coral, and rowed back. + +Paddy had been trained all his life to rhythmical drunkenness. Four +months or so had generally elapsed between his bouts--sometimes six; it +all depended on the length of the voyage. Six months now elapsed before +he felt even an inclination to look at the rum cask, that tiny dark +spot away on the reef. And it was just as well, for during those six +months another whale-ship arrived, watered and was avoided. + +"Blisther it!" said he; "the say here seems to breed whale-ships, and +nothin' but whaleships. It's like bugs in a bed: you kill wan, and then +another comes. Howsumever, we're shut of thim for a while." + +He walked down to the lagoon edge, looked at the little dark spot and +whistled. Then he walked back to prepare dinner. That little dark spot +began to trouble him after a while; not it, but the spirit it contained. + +Days grew long and weary, the days that had been so short and pleasant. +To the children there was no such thing as time. Having absolute and +perfect health, they enjoyed happiness as far as mortals can enjoy it. +Emmeline's highly strung nervous system, it is true, developed a +headache when she had been too long in the glare of the sun, but they +were few and far between. + +The spirit in the little cask had been whispering across the lagoon for +some weeks; at last it began to shout. Mr Button, metaphorically +speaking, stopped his ears. He busied himself with the children as much +as possible. He made another garment for Emmeline, and cut Dick's hair +with the scissors (a job which was generally performed once in a couple +of months). + +One night, to keep the rum from troubling his head, he told them the +story of Jack Dogherty and the Merrow, which is well known on the +western coast. + +The Merrow takes Jack to dinner at the bottom of the sea, and shows him +the lobster pots wherein he keeps the souls of old sailormen, and then +they have dinner, and the Merrow produces a big bottle of rum. + +It was a fatal story for him to remember and recount; for, after his +companions were asleep, the vision of the Merrow and Jack hobnobbing, +and the idea of the jollity of it, rose before him, and excited a +thirst for joviality not to be resisted. + +There were some green cocoa-nuts that he had plucked that day lying in +a little heap under a tree--half a dozen or so. He took several of +these and a shell, found the dinghy where it was moored to the aoa +tree, unmoored her, and pushed off into the lagoon. + +The lagoon and sky were full of stars. In the dark depths of the water +might have been seen phosphorescent gleams of passing fish, and the +thunder of the surf on the reef filled the night with its song. + +He fixed the boat's painter carefully round a spike of coral and landed +on the reef, and with a shellful of rum and cocoa-nut lemonade mixed +half and half, he took his perch on a high ledge of coral from whence a +view of the sea and the coral strand could be obtained. + +On a moonlight night it was fine to sit here and watch the great +breakers coming in, all marbled and clouded and rainbowed with +spindrift and sheets of spray. But the snow and the song of them under +the diffused light of the stars produced a more indescribably beautiful +and strange effect. + +The tide was going out now, and Mr Button, as he sat smoking his pipe +and drinking his grog, could see bright mirrors here and there where +the water lay in rock-pools. When he had contemplated these sights for +a considerable time in complete contentment, he returned to the lagoon +side of the reef and sat down beside the little barrel. Then, after a +while, if you had been standing on the strand opposite, you would have +heard scraps of song borne across the quivering water of the lagoon. + + "Sailing down, sailing down, + On the coast of Barbaree." + +Whether the coast of Barbary in question is that at San Francisco, or +the true and proper coast, does not matter. It is an old-time song; and +when you hear it, whether on a reef of coral or a granite quay, you may +feel assured that an old-time sailor-man is singing it, and that the +old-time sailor-man is bemused. + +Presently the dinghy put off from the reef, the sculls broke the +starlit waters and great shaking circles of light made rhythmical +answer to the slow and steady creak of the thole pins against the +leather. He tied up to the aoa, saw that the sculls were safely +shipped; then, breathing heavily, he cast off his boots for fear of +waking the "childer." As the children were sleeping more than two +hundred yards away, this was a needless precaution especially as the +intervening distance was mostly soft sand. + +Green cocoa-nut juice and rum mixed together are pleasant enough to +drink, but they are better drunk separately; combined, not even the +brain of an old sailor can make anything of them but mist and +muddlement; that is to say, in the way of thought--in the way of action +they can make him do a lot. They made Paddy Button swim the lagoon. + +The recollection came to him all at once, as he was walking up the +strand towards the wigwam, that he had left the dinghy tied to the +reef. The dinghy was, as a matter of fact, safe and sound tied to the +aoa; but Mr Button's memory told him it was tied to the reef. How he +had crossed the lagoon was of no importance at all to him; the fact +that he had crossed without the boat, yet without getting wet, did not +appear to him strange. He had no time to deal with trifles like these. +The dinghy had to be fetched across the lagoon, and there was only one +way of fetching it. So he came back down the beach to the water's edge, +cast down his boots, cast off his coat, and plunged in. The lagoon was +wide, but in his present state of mind he would have swum the +Hellespont. His figure gone from the beach, the night resumed its +majesty and aspect of meditation. + +So lit was the lagoon by starshine that the head of the swimmer could +be distinguished away out in the midst of circles of light; also, as +the head neared the reef, a dark triangle that came shearing through +water past the palm tree at the pier. It was the night patrol of the +lagoon, who had heard in some mysterious manner that a drunken +sailor-man was making trouble in his waters. + +Looking, one listened, hand on heart, for the scream of the arrested +one, yet it did not come. The swimmer, scrambling on to the reef in an +exhausted manner, forgetful evidently of the object for which he had +returned, made for the rum cask, and fell down beside it as though +sleep had touched him instead of death. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE DREAMER ON THE REEF + +"I wonder where Paddy is?" cried Dick next morning. He was coming out +of the chapparel, pulling a dead branch after him. "He's left his coat +on the sand, and the tinder box in it, so I'll make the fire. There's +no use waiting. I want my breakfast. Bother!" + +He trod the dead stick with his naked feet, breaking it into pieces. + +Emmeline sat on the sand and watched him. + +Emmeline had two gods of a sort: Paddy Button and Dick. Paddy was +almost an esoteric god wrapped in the fumes of tobacco and mystery. The +god of rolling ships and creaking masts--the masts and vast sail spaces +of the Northumberland were an enduring vision in her mind--the deity +who had lifted her from a little boat into this marvellous place, where +the birds were coloured and the fish were painted, where life was never +dull, and the skies scarcely ever grey. + +Dick, the other deity, was a much more understandable personage, but no +less admirable, as a companion and protector. In the two years and five +months of island life he had grown nearly three inches. He was as +strong as a boy of twelve, and could scull the boat almost as well as +Paddy himself, and light a fire. Indeed, during the last few months Mr +Button, engaged in resting his bones, and contemplating rum as an +abstract idea, had left the cooking and fishing and general gathering +of food as much as possible to Dick. + +"It amuses the craythur to pritind he's doing things," he would say, as +he watched Dick delving in the earth to make a little +oven--Island-fashion--for the cooking of fish or what-not. + +"Come along, Em," said Dick, piling the broken wood on top of some +rotten hibiscus sticks; "give me the tinder box." + +He got a spark on to a bit of punk, and then he blew at it, looking not +unlike Aeolus as represented on those old Dutch charts that smell of +schiedam and snuff, and give one mermaids and angels instead of +soundings. + +The fire was soon sparkling and crackling, and he heaped on sticks in +profusion, for there was plenty of fuel, and he wanted to cook +breadfruit. + +The breadfruit varies in size, according to age, and in colour +according to season. These that Dick was preparing to cook were as +large as small melons. Two would be more than enough for three people's +breakfast. They were green and knobbly on the outside, and they +suggested to the mind unripe lemons, rather than bread. + +He put them in the embers, just as you put potatoes to roast, and +presently they sizzled and spat little venomous jets of steam, then +they cracked, and the white inner substance became visible. He cut +them open and took the core out--the core is not fit to eat--and they +were ready. + +Meanwhile, Emmeline, under his directions, had not been idle. + +There were in the lagoon--there are in several other tropical lagoons I +know of--a fish which I can only describe as a golden herring. A bronze +herring it looks when landed, but when swimming away down against the +background of coral brains and white sand patches, it has the sheen of +burnished gold. It is as good to eat as to look at, and Emmeline was +carefully toasting several of them on a piece of cane. + +The juice of the fish kept the cane from charring, though there were +accidents at times, when a whole fish would go into the fire, amidst +shouts of derision from Dick. + +She made a pretty enough picture as she knelt, the "skirt" round the +waist looking not unlike a striped bath-towel, her small face intent, +and filled with the seriousness of the job on hand, and her lips +puckered out at the heat of the fire. + +"It's so hot!" she cried in self-defence, after the first of the +accidents. + +"Of course it's hot," said Dick, "if you stick to looward of the fire. +How often has Paddy told you to keep to windward of it!" + +"I don't know which is which," confessed the unfortunate Emmeline, who +was an absolute failure at everything practical: who could neither row +nor fish, nor throw a stone, and who, though they had now been on the +island twenty-eight months or so, could not even swim. + +"You mean to say," said Dick, "that you don't know where the wind comes +from?" + +"Yes, I know that." + +"Well, that's to windward." + +"I didn't know that." + +"Well, you know it now." + +"Yes, I know it now." + +"Well, then, come to windward of the fire. Why didn't you ask the +meaning of it before?" + +"I did," said Emmeline; "I asked Mr Button one day, and he told me a +lot about it. He said if he was to spit to windward and a person was to +stand to loo'ard of him, he'd be a fool; and he said if a ship went too +much to loo'ard she went on the rocks, but I didn't understand what he +meant. Dicky, I wonder where he is?" + +"Paddy!" cried Dick, pausing in the act of splitting open a breadfruit. +Echoes came from amidst the cocoa-nut trees, but nothing more. + +"Come on," said Dick; "I'm not going to wait for him. He may have gone +to fetch up the night lines"--they sometimes put down night lines in +the lagoon--"and fallen asleep over them." + +Now, though Emmeline honoured Mr Button as a minor deity, Dick had no +illusions at all upon the matter. He admired Paddy because he could +knot, and splice, and climb a cocoanut tree, and exercise his sailor +craft in other admirable ways, but he felt the old man's limitations. +They ought to have had potatoes now, but they had eaten both potatoes +and the possibility of potatoes when they consumed the contents of that +half sack. Young as he was, Dick felt the absolute thriftlessness of +this proceeding. Emmeline did not; she never thought of potatoes, +though she could have told you the colour of all the birds on the +island. + +Then, again, the house wanted rebuilding, and Mr Button said every day +he would set about seeing after it to-morrow, and on the morrow it +would be to-morrow. The necessities of the life they led were a +stimulus to the daring and active mind of the boy; but he was always +being checked by the go-as-you-please methods of his elder. Dick came +of the people who make sewing machines and typewriters. Mr Button came +of a people notable for ballads, tender hearts, and potheen. That was +the main difference. + +"Paddy!" again cried the boy, when he had eaten as much as he wanted. +"Hullo! where are you?" + +They listened, but no answer came. A bright-hued bird flew across the +sand space, a lizard scuttled across the glistening sand, the reef +spoke, and the wind in the tree-tops; but Mr Button made no reply. + +"Wait," said Dick. + +He ran through the grove towards the aoa where the dinghy was moored; +then he returned. + +"The dinghy is all right," he said. "Where on earth can he be?" + +"I don't know," said Emmeline, upon whose heart a feeling of loneliness +had fallen. + +"Let's go up the hill," said Dick; "perhaps we'll find him there." + +They went uphill through the wood, past the water-course. Every now and +then Dick would call out, and echoes would answer--there were quaint, +moist-voiced echoes amidst the trees or a bevy of birds would take +flight. The little waterfall gurgled and whispered, and the great +banana leaves spread their shade. + +"Come on," said Dick, when he had called again without receiving a +reply. + +They found the hill-top, and the great boulder stood casting its shadow +in the sun. The morning breeze was blowing, the sea sparkling, the reef +flashing, the foliage of the island waving in the wind like the flames +of a green-flamed torch. A deep swell was spreading itself across the +bosom of the Pacific. Some hurricane away beyond the Navigators or +Gilberts had sent this message and was finding its echo here, a +thousand miles away, in the deeper thunder of the reef. + +Nowhere else in the world could you get such a picture, such a +combination of splendour and summer, such a vision of freshness and +strength, and the delight of morning. It was the smallness of the +island, perhaps, that closed the charm and made it perfect. Just a +bunch of foliage and flowers set in the midst of the blowing wind and +sparkling blue. + +Suddenly Dick, standing beside Emmeline on the rock, pointed with his +finger to the reef near the opening. + +"There he is!" cried he. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THE GARLAND OF FLOWERS + +You could just make the figure out lying on the reef near the little +cask, and comfortably sheltered from the sun by an upstanding lump of +coral. + +"He's asleep," said Dick. + +He had not thought to look towards the reef from the beach, or he might +have seen the figure before. + +"Dicky!" said Emmeline. + +"Well?" + +"How did he get over, if you said the dinghy was tied to the tree?" + +"I don't know," said Dick, who had not thought of this; "there he is, +anyhow. I'll tell you what, Em, we'll row across and wake him. I'll boo +into his ear and make him jump." + +They got down from the rock, and came back down through the wood. As +they came Emmeline picked flowers and began making them up into one of +her wreaths. Some scarlet hibiscus, some bluebells, a couple of pale +poppies with furry stalks and bitter perfume. + +"What are you making that for?" asked Dick, who always viewed +Emmeline's wreath-making with a mixture of compassion and vague disgust. + +"I'm going to put it on Mr Button's head," said Emmeline; "so's when +you say boo into his ear he'll jump up with it on." + +Dick chuckled with pleasure at the idea of the practical joke, and +almost admitted in his own mind for a moment, that after all there +might be a use for such futilities as wreaths. + +The dinghy was moored under the spreading shade of the aoa, the painter +tied to one of the branches that projected over the water. These dwarf +aoas branch in an extraordinary way close to the ground, throwing out +limbs like rails. The tree had made a good protection for the little +boat, protecting it from marauding hands and from the sun; besides the +protection of the tree Paddy had now and then scuttled the boat in +shallow water. It was a new boat to start with, and with precautions +like these might be expected to last many years. + +"Get in," said Dick, pulling on the painter so that the bow of the +dinghy came close to the beach. + +Emmeline got carefully in, and went aft. Then Dick got in, pushed off, +and took to the sculls. Next moment they were out on the sparkling +water. + +Dick rowed cautiously, fearing to wake the sleeper. He fastened the +painter to the coral spike that seemed set there by nature for the +purpose. He scrambled on to the reef, and lying down on his stomach +drew the boat's gunwale close up so that Emmeline might land. He had no +boots on; the soles of his feet, from constant exposure, had become +insensitive as leather. + +Emmeline also was without boots. The soles of her feet, as is always +the case with highly nervous people, were sensitive, and she walked +delicately, avoiding the worst places, holding her wreath in her right +hand. + +It was full tide, and the thunder of the waves outside shook the reef. +It was like being in a church when the deep bass of the organ is turned +full on, shaking the ground and the air, the walls and the roof. Dashes +of spray came over with the wind, and the melancholy "Hi, hi!" of the +wheeling gulls came like the voices of ghostly sailor-men hauling at +the halyards. + +Paddy was lying on his right side steeped in profound oblivion. His +face was buried in the crook of his right arm, and his brown tattooed +left hand lay on his left thigh, palm upwards. He had no hat, and the +breeze stirred his grizzled hair. + +Dick and Emmeline stole up to him till they got right beside him. Then +Emmeline, flashing out a laugh, flung the little wreath of flowers on +the old man's head, and Dick, popping down on his knees, shouted into +his ear. But the dreamer did not stir or move a finger. + +"Paddy," cried Dick, "wake up! wake up!" + +He pulled at the shoulder till the figure from its sideways posture +fell over on its back. The eyes were wide open and staring. The mouth +hung open, and from the mouth darted a little crab; it scuttled over +the chin and dropped on the coral. + +Emmeline screamed, and screamed, and would have fallen, but the boy +caught her in his arms--one side of the face had been destroyed by the +larvae of the rocks. + +He held her to him as he stared at the terrible figure lying upon its +back, hands outspread. Then, wild with terror, he dragged her towards +the little boat. She was struggling, and panting and gasping, like a +person drowning in ice-cold water. + +His one instinct was to escape, to fly anywhere, no matter where. He +dragged the girl to the coral edge, and pulled the boat up close. Had +the reef suddenly become enveloped in flames he could not have exerted +himself more to escape from it and save his companion. A moment later +they were afloat, and he was pulling wildly for the shore. + +He did not know what had happened, nor did he pause to think: he was +fleeing from horror--nameless horror; whilst the child at his feet, +with her head resting against the gunwale, stared up open-eyed and +speechless at the great blue sky, as if at some terror visible there. +The boat grounded on the white sand, and the wash of the incoming tide +drove it up sideways. + +Emmeline had fallen forward; she had lost consciousness. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +ALONE + +The idea of spiritual life must be innate in the heart of man, for all +that terrible night, when the children lay huddled together in the +little hut in the chapparel, the fear that filled them was that their +old friend might suddenly darken the entrance and seek to lie down +beside them. + +They did not speak about him. Something had been done to him; something +had happened. Something terrible had happened to the world they knew. +But they dared not speak of it or question each other. + +Dick had carried his companion to the hut when he left the boat, and +hidden with her there; the evening had come on, and the night, and now +in the darkness, without having tasted food all day, he was telling her +not to be afraid, that he would take care of her. But not a word of +the thing that had happened. + +The thing, for them, had no precedent, and no vocabulary. They had come +across death raw and real, uncooked by religion, undeodorised by the +sayings of sages and poets. + +They knew nothing of the philosophy that tells us that death is the +common lot, and the natural sequence to birth, or the religion that +teaches us that Death is the door to Life. + +A dead old sailor-man lying like a festering carcass on a coral ledge, +eyes staring and glazed and fixed, a wide-open mouth that once had +spoken comforting words, and now spoke living crabs. + +That was the vision before them. They did not philosophise about it; +and though they were filled with terror, I do not think it was terror +that held them from speaking about it, but a vague feeling that what +they had beheld was obscene, unspeakable, and a thing to avoid. + +Lestrange had brought them up in his own way. He had told them there +was a good God who looked after the world; determined as far as he +could to exclude demonology and sin and death from their knowledge, he +had rested content with the bald statement that there was a good God +who looked after the world, without explaining fully that the same God +would torture them for ever and ever, should they fail to believe in +Him or keep His commandments. + +This knowledge of the Almighty, therefore, was but a half knowledge, +the vaguest abstraction. Had they been brought up, however, in the most +strictly Calvinistic school, this knowledge of Him would have been no +comfort now. Belief in God is no comfort to a frightened child. Teach +him as many parrot-like prayers as you please, and in distress or the +dark of what use are they to him? His cry is for his nurse, or his +mother. + +During that dreadful night these two children had no comfort to seek +anywhere in the whole wide universe but in each other. She, in a sense +of his protection, he, in a sense of being her protector. The +manliness in him greater and more beautiful than physical strength, +developed in those dark hours just as a plant under extraordinary +circumstances is hurried into bloom. + +Towards dawn Emmeline fell asleep. Dick stole out of the hut when he +had assured himself from her regular breathing that she was asleep, +and, pushing the tendrils and the branches of the mammee apples aside, +found the beach. The dawn was just breaking, and the morning breeze was +coming in from the sea. + +When he had beached the dinghy the day before, the tide was just at the +flood, and it had left her stranded. The tide was coming in now, and in +a short time it would be far enough up to push her off. + +Emmeline in the night had implored him to take her away. Take her away +somewhere from there, and he had promised, without knowing in the least +how he was to perform his promise. As he stood looking at the beach, so +desolate and strangely different now from what it was the day before, +an idea of how he could fulfil his promise came to him. He ran down to +where the little boat lay on the shelving sand, with the ripples of the +incoming tide just washing the rudder, which was still shipped. He +unshipped the rudder and came back. + +Under a tree, covered with the stay-sail they had brought from the +Shenandoah, lay most of their treasures: old clothes and boots, and all +the other odds and ends. The precious tobacco stitched up in a piece of +canvas was there, and the housewife with the needles and threads. A +hole had been dug in the sand as a sort of cache for them, and the +stay-sail put over them to protect them from the dew. + +The sun was now looking over the sealine, and the tall cocoa-nut trees +were singing and whispering together under the strengthening breeze. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +THEY MOVE AWAY + +He began to collect the things, and carry them to the dinghy. He took +the stay-sail and everything that might be useful; and when he had +stowed them in the boat, he took the breaker and filled it with water +at the water source in the wood; he collected some bananas and +breadfruit, and stowed them in the dinghy with the breaker. Then he +found the remains of yesterday's breakfast, which he had hidden between +two palmetto leaves, and placed it also in the boat. + +The water was now so high that a strong push would float her. He turned +back to the hut for Emmeline. She was still asleep: so soundly asleep, +that when he lifted her up in his arms she made no movement. He placed +her carefully in the stern-sheets with her head on the sail rolled up, +and then standing in the bow pushed off with a scull. Then, taking the +sculls, he turned the boat's head up the lagoon to the left. He kept +close to the shore, but for the life of him he could not help lifting +his eyes and looking towards the reef. + +Round a certain spot on the distant white coral there was a great +commotion of birds. Huge birds some of them seemed, and the "Hi! hi! +hi!" of them came across the lagoon on the breeze as they quarrelled +together and beat the air with their wings. He turned his head away +till a bend of the shore hid the spot from sight. + +Here, sheltered more completely than opposite the break in the reef, +the artu came in places right down to the water's edge; the breadfruit +trees cast the shadow of their great scalloped leaves upon the water; +glades, thick with fern, wildernesses of the mammee apple, and bushes +of the scarlet "wild cocoanut" all slipped by, as the dinghy, hugging +the shore, crept up the lagoon. + +Gazing at the shore edge one might have imagined it the edge of a lake, +but for the thunder of the Pacific upon the distant reef; and even that +did not destroy the impression, but only lent a strangeness to it. + +A lake in the midst of the ocean, that is what the lagoon really was. + +Here and there cocoa-nut trees slanted over the water, mirroring their +delicate stems, and tracing their clear-cut shadows on the sandy bottom +a fathom deep below. + +He kept close in-shore for the sake of the shelter of the trees. His +object was to find some place where they might stop permanently, and +put up a tent. He was seeking a new home, in fact. But, pretty as were +the glades they passed, they were not attractive places to live in. +There were too many trees, or the ferns were too deep. He was seeking +air and space, and suddenly he found it. Rounding a little cape, all +blazing with the scarlet of the wild cocoa-nut, the dinghy broke into a +new world. + +Before her lay a great sweep of the palest blue wind-swept water, down +to which came a broad green sward of park-like land set on either side +with deep groves, and leading up and away to higher land, where, above +the massive and motionless green of the great breadfruit trees, the +palm trees swayed and fluttered their pale green feathers in the +breeze. The pale colour of the water was due to the extreme shallowness +of the lagoon just here. So shallow was it that one could see brown +spaces indicating beds of dead and rotten coral, and splashes of +darkest sapphire where the deep pools lay. The reef lay more than half +a mile from the shore: a great way out, it seemed, so far out that its +cramping influence was removed, and one had the impression of wide and +unbroken sea. + +Dick rested on his oars, and let the dinghy float whilst he looked +around him. He had come some four miles and a half, and this was right +at the back of the island. As the boat drifting shoreward touched the +bank, Emmeline awakened from her sleep, sat up, and looked around her. + + + + +BOOK II + + +PART I + +CHAPTER I + +UNDER THE ARTU TREE + +On the edge of the green sward, between a diamond-chequered artu trunk +and the massive bole of a breadfruit, a house had come into being. It +was not much larger than a big hen-house, but quite sufficient for the +needs of two people in a climate of eternal summer. It was built of +bamboos, and thatched with a double thatch of palmetto leaves, so +neatly built, and so well thatched, that one might have fancied it the +production of several skilled workmen. + +The breadfruit tree was barren of fruit, as these trees sometimes are, +whole groves of them ceasing to bear for some mysterious reason only +known to Nature. It was green now, but when suffering its yearly change +the great scalloped leaves would take all imaginable tinges of gold and +bronze and amber. Beyond the artu was a little clearing, where the +chapparel had been carefully removed and taro roots planted. + +Stepping from the house doorway on to the sward you might have fancied +yourself, except for the tropical nature of the foliage, in some +English park. + +Looking to the right, the eye became lost in the woods, where all tints +of green were tinging the foliage, and the bushes of the wild cocoa-nut +burned scarlet as hawberries. + +The house had a doorway, but no door. It might have been said to have a +double roof, for the breadfruit foliage above gave good shelter during +the rains. Inside it was bare enough. Dried, sweet-smelling ferns +covered the floor. Two sails, rolled up, lay on either side of the +doorway. There was a rude shelf attached to one of the walls, and on +the shelf some bowls made of cocoa-nut shell. The people to whom the +place belonged evidently did not trouble it much with their presence, +using it only at night, and as a refuge from the dew. + +Sitting on the grass by the doorway, sheltered by the breadfruit shade, +yet with the hot rays of the afternoon sun just touching her naked +feet, was a girl. A girl of fifteen or sixteen, naked, except for a +kilt of gaily-striped material reaching from her waist to her knees. +Her long black hair was drawn back from the forehead, and tied behind +with a loop of the elastic vine. A scarlet blossom was stuck behind her +right ear, after the fashion of a clerk's pen. Her face was beautiful, +powdered with tiny freckles; especially under the eyes, which were of a +deep, tranquil blue-grey. She half sat, half lay on her left side; +whilst before her, quite close, strutted up and down on the grass, a +bird, with blue plumage, coral-red beak, and bright, watchful eyes. + +The girl was Emmeline Lestrange. Just by her elbow stood a little bowl +made from half a cocoa-nut, and filled with some white substance with +which she was feeding the bird. Dick had found it in the woods two +years ago, quite small, deserted by its mother, and starving. They had +fed it and tamed it, and it was now one of the family, roosting on the +roof at night, and appearing regularly at meal times. + +All at once she held out her hand; the bird flew into the air, lit on +her forefinger and balanced itself, sinking its head between its +shoulders, and uttering the sound which formed its entire vocabulary +and one means of vocal expression--a sound from which it had derived +its name. + +"Koko," said Emmeline, "where is Dick?" + +The bird turned his head about, as if he were searching for his master; +and the girl lay back lazily on the grass, laughing, and holding him up +poised on her finger, as if he were some enamelled jewel she wished to +admire at a little distance. They made a pretty picture under the +cave-like shadow of the breadfruit leaves; and it was difficult to +understand how this young girl, so perfectly formed, so fully +developed, and so beautiful, had evolved from plain little Emmeline +Lestrange. And the whole thing, as far as the beauty of her was +concerned, had happened during the last six months. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +HALF CHILD--HALF SAVAGE + +Five rainy seasons had passed and gone since the tragic occurrence on +the reef. Five long years the breakers had thundered, and the sea-gulls +had cried round the figure whose spell had drawn a mysterious barrier +across the lagoon. + +The children had never returned to the old place. They had kept +entirely to the back of the island and the woods--the lagoon, down to a +certain point, and the reef; a wide enough and beautiful enough world, +but a hopeless world, as far as help from civilisation was concerned. +For, of the few ships that touched at the island in the course of +years, how many would explore the lagoon or woods? Perhaps not one. + +Occasionally Dick would make an excursion in the dinghy to the old +place, but Emmeline refused to accompany him. He went chiefly to obtain +bananas; for on the whole island there was but one clump of banana +trees--that near the water source in the wood, where the old green +skulls had been discovered, and the little barrel. + +She had never quite recovered from the occurrence on the reef. +Something had been shown to her, the purport of which she vaguely +understood, and it had filled her with horror and a terror of the place +where it had occurred. Dick was quite different. He had been frightened +enough at first; but the feeling wore away in time. + +Dick had built three houses in succession during the five years. He had +laid out a patch of taro and another of sweet potatoes. He knew every +pool on the reef for two miles either way, and the forms of their +inhabitants; and though he did not know the names of the creatures to +be found there, he made a profound study of their habits. + +He had seen some astonishing things during these five years--from a +fight between a whale and two thrashers conducted outside the reef, +lasting an hour, and dyeing the breaking waves with blood, to the +poisoning of the fish in the lagoon by fresh water, due to an +extraordinarily heavy rainy season. + +He knew the woods of the back of the island by heart, and the forms of +life that inhabited them, butterflies and moths and birds, lizards, and +insects of strange shape; extraordinary orchids--some filthy-looking, +the very image of corruption, some beautiful, and all strange. He found +melons and guavas, and breadfruit, the red apple of Tahiti, and the +great Brazilian plum, taro in plenty, and a dozen other good +things--but there were no bananas. This made him unhappy at times, for +he was human. + +Though Emmeline had asked Koko for Dick's whereabouts, it was only a +remark made by way of making conversation, for she could hear him in +the little cane-brake which lay close by amidst the trees. + +In a few minutes he appeared, dragging after him two canes which he had +just cut, and wiping the perspiration off his brow with his naked arm. +He had an old pair of trousers on--part of the truck salved long ago +from the Shenandoah--nothing else, and he was well worth looking at and +considering, both from a physical and psychological point of view. + +Auburn-haired and tall, looking more like seventeen than sixteen, with +a restless and daring expression, half a child, half a man, half a +civilised being, half a savage, he had both progressed and retrograded +during the five years of savage life. He sat down beside Emmeline, +flung the canes beside him, tried the edge of the old butcher's knife +with which he had cut them, then, taking one of the canes across his +knee, he began whittling at it. + +"What are you making?" asked Emmeline, releasing the bird, which flew +into one of the branches of the artu and rested there, a blue point +amidst the dark green. + +"Fish-spear," replied Dick. + +Without being taciturn, he rarely wasted words. Life was all business +for him. He would talk to Emmeline, but always in short sentences; and +he had developed the habit of talking to inanimate things, to the +fish-spear he was carving, or the bowl he was fashioning from a +cocoa-nut. + +As for Emmeline, even as a child she had never been talkative. There +was something mysterious in her personality, something secretive. Her +mind seemed half submerged in twilight. Though she spoke little, and +though the subject of their conversations was almost entirely material +and relative to their everyday needs, her mind would wander into +abstract fields and the land of chimerae and dreams. What she found +there no one knew--least of all, perhaps, herself. + +As for Dick, he would sometimes talk and mutter to himself, as if in a +reverie; but if you caught the words, you would find that they referred +to no abstraction, but to some trifle he had on hand. He seemed +entirely bound up in the moment, and to have forgotten the past as +completely as though it had never been. + +Yet he had his contemplative moods. He would lie with his face over a +rock-pool by the hour, watching the strange forms of life to be seen +there, or sit in the woods motionless as a stone, watching the birds +and the swift-slipping lizards. The birds came so close that he could +easily have knocked them over, but he never hurt one or interfered in +any way with the wild life of the woods. + +The island, the lagoon, and the reef were for him the three volumes of +a great picture book, as they were for Emmeline, though in a different +manner. The colour and the beauty of it all fed some mysterious want in +her soul. Her life was a long reverie, a beautiful vision--troubled +with shadows. Across all the blue and coloured spaces that meant months +and years she could still see as in a glass dimly the Northumberland, +smoking against the wild background of fog; her uncle's face, Boston--a +vague and dark picture beyond a storm--and nearer, the tragic form on +the reef that still haunted terribly her dreams. But she never spoke of +these things to Dick. Just as she kept the secret of what was in her +box, and the secret of her trouble whenever she lost it, she kept the +secret of her feelings about these things. + +Born of these things there remained with her always a vague terror: the +terror of losing Dick. Mrs Stannard, her uncle, the dim people she had +known in Boston, all had passed away out of her life like a dream and +shadows. The other one too, most horribly. What if Dick were taken +from her as well? + +This haunting trouble had been with her a long time; up to a few months +ago it had been mainly personal and selfish--the dread of being left +alone. But lately it had altered and become more acute. Dick had +changed in her eyes, and the fear was now for him. Her own personality +had suddenly and strangely become merged in his. The idea of life +without him was unthinkable, yet the trouble remained, a menace in the +blue. + +Some days it would be worse than others. To-day, for instance, it was +worse than yesterday, as though some danger had crept close to them +during the night. Yet the sky and sea were stainless, the sun shone on +tree and flower, the west wind brought the tune of the far-away reef +like a lullaby. There was nothing to hint of danger or the need of +distrust. + +At last Dick finished his spear and rose to his feet. + +"Where are you going?" asked Emmeline. + +"The reef," he replied. "The tide's going out." + +"I'll go with you," said she. + +He went into the house and stowed the precious knife away. Then he came +out, spear in one hand, and half a fathom of liana in the other. The +liana was for the purpose of stringing the fish on, should the catch be +large. He led the way down the grassy sward to the lagoon where the +dinghy lay, close up to the bank, and moored to a post driven into the +soft soil. Emmeline got in, and, taking the sculls, he pushed off. The +tide was going out. + +I have said that the reef just here lay a great way out from the shore. +The lagoon was so shallow that at low tide one could have waded almost +right across it, were it not for pot-holes here and there--ten-feet +traps--and great beds of rotten coral, into which one would sink as +into brushwood, to say nothing of the nettle coral that stings like a +bed of nettles. There were also other dangers. Tropical shallows are +full of wild surprises in the way of life and death. + +Dick had long ago marked out in his memory the soundings of the lagoon, +and it was fortunate that he possessed the special sense of location +which is the main stand-by of the hunter and the savage, for, from the +disposition of the coral in ribs, the water from the shore edge to the +reef ran in lanes. Only two of these lanes gave a clear, fair way from +the shore edge to the reef; had you followed the others, even in a boat +of such shallow draught as the dinghy, you would have found yourself +stranded half-way across, unless, indeed, it were a spring tide. + +Half-way across the sound of the surf on the barrier became louder, and +the everlasting and monotonous cry of the gulls came on the breeze. It +was lonely out here, and, looking back, the shore seemed a great way +off. It was lonelier still on the reef. + +Dick tied up the boat to a projection of coral, and helped Emmeline to +land. The sun was creeping down into the west, the tide was nearly half +out, and large pools of water lay glittering like burnished shields in +the sunlight. Dick, with his precious spear beside him, sat calmly down +on a ledge of coral, and began to divest himself of his one and only +garment. + +Emmeline turned away her head and contemplated the distant shore, which +seemed thrice as far off as it was in reality. When she turned her head +again he was racing along the edge of the surf. He and his spear +silhouetted against the spindrift and dazzling foam formed a picture +savage enough, and well in keeping with the general desolation of the +background. She watched him lie down and cling to a piece of coral, +whilst the surf rushed round and over him, and then rise and shake +himself like a dog, and pursue his gambols, his body all glittering +with the wet. + +Sometimes a whoop would come on the breeze, mixing with the sound of +the surf and the cry of the gulls, and she would see him plunge his +spear into a pool, and the next moment the spear would be held aloft +with something struggling and glittering at the end of it. + +He was quite different out here on the reef to what he was ashore. The +surroundings here seemed to develop all that was savage in him, in a +startling way; and he would kill, and kill, just for the pleasure of +killing, destroying more fish than they could possibly use. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE DEMON OF THE REEF + +The romance of coral has still to be written. There still exists a +widespread opinion that the coral reef and the coral island are the +work of an "insect." This fabulous insect, accredited with the genius +of Brunel and the patience of Job, has been humorously enough held up +before the children of many generations as an example of industry--a +thing to be admired, a model to be followed. + +As a matter of fact, nothing could be more slothful or slow, more given +up to a life of ease and degeneracy, than the "reef-building +polypifer"--to give him his scientific name. He is the hobo of the +animal world, but, unlike the hobo, he does not even tramp for a +living. He exists as a sluggish and gelatinous worm; he attracts to +himself calcareous elements from the water to make himself a +house--mark you, the sea does the building--he dies, and he leaves his +house behind him--and a reputation for industry, beside which the +reputation of the ant turns pale, and that of the bee becomes of little +account. + +On a coral reef you are treading on rock that the reef-building +polypifers of ages have left behind them as evidences of their idle and +apparently useless lives. You might fancy that the reef is formed of +dead rock, but it is not: that is where the wonder of the thing comes +in--a coral reef is half alive. If it were not, it would not resist the +action of the sea ten years. The live part of the reef is just where +the breakers come in and beyond. The gelatinous rock-building +polypifers die almost at once, if exposed to the sun or if left +uncovered by water. + +Sometimes, at very low tide, if you have courage enough to risk being +swept away by the breakers, going as far out on the reef as you can, +you may catch a glimpse of them in their living state--great mounds and +masses of what seems rock, but which is a honeycomb of coral, whose +cells are filled with the living polypifers. Those in the uppermost +cells are usually dead, but lower down they are living. + +Always dying, always being renewed, devoured by fish, attacked by the +sea--that is the life of a coral reef. It is a thing as living as a +cabbage or a tree. Every storm tears a piece off the reef, which the +living coral replaces; wounds occur in it which actually granulate and +heal as wounds do of the human body. + +There is nothing, perhaps, more mysterious in nature than this fact of +the existence of a living land: a land that repairs itself, when +injured, by vital processes, and resists the eternal attack of the sea +by vital force, especially when we think of the extent of some of these +lagoon islands or atolls, whose existences are an eternal battle with +the waves. + +Unlike the island of this story (which is an island surrounded by a +barrier reef of coral surrounding a space of sea--the lagoon), the reef +forms the island. The reef may be grown over by trees, or it may be +perfectly destitute of important vegetation, or it may be crusted with +islets. Some islets may exist within the lagoon, but as often as not it +is just a great empty lake floored with sand and coral, peopled with +life different to the life of the outside ocean, protected from the +waves, and reflecting the sky like a mirror. + +When we remember that the atoll is a living thing, an organic whole, as +full of life, though not so highly organised, as a tortoise, the +meanest imagination must be struck with the immensity of one of the +structures. + +Vliegen atoll in the Low Archipelago, measured from lagoon edge to +lagoon edge, is sixty miles long by twenty miles broad, at its broadest +part. In the Marshall Archipelago, Rimsky Korsacoff is fifty-four miles +long and twenty miles broad; and Rimsky Korsacoff is a living thing, +secreting, excreting, and growing more highly organised than the +cocoa-nut trees that grow upon its back, or the blossoms that powder +the hotoo trees in its groves. + +The story of coral is the story of a world, and the longest chapter in +that story concerns itself with coral's infinite variety and form. + +Out on the margin of the reef where Dick was spearing fish, you might +have seen a peach-blossom-coloured lichen on the rock. This lichen was +a form of coral. Coral growing upon coral, and in the pools at the edge +of the surf branching corals also of the colour of a peach-bloom. + +Within a hundred yards of where Emmeline was sitting, the pools +contained corals of all colours, from lake-red to pure white, and the +lagoon behind her--corals of the quaintest and strangest forms. + +Dick had speared several fish, and had left them lying on the reef to +be picked up later on. Tired of killing, he was now wandering along, +examining the various living things he came across. + +Huge slugs inhabited the reef, slugs as big as parsnips, and somewhat +of the same shape; they were a species of Bech de mer. Globeshaped +jelly-fish as big as oranges, great cuttlefish bones flat and shining +and white, shark's teeth, spines of echini; sometimes a dead scarus +fish, its stomach distended with bits of coral on which it had been +feeding; crabs, sea urchins, sea-weeds of strange colour and shape; +star-fish, some tiny and of the colour of cayenne pepper, some huge and +pale. These and a thousand other things, beautiful or strange, were to +be found on the reef. + +Dick had laid his spear down, and was exploring a deep bath-like pool. +He had waded up to his knees, and was in the act of wading further when +he was suddenly seized by the foot. It was just as if his ankle had +been suddenly caught in a clove hitch and the rope drawn tight. He +screamed out with pain and terror, and suddenly and viciously a +whip-lash shot out from the water, lassoed him round the left knee, +drew itself taut, and held him. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +WHAT BEAUTY CONCEALED + +Emmeline, seated on the coral rock, had almost forgotten Dick for a +moment. The sun was setting, and the warm amber light of the sunset +shone on reef and rock-pool. Just at sunset and low tide the reef had a +peculiar fascination for her. It had the low-tide smell of sea-weed +exposed to the air, and the torment and trouble of the breakers seemed +eased. Before her, and on either side, the foam-dashed coral glowed in +amber and gold, and the great Pacific came glassing and glittering in, +voiceless and peaceful, till it reached the strand and burst into song +and spray. + +Here, just as on the hill-top at the other side of the island, you +could mark the rhythm of the rollers. "Forever, and forever--forever, +and forever," they seemed to say. + +The cry of the gulls came mixed with the spray on the breeze. They +haunted the reef like uneasy spirits, always complaining, never at +rest; but at sunset their cry seemed farther away and less melancholy, +perhaps because just then the whole island world seemed bathed in the +spirit of peace. + +She turned from the sea prospect and looked backwards over the lagoon +to the island. She could make out the broad green glade beside which +their little house lay, and a spot of yellow, which was the thatch of +the house, just by the artu tree, and nearly hidden by the shadow of +the breadfruit. Over woods the fronds of the great cocoa-nut palms +showed above every other tree silhouetted against the dim, dark blue of +the eastern sky. + +Seen by the enchanted light of sunset, the whole picture had an unreal +look, more lovely than a dream. At dawn--and Dick would often start for +the reef before dawn, if the tide served--the picture was as beautiful; +more so, perhaps, for over the island, all in shadow, and against the +stars, you would see the palm-tops catching fire, and then the light of +day coming through the green trees and blue sky, like a spirit, across +the blue lagoon, widening and strengthening as it widened across the +white foam, out over the sea, spreading like a fan, till, all at once, +night was day, and the gulls were crying and the breakers flashing, the +dawn wind blowing, and the palm trees bending, as palm trees only know +how. Emmeline always imagined herself alone on the island with Dick, +but beauty was there, too, and beauty is a great companion. + +The girl was contemplating the scene before her. Nature in her +friendliest mood seemed to say, "Behold me! Men call me cruel; men have +called me deceitful, even treacherous. _I_--ah well! my answer is, +`Behold me!'" + +The girl was contemplating the specious beauty of it all, when on the +breeze from seaward came a shout. She turned quickly. There was Dick up +to his knees in a rockpool a hundred yards or so away, motionless, his +arms upraised, and crying out for help. She sprang to her feet. + +There had once been an islet on this part of the reef, a tiny thing, +consisting of a few palms and a handful of vegetation, and destroyed, +perhaps, in some great storm. I mention this because the existence of +this islet once upon a time was the means, indirectly, of saving Dick's +life; for where these islets have been or are, "flats" occur on the +reef formed of coral conglomerate. + +Emmeline in her bare feet could never have reached him in time over +rough coral, but, fortunately, this flat and comparatively smooth +surface lay between them. + +"My spear!" shouted Dick, as she approached. + +He seemed at first tangled in brambles; then she thought ropes were +tangling round him and tying him to something in the water--whatever it +was, it was most awful, and hideous, and like a nightmare. She ran with +the speed of Atalanta to the rock where the spear was resting, all red +with the blood of new-slain fish, a foot from the point. + +As she approached Dick, spear in hand, she saw, gasping with terror, +that the ropes were alive, and that they were flickering and rippling +over his back. One of them bound his left arm to his side, but his +right arm was free. + +"Quick!" he shouted. + +In a second the spear was in his free hand, and Emmeline had cast +herself down on her knees, and was staring with terrified eyes into the +water of the pool from whence the ropes issued. She was, despite her +terror, quite prepared to fling herself in and do battle with the +thing, whatever it might be. + +What she saw was only for a second. In the deep water of the pool, +gazing up and forward and straight at Dick, she saw a face, lugubrious +and awful. The eyes were wide as saucers, stony and steadfast; a large, +heavy, parrot-like beak hung before the eyes, and worked and wobbled, +and seemed to beckon. But what froze one's heart was the expression of +the eyes, so stony and lugubrious, so passionless, so devoid of +speculation, yet so fixed of purpose and full of fate. + +From away far down he had risen with the rising tide. He had been +feeding on crabs, when the tide, betraying him, had gone out, leaving +him trapped in the rock-pool. He had slept, perhaps, and awakened to +find a being, naked and defenceless, invading his pool. He was quite +small, as octopods go, and young, yet he was large and powerful enough +to have drowned an ox. + +The octopod has only been described once, in stone, by a Japanese +artist. The statue is still extant, and it is the most terrible +masterpiece of sculpture ever executed by human hands. It represents a +man who has been bathing on a low-tide beach, and has been caught. The +man is shouting in a delirium of terror, and threatening with his free +arm the spectre that has him in its grip. The eyes of the octopod are +fixed upon the man--passionless and lugubrious eyes, but steadfast and +fixed. + +Another whip-lash shot out of the water in a shower of spray, and +seized Dick by the left thigh. At the same instant he drove the point +of the spear through the right eye of the monster, deep down through +eye and soft gelatinous carcass till the spear-point dirled and +splintered against the rock. At the same moment the water of the pool +became black as ink, the bands around him relaxed, and he was free. + +Emmeline rose up and seized him, sobbing and clinging to him, and +kissing him. He clasped her with his left arm round her body, as if to +protect her, but it was a mechanical action. He was not thinking of +her. Wild with rage, and uttering hoarse cries, he plunged the broken +spear again and again into the depths of the pool, seeking utterly to +destroy the enemy that had so lately had him in its grip. Then slowly +he came to himself, and wiped his forehead, and looked at the broken +spear in his hand. + +"Beast!" he said. "Did you see its eyes? Did you see its eyes? I wish +it had a hundred eyes, and I had a hundred spears to drive into them!" + +She was clinging to him, and sobbing and laughing hysterically, and +praising him. One might have thought that he had rescued her from +death, not she him. + +The sun had nearly vanished, and he led her back to where the dinghy +was moored, recapturing and putting on his trousers on the road. He +picked up the dead fish he had speared; and as he rowed her back across +the lagoon, he talked and laughed, recounting the incidents of the +fight, taking all the glory of the thing to himself, and seeming quite +to ignore the important part she had played in it. + +This was not from any callousness or want of gratitude, but simply from +the fact that for the last five years he had been the be-all and +end-all of their tiny community--the Imperial master. And he would +just as soon have thought of thanking her for handing him the spear as +of thanking his right hand for driving it home. She was quite content, +seeking neither thanks nor praise. Everything she had came from him: +she was his shadow and his slave. He was her sun. + +He went over the fight again and again before they lay down to rest, +telling her he had done this and that, and what he would do to the next +beast of the sort. The reiteration was tiresome enough, or would have +been to an outside listener, but to Emmeline it was better than Homer. +People's minds do not improve in an intellectual sense when they are +isolated from the world, even though they are living the wild and happy +lives of savages. + +Then Dick lay down in the dried ferns and covered himself with a piece +of the striped flannel which they used for blanketing, and he snored, +and chattered in his sleep like a dog hunting imaginary game, and +Emmeline lay beside him wakeful and thinking. A new terror had come +into her life. She had seen death for the second time, but this time +active and in being. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE SOUND OF A DRUM + +The next day Dick was sitting under the shade of the artu. He had the +box of fishhooks beside him, and he was bending a line on to one of +them. There had originally been a couple of dozen hooks, large and +small, in the box; there remained now only six--four small and two +large ones. It was a large one he was fixing to the line, for he +intended going on the morrow to the old place to fetch some bananas, +and on the way to try for a fish in the deeper parts of the lagoon. + +It was late afternoon, and the heat had gone out of the day. Emmeline, +seated on the grass opposite to him, was holding the end of the line, +whilst he got the kinks out of it, when suddenly she raised her head. + +There was not a breath of wind; the hush of the far-distant surf came +through the blue weather--the only audible sound except, now and then, +a movement and flutter from the bird perched in the branches of the +artu. All at once another sound mixed itself with the voice of the +surf--a faint, throbbing sound, like the beating of a distant drum. + +"Listen!" said Emmeline. + +Dick paused for a moment in his work. All the sounds of the island were +familiar: this was something quite strange. + +Faint and far away, now rapid, now slow; coming from where, who could +say? Sometimes it seemed to come from the sea, sometimes, if the fancy +of the listener turned that way, from the woods. As they listened, a +sigh came from overhead; the evening breeze had risen and was moving in +the leaves of the artu tree. Just as you might wipe a picture off a +slate, the breeze banished the sound. Dick went on with his work. + +Next morning early he embarked in the dinghy. He took the hook and line +with him, and some raw fish for bait. Emmeline helped him to push off, +and stood on the bank waving her hand as he rounded the little cape +covered with wild cocoa-nut. + +These expeditions of Dick's were one of her sorrows. To be left alone +was frightful; yet she never complained. She was living in a paradise, +but something told her that behind all that sun, all that splendour of +blue sea and sky, behind the flowers and the leaves, behind all that +specious and simpering appearance of happiness in nature, lurked a +frown, and the dragon of mischance. + +Dick rowed for about a mile, then he shipped his sculls, and let the +dinghy float. The water here was very deep; so deep that, despite its +clearness, the bottom was invisible; the sunlight over the reef struck +through it diagonally, filling it with sparkles. + +The fisherman baited his hook with a piece from the belly of a scarus +and lowered it down out of sight, then he belayed the line to a thole +pin, and, sitting in the bottom of the boat, hung his head over the +side and gazed deep down into the water. Sometimes there was nothing to +see but just the deep blue of the water. Then a flight of spangled +arrowheads would cross the line of sight and vanish, pursued by a form +like a moving bar of gold. Then a great fish would materialise itself +and hang in the shadow of the boat motionless as a stone, save for the +movement of its gills; next moment with a twist of the tail it would be +gone. + +Suddenly the dinghy shored over, and might have capsized, only for the +fact that Dick was sitting on the opposite side to the side from which +the line hung. Then the boat righted; the line slackened, and the +surface of the lagoon, a few fathoms away, boiled as if being stirred +from below by a great silver stick. He had hooked an albicore. He tied +the end of the fishing-line to a scull, undid the line from the thole +pin, and flung the scull overboard. + +He did all this with wonderful rapidity, while the line was still +slack. Next moment the scull was rushing over the surface of the +lagoon, now towards the reef, now towards the shore, now flat, now end +up. Now it would be jerked under the surface entirely; vanish for a +moment, and then reappear. It was a most astonishing thing to watch, +for the scull seemed alive--viciously alive, and imbued with some +destructive purpose; as, in fact, it was. The most venomous of living +things, and the most intelligent could not have fought the great fish +better. + +The albicore would make a frantic dash down the lagoon, hoping, +perhaps, to find in the open sea a release from his foe. Then, half +drowned with the pull of the scull, he would pause, dart from side to +side in perplexity, and then make an equally frantic dash up the +lagoon, to be checked in the same manner. Seeking the deepest depths, +he would sink the scull a few fathoms; and once he sought the air, +leaping into the sunlight like a crescent of silver, whilst the splash +of him as he fell echoed amidst the trees bordering the lagoon. An hour +passed before the great fish showed signs of weakening. + +The struggle had taken place up to this close to the shore, but now the +scull swam out into the broad sheet of sunlit water, and slowly began +to describe large circles rippling up the peaceful blue into flashing +wavelets. It was a melancholy sight to watch, for the great fish had +made a good fight, and one could see him, through the eye of +imagination, beaten, half drowned, dazed, and moving as is the fashion +of dazed things in a circle. + +Dick, working the remaining oar at the stern of the boat, rowed out and +seized the floating scull, bringing it on board. Foot by foot he hauled +his catch towards the boat till the long gleaming line of the thing +came dimly into view. + +The fight had been heard for miles through the lagoon water by all +sorts of swimming things. The lord of the place had got sound of it. A +dark fin rippled the water; and as Dick, pulling on his line, hauled +his catch closer, a monstrous grey shadow stained the depths, and the +glittering streak that was the albicore vanished as if engulfed in a +cloud. The line came in slack, and Dick hauled in the albicore's head. +It had been divided from the body as if with a huge pair of shears. The +grey shadow slipped by the boat, and Dick, mad with rage, shouted and +shook his fist at it; then, seizing the albicore's head, from which he +had taken the hook, he hurled it at the monster in the water. + +The great shark, with a movement of the tail that caused the water to +swirl and the dinghy to rock, turned upon his back and engulfed the +head; then he slowly sank and vanished, just as if he had been +dissolved. He had come off best in this their first encounter--such as +it was. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +SAILS UPON THE SEA + +Dick put the hook away and took to the sculls. He had a three-mile row +before him, and the tide was coming in, which did not make it any the +easier. As he rowed, he talked and grumbled to himself. He had been in +a grumbling mood for some time past: the chief cause, Emmeline. + +In the last few months she had changed; even her face had changed. A +new person had come upon the island, it seemed to him, and taken the +place of the Emmeline he had known from earliest childhood. This one +looked different. He did not know that she had grown beautiful, he just +knew that she looked different; also she had developed new ways that +displeased him--she would go off and bathe by herself, for instance. + +Up to six months or so ago he had been quite contented; sleeping and +eating, and hunting for food and cooking it, building and rebuilding +the house, exploring the woods and the reef. But lately a spirit of +restlessness had come upon him; he did not know exactly what he wanted. +He had a vague feeling that he wanted to go away from the place where +he was; not from the island, but from the place where they had pitched +their tent, or rather built their house. + +It may have been the spirit of civilisation crying out in him, telling +him of all he was missing. Of the cities, and the streets, and the +houses, and the businesses, and the striving after gold, the striving +after power. It may have been simply the man in him crying out for +Love, and not knowing yet that Love was at his elbow. + +The dinghy glided along, hugging the shore, past the little glades of +fern and the cathedral gloom of the breadfruit; then, rounding a +promontory, she opened the view of the break in the reef. A little bit +of the white strand was visible, but he was not looking that way--he +was looking towards the reef at a tiny, dark spot, not noticeable +unless searched for by the eye. Always when he came on these +expeditions, just here, he would hang on his oars and gaze over there, +where the gulls were flying and the breakers thundering. + +A few years ago the spot filled him with dread as well as curiosity, +but from familiarity and the dullness that time casts on everything, +the dread had almost vanished, but the curiosity remained: the +curiosity that makes a child look on at the slaughter of an animal even +though his soul revolts at it. He gazed for a while, then he went on +pulling, and the dinghy approached the beach. + +Something had happened on the beach. The sand was all trampled, and +stained red here and there; in the centre lay the remains of a great +fire still smouldering, and just where the water lapped the sand, lay +two deep grooves as if two heavy boats had been beached there. A South +Sea man would have told from the shape of the grooves, and the little +marks of the out-riggers, that two heavy canoes had been beached there. +And they had. + +The day before, early in the afternoon, two canoes, possibly from that +far-away island which cast a stain on the horizon to the +sou'-sou'-west, had entered the lagoon, one in pursuit of the other. + +What happened then had better be left veiled. A war drum with a +shark-skin head had set the woods throbbing; the victory was celebrated +all night, and at dawn the victors manned the two canoes and set sail +for the home, or hell, they had come from. Had you examined the strand +you would have found that a line had been drawn across the beach, +beyond which there were no footmarks: that meant that the rest of the +island was for some reason tabu. + +Dick pulled the nose of the boat up a bit on the strand, then he looked +around him. He picked up a broken spear that had been cast away or +forgotten; it was made of some hard wood and barbed with iron. On the +right-hand side of the beach something lay between the cocoa-nut trees. +He approached; it was a mass of offal; the entrails of a dozen sheep +seemed cast here in one mound, yet there were no sheep on the island, +and sheep are not carried as a rule in war canoes. + +The sand on the beach was eloquent. The foot pursuing and the foot +pursued; the knee of the fallen one, and then the forehead and +outspread hands; the heel of the chief who has slain his enemy, beaten +the body flat, burst a hole through it, through which he has put his +head, and who stands absolutely wearing his enemy as a cloak; the head +of the man dragged on his back to be butchered like a sheep--of these +things spoke the sand. + +As far as the sand traces could speak, the story of the battle was +still being told; the screams and the shouting, the clashing of clubs +and spears were gone, yet the ghost of the fight remained. + +If the sand could bear such traces, and tell such tales, who shall say +that the plastic aether was destitute of the story of the fight and the +butchery? + +However that may have been, Dick, looking around him, had the shivering +sense of having just escaped from danger. Whoever had been, had +gone--he could tell that by the canoe traces. Gone either out to sea, +or up the right stretch of the lagoon. It was important to determine +this. + +He climbed to the hill-top and swept the sea with his eyes. There, away +to the south-west, far away on the sea, he could distinguish the brown +sails of two canoes. There was something indescribably mournful and +lonely in their appearance; they looked like withered leaves--brown +moths blown to sea--derelicts of autumn. Then, remembering the beach, +these things became freighted with the most sinister thoughts for the +mind of the gazer. They were hurrying away, having done their work. +That they looked lonely and old and mournful, and like withered leaves +blown across the sea, only heightened the horror. + +Dick had never seen canoes before, but he knew that these things were +boats of some sort holding people, and that the people had left all +those traces on the beach. How much of the horror of the thing was +revealed to his subconscious intelligence, who can say? + +He had climbed the boulder, and he now sat down with his knees drawn +up, and his hands clasped round them. Whenever he came round to this +side of the island, something happened of a fateful or sinister nature. +The last time he had nearly lost the dinghy; he had beached the little +boat in such a way that she floated off, and the tide was just in the +act of stealing her, and sweeping her from the lagoon out to sea, when +he returned laden with his bananas, and, rushing into the water up to +his waist, saved her. Another time he had fallen out of a tree, and +just by a miracle escaped death. Another time a hurricane had broken, +lashing the lagoon into snow, and sending the cocoa-nuts bounding and +flying like tennis balls across the strand. This time he had just +escaped something, he knew not exactly what. It was almost as if +Providence were saying to him, "Don't come here." + +He watched the brown sails as they dwindled in the wind-blown blue, +then he came down from the hill-top and cut his bananas. He cut four +large bunches, which caused him to make two journeys to the boat. When +the bananas were stowed he pushed off. + +For a long time a great curiosity had been pulling at his +heart-strings: a curiosity of which he was dimly ashamed. Fear had +given it birth, and Fear still clung to it. It was, perhaps, the +element of fear and the awful delight of daring the unknown that made +him give way to it. + +He had rowed, perhaps, a hundred yards when he turned the boat's head +and made for the reef. It was more than five years since that day when +he rowed across the lagoon, Emmeline sitting in the stern, with her +wreath of flowers in her hand. It might have been only yesterday, for +everything seemed just the same. The thunderous surf and the flying +gulls, the blinding sunlight, and the salt, fresh smell of the sea. The +palm tree at the entrance of the lagoon still bent gazing into the +water, and round the projection of coral to which he had last moored +the boat still lay a fragment of the rope which he had cut in his hurry +to escape. + +Ships had come into the lagoon, perhaps, during the five years, but no +one had noticed anything on the reef, for it was only from the hill-top +that a full view of what was there could be seen, and then only by eyes +knowing where to look. From the beach there was visible just a speck. +It might have been, perhaps, a bit of old wreckage flung there by a +wave in some big storm. A piece of old wreckage that had been tossed +hither and thither for years, and had at last found a place of rest. + +Dick tied the boat up, and stepped on to the reef. It was high tide +just as before; the breeze was blowing strongly, and overhead a +man-of-war's bird, black as ebony, with a blood-red bill, came sailing, +the wind doming out his wings. He circled in the air, and cried out +fiercely, as if resenting the presence of the intruder, then he passed +away, let himself be blown away, as it were, across the lagoon, +wheeled, circled, and passed out to sea. + +Dick approached the place he knew, and there lay the little old barrel +all warped by the powerful sun; the staves stood apart, and the hooping +was rusted and broken, and whatever it had contained in the way of +spirit and conviviality had long ago drained away. + +Beside the barrel lay a skeleton, round which lay a few rags of cloth. +The skull had fallen to one side, and the lower jaw had fallen from the +skull; the bones of the hands and feet were still articulated, and the +ribs had not fallen in. It was all white and bleached, and the sun +shone on it as indifferently as on the coral, this shell and framework +that had once been a man. There was nothing dreadful about it, but a +whole world of wonder. + +To Dick, who had not been broken into the idea of death, who had not +learned to associate it with graves and funerals, sorrow, eternity, and +hell, the thing spoke as it never could have spoken to you or me. + +Looking at it, things linked themselves together in his mind: the +skeletons of birds he had found in the woods, the fish he had slain, +even trees lying dead and rotten--even the shells of crabs. + +If you had asked him what lay before him, and if he could have +expressed the thought in his mind, he would have answered you "change." + +All the philosophy in the world could not have told him more than he +knew just then about death--he, who even did not know its name. + +He was held spellbound by the marvel and miracle of the thing and the +thoughts that suddenly crowded his mind like a host of spectres for +whom a door has just been opened. + +Just as a child by unanswerable logic knows that a fire which has +burned him once will burn him again, or will burn another person, he +knew that just as the form before him was, his form would be some +day--and Emmeline's. + +Then came the vague question which is born not of the brain, but the +heart, and which is the basis of all religions--where shall I be then? +His mind was not of an introspective nature, and the question just +strayed across it and was gone. And still the wonder of the thing held +him. He was for the first time in his life in a reverie; the corpse +that had shocked and terrified him five years ago had cast seeds of +thought with its dead fingers upon his mind, the skeleton had brought +them to maturity. The full fact of universal death suddenly appeared +before him, and he recognised it. + +He stood for a long time motionless, and then with a deep sigh turned +to the boat and pushed off without once looking back at the reef. He +crossed the lagoon and rowed slowly homewards, keeping in the shelter +of the tree shadows as much as possible. + +Even looking at him from the shore you might have noticed a difference +in him. Your savage paddles his canoe, or sculls his boat, alert, +glancing about him, at touch with nature at all points; though he be +lazy as a cat and sleeps half the day, awake he is all ears and eyes--a +creature reacting to the least external impression. + +Dick, as he rowed back, did not look about him: he was thinking or +retrospecting. The savage in him had received a check. As he turned the +little cape where the wild cocoanut blazed, he looked over his +shoulder. A figure was standing on the sward by the edge of the water. +It was Emmeline. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE SCHOONER + +They carried the bananas up to the house, and hung them from a branch +of the artu. Then Dick, on his knees, lit the fire to prepare the +evening meal. When it was over he went down to where the boat was +moored, and returned with something in his hand. It was the javelin +with the iron point or, rather, the two pieces of it. He had said +nothing of what he had seen to the girl. + +Emmeline was seated on the grass; she had a long strip of the striped +flannel stuff about her, worn like a scarf, and she had another piece +in her hand which she was hemming. The bird was hopping about, pecking +at a banana which they had thrown to him; a light breeze made the +shadow of the artu leaves dance upon the grass, and the serrated leaves +of the breadfruit to patter one on the other with the sound of +rain-drops falling upon glass. + +"Where did you get it?" asked Emmeline, staring at the piece of the +javelin which Dick had flung down almost beside her whilst he went into +the house to fetch the knife. + +"It was on the beach over there," he replied, taking his seat and +examining the two fragments to see how he could splice them together. + +Emmeline looked at the pieces, putting them together in her mind. She +did not like the look of the thing: so keen and savage, and stained +dark a foot and more from the point. + +"People had been there," said Dick, putting the two pieces together and +examining the fracture critically. + +"Where?" + +"Over there. This was lying on the sand, and the sand was all trod up." + +"Dick," said Emmeline, "who were the people?" + +"I don't know; I went up the hill and saw their boats going away--far +away out. This was lying on the sand." + +"Dick," said Emmeline, "do you remember the noise yesterday?" + +"Yes," said Dick. + +"I heard it in the night." + +"When?" + +"In the night before the moon went away." + +"That was them," said Dick. + +"Dick!" + +"Yes?" + +"Who were they?" + +"I don't know," replied Dick. + +"It was in the night, before the moon went away, and it went on and on +beating in the trees. I thought I was asleep, and then I knew I was +awake; you were asleep, and I pushed you to listen, but you couldn't +wake, you were so asleep; then the moon went away, and the noise went +on. How did they make the noise?" + +"I don't know," replied Dick, "but it was them; and they left this on +the sand, and the sand was all trod up, and I saw their boats from the +hill, away out far." + +"I thought I heard voices," said Emmeline, "but I was not sure." + +She fell into meditation, watching her companion at work on the savage +and sinister-looking thing in his hands. He was splicing the two pieces +together with a strip of the brown cloth-like stuff which is wrapped +round the stalks of the cocoa-palm fronds. The thing seemed to have +been hurled here out of the blue by some unseen hand. + +When he had spliced the pieces, doing so with marvellous dexterity, he +took the thing short down near the point, and began thrusting it into +the soft earth to clean it; then, with a bit of flannel, he polished it +till it shone. He felt a keen delight in it. It was useless as a +fish-spear, because it had no barb, but it was a weapon. It was useless +as a weapon, because there was no foe on the island to use it against; +still, it was a weapon. + +When he had finished scrubbing at it, he rose, hitched his old trousers +up, tightened the belt of cocoa-cloth which Emmeline had made for him, +went into the house and got his fish-spear, and stalked off to the +boat, calling out to Emmeline to follow him. They crossed over to the +reef, where, as usual, he divested himself of clothing. + +It was strange that out here he would go about stark naked, yet on the +island he always wore some covering. But not so strange, perhaps, after +all. + +The sea is a great purifier, both of the mind and the body; before that +great sweet spirit people do not think in the same way as they think +far inland. What woman would appear in a town or on a country road, or +even bathing in a river, as she appears bathing in the sea? + +Some instinct made Dick cover himself up on shore, and strip naked on +the reef. In a minute he was down by the edge of the surf, javelin in +one hand, fish-spear in the other. + +Emmeline, by a little pool the bottom of which was covered with +branching coral, sat gazing down into its depths, lost in a reverie +like that into which we fall when gazing at shapes in the fire. She had +sat some time like this when a shout from Dick aroused her. She +started to her feet and gazed to where he was pointing. An amazing +thing was there. + +To the east, just rounding the curve of the reef, and scarcely a +quarter of a mile from it, was coming a big topsail schooner; a +beautiful sight she was, heeling to the breeze with every sail drawing, +and the white foam like a feather at her fore-foot. + +Dick, with the javelin in his hand, was standing gazing at her; he had +dropped his fishspear, and he stood as motionless as though he were +carved out of stone. Emmeline ran to him and stood beside him; neither +of them spoke a word as the vessel drew closer. + +Everything was visible, so close was she now, from the reef points on +the great mainsail, luminous with the sunlight, and white as the wing +of a gull, to the rail of the bulwarks. A crowd of men were hanging +over the port bulwarks gazing at the island and the figures on the +reef. Browned by the sun and sea-breeze, Emmeline's hair blowing on the +wind, and the point of Dick's javelin flashing in the sun, they looked +an ideal pair of savages, seen from the schooner's deck. + +"They are going away," said Emmeline, with a long-drawn breath of +relief. + +Dick made no reply; he stared at the schooner a moment longer in +silence, then, having made sure that she was standing away from the +land, he began to run up and down, calling out wildly, and beckoning to +the vessel as if to call her back. + +A moment later a sound came on the breeze, a faint hail; a flag was run +up to the peak and dipped as in derision, and the vessel continued on +her course. + +As a matter of fact, she had been on the point of putting about. Her +captain had for a moment been undecided as to whether the forms on the +reef were those of castaways or savages. But the javelin in Dick's hand +had turned the scale of his opinion in favour of the theory of savages. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +LOVE STEPS IN + +Two birds were sitting in the branches of the artu tree: Koko had taken +a mate. They had built a nest out of fibres pulled from the wrappings +of the cocoa-nut fronds, bits of stick and wire grass--anything, in +fact; even fibres from the palmetto thatch of the house below. The +pilferings of birds, the building of nests, what charming incidents +they are in the great episode of spring! + +The hawthorn tree never bloomed here, the climate was that of eternal +summer, yet the spirit of May came just as she comes to the English +countryside or the German forest. The doings in the artu branches +greatly interested Emmeline. + +The love-making and the nest-building were conducted quite in the usual +manner, according to rules laid down by Nature and carried out by men +and birds. All sorts of quaint sounds came filtering down through the +leaves from the branch where the sapphire-coloured lovers sat side by +side, or the fork where the nest was beginning to form: croonings and +cluckings, sounds like the flirting of a fan, the sounds of a squabble, +followed by the sounds that told of the squabble made up. Sometimes +after one of these squabbles a pale blue downy feather or two would +come floating earthwards, touch the palmetto leaves of the house-roof +and cling there, or be blown on to the grass. + +It was some days after the appearance of the schooner, and Dick was +making ready to go into the woods and pick guavas. He had all the +morning been engaged in making a basket to carry them in. In +civilisation he would, judging from his mechanical talent, perhaps have +been an engineer, building bridges and ships, instead of palmetto-leaf +baskets and cane houses--who knows if he would have been happier? + +The heat of midday had passed, when, with the basket hanging over his +shoulder on a piece of cane, he started for the woods, Emmeline +following. The place they were going to always filled her with a vague +dread; not for a great deal would she have gone there alone. Dick had +discovered it in one of his rambles. + +They entered the wood and passed a little well, a well without apparent +source or outlet and a bottom of fine white sand. How the sand had +formed there, it would be impossible to say; but there it was, and +around the margin grew ferns redoubling themselves on the surface of +the crystal-clear water. They left this to the right and struck into +the heart of the wood. The heat of midday still lurked here; the way +was clear, for there was a sort of path between the trees, as if, in +very ancient days, there had been a road. + +Right across this path, half lost in shadow, half sunlit, the lianas +hung their ropes. The hotoo tree, with its powdering of delicate +blossoms, here stood, showing its lost loveliness to the sun; in the +shade the scarlet hibiscus burned like a flame. Artu and breadfruit +trees and cocoa-nut bordered the way. + +As they proceeded the trees grew denser and the path more obscure. All +at once, rounding a sharp turn, the path ended in a valley carpeted +with fern. This was the place that always filled Emmeline with an +undefined dread. One side of it was all built up in terraces with huge +blocks of stone--blocks of stone so enormous, that the wonder was how +the ancient builders had put them in their places. + +Trees grew along the terraces, thrusting their roots between the +interstices of the blocks. At their base, slightly tilted forward as if +with the sinkage of years, stood a great stone figure roughly carved, +thirty feet high at least--mysterious-looking, the very spirit of the +place. This figure and the terraces, the valley itself, and the very +trees that grew there, inspired Emmeline with deep curiosity and vague +fear. + +People had been here once; sometimes she could fancy she saw dark +shadows moving amidst the trees, and the whisper of the foliage seemed +to her to hide voices at times, even as its shadow concealed forms. It +was indeed an uncanny place to be alone in even under the broad light +of day. All across the Pacific for thousands of miles you find relics +of the past, like these scattered through the islands. + +These temple places are nearly all the same: great terraces of stone, +massive idols, desolation overgrown with foliage. They hint at one +religion, and a time when the sea space of the Pacific was a continent, +which, sinking slowly through the ages, has left only its higher lands +and hill-tops visible in the form of islands. Round these places the +woods are thicker than elsewhere, hinting at the presence there, once, +of sacred groves. The idols are immense, their faces are vague; the +storms and the suns and the rains of the ages have cast over them a +veil. The sphinx is understandable and a toy compared to these things, +some of which have a stature of fifty feet, whose creation is veiled in +absolute mystery--the gods of a people for ever and for ever lost. + +The "stone man" was the name Emmeline had given the idol of the valley; +and sometimes at nights, when her thoughts would stray that way, she +would picture him standing all alone in the moonlight or starlight +staring straight before him. + +He seemed for ever listening; unconsciously one fell to listening too, +and then the valley seemed steeped in a supernatural silence. He was +not good to be alone with. + +Emmeline sat down amidst the fears just at his base. When one was close +up to him he lost the suggestion of life, and was simply a great stone +which cast a shadow in the sun. + +Dick threw himself down also to rest. Then he rose up and went off +amidst the guava bushes, plucking the fruit and filling his basket. +Since he had seen the schooner, the white men on her decks, her great +masts and sails, and general appearance of freedom and speed and +unknown adventure, he had been more than ordinarily glum and restless. +Perhaps he connected her in his mind with the far-away vision of the +Northumberland, and the idea of other places and lands, and the +yearning for change [that] the idea of them inspired. + +He came back with his basket full of the ripe fruit, gave some to the +girl and sat down beside her. When she had finished eating them she +took the cane that he used for carrying the basket and held it in her +hands. She was bending it in the form of a bow when it slipped, flew +out and struck her companion a sharp blow on the side of his face. + +Almost on the instant he turned and slapped her on the shoulder. She +stared at him for a moment in troubled amazement, a sob came in her +throat. Then some veil seemed lifted, some wizard's wand stretched out, +some mysterious vial broken. As she looked at him like that, he +suddenly and fiercely clasped her in his arms. He held her like this +for a moment, dazed, stupefied, not knowing what to do with her. Then +her lips told him, for they met his in an endless kiss. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE SLEEP OF PARADISE + +The moon rose up that evening and shot her silver arrows at the house +under the artu tree. The house was empty. Then the moon came across the +sea and across the reef. + +She lit the lagoon to its dark, dim heart. She lit the coral brains and +sand spaces, and the fish, casting their shadows on the sand and the +coral. The keeper of the lagoon rose to greet her, and the fin of him +broke her reflection on the mirror-like surface into a thousand +glittering ripples. She saw the white staring ribs of the form on the +reef. Then, peeping over the trees, she looked down into the valley, +where the great idol of stone had kept its solitary vigil for five +thousand years, perhaps, or more. + +At his base, in his shadow, looking as if under his protection, lay two +human beings, naked, clasped in each other's arms, and fast asleep. One +could scarcely pity his vigil, had it been marked sometimes through the +years by such an incident as this. The thing had been conducted just as +the birds conduct their love affairs. An affair absolutely natural, +absolutely blameless, and without sin. + +It was a marriage according to Nature, without feast or guests, +consummated with accidental cynicism under the shadow of a religion a +thousand years dead. + +So happy in their ignorance were they, that they only knew that +suddenly life had changed, that the skies and the sea were bluer, and +that they had become in some magical way one a part of the other. The +birds on the tree above were equally as happy in their ignorance, and +in their love. + + + + +PART II + + +CHAPTER X + +AN ISLAND HONEYMOON + +One day Dick climbed on to the tree above the house, and, driving +Madame Koko off the nest upon which she was sitting, peeped in. There +were several pale green eggs in it. He did not disturb them, but +climbed down again, and the bird resumed her seat as if nothing had +happened. Such an occurrence would have terrified a bird used to the +ways of men, but here the birds were so fearless and so full of +confidence that often they would follow Emmeline in the wood, flying +from branch to branch, peering at her through the leaves, lighting +quite close to her--once, even, on her shoulder. + +The days passed. Dick had lost his restlessness: his wish to wander had +vanished. He had no reason to wander; perhaps that was the reason why. +In all the broad earth he could not have found anything more desirable +than what he had. + +Instead now of finding a half-naked savage followed dog-like by his +mate, you would have found of an evening a pair of lovers wandering on +the reef. They had in a pathetic sort of way attempted to adorn the +house with a blue flowering creeper taken from the wood and trained +over the entrance. + +Emmeline, up to this, had mostly done the cooking, such as it was; Dick +helped her now, always. He talked to her no longer in short sentences +flung out as if to a dog; and she, almost losing the strange reserve +that had clung to her from childhood, half showed him her mind. It was +a curious mind: the mind of a dreamer, almost the mind of a poet. The +Cluricaunes dwelt there, and vague shapes born of things she had heard +about or dreamt of: she had thoughts about the sea and stars, the +flowers and birds. + +Dick would listen to her as she talked, as a man might listen to the +sound of a rivulet. His practical mind could take no share in the +dreams of his other half, but her conversation pleased him. + +He would look at her for a long time together, absorbed in thought. He +was admiring her. + +Her hair, blue-black and glossy, tangled him in its meshes; he would +stroke it, so to speak, with his eyes, and then pull her close to him +and bury his face in it; the smell of it was intoxicating. He breathed +her as one does the perfume of a rose. + +Her ears were small, and like little white shells. He would take one +between finger and thumb and play with it as if it were a toy, pulling +at the lobe of it, or trying to flatten out the curved part. Her +breasts, her shoulders, her knees, her little feet, every bit of her, +he would examine and play with and kiss. She would lie and let him, +seeming absorbed in some far-away thought, of which he was the object, +then all at once her arms would go round him. All this used to go on in +the broad light of day, under the shadow of the artu leaves, with no +one to watch except the bright-eyed birds in the leaves above. + +Not all their time would be spent in this fashion. Dick was just as +keen after the fish. He dug up with a spade--improvised from one of the +boards of the dinghy--a space of soft earth near the taro patch and +planted the seeds of melons he found in the wood; he rethatched the +house. They were, in short, as busy as they could be in such a climate, +but love-making would come on them in fits, and then everything would +be forgotten. Just as one revisits some spot to renew the memory of a +painful or pleasant experience received there, they would return to the +valley of the idol and spend a whole afternoon in its shade. The +absolute happiness of wandering through the woods together, discovering +new flowers, getting lost, and finding their way again, was a thing +beyond expression. + +Dick had suddenly stumbled upon Love. His courtship had lasted only +some twenty minutes; it was being gone over again now, and extended. + +One day, hearing a curious noise from the tree above the house, he +climbed it. The noise came from the nest, which had been temporarily +left by the mother bird. It was a gasping, wheezing sound, and it came +from four wide-open beaks, so anxious to be fed that one could almost +see into the very crops of the owners. They were Koko's children. In +another year each of those ugly downy things would, if permitted to +live, be a beautiful sapphire-coloured bird with a few dove-coloured +tail feathers, coral beak, and bright, intelligent eyes. A few days ago +each of these things was imprisoned in a pale green egg. A month ago +they were nowhere. + +Something hit Dick on the cheek. It was the mother bird returned with +food for the young ones. Dick drew his head aside, and she proceeded +without more ado to fill their crops. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE VANISHING OF EMMELINE + +Months passed away. Only one bird remained in the branches of the artu: +Koko's children and mate had vanished, but he remained. The breadfruit +leaves had turned from green to pale gold and darkest amber, and now +the new green leaves were being presented to the spring. + +Dick, who had a complete chart of the lagoon in his head, and knew all +the soundings and best fishing places, the locality of the stinging +coral, and the places where you could wade right across at low +tide--Dick, one morning, was gathering his things together for a +fishing expedition. The place he was going to lay some two and a half +miles away across the island, and as the road was bad he was going +alone. + +Emmeline had been passing a new thread through the beads of the +necklace she sometimes wore. This necklace had a history. In the +shallows not far away, Dick had found a bed of shell-fish; wading out +at low tide, he had taken some of them out to examine. They were +oysters. The first one he opened, so disgusting did its appearance seem +to him, might have been the last, only that under the beard of the +thing lay a pearl. It was about twice the size of a large pea, and so +lustrous that even he could not but admire its beauty, though quite +unconscious of its value. + +He flung the unopened oysters down, and took the thing to Emmeline. +Next day, returning by chance to the same spot, he found the oysters he +had cast down all dead and open in the sun. He examined them, and +found another pearl embedded in one of them. Then he collected nearly a +bushel of the oysters, and left them to die and open. The idea had +occurred to him of making a necklace for his companion. She had one +made of shells, he intended to make her one of pearls. + +It took a long time, but it was something to do. He pierced them with a +big needle, and at the end of four months or so the thing was complete. +Great pearls most of them were--pure white, black, pink, some perfectly +round, some tear shaped, some irregular. The thing was worth fifteen, +or perhaps twenty thousand pounds, for he only used the biggest he +could find, casting away the small ones as useless. + +Emmeline this morning had just finished restringing them on a double +thread. She looked pale and not at all well and had been restless all +night. + +As he went off, armed with his spear and fishing tackle, she waved her +hand to him without getting up. Usually she followed him a bit into the +wood when he was going away like this, but this morning she just sat at +the doorway of the little house, the necklace in her lap, following him +with her eyes until he was lost amidst the trees. + +He had no compass to guide him, and he needed none. He knew the woods +by heart. The mysterious line beyond which scarcely an artu tree was to +be found. The long strip of mammee apple--a regular sheet of it a +hundred yards broad, and reaching from the middle of the island right +down to the lagoon. The clearings, some almost circular where the ferns +grew knee-deep. Then he came to the bad part. + +The vegetation here had burst into a riot. All sorts of great sappy +stalks of unknown plants barred the way and tangled the foot; and there +were boggy places into which one sank horribly. Pausing to wipe one's +brow, the stalks and tendrils one had beaten down, or beaten aside, +rose up and closed together, making one a prisoner almost as closely +surrounded as a fly in amber. + +All the noontides that had ever fallen upon the island seemed to have +left some of their heat behind them here. The air was damp and close +like the air of a laundry; and the mournful and perpetual buzz of +insects filled the silence without destroying it. + +A hundred men with scythes might make a road through the place to-day; +a month or two later, searching for the road, you would find none--the +vegetation would have closed in as water closes when divided. + +This was the haunt of the jug orchid--a veritable jug, lid and all. +Raising the lid you would find the jug half filled with water. +Sometimes in the tangle up above, between two trees, you would see a +thing like a bird come to ruin. Orchids grew here as in a hothouse. All +the trees--the few there were--had a spectral and miserable appearance. +They were half starved by the voluptuous growth of the gigantic weeds. + +If one had much imagination one felt afraid in this place, for one felt +not alone. At any moment it seemed that one might be touched on the +elbow by a hand reaching out from the surrounding tangle. Even Dick +felt this, unimaginative and fearless as he was. It took him nearly +three-quarters of an hour to get through, and then, at last, came the +blessed air of real day, and a glimpse of the lagoon between the +tree-boles. + +He would have rowed round in the dinghy, only that at low tide the +shallows of the north of the island were a bar to the boat's passage. +Of course he might have rowed all the way round by way of the strand +and reef entrance, but that would have meant a circuit of six miles or +more. When he came between the trees down to the lagoon edge it was +about eleven o'clock in the morning, and the tide was nearly at the +full. + +The lagoon just here was like a trough, and the reef was very near, +scarcely a quarter of a mile from the shore. The water did not shelve, +it went down sheer fifty fathoms or more, and one could fish from the +bank just as from a pier head. He had brought some food with him, and +he placed it under a tree whilst he prepared his line, which had a lump +of coral for a sinker. He baited the hook, and whirling the sinker +round in the air sent it flying out a hundred feet from shore. There +was a baby cocoa-nut tree growing just at the edge of the water. He +fastened the end of his line round the narrow stem, in case of +eventualities, and then, holding the line itself, he fished. + +He had promised Emmeline to return before sundown. + +He was a fisherman. That is to say, a creature with the enduring +patience of a cat, tireless and heedless of time as an oyster. He came +here for sport more than for fish. Large things were to be found in +this part of the lagoon. The last time he had hooked a horror in the +form of a cat-fish; at least in outward appearance it was likest to a +Mississippi cat-fish. Unlike the cat-fish, it was coarse and useless as +food, but it gave good sport. + +The tide was now going out, and it was at the going-out of the tide +that the best fishing was to be had. There was no wind, and the lagoon +lay like a sheet of glass, with just a dimple here and there where the +outgoing tide made a swirl in the water. + +As he fished he thought of Emmeline and the little house under the +trees. Scarcely one could call it thinking. Pictures passed before his +mind's eye--pleasant and happy pictures, sunlit, moonlit, starlit. + +Three hours passed thus without a bite or symptom that the lagoon +contained anything else but sea-water, and disappointment; but he did +not grumble. He was a fisherman. Then he left the line tied to the tree +and sat down to eat the food he had brought with him. He had scarcely +finished his meal when the baby cocoa-nut tree shivered and became +convulsed, and he did not require to touch the taut line to know that +it was useless to attempt to cope with the thing at the end of it. The +only course was to let it tug and drown itself. So he sat down and +watched. + +After a few minutes the line slackened, and the little cocoa-nut tree +resumed its attitude of pensive meditation and repose. He pulled the +line up: there was nothing at the end of it but a hook. He did not +grumble; he baited the hook again, and flung it in, for it was quite +likely that the ferocious thing in the water would bite again. + +Full of this idea and heedless of time he fished and waited. The sun +was sinking into the west--he did not heed it. He had quite forgotten +that he had promised Emmeline to return before sunset; it was nearly +sunset now. Suddenly, just behind him, from among the trees, he heard +her voice, crying: + +"Dick!" + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE VANISHING OF EMMELINE (continued) + +He dropped the line, and turned with a start. There was no one visible. +He ran amongst the trees calling out her name, but only echoes +answered. Then he came back to the lagoon edge. + +He felt sure that what he had heard was only fancy, but it was nearly +sunset, and more than time to be off. He pulled in his line, wrapped it +up, took his fish-spear and started. + +It was just in the middle of the bad place that dread came to him. +What if anything had happened to her? It was dusk here, and never had +the weeds seemed so thick, dimness so dismal, the tendrils of the vines +so gin-like. Then he lost his way--he who was so sure of his way +always! The hunter's instinct had been crossed, and for a time he went +hither and thither helpless as a ship without a compass. At last he +broke into the real wood, but far to the right of where he ought to +have been. He felt like a beast escaped from a trap, and hurried along, +led by the sound of the surf. + +When he reached the clear sward that led down to the lagoon the sun had +just vanished beyond the sea-line. A streak of red cloud floated like +the feather of a flamingo in the western sky close to the sea, and +twilight had already filled the world. He could see the house dimly, +under the shadow of the trees, and he ran towards it, crossing the +sward diagonally. + +Always before, when he had been away, the first thing to greet his eyes +on his return had been the figure of Emmeline. Either at the lagoon +edge or the house door he would find her waiting for him. + +She was not waiting for him to-night. When he reached the house she was +not there, and he paused, after searching the place, a prey to the most +horrible perplexity, and unable for the moment to think or act. + +Since the shock of the occurrence on the reef she had been subjected at +times to occasional attacks of headache; and when the pain was more +than she could bear she would go off and hide. Dick would hunt for her +amidst the trees, calling out her name and hallooing. A faint "halloo" +would answer when she heard him, and then he would find her under a +tree or bush, with her unfortunate head between her hands, a picture of +misery. + +He remembered this now, and started off along the borders of the wood, +calling to her, and pausing to listen. No answer came. + +He searched amidst the trees as far as the little well, waking the +echoes with his voice; then he came back slowly, peering about him in +the deep dusk that now was yielding to the starlight. He sat down +before the door of the house, and, looking at him, you might have +fancied him in the last stages of exhaustion. Profound grief and +profound exhaustion act on the frame very much in the same way. He sat +with his chin resting on his chest, his hands helpless. He could hear +her voice, still as he heard it over at the other side of the island. +She had been in danger and called to him, and he had been calmly +fishing, unconscious of it all. + +This thought maddened him. He sat up, stared around him and beat the +ground with the palms of his hands; then he sprang to his feet and made +for the dinghy. He rowed to the reef: the action of a madman, for she +could not possibly be there. + +There was no moon, the starlight both lit and veiled the world, and no +sound but the majestic thunder of the waves. As he stood, the night +wind blowing on his face, the white foam seething before him, and +Canopus burning in the great silence overhead, the fact that he stood +in the centre of an awful and profound indifference came to his +untutored mind with a pang. + +He returned to the shore: the house was still deserted. A little bowl +made from the shell of a cocoa-nut stood on the grass near the doorway. +He had last seen it in her hands, and he took it up and held it for a +moment, pressing it tightly to his breast. Then he threw himself down +before the doorway, and lay upon his face, with head resting upon his +arms in the attitude of a person who is profoundly asleep. + +He must have searched through the woods again that night just as a +somnambulist searches, for he found himself towards dawn in the valley +before the idol. Then it was daybreak--the world was full of light and +colour. He was seated before the house door, worn out and exhausted, +when, raising his head, he saw Emmeline's figure coming out from amidst +the distant trees on the other side of the sward. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE NEWCOMER + +He could not move for a moment, then he sprang to his feet and ran +towards her. She looked pale and dazed, and she held something in her +arms; something wrapped up in her scarf. As he pressed her to him, the +something in the bundle struggled against his breast and emitted a +squall--just like the squall of a cat. He drew back, and Emmeline, +tenderly moving her scarf a bit aside, exposed a wee face. It was +brick-red and wrinkled; there were two bright eyes, and a tuft of dark +hair over the forehead. Then the eyes closed, the face screwed itself +up, and the thing sneezed twice. + +"Where did you GET it?" he asked, absolutely lost in astonishment as +she covered the face again gently with the scarf. + +"I found it in the woods," replied Emmeline. + +Dumb with amazement, he helped her along to the house, and she sat +down, resting her head against the bamboos of the wall. + +"I felt so bad," she explained; "and then I went off to sit in the +woods, and then I remembered nothing more, and when I woke up it was +there." + +"It's a baby!" said Dick. + +"I know," replied Emmeline. + +Mrs James's baby, seen in the long ago, had risen up before their +mind's eyes, a messenger from the past to explain what the new thing +was. Then she told him things--things that completely shattered the old +"cabbage bed" theory, supplanting it with a truth far more wonderful, +far more poetical, too, to he who can appreciate the marvel and the +mystery of life. + +"It has something funny tied on to it," she went on, as if she were +referring to a parcel she had just received. + +"Let's look," said Dick. + +"No," she replied; "leave it alone." + +She sat rocking the thing gently, seeming oblivious to the whole world, +and quite absorbed in it, as, indeed, was Dick. A physician would have +shuddered, but, perhaps fortunately enough, there was no physician on +the island. Only Nature, and she put everything to rights in her own +time and way. + +When Dick had sat marvelling long enough, he set to and lit the fire. +He had eaten nothing since the day before, and he was nearly as +exhausted as the girl. He cooked some breadfruit, there was some cold +fish left over from the day before; this, with some bananas, he served +up on two broad leaves, making Emmeline eat first. + +Before they had finished, the creature in the bundle, as though it had +smelt the food, began to scream. Emmeline drew the scarf aside. It +looked hungry; its mouth would now be pinched up and now wide open, its +eyes opened and closed. The girl touched it on the lips with her +finger, and it seized upon her fingertip and sucked it. Her eyes filled +with tears, she looked appealingly at Dick, who was on his knees; he +took a banana, peeled it, broke off a bit and handed it to her. She +approached it to the baby's mouth. It tried to suck it, failed, blew +bubbles at the sun and squalled. + +"Wait a minute," said Dick. + +There were some green cocoa-nuts he had gathered the day before close +by. He took one, removed the green husk, and opened one of the eyes, +making an opening also in the opposite side of the shell. The +unfortunate infant sucked ravenously at the nut, filled its stomach +with the young cocoa-nut juice, vomited violently, and wailed. Emmeline +in despair clasped it to her naked breast, wherefrom, in a moment, it +was hanging like a leech. It knew more about babies than they did. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +HANNAH + +At noon, in the shallows of the reef, under the burning sun, the water +would be quite warm. They would carry the baby down here, and Emmeline +would wash it with a bit of flannel. After a few days it scarcely ever +screamed, even when she washed it. It would lie on her knees during the +process, striking valiantly out with its arms and legs, staring +straight up at the sky. Then when she turned it on its face, it would +lay its head down and chuckle, and blow bubbles at the coral of the +reef, examining, apparently, the pattern of the coral with deep and +philosophic attention. + +Dick would sit by with his knees up to his chin, watching it all. He +felt himself to be part proprietor in the thing--as, indeed, he was. +The mystery of the affair still hung over them both. A week ago they +two had been alone, and suddenly from nowhere this new individual had +appeared. + +It was so complete. It had hair on its head, tiny finger-nails, and +hands that would grasp you. It had a whole host of little ways of its +own, and every day added to them. + +In a week the extreme ugliness of the newborn child had vanished. Its +face, which had seemed carved in the imitation of a monkey's face from +half a brick, became the face of a happy and healthy baby. It seemed to +see things, and sometimes it would laugh and chuckle as though it had +been told a good joke. Its black hair all came off and was supplanted +by a sort of down. It had no teeth. It would lie on its back and kick +and crow, and double its fists up and try to swallow them alternately, +and cross its feet and play with its toes. In fact, it was exactly like +any of the thousand-and-one babies that are born into the world at +every tick of the clock. + +"What will we call it?" said Dick one day, as he sat watching his son +and heir crawling about on the grass under the shade of the breadfruit +leaves. + +"Hannah," said Emmeline promptly. + +The recollection of another baby once heard about was in her mind, and +it was as good a name as any other, perhaps, in that lonely place, +notwithstanding the fact that Hannah was a boy. + +Koko took a vast interest in the new arrival. He would hop round it and +peer at it with his head on one side; and Hannah would crawl after the +bird and try to grab it by the tail. In a few months so valiant and +strong did he become that he would pursue his own father, crawling +behind him on the grass, and you might have seen the mother and father +and child playing all together like three children, the bird sometimes +hovering overhead like a good spirit, sometimes joining in the fun. + +Sometimes Emmeline would sit and brood over the child, a troubled +expression on her face and a far-away look in her eyes. The old vague +fear of mischance had returned--the dread of that viewless form her +imagination half pictured behind the smile on the face of Nature. Her +happiness was so great that she dreaded to lose it. + +There is nothing more wonderful than the birth of a man, and all that +goes to bring it about. Here, on this island, in the very heart of the +sea, amidst the sunshine and the wind-blown trees, under the great blue +arch of the sky, in perfect purity of thought, they would discuss the +question from beginning to end without a blush, the object of their +discussion crawling before them on the grass, and attempting to grab +feathers from Koko's tail. + +It was the loneliness of the place as well as their ignorance of life +that made the old, old miracle appear so strange and fresh--as +beautiful as the miracle of death had appeared awful. In thoughts vague +and beyond expression in words, they linked this new occurrence with +that old occurrence on the reef six years before. The vanishing and the +coming of a man. + +Hannah, despite his unfortunate name, was certainly a most virile and +engaging baby. The black hair which had appeared and vanished like some +practical joke played by Nature, gave place to a down at first as +yellow as sun-bleached wheat, but in a few months' time tinged with +auburn. + +One day--he had been uneasy and biting at his thumbs for some time +past--Emmeline, looking into his mouth, saw something white and like a +grain of rice protruding from his gum. It was a tooth just born. He +could eat bananas now, and breadfruit, and they often fed him on +fish--a fact which again might have caused a medical man to shudder; +yet he throve on it all, and waxed stouter every day. + +Emmeline, with a profound and natural wisdom, let him crawl about stark +naked, dressed in ozone and sunlight. Taking him out on the reef, she +would let him paddle in the shallow pools, holding him under the +armpits whilst he splashed the diamond-bright water into spray with his +feet, and laughed and shouted. + +They were beginning now to experience a phenomenon, as wonderful as the +birth of the child's body--the birth of his intelligence, the peeping +out of a little personality with predilections of its own, likes and +dislikes. + +He knew Dick from Emmeline; and when Emmeline had satisfied his +material wants, he would hold out his arms to go to Dick if he were by. +He looked upon Koko as a friend, but when a friend of Koko's--a bird +with an inquisitive mind and three red feathers in his tail--dropped in +one day to inspect the newcomer, he resented the intrusion, and +screamed. + +He had a passion for flowers, or anything bright. He would laugh and +shout when taken on the lagoon in the dinghy, and make as if to jump +into the water to get at the bright-coloured corals below. + +Ah me, we laugh at young mothers, and all the miraculous things they +tell us about their babies! They see what we cannot see: the first +unfolding of that mysterious flower, the mind. + +One day they were out on the lagoon. Dick had been rowing; he had +ceased, and was letting the boat drift for a bit. Emmeline was dancing +the child on her knee, when it suddenly held out its arms to the +oarsman and said: + +"Dick!" + +The little word, so often heard and easily repeated, was its first word +on earth. + +A voice that had never spoken in the world before had spoken; and to +hear his name thus mysteriously uttered by a being he has created is +the sweetest and perhaps the saddest thing a man can ever know. + +Dick took the child on his knee, and from that moment his love for it +was more than his love for Emmeline or anything else on earth. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE LAGOON OF FIRE + +Ever since the tragedy of six years ago there had been forming in the +mind of Emmeline Lestrange a something--shall I call it a deep +mistrust? She had never been clever; lessons had saddened and wearied +her, without making her much the wiser. Yet her mind was of that order +into which profound truths come by short-cuts. She was intuitive. + +Great knowledge may lurk in the human mind without the owner of the +mind being aware. He or she acts in such or such a way, or thinks in +such and such a manner from intuition; in other words, as the outcome +of the profoundest reasoning. + +When we have learnt to call storms, storms, and death, death, and +birth, birth, when we have mastered the sailor's horn-book, and Mr +Piddington's law of cyclones, Ellis's anatomy, and Lewer's midwifery, +we have already made ourself half blind. We have become hypnotized by +words and names. We think in words and names, not in ideas; the +commonplace has triumphed, the true intellect is half crushed. + +Storms had burst over the island before this. And what Emmeline +remembered of them might be expressed by an instance. + +The morning would be bright and happy, never so bright the sun, or so +balmy the breeze, or so peaceful the blue lagoon; then, with a horrid +suddenness, as if sick with dissimulation and mad to show itself, +something would blacken the sun, and with a yell stretch out a hand and +ravage the island, churn the lagoon into foam, beat down the coconut +trees, and slay the birds. And one bird would be left and another +taken, one tree destroyed and another left standing. The fury of the +thing was less fearful than the blindness of it, and the indifference +of it. + +One night, when the child was asleep, just after the last star was lit, +Dick appeared at the doorway of the house. He had been down to the +water's edge and had now returned. He beckoned Emmeline to follow him, +and, putting down the child, she did so. + +"Come here and look," said he. + +He led the way to the water; and as they approached it Emmeline became +aware that there was something strange about the lagoon. From a +distance it looked pale and solid; it might have been a great stretch +of grey marble veined with black. Then, as she drew nearer, she saw +that the dull grey appearance was a deception of the eye. + +The lagoon was alight and burning. + +The phosphoric fire was in its very heart and being; every coral branch +was a torch, every fish a passing lantern. The incoming tide moving the +waters made the whole glittering floor of the lagoon move and shiver, +and the tiny waves to lap the bank, leaving behind them glow-worm +traces. + +"Look!" said Dick. + +He knelt down and plunged his forearm into the water. The immersed part +burned like a smouldering torch. Emmeline could see it as plainly as +though it were lit by sunlight. Then he drew his arm out, and as far as +the water had reached, it was covered by a glowing glove. + +They had seen the phosphorescence of the lagoon before; indeed, any +night you might watch the passing fish like bars of silver, when the +moon was away; but this was something quite new, and it was entrancing. + +Emmeline knelt down and dabbled her hands, and made herself a pair of +phosphoric gloves, and cried out with pleasure, and laughed. It was all +the pleasure of playing with fire without the danger of being burnt. +Then Dick rubbed his face with the water till it glowed. + +"Wait!" he cried; and, running up to the house, he fetched out Hannah. + +He came running down with him to the water's edge, gave Emmeline the +child, unmoored the boat, and started out from shore. + +The sculls, as far as they were immersed, were like bars of glistening +silver; under them passed the fish, leaving cometic tails; each coral +clump was a lamp, lending its lustre till the great lagoon was luminous +as a lit-up ballroom. Even the child on Emmeline's lap crowed and cried +out at the strangeness of the sight. + +They landed on the reef and wandered over the flat. The sea was white +and bright as snow, and the foam looked like a hedge of fire. + +As they stood gazing on this extraordinary sight, suddenly, almost as +instantaneously as the switching off of an electric light, the +phosphorescence of the sea flickered and vanished. + +The moon was rising. Her crest was just breaking from the water, and as +her face came slowly into view behind a belt of vapour that lay on the +horizon, it looked fierce and red, stained with smoke like the face of +Eblis. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE CYCLONE + +When they awoke next morning the day was dark. A solid roof of cloud, +lead-coloured and without a ripple on it, lay over the sky, almost to +the horizon. There was not a breath of wind, and the birds flew wildly +about as if disturbed by some unseen enemy in the wood. + +As Dick lit the fire to prepare the breakfast, Emmeline walked up and +down, holding her baby to her breast; she felt restless and uneasy. + +As the morning wore on the darkness increased; a breeze rose up, and +the leaves of the breadfruit trees pattered together with the sound of +rain falling upon glass. A storm was coming, but there was something +different in its approach to the approach of the storms they had +already known. + +As the breeze increased a sound filled the air, coming from far away +beyond the horizon. It was like the sound of a great multitude of +people, and yet so faint and vague was it that sudden bursts of the +breeze through the leaves above would drown it utterly. Then it ceased, +and nothing could be heard but the rocking of the branches and the +tossing of the leaves under the increasing wind, which was now blowing +sharply and fiercely and with a steady rush dead from the west, +fretting the lagoon, and sending clouds and masses of foam right over +the reef. The sky that had been so leaden and peaceful and like a solid +roof was now all in a hurry, flowing eastward like a great turbulent +river in spate. + +And now, again, one could hear the sound in the distance--the thunder +of the captains of the storm and the shouting; but still so faint, so +vague, so indeterminate and unearthly that it seemed like the sound in +a dream. + +Emmeline sat amidst the ferns on the floor cowed and dumb, holding the +baby to her breast. It was fast asleep. Dick stood at the doorway. He +was disturbed in mind, but he did not show it. + +The whole beautiful island world had now taken on the colour of ashes +and the colour of lead. Beauty had utterly vanished, all seemed sadness +and distress. + +The cocoa-palms, under the wind that had lost its steady rush and was +now blowing in hurricane blasts, flung themselves about in all the +attitudes of distress; and whoever has seen a tropical storm will know +what a cocoa-palm can express by its movements under the lash of the +wind. + +Fortunately the house was so placed that it was protected by the whole +depth of the grove between it and the lagoon; and fortunately, too, it +was sheltered by the dense foliage of the breadfruit, for suddenly, +with a crash of thunder as if the hammer of Thor had been flung from +sky to earth, the clouds split and the rain came down in a great +slanting wave. It roared on the foliage above, which, bending leaf on +leaf, made a slanting roof from which it rushed in a steady sheet-like +cascade. + +Dick had darted into the house, and was now sitting beside Emmeline, +who was shivering and holding the child, which had awakened at the +sound of the thunder. + +For an hour they sat, the rain ceasing and coming again, the thunder +shaking earth and sea, and the wind passing overhead with a piercing, +monotonous cry. + +Then all at once the wind dropped, the rain ceased, and a pale spectral +light, like the light of dawn, fell before the doorway. + +"It's over!" cried Dick, making to get up. + +"Oh, listen!" said Emmeline, clinging to him, and holding the baby to +his breast as if the touch of him would give it protection. She had +divined that there was something approaching worse than a storm. + +Then, listening in the silence, away from the other side of the island, +they heard a sound like the droning of a great top. + +It was the centre of the cyclone approaching. + +A cyclone is a circular storm: a storm in the form of a ring. This ring +of hurricane travels across the ocean with inconceivable speed and +fury, yet its centre is a haven of peace. + +As they listened the sound increased, sharpened, and became a tang that +pierced the ear-drums: a sound that shook with hurry and speed, +increasing, bringing with it the bursting and crashing of trees, and +breaking at last overhead in a yell that stunned the brain like the +blow of a bludgeon. In a second the house was torn away, and they were +clinging to the roots of the breadfruit, deaf, blinded, half-lifeless. + +The terror and the prolonged shock of it reduced them from thinking +beings to the level of frightened animals whose one instinct is +preservation. + +How long the horror lasted they could not tell, when, like a madman who +pauses for a moment in the midst of his struggles and stands +stock-still, the wind ceased blowing, and there was peace. The centre +of the cyclone was passing over the island. + +Looking up, one saw a marvellous sight. The air was full of birds, +butterflies, insects--all hanging in the heart of the storm and +travelling with it under its protection. + +Though the air was still as the air of a summer's day, from north, +south, east, and west, from every point of the compass, came the yell +of the hurricane. + +There was something shocking in this. + +In a storm one is so beaten about by the wind that one has no time to +think: one is half stupefied. But in the dead centre of a cyclone one +is in perfect peace. The trouble is all around, but it is not here. One +has time to examine the thing like a tiger in a cage, listen to its +voice and shudder at its ferocity. + +The girl, holding the baby to her breast, sat up gasping. The baby had +come to no harm; it had cried at first when the thunder broke, but now +it seemed impassive, almost dazed. Dick stepped from under the tree and +looked at the prodigy in the air. + +The cyclone had gathered on its way sea-birds and birds from the land; +there were gulls, electric white and black man-of-war birds, +butterflies, and they all seemed imprisoned under a great drifting dome +of glass. As they went, travelling like things without volition and in +a dream, with a hum and a roar the south-west quadrant of the cyclone +burst on the island, and the whole bitter business began over again. + +It lasted for hours, then towards midnight the wind fell; and when the +sun rose next morning he came through a cloudless sky, without a trace +of apology for the destruction caused by his children the winds. He +showed trees uprooted and birds lying dead, three or four canes +remaining of what had once been a house, the lagoon the colour of a +pale sapphire, and a glass-green, foam-capped sea racing in thunder +against the reef. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE STRICKEN WOODS + +At first they thought they were ruined; then Dick, searching, found the +old saw under a tree, and the butcher's knife near it, as though the +knife and saw had been trying to escape in company and had failed. + +Bit by bit they began to recover something of their scattered property. +The remains of the flannel had been taken by the cyclone and wrapped +round and round a slender cocoa-nut tree, till the trunk looked like a +gaily bandaged leg. The box of fish-hooks had been jammed into the +centre of a cooked breadfruit, both having been picked up by the +fingers of the wind and hurled against the same tree; and the stay-sail +of the Shenandoah was out on the reef, with a piece of coral carefully +placed on it as if to keep it down. As for the lug-sail belonging to +the dinghy, it was never seen again. + +There is humour sometimes in a cyclone, if you can only appreciate it; +no other form of air disturbance produces such quaint effects. Beside +the great main whirlpool of wind, there are subsidiary whirlpools, each +actuated by its own special imp. + +Emmeline had felt Hannah nearly snatched from her arms twice by these +little ferocious gimlet winds; and that the whole business of the great +storm was set about with the object of snatching Hannah from her, and +blowing him out to sea, was a belief which she held, perhaps, in the +innermost recesses of her mind. + +The dinghy would have been utterly destroyed, had it not heeled over +and sunk in shallow water at the first onset of the wind; as it was, +Dick was able to bail it out at the next low tide, when it floated as +bravely as ever, not having started a single seam. + +But the destruction amidst the trees was pitiful. Looking at the woods +as a mass, one noticed gaps here and there, but what had really +happened could not be seen till one was amongst the trees. Great, +beautiful cocoa-nut palms, not dead, but just dying, lay crushed and +broken as if trampled upon by some enormous foot. You would come +across half a dozen lianas twisted into one great cable. Where +cocoa-nut palms were, you could not move a yard without kicking against +a fallen nut; you might have picked up full-grown, half-grown, and wee +baby nuts, not bigger than small apples, for on the same tree you will +find nuts of all sizes and conditions. + +One never sees a perfectly straight-stemmed cocoa-palm; they all have +an inclination from the perpendicular more or less; perhaps that is why +a cyclone has more effect on them than on other trees. + +Artus, once so pretty a picture with their diamond-chequered trunks, +lay broken and ruined; and right through the belt of mammee apple, +right through the bad lands, lay a broad road, as if an army, horse, +foot, and artillery, had passed that way from lagoon edge to lagoon +edge. This was the path left by the great fore-foot of the storm; but +had you searched the woods on either side, you would have found paths +where the lesser winds had been at work, where the baby whirlwinds had +been at play. + +From the bruised woods, like an incense offered to heaven, rose a +perfume of blossoms gathered and scattered, of rain-wet leaves, of +lianas twisted and broken and oozing their sap; the perfume of +newly-wrecked and ruined trees--the essence and soul of the artu, the +banyan and cocoa-palm cast upon the wind. + +You would have found dead butterflies in the woods, dead birds too; but +in the great path of the storm you would have found dead butterflies' +wings, feathers, leaves frayed as if by fingers, branches of the aoa, +and sticks of the hibiscus broken into little fragments. + +Powerful enough to rip a ship open, root up a tree, half ruin a city. +Delicate enough to tear a butterfly wing from wing--that is a cyclone. + +Emmeline, wandering about in the woods with Dick on the day after the +storm, looking at the ruin of great tree and little bird, and +recollecting the land birds she had caught a glimpse of yesterday being +carried along safely by the storm out to sea to be drowned, felt a +great weight lifting from her heart. Mischance had come, and spared +them and the baby. The blue had spoken, but had not called them. + +She felt that something--the something which we in civilisation call +Fate--was for the present gorged; and, without being annihilated, her +incessant hypochondriacal dread condensed itself into a point, leaving +her horizon sunlit and clear. + +The cyclone had indeed treated them almost, one might say, amiably. It +had taken the house but that was a small matter, for it had left them +nearly all their small possessions. The tinder box and flint and steel +would have been a much more serious loss than a dozen houses, for, +without it, they would have had absolutely no means of making a fire. + +If anything, the cyclone had been almost too kind to them; had let them +pay off too little of that mysterious debt they owed to the gods. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +A FALLEN IDOL + +The next day Dick began to rebuild the house. He had fetched the +stay-sail from the reef and rigged up a temporary tent. + +It was a great business cutting the canes and dragging them out in the +open. Emmeline helped; whilst Hannah, seated on the grass, played with +the bird that had vanished during the storm, but reappeared the evening +after. + +The child and the bird had grown fast friends; they were friendly +enough even at first, but now the bird would sometimes let the tiny +hands clasp him right round his body--at least, as far as the hands +would go. + +It is a rare experience for a man to hold a tame and unstruggling and +unfrightened bird in his hands; next to pressing a woman in his arms, +it is the pleasantest tactile sensation he will ever experience, +perhaps, in life. He will feel a desire to press it to his heart, if he +has such a thing. + +Hannah would press Koko to his little brown stomach, as if in artless +admission of where his heart lay. + +He was an extraordinarily bright and intelligent child. He did not +promise to be talkative, for, having achieved the word "Dick," he +rested content for a long while before advancing further into the +labyrinth of language; but though he did not use his tongue, he spoke +in a host of other ways. With his eyes, that were as bright as Koko's, +and full of all sorts of mischief; with his hands and feet and the +movements of his body. He had a way of shaking his hands before him +when highly delighted, a way of expressing nearly all the shades of +pleasure; and though he rarely expressed anger, when he did so, he +expressed it fully. + +He was just now passing over the frontier into toyland. In civilisation +he would no doubt have been the possessor of an india-rubber dog or a +woolly lamb, but there were no toys here at all. Emmeline's old doll +had been left behind when they took flight from the other side of the +island, and Dick, a year or so ago, on one of his expeditions, had +found it lying half buried in the sand of the beach. + +He had brought it back now more as a curiosity than anything else, and +they had kept it on the shelf in the house. The cyclone had impaled it +on a tree-twig near by, if in derision; and Hannah, when it was +presented to him as a plaything, flung it away from him as if in +disgust. But he would play with flowers or bright shells, or bits of +coral, making vague patterns with them on the sward. + +All the toy lambs in the world would not have pleased him better than +those things, the toys of the Troglodyte children--the children of the +Stone Age. To clap two oyster shells together and make a noise--what, +after all, could a baby want better than that? + +One afternoon, when the house was beginning to take some sort of form, +they ceased work and went off into the woods; Emmeline carrying the +baby and Dick taking turns with him. They were going to the valley of +the idol. + +Since the coming of Hannah, and even before, the stone figure standing +in its awful and mysterious solitude had ceased to be an object of +dread to Emmeline, and had become a thing vaguely benevolent. Love had +come to her under its shade; and under its shade the spirit of the +child had entered into her from where, who knows? But certainly through +heaven. + +Perhaps the thing which had been the god of some unknown people had +inspired her with the instinct of religion; if so, she was his last +worshipper on earth, for when they entered the valley they found him +lying upon his face. Great blocks of stone lay around him: there had +evidently been a landslip, a catastrophe preparing for ages, and +determined, perhaps, by the torrential rain of the cyclone. + +In Ponape, Huahine, in Easter Island, you may see great idols that have +been felled like this, temples slowly dissolving from sight, and +terraces, seemingly as solid as the hills, turning softly and subtly +into shapeless mounds of stone. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE EXPEDITION + +Next morning the light of day filtering through the trees awakened +Emmeline in the tent which they had improvised whilst the house was +building. Dawn came later here than on the other side of the island +which faced east later, and in a different manner for there is the +difference of worlds between dawn coming over a wooded hill, and dawn +coming over the sea. + +Over at the other side, sitting on the sand with the break of the reef +which faced the east before you, scarcely would the east change colour +before the sea-line would be on fire, the sky lit up into an +illimitable void of blue, and the sunlight flooding into the lagoon, +the ripples of light seeming to chase the ripples of water. + +On this side it was different. The sky would be dark and full of stars, +and the woods, great spaces of velvety shadow. Then through the leaves +of the artu would come a sigh, and the leaves of the breadfruit would +patter, and the sound of the reef become faint. The land breeze had +awakened, and in a while, as if it had blown them away, looking up, you +would find the stars gone, and the sky a veil of palest blue. In this +indirect approach of dawn there was something ineffably mysterious. One +could see, but the things seen were indecisive and vague, just as they +are in the gloaming of an English summer's day. + +Scarcely had Emmeline arisen when Dick woke also, and they went out on +to the sward, and then down to the water's edge. Dick went in for a +swim, and the girl, holding the baby, stood on the bank watching him. + +Always after a great storm the weather of the island would become more +bracing and exhilarating, and this morning the air seemed filled with +the spirit of spring. Emmeline felt it, and as she watched the swimmer +disporting in the water, she laughed, and held the child up to watch +him. She was fey. The breeze, filled with all sorts of sweet perfumes +from the woods, blew her black hair about her shoulders, and the full +light of morning coming over the palm fronds of the woods beyond the +sward touched her and the child. Nature seemed caressing them. + +Dick came ashore, and then ran about to dry himself in the wind. Then +he went to the dinghy and examined her; for he had determined to leave +the house-building for half a day, and row round to the old place to +see how the banana trees had fared during the storm. His anxiety about +them was not to be wondered at. The island was his larder, and the +bananas were a most valuable article of food. He had all the feelings +of a careful housekeeper about them, and he could not rest till he had +seen for himself the extent of damage, if damage there was any. + +He examined the boat, and then they all went back to breakfast. Living +their lives, they had to use forethought. They would put away, for +instance, all the shells of the cocoa-nuts they used for fuel; and you +never could imagine the blazing splendour there lives in the shell of a +cocoa-nut till you see it burning. Yesterday, Dick, with his usual +prudence, had placed a heap of sticks, all wet with the rain of the +storm, to dry in the sun: as a consequence, they had plenty of fuel to +make a fire with this morning. + +When they had finished breakfast he got the knife to cut the bananas +with if there were any left to cut and, taking the javelin, he went +down to the boat, followed by Emmeline and the child. + +Dick had stepped into the boat, and was on the point of unmooring her, +and pushing her off, when Emmeline stopped him. + +"Dick!" + +"Yes?" + +"I will go with you." + +"You!" said he in astonishment. + +"Yes, I'm--not afraid any more." + +It was a fact; since the coming of the child she had lost that dread of +the other side of the island or almost lost it. + +Death is a great darkness, birth is a great light--they had intermixed +in her mind; the darkness was still there, but it was no longer +terrible to her, for it was infused with the light. The result was a +twilight sad, but beautiful, and unpeopled with forms of fear. + +Years ago she had seen a mysterious door close and shut a human being +out for ever from the world. The sight had filled her with dread +unimaginable, for she had no words for the thing, no religion or +philosophy to explain it away or gloss it over. Just recently she had +seen an equally mysterious door open and admit a human being; and deep +down in her mind, in the place where the dreams were, the one great +fact had explained and justified the other. Life had vanished into the +void, but life had come from there. There was life in the void, and it +was no longer terrible. + +Perhaps all religions were born on a day when some woman, seated upon a +rock by the prehistoric sea, looked at her newborn child and recalled +to mind her man who had been slain, thus closing the charm and +imprisoning the idea of a future state. + +Emmeline, with the child in her arms, stepped into the little boat and +took her seat in the stern, whilst Dick pushed off. Scarcely had he put +out the sculls than a new passenger arrived. It was Koko. He would +often accompany them to the reef, though, strangely enough, he would +never go there alone of his own accord. He made a circle or two over +them, and then lit on the gunwale in the bow, and perched there, humped +up, and with his long dove-coloured tail feathers presented to the +water. + +The oarsman kept close in-shore, and as they rounded the little cape +all gay with wild cocoa-nut the bushes brushed the boat, and the child, +excited by their colour, held out his hands to them. Emmeline +stretched out her hand and broke off a branch; but it was not a branch +of the wild cocoa-nut she had plucked, it was a branch of the +never-wake-up berries. The berries that will cause a man to sleep, +should he eat of them--to sleep and dream, and never wake up again. + +"Throw them away!" cried Dick, who remembered. + +"I will in a minute," she replied. + +She was holding them up before the child, who was laughing and trying +to grasp them. Then she forgot them, and dropped them in the bottom of +the boat, for something had struck the keel with a thud, and the water +was boiling all round. + +There was a savage fight going on below. In the breeding season great +battles would take place sometimes in the lagoon, for fish have their +jealousies just like men--love affairs, friendships. The two great +forms could be dimly perceived, one in pursuit of the other, and they +terrified Emmeline, who implored Dick to row on. + +They slipped by the pleasant shores that Emmeline had never seen +before, having been sound asleep when they came past them those years +ago. + +Just before putting off she had looked back at the beginnings of the +little house under the artu tree, and as she looked at the strange +glades and groves, the picture of it rose before her, and seemed to +call her back. + +It was a tiny possession, but it was home; and so little used to change +was she that already a sort of home-sickness was upon her; but it +passed away almost as soon as it came, and she fell to wondering at the +things around her, and pointing them out to the child. + +When they came to the place where Dick had hooked the albicore, he hung +on his oars and told her about it. It was the first time she had heard +of it; a fact which shows into what a state of savagery he had been +lapsing. He had mentioned about the canoes, for he had to account for +the javelin; but as for telling her of the incidents of the chase, he +no more thought of doing so than a red Indian would think of detailing +to his squaw the incidents of a bear hunt. Contempt for women is the +first law of savagery, and perhaps the last law of some old and +profound philosophy. + +She listened, and when it came to the incident of the shark, she +shuddered. + +"I wish I had a hook big enough to catch him with," said he, staring +into the water as if in search of his enemy. + +"Don't think of him, Dick," said Emmeline, holding the child more +tightly to her heart. "Row on." + +He resumed the sculls, but you could have seen from his face that he +was recounting to himself the incident. + +When they had rounded the last promontory, and the strand and the break +in the reef opened before them, Emmeline caught her breath. The place +had changed in some subtle manner; everything was there as before, yet +everything seemed different--the lagoon seemed narrower, the reef +nearer, the cocoa-palms not nearly so tall. She was contrasting the +real things with the recollection of them when seen by a child. The +black speck had vanished from the reef; the storm had swept it utterly +away. + +Dick beached the boat on the shelving sand, and left Emmeline seated in +the stern of it, whilst he went in search of the bananas; she would +have accompanied him, but the child had fallen asleep. + +Hannah asleep was even a pleasanter picture than when awake. He looked +like a little brown Cupid without wings, bow or arrow. He had all the +grace of a curled-up feather. Sleep was always in pursuit of him, and +would catch him up at the most unexpected moments--when he was at play, +or indeed at any time. Emmeline would sometimes find him with a +coloured shell or bit of coral that he had been playing with in his +hand fast asleep, a happy expression on his face, as if his mind were +pursuing its earthly avocations on some fortunate beach in dreamland. + +Dick had plucked a huge breadfruit leaf and given it to her as a +shelter from the sun, and she sat holding it over her, and gazing +straight before her, over the white, sunlit sands. + +The flight of the mind in reverie is not in a direct line. To her, +dreaming as she sat, came all sorts of coloured pictures, recalled by +the scene before her: the green water under the stern of a ship, and +the word Shenandoah vaguely reflected on it; their landing, and the +little tea-set spread out on the white sand--she could still see the +pansies painted on the plates, and she counted in memory the lead +spoons; the great stars that burned over the reef at nights; the +Cluricaunes and fairies; the cask by the well where the convolvulus +blossomed, and the wind-blown trees seen from the summit of the +hill--all these pictures drifted before her, dissolving and replacing +each other as they went. + +There was sadness in the contemplation of them, but pleasure too. She +felt at peace with the world. All trouble seemed far behind her. It was +as if the great storm that had left them unharmed had been an +ambassador from the powers above to assure her of their forbearance, +protection, and love. + +All at once she noticed that between the boat's bow and the sand there +lay a broad, blue, sparkling line. The dinghy was afloat. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE KEEPER OF THE LAGOON + +The woods here had been less affected by the cyclone than those upon +the other side of the island, but there had been destruction enough. To +reach the place he wanted, Dick had to climb over felled trees and +fight his way through a tangle of vines that had once hung overhead. + +The banana trees had not suffered at all; as if by some special +dispensation of Providence even the great bunches of fruit had been +scarcely injured, and he proceeded to climb and cut them. He cut two +bunches, and with one across his shoulder came back down through the +trees. + +He had got half across the sands, his head bent under the load, when a +distant call came to him, and, raising his head, he saw the boat adrift +in the middle of the lagoon, and the figure of the girl in the bow of +it waving to him with her arm. He saw a scull floating on the water +half-way between the boat and the shore, which she had no doubt lost in +an attempt to paddle the boat back. He remembered that the tide was +going out. + +He flung his load aside, and ran down the beach; in a moment he was in +the water. Emmeline, standing up in the boat, watched him. + +When she found herself adrift, she had made an effort to row back, and +in her hurry shipping the sculls she had lost one. With a single scull +she was quite helpless, as she had not the art of sculling a boat from +the stern. At first she was not frightened, because she knew that Dick +would soon return to her assistance; but as the distance between boat +and shore increased, a cold hand seemed laid upon her heart. Looking at +the shore it seemed very far away, and the view towards the reef was +terrific, for the opening had increased in apparent size, and the great +sea beyond seemed drawing her to it. + +She saw Dick coming out of the wood with the load on his shoulder, and +she called to him. At first he did not seem to hear, then she saw him +look up, cast the bananas away, and come running down the sand to the +water's edge. She watched him swimming, she saw him seize the scull, +and her heart gave a great leap of joy. + +Towing the scull and swimming with one arm, he rapidly approached the +boat. He was quite close, only ten feet away, when Emmeline saw behind +him, shearing through the clear rippling water, and advancing with +speed, a dark triangle that seemed made of canvas stretched upon a +sword-point. + +Forty years ago he had floated adrift on the sea in the form and +likeness of a small shabby pine-cone, a prey to anything that might +find him. He had escaped the jaws of the dog-fish, and the jaws of the +dog-fish are a very wide door; he had escaped the albicore and squid: +his life had been one long series of miraculous escapes from death. Out +of a billion like him born in the same year, he and a few others only +had survived. + +For thirty years he had kept the lagoon to himself, as a ferocious +tiger keeps a jungle. He had known the palm tree on the reef when it +was a seedling, and he had known the reef even before the palm tree was +there. The things he had devoured, flung one upon another, would have +made a mountain; yet he was as clear of enmity as a sword, as cruel and +as soulless. He was the spirit of the lagoon. + +Emmeline screamed, and pointed to the thing behind the swimmer. He +turned, saw it, dropped the oar and made for the boat. She had seized +the remaining scull and stood with it poised, then she hurled it blade +foremost at the form in the water, now fully visible, and close on its +prey. + +She could not throw a stone straight, yet the scull went like an arrow +to the mark, balking the pursuer and saving the pursued. In a moment +more his leg was over the gunwale, and he was saved. + +But the scull was lost. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THE HAND OF THE SEA + +There was nothing in the boat that could possibly be used as a paddle; +the scull was only five or six yards away, but to attempt to swim to it +was certain death, yet they were being swept out to sea. He might have +made the attempt, only that on the starboard quarter the form of the +shark, gently swimming at the same pace as they were drifting, could be +made out only half veiled by the water. + +The bird perched on the gunwale seemed to divine their trouble, for he +rose in the air, made a circle, and resumed his perch with all his +feathers ruffled. + +Dick stood in despair, helpless, his hands clasping his head. The shore +was drawing away before him, the surf loudening behind him, yet he +could do nothing. The island was being taken away from them by the +great hand of the sea. + +Then, suddenly, the little boat entered the race formed by the +confluence of the tides, from the right and left arms of the lagoon; +the sound of the surf suddenly increased as though a door had been +flung open. The breakers were falling and the sea-gulls crying on +either side of them, and for a moment the ocean seemed to hesitate as +to whether they were to be taken away into her wastes, or dashed on the +coral strand. Only for a moment this seeming hesitation lasted; then +the power of the tide prevailed over the power of the swell, and the +little boat taken by the current drifted gently out to sea. + +Dick flung himself down beside Emmeline, who was seated in the bottom +of the boat holding the child to her breast. The bird, seeing the land +retreat, and wise in its instinct, rose into the air. It circled +thrice round the drifting boat, and then, like a beautiful but +faithless spirit, passed away to the shore. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +TOGETHER + +The island had sunk slowly from sight; at sundown it was just a trace, +a stain on the south-western horizon. It was before the new moon, and +the little boat lay drifting. It drifted from the light of sunset into +a world of vague violet twilight, and now it lay drifting under the +stars. + +The girl, clasping the baby to her breast, leaned against her +companion's shoulder; neither of them spoke. All the wonders in their +short existence had culminated in this final wonder, this passing away +together from the world of Time. This strange voyage they had embarked +on--to where? + +Now that the first terror was over they felt neither sorrow nor fear. +They were together. Come what might, nothing could divide them; even +should they sleep and never wake up, they would sleep together. Had one +been left and the other taken! + +As though the thought had occurred to them simultaneously, they turned +one to the other, and their lips met, their souls met, mingling in one +dream; whilst above in the windless heaven space answered space with +flashes of siderial light, and Canopus shone and burned like the +pointed sword of Azrael. + +Clasped in Emmeline's hand was the last and most mysterious gift of the +mysterious world they had known--the branch of crimson berries. + + + + +BOOK III + + +CHAPTER I + +MAD LESTRANGE + +They knew him upon the Pacific slope as "Mad Lestrange." He was not +mad, but he was a man with a fixed idea. He was pursued by a vision: +the vision of two children and an old sailor adrift in a little boat +upon a wide blue sea. + +When the Arago, bound for Papetee, picked up the boats of the +Northumberland, only the people in the long-boat were alive. Le Farge, +the captain, was mad, and he never recovered his reason. Lestrange was +utterly shattered; the awful experience in the boats and the loss of +the children had left him a seemingly helpless wreck. The scowbankers, +like all their class, had fared better, and in a few days were about +the ship and sitting in the sun. Four days after the rescue the Arago +spoke the Newcastle, bound for San Francisco, and transshipped the +shipwrecked men. + +Had a physician seen Lestrange on board the Northumberland as she lay +in that long, long calm before the fire, he would have declared that +nothing but a miracle could prolong his life. The miracle came about. + +In the general hospital of San Francisco, as the clouds cleared from +his mind, they unveiled the picture of the children and the little +boat. The picture had been there daily, seen but not truly +comprehended; the horrors gone through in the open boat, the sheer +physical exhaustion, had merged all the accidents of the great disaster +into one mournful half-comprehended fact. When his brain cleared all +the other incidents fell out of focus, and memory, with her eyes set +upon the children, began to paint a picture that he was ever more to +see. + +Memory cannot produce a picture that Imagination has not retouched; and +her pictures, even the ones least touched by Imagination, are no mere +photographs, but the world of an artist. All that is inessential she +casts away, all that is essential she retains; she idealises, and that +is why her picture of a lost mistress has had power to keep a man a +celibate to the end of his days, and why she can break a human heart +with the picture of a dead child. She is a painter, but she is also a +poet. + +The picture before the mind of Lestrange was filled with this almost +diabolical poetry, for in it the little boat and her helpless crew were +represented adrift on a blue and sunlit sea. A sea most beautiful to +look at, yet most terrible, bearing as it did the recollections of +thirst. + +He had been dying, when, raising himself on his elbow, so to say, he +looked at this picture. It recalled him to life. His willpower asserted +itself, and he refused to die. + +The will of a man has, if it is strong enough, the power to reject +death. He was not in the least conscious of the exercise of this power; +he only knew that a great and absorbing interest had suddenly arisen in +him, and that a great aim stood before him--the recovery of the +children. + +The disease that was killing him ceased its ravages, or rather was +slain in its turn by the increased vitality against which it had to +strive. He left the hospital and took up his quarters at the Palace +Hotel, and then, like the General of an army, he began to formulate his +plan of campaign against Fate. + +When the crew of the Northumberland had stampeded, hurling their +officers aside, lowering the boats with a rush, and casting themselves +into the sea, everything had been lost in the way of ship's papers; the +charts, the two logs--everything, in fact, that could indicate the +latitude and longitude of the disaster. The first and second officers +and a midshipman had shared the fate of the quarter-boat; of the +fore-mast hands saved, not one, of course, could give the slightest +hint as to the locality of the spot. + +A time reckoning from the Horn told little, for there was no record of +the log. All that could be said was that the disaster had occurred +somewhere south of the line. + +In Le Farge's brain lay for a certainty the position, and Lestrange +went to see the captain in the "Maison de Sante," where he was being +looked after, and found him quite recovered from the furious mania that +he had been suffering from. Quite recovered, and playing with a ball of +coloured worsted. + +There remained the log of the Arago; in it would be found the latitude +and longitude of the boats she had picked up. + +The Arago, due at Papetee, became overdue. Lestrange watched the +overdue lists from day to day, from week to week, from month to month, +uselessly, for the Arago never was heard of again. One could not affirm +even that she was wrecked; she was simply one of the ships that never +come back from the sea. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE SECRET OF THE AZURE + +To lose a child he loves is undoubtedly the greatest catastrophe that +can happen to a man. I do not refer to its death. + +A child wanders into the street, or is left by its nurse for a moment, +and vanishes. At first the thing is not realised. There is a pang and +hurry at the heart which half vanishes, whilst the understanding +explains that in a civilised city, if a child gets lost, it will be +found and brought back by the neighbours or the police. + +But the police know nothing of the matter, or the neighbours, and the +hours pass. Any minute may bring back the wanderer; but the minutes +pass, and the day wears into evening, and the evening to night, and the +night to dawn, and the common sounds of a new day begin. + +You cannot remain at home for restlessness; you go out, only to return +hurriedly for news. You are eternally listening, and what you hear +shocks you; the common sounds of life, the roll of the carts and cabs +in the street, the footsteps of the passers-by, are full of an +indescribable mournfulness; music increases your misery into madness, +and the joy of others is monstrous as laughter heard in hell. + +If someone were to bring you the dead body of the child, you might +weep, but you would bless him, for it is the uncertainty that kills. + +You go mad, or go on living. Years pass by, and you are an old man. +You say to yourself: "He would have been twenty years of age to-day." + +There is not in the old ferocious penal code of our forefathers a +punishment adequate to the case of the man or woman who steals a child. + +Lestrange was a wealthy man, and one hope remained to him, that the +children might have been rescued by some passing ship. It was not the +case of children lost in a city, but in the broad Pacific, where ships +travel from all ports to all ports, and to advertise his loss +adequately it was necessary to placard the world. Ten thousand dollars +was the reward offered for news of the lost ones, twenty thousand for +the recovery; and the advertisement appeared in every newspaper likely +to reach the eyes of a sailor, from the Liverpool Post to the Dead Bird. + +The years passed without anything definite coming in answer to all +these advertisements. Once news came of two children saved from the sea +in the neighbourhood of the Gilberts, and it was not false news, but +they were not the children he was seeking for. This incident at once +depressed and stimulated him, for it seemed to say, "If these children +have been saved, why not yours?" + +The strange thing was, that in his heart he felt a certainty that they +were alive. His intellect suggested their death in twenty different +forms; but a whisper, somewhere out of that great blue ocean, told him +at intervals that what he sought was there, living, and waiting for him. + +He was somewhat of the same temperament as Emmeline--a dreamer, with a +mind tuned to receive and record the fine rays that fill this world +flowing from intellect to intellect, and even from what we call +inanimate things. A coarser nature would, though feeling, perhaps, as +acutely the grief, have given up in despair the search. But he kept on; +and at the end of the fifth year, so far from desisting, he chartered a +schooner and passed eighteen months in a fruitless search, calling at +little-known islands, and once, unknowing, at an island only three +hundred miles away from the tiny island of this story. + +If you wish to feel the hopelessness of this unguided search, do not +look at a map of the Pacific, but go there. Hundreds and hundreds of +thousands of square leagues of sea, thousands of islands, reefs, atolls. + +Up to a few years ago there were many small islands utterly unknown; +even still there are some, though the charts of the Pacific are the +greatest triumphs of hydrography; and though the island of the story +was actually on the Admiralty charts, of what use was that fact to +Lestrange? + +He would have continued searching, but he dared not, for the desolation +of the sea had touched him. + +In that eighteen months the Pacific explained itself to him in part, +explained its vastness, its secrecy and inviolability. The schooner +lifted veil upon veil of distance, and veil upon veil lay beyond. He +could only move in a right line; to search the wilderness of water with +any hope, one would have to be endowed with the gift of moving in all +directions at once. + +He would often lean over the bulwark rail and watch the swell slip by, +as if questioning the water. Then the sunsets began to weigh upon his +heart, and the stars to speak to him in a new language, and he knew +that it was time to return, if he would return with a whole mind. + +When he got back to San Francisco he called upon his agent, Wannamaker +of Kearney Street, but there was still no news. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +CAPTAIN FOUNTAIN + +He had a suite of rooms at the Palace Hotel, and he lived the life of +any other rich man who is not addicted to pleasure. He knew some of the +best people in the city, and conducted himself so sanely in all +respects that a casual stranger would never have guessed his reputation +for madness; but when you knew him better, you would find sometimes in +the middle of a conversation that his mind was away from the subject; +and were you to follow him in the street, you would hear him in +conversation with himself. Once at a dinner-party he rose and left the +room, and did not return. Trifles, but sufficient to establish a +reputation of a sort. + +One morning--to be precise, it was the second day of May, exactly eight +years and five months after the wreck of the Northumberland--Lestrange +was in his sitting-room reading, when the bell of the telephone, which +stood in the corner of the room, rang. He went to the instrument. + +"Are you there?" came a high American voice. "Lestrange--right--come +down and see me--Wannamaker--I have news for you." + +Lestrange held the receiver for a moment, then he put it back in the +rest. He went to a chair and sat down, holding his head between his +hands, then he rose and went to the telephone again; but he dared not +use it, he dare not shatter the newborn hope. + +"News!" What a world lies in that word. + +In Kearney Street he stood before the door of Wannamaker's office +collecting himself and watching the crowd drifting by, then he entered +and went up the stairs. He pushed open a swing-door and entered a great +room. The clink and rattle of a dozen typewriters filled the place, and +all the hurry of business; clerks passed and came with sheaves of +correspondence in their hands; and Wannamaker himself, rising from +bending over a message which he was correcting on one of the +typewriters' tables, saw the newcomer and led him to the private office. + +"What is it?" said Lestrange. + +"Only this," said the other, taking up a slip of paper with a name and +address on it. "Simon J. Fountain, of 45 Rathray Street, West--that's +down near the wharves--says he has seen your ad. in an old number of a +paper, and he thinks he can tell you something. He did not specify the +nature of the intelligence, but it might be worth finding out. + +"I will go there," said Lestrange. + +"Do you know Rathray Street?" + +"No." + +Wannamaker went out and called a boy and gave him some directions; then +Lestrange and the boy started. + +Lestrange left the office without saying "Thank you," or taking leave +in any way of the advertising agent who did not feel in the least +affronted, for he knew his customer. + +Rathray Street is, or was before the earthquake, a street of small +clean houses. It had a seafaring look that was accentuated by the +marine perfumes from the wharves close by and the sound of steam +winches loading or discharging cargo--a sound that ceased not a night +or day as the work went on beneath the sun or the sizzling arc lamps. + +No. 45 was almost exactly like its fellows, neither better nor worse; +and the door was opened by a neat, prim woman, small, and of middle +age. Commonplace she was, no doubt, but not commonplace to Lestrange. + +"Is Mr Fountain in?" he asked. "I have come about the advertisement." + +"Oh, have you, sir?" she replied, making way for him to enter, and +showing him into a little sitting-room on the left of the passage. +"The Captain is in bed; he is a great invalid, but he was expecting, +perhaps, someone would call, and he will be able to see you in a +minute, if you don't mind waiting." + +"Thanks," said Lestrange; "I can wait." + +He had waited eight years, what mattered a few minutes now? But at no +time in the eight years had he suffered such suspense, for his heart +knew that now, just now in this commonplace little house, from the lips +of, perhaps, the husband of that commonplace woman, he was going to +learn either what he feared to hear, or what he hoped. + +It was a depressing little room; it was so clean, and looked as though +it were never used. A ship imprisoned in a glass bottle stood upon the +mantelpiece, and there were shells from far-away places, pictures of +ships in sand--all the things one finds as a rule adorning an old +sailor's home. + +Lestrange, as he sat waiting, could hear movements from the next +room--probably the invalid's, which they were preparing for his +reception. The distant sounds of the derricks and winches came muted +through the tightly shut window that looked as though it never had been +opened. A square of sunlight lit the upper part of the cheap lace +curtain on the right of the window, and repeated its pattern vaguely on +the lower part of the wall opposite. Then a bluebottle fly awoke +suddenly into life and began to buzz and drum against the window pane, +and Lestrange wished that they would come. + +A man of his temperament must necessarily, even under the happiest +circumstances, suffer in going through the world; the fine fibre always +suffers when brought into contact with the coarse. These people were as +kindly disposed as anyone else. The advertisement and the face and +manners of the visitor might have told them that it was not the time +for delay, yet they kept him waiting whilst they arranged bed-quilts +and put medicine bottles straight as if he could see! + +At last the door opened, and the woman said: + +"Will you step this way, sir?" + +She showed him into a bedroom opening off the passage. The room was +neat and clean, and had that indescribable appearance which marks the +bedroom of the invalid. + +In the bed, making a mountain under the counterpane with an enormously +distended stomach, lay a man, black-bearded, and with his large, +capable, useless hands spread out on the coverlet--hands ready and +willing, but debarred from work. Without moving his body, he turned his +head slowly and looked at the newcomer. This slow movement was not +from weakness or disease, it was the slow, emotionless nature of the +man speaking. + +"This is the gentleman, Silas," said the woman, speaking over +Lestrange's shoulder. Then she withdrew and closed the door. + +"Take a chair, sir," said the sea captain, flapping one of his hands on +the counterpane as if in wearied protest against his own helplessness. +"I haven't the pleasure of your name, but the missus tells me you're +come about the advertisement I lit on yester-even." + +He took a paper, folded small, that lay beside him, and held it out to +his visitor. It was a Sidney Bulletin three years old. + +"Yes," said Lestrange, looking at the paper; "that is my advertisement." + +"Well, it's strange--very strange," said Captain Fountain, "that I +should have lit on it only yesterday. I've had it all three years in my +chest, the way old papers get lying at the bottom with odds and ends. +Mightn't a' seen it now, only the missus cleared the raffle out of the +chest, and, `Give me that paper,' I says, seeing it in her hand; and I +fell to reading it, for a man'll read anything bar tracts lying in bed +eight months, as I've been with the dropsy. I've been whaler man and +boy forty year, and my last ship was the Sea-Horse. Over seven years +ago one of my men picked up something on a beach of one of them islands +east of the Marquesas--we'd put in to water." + +"Yes, yes," said Lestrange. "What was it he found?" + +"Missus!" roared the captain in a voice that shook the walls of the +room. + +The door opened, and the woman appeared. + +"Fetch me my keys out of my trousers pocket." + +The trousers were hanging up on the back of the door, as if only +waiting to be put on. The woman fetched the keys, and he fumbled over +them and found one. He handed it to her, and pointed to the drawer of a +bureau opposite the bed. + +She knew evidently what was wanted, for she opened the drawer and +produced a box, which she handed to him. It was a small cardboard box +tied round with a bit of string. He undid the string, and disclosed a +child's tea service: a teapot, cream jug, six little plates all painted +with a pansy. + +It was the box which Emmeline had always been losing--lost again. + +Lestrange buried his face in his hands. He knew the things. Emmeline +had shown them to him in a burst of confidence. Out of all that vast +ocean he had searched unavailingly: they had come to him like a +message, and the awe and mystery of it bowed him down and crushed him. + +The captain had placed the things on the newspaper spread out by his +side, and he was unrolling the little spoons from their tissue-paper +covering. He counted them as if entering up the tale of some trust, and +placed them on the newspaper. + +"When did you find them?" asked Lestrange, speaking with his face still +covered. + +"A matter of over seven years ago," replied the captain, "we'd put in +to water at a place south of the line--Palm Tree Island we whalemen +call it, because of the tree at the break of the lagoon. One of my men +brought it aboard, found it in a shanty built of sugarcanes which the +men bust up for devilment." + +"Good God!" said Lestrange. "Was there no one there--nothing but this +box?" + +"Not a sight or sound, so the men said; just the shanty, abandoned +seemingly. I had no time to land and hunt for castaways, I was after +whales." + +"How big is the island?" + +"Oh, a fairish middle-sized island--no natives. I've heard tell it's +tabu; why, the Lord only knows--some crank of the Kanakas I s'pose. +Anyhow, there's the findings--you recognise them?" + +"I do." + +"Seems strange," said the captain, "that I should pick em up; seems +strange your advertisement out, and the answer to it lying amongst my +gear, but that's the way things go." + +"Strange!" said the other. "It's more than strange." + +"Of course," continued the captain, "they might have been on the island +hid away som'ere, there's no saying; only appearances are against it. +Of course they might be there now unbeknownst to you or me." + +"They are there now," answered Lestrange, who was sitting up and +looking at the playthings as though he read in them some hidden +message. "They are there now. Have you the position of the island?" + +"I have. Missus, hand me my private log." + +She took a bulky, greasy, black note-book from the bureau, and handed +it to him. He opened it, thumbed the pages, and then read out the +latitude and longitude. + +"I entered it on the day of finding--here's the entry. `Adams brought +aboard child's toy box out of deserted shanty, which men pulled down; +traded it to me for a caulker of rum.' The cruise lasted three years +and eight months after that; we'd only been out three when it happened. +I forgot all about it: three years scrubbing round the world after +whales doesn't brighten a man's memory. Right round we went, and paid +off at Nantucket. Then, after a fortni't on shore and a month +repairin', the old Sea-Horse was off again, I with her. It was at +Honolulu this dropsy took me, and back I come here, home. That's the +yarn. There's not much to it, but, seein' your advertisement, I thought +I might answer it." + +Lestrange took Fountain's hand and shook it. + +"You see the reward I offered?" he said. "I have not my cheque book +with me, but you shall have the cheque in an hour from now." + +"No, SIR," replied the captain; "if anything comes of it, I don't say +I'm not open to some small acknowledgment, but ten thousand dollars for +a five-cent box--that's not my way of doing business." + +"I can't make you take the money now--I can't even thank you properly +now," said Lestrange--"I am in a fever; but when all is settled, you +and I will settle this business. My God!" + +He buried his face in his hands again. + +"I'm not wishing to be inquisitive," said Captain Fountain, slowly +putting the things back in the box and tucking the paper shavings round +them, "but may I ask how you propose to move in this business?" + +"I will hire a ship at once and search." + +"Ay," said the captain, wrapping up the little spoons in a meditative +manner; "perhaps that will be best." + +He felt certain in his own mind that the search would be fruitless, but +he did not say so. If he had been absolutely certain in his mind +without being able to produce the proof, he would not have counselled +Lestrange to any other course, knowing that the man's mind would never +be settled until proof positive was produced. + +"The question is," said Lestrange, "what is my quickest way to get +there?" + +"There I may be able to help you," said Fountain tying the string round +the box "A schooner with good heels to her is what you want; and, if +I'm not mistaken, there's one discharging cargo at this present minit +at O'Sullivan's wharf. Missus!" + +The woman answered the call. Lestrange felt like a person in a dream, +and these people who were interesting themselves in his affairs seemed +to him beneficent beyond the nature of human beings. + +"Is Captain Stannistreet home, think you?" + +"I don't know," replied the woman; "but I can go see." + +"Do." + +She went. + +"He lives only a few doors down," said Fountain, "and he's the man for +you. Best schooner captain ever sailed out of 'Frisco. The Raratonga is +the name of the boat I have in my mind--best boat that ever wore +copper. Stannistreet is captain of her, owners are M'Vitie. She's been +missionary, and she's been pigs; copra was her last cargo, and she's +nearly discharged it. Oh, M'Vitie would hire her out to Satan at a +price; you needn't be afraid of their boggling at it if you can raise +the dollars. She's had a new suit of sails only the beginning of the +year. Oh, she'll fix you up to a T, and you take the word of S. +Fountain for that. I'll engineer the thing from this bed if you'll let +me put my oar in your trouble; I'll victual her, and find a crew three +quarter price of any of those d----d skulking agents. Oh, I'll take a +commission right enough, but I'm half paid with doing the thing." + +He ceased, for footsteps sounded in the passage outside, and Captain +Stannistreet was shown in. He was a young man of not more than thirty, +alert, quick of eye, and pleasant of face. Fountain introduced him to +Lestrange, who had taken a fancy to him at first sight. + +When he heard about the business in hand, he seemed interested at once; +the affair seemed to appeal to him more than if it had been a purely +commercial matter, much as copra and pigs. + +"If you'll come with me, sir, down to the wharf, I'll show you the boat +now," he said, when they had discussed the matter and threshed it out +thoroughly. + +He rose, bid good-day to his friend Fountain, and Lestrange followed +him, carrying the brown paper box in his hand. + +O'Sullivan's Wharf was not far away. A tall Cape Horner that looked +almost a twin sister of the ill-fated Northumberland was discharging +iron, and astern of her, graceful as a dream, with snow-white decks, +lay the Raratonga discharging copra. + +"That's the boat," said Stannistreet; "cargo nearly all out. How does +she strike your fancy?" + +"I'll take her," said Lestrange, "cost what it will." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +DUE SOUTH + +It was on the 10th of May, so quickly did things move under the +supervision of the bedridden captain, that the Raratonga, with +Lestrange on board, cleared the Golden Gates, and made south, heeling +to a ten-knot breeze. + +There is no mode of travel to be compared to your sailing-ship. In a +great ship, if you have ever made a voyage in one, the vast spaces of +canvas, the sky-high spars, the finesse with which the wind is met and +taken advantage of, will form a memory never to be blotted out. + +A schooner is the queen of all rigs; she has a bounding buoyancy denied +to the square-rigged craft, to which she stands in the same +relationship as a young girl to a dowager; and the Raratonga was not +only a schooner, but the queen, acknowledged of all the schooners in +the Pacific. + +For the first few days they made good way south; then the wind became +baffling and headed them off. + +Added to Lestrange's feverish excitement there was an anxiety, a deep +and soul-fretting anxiety, as if some half-heard voice were telling him +that the children he sought were threatened by some danger. + +These baffling winds blew upon the smouldering anxiety in his breast, +as wind blows upon embers, causing them to glow. They lasted some days, +and then, as if Fate had relented, up sprang on the starboard quarter a +spanking breeze, making the rigging sing to a merry tune, and blowing +the spindrift from the forefoot, as the Raratonga, heeling to its +pressure, went humming through the sea, leaving a wake spreading behind +her like a fan. + +It took them along five hundred miles, silently and with the speed of a +dream. Then it ceased. + +The ocean and the air stood still. The sky above stood solid like a +great pale blue dome; just where it met the water line of the far +horizon a delicate tracery of cloud draped the entire round of the sky. + +I have said that the ocean stood still as well as the air: to the eye +it was so, for the swell under-running the glitter on its surface was +so even, so equable, and so rhythmical, that the surface seemed not in +motion. Occasionally a dimple broke the surface, and strips of dark +sea-weed floated by, showing up the green; dim things rose to the +surface and, guessing the presence of man, sank slowly and dissolved +from sight. + +Two days, never to be recovered, passed, and still the calm continued. +On the morning of the third day it breezed up from the nor'-nor'west, +and they continued their course, a cloud of canvas, every sail drawing, +and the music of the ripple under the forefoot. + +Captain Stannistreet was a genius in his profession; he could get more +speed out of a schooner than any other man afloat, and carry more +canvas without losing a stick. He was also, fortunately for Lestrange, +a man of refinement and education, and what was better still, +understanding. + +They were pacing the deck one afternoon, when Lestrange, who was +walking with his hands behind him, and his eyes counting the brown +dowels in the cream-white planking, broke silence. + +"You don't believe in visions and dreams?" + +"How do you know that?" replied the other. + +"Oh, I only put it as a question; most people say they don't." + +"Yes, but most people do." + +"I do," said Lestrange. + +He was silent for a moment. + +"You know my trouble so well that I won't bother you going over it, but +there has come over me of late a feeling--it is like a waking dream." + +"Yes?" + +"I can't quite explain, for it is as if I saw something which my +intelligence could not comprehend, or make an image of." + +"I think I know what you mean." + +"I don't think you do. This is something quite strange. I am fifty, and +in fifty years a man has experienced, as a rule, all the ordinary and +most of the extraordinary sensations that a human being can be +subjected to. Well, I have never felt this sensation before; it comes +on only at times. I see, as you might imagine, a young baby sees, and +things are before me that I do not comprehend. It is not through my +bodily eyes that this sensation comes, but through some window of the +mind, from before which a curtain has been drawn." + +"That's strange," said Stannistreet, who did not like the conversation +over-much, being simply a schooner captain and a plain man, though +intelligent enough and sympathetic. + +"This something tells me," went on Lestrange, "that there is danger +threatening the--" He ceased, paused a minute, and then, to +Stannistreet's relief, went on. "If I talk like that you will think I +am not right in my head: let us pass the subject by, let us forget +dreams and omens and come to realities. You know how I lost the +children; you know how I hope to find them at the place where Captain +Fountain found their traces? He says the island was uninhabited, but he +was not sure." + +"No," replied Stannistreet, "he only spoke of the beach." + +"Yes. Well, suppose there were natives at the other side of the island +who had taken these children." + +"If so, they would grow up with the natives." + +"And become savages?" + +"Yes; but the Polynesians can't be really called savages; they are a +very decent lot I've knocked about amongst them a good while, and a +kanaka is as white as a white man--which is not saying much, but it's +something. Most of the islands are civilised now. Of course there are a +few that aren't, but still, suppose even that `savages,' as you call +them, had come and taken the children off--" + +Lestrange's breath caught, for this was the very fear that was in his +heart, though he had never spoken it. + +"Well?" + +"Well, they would be well treated." + +"And brought up as savages?" + +"I suppose so." + +Lestrange sighed. + +"Look here," said the captain; "it's all very well talking, but upon my +word I think that we civilised folk put on a lot of airs, and waste a +lot of pity on savages." + +"How so?" + +"What does a man want to be but happy?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, who is happier than a naked savage in a warm climate? Oh, he's +happy enough, and he's not always holding a corroboree. He's a good +deal of a gentleman; he has perfect health; he lives the life a man was +born to live--face to face with Nature. He doesn't see the sun through +an office window or the moon through the smoke of factory chimneys; +happy and civilised too but, bless you, where is he? The whites have +driven him out; in one or two small islands you may find him still--a +crumb or so of him." + +"Suppose," said Lestrange, "suppose those children had been brought up +face to face with Nature--" + +"Yes?" + +"Living that free life--" + +"Yes?" + +"Waking up under the stars"--Lestrange was speaking with his eyes +fixed, as if upon something very far away--"going to sleep as the sun +sets, feeling the air fresh, like this which blows upon us, all around +them. Suppose they were like that, would it not be a cruelty to bring +them to what we call civilisation?" + +"I think it would," said Stannistreet. + +Lestrange said nothing, but continued pacing the deck, his head bowed +and his hands behind his back. + +One evening at sunset, Stannistreet said: + +"We're two hundred and forty miles from the island, reckoning from +to-day's reckoning at noon. We're going all ten knots even with this +breeze; we ought to fetch the place this time to-morrow. Before that if +it freshens." + +"I am greatly disturbed," said Lestrange. + +He went below, and the schooner captain shook his head, and, locking +his arm round a ratlin, gave his body to the gentle roll of the craft +as she stole along, skirting the sunset, splendid, and to the nautical +eye full of fine weather. + +The breeze was not quite so fresh next morning, but it had been blowing +fairly all the night, and the Raratonga had made good way. About eleven +it began to fail. It became the lightest sailing breeze, just +sufficient to keep the sails drawing, and the wake rippling and +swirling behind. Suddenly Stannistreet, who had been standing talking +to Lestrange, climbed a few feet up the mizzen ratlins, and shaded his +eyes. + +"What is it?" asked Lestrange. + +"A boat," he replied. "Hand me that glass you will find in the sling +there." + +He levelled the glass, and looked for a long time without speaking. + +"It's a boat adrift--a small boat, nothing in her. Stay! I see +something white, can't make it out. Hi there!"--to the fellow at the +wheel. "Keep her a point more to starboard." He got on to the deck. +"We're going dead on for her." + +"Is there any one in her?" asked Lestrange. + +"Can't quite make out, but I'll lower the whale-boat and fetch her +alongside." + +He gave orders for the whale-boat to be slung out and manned. + +As they approached nearer, it was evident that the drifting boat, which +looked like a ship's dinghy, contained something, but what, could not +be made out. + +When he had approached near enough, Stannistreet put the helm down and +brought the schooner to, with her sails all shivering. He took his +place in the bow of the whale-boat and Lestrange in the stern. The boat +was lowered, the falls cast off, and the oars bent to the water. + +The little dinghy made a mournful picture as she floated, looking +scarcely bigger than a walnut shell. In thirty strokes the whaleboat's +nose was touching her quarter. Stannistreet grasped her gunwale. + +In the bottom of the dinghy lay a girl, naked all but for a strip of +coloured striped material. One of her arms was clasped round the neck +of a form that was half hidden by her body, the other clasped partly to +herself, partly to her companion, the body of a baby. They were +natives, evidently, wrecked or lost by some mischance from some +inter-island schooner. Their breasts rose and fell gently, and clasped +in the girl's hand was a branch of some tree, and on the branch a +single withered berry. + +"Are they dead?" asked Lestrange, who divined that there were people in +the boat, and who was standing up in the stern of the whale-boat trying +to see. + +"No," said Stannistreet; "they are asleep." + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Blue Lagoon, by H. de Vere Stacpoole + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BLUE LAGOON *** + +***** This file should be named 393.txt or 393.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/9/393/ + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Association / Illinois + Benedictine College" within the 60 days following each + date you prepare (or were legally required to prepare) + your annual (or equivalent periodic) tax return. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +The Project gratefully accepts contributions in money, time, +scanning machines, OCR software, public domain etexts, royalty +free copyright licenses, and every other sort of contribution +you can think of. Money should be paid to "Project Gutenberg +Association / Illinois Benedictine College". + +*END*THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +The Blue lagoon: A Romance + +by H. de Vere Stacpoole + + + + +Introduction to the Project Gutenberg text of H. de Vere +Stacpoole's The Blue Lagoon: A Romance + + +by Edward A. Malone + +University of Missouri-Rolla + + +Born on April 9, 1863, in Kingstown, Ireland, Henry de Vere +Stacpoole grew up in a household dominated by his mother and +three older sisters. William C. Stacpoole, a doctor of divinity +from Trinity College and headmaster of Kingstown school, died +some time before his son's eighth birthday, leaving the +responsibility of supporting the family to his Canadian-born wife, +Charlotte Augusta Mountjoy Stacpoole. At a young age, Charlotte +had been led out of the Canadian backwoods by her widowed mother +and taken to Ireland, where their relatives lived. This experience +had strengthened her character and prepared her for single +parenthood. + +Charlotte cared passionately for her children and was perhaps +overly protective of her son. As a child, Henry suffered from +severe respiratory problems, misdiagnosed as chronic bronchitis +by his physician, who in the winter of 1871 advised that the boy +be taken to Southern France for his health. With her entire family +in tow, Charlotte made the long journey from Kingstown to London +to Paris, where signs of the Franco-Prussian War were still +evident, settling at last in Nice at the Hotel des Iles Britannique. +Nice was like paradise to Henry, who marveled at the city's +affluence and beauty as he played in the warm sun. + +After several more excursions to the continent, Stacpoole was +sent to Portarlington, a bleak boarding school more than 100 +miles from Kingstown. In contrast to his sisters, the +Portarlington boys were noisy and uncouth. As Stacpoole writes +in his autobiograhy Men and Mice, 1863-1942 (1942), the boys +abused him mentally and physically, making him feel like "a +little Arthur in a cage of baboons." One night, he escaped through +an adjacent girls' school and returned to Kingstown, only to be +betrayed by his family and dragged back to school by his eldest +sister. + +When his family moved to London, he was taken out of +Portarlington and enrolled at Malvern College, a progressive +school with refined students and plenty of air and sunshine. +Stacpoole thoroughly enjoyed his new surroundings, which he +associated with the description of Malvern Hills in Elizabeth +Barrett Browning's Aurora Leigh (1857): "Keepers of Piers +Plowman's visions / Through the sunshine and the snow." This +environment encouraged his interest in literature and writing. + +The idyll ended, however, when Stacpoole began his medical +training. At his mother's prodding, he entered the medical school +at St. George's Hospital. Twice a day, he had to traverse a park +frequented by perambulating nursemaids, and he became +romantically involved with one of them. When his mother +discovered their affair, she insisted that he transfer to +University College, and he complied. + +More interested in literature than corpses, Stacpoole began to +neglect his studies and miss classes, especially the required +dissections. Finally, the dean of the medical school confronted +him, and their argument drove Stacpoole to St. Mary's Hospital, +where he completed his medical training and qualified L. S. A. in +1891. At some point after this date, Stacpoole made several sea +voyages into the tropics (at least once as a doctor aboard a cable- +mending ship), collecting information for future stories. + +Stacpoole's literary career, which he once described as being +"more like a Malay fishing prahu than an honest-to-God English +literary vessel," began inauspiciously with the publication of +The Intended (1894), a tragic novel about two look-alikes, one +rich, the other poor, who switch places on a whim. Bewildered by +the novel's lack of success, Stacpoole consulted his friendly +muse, Pearl Craigie, alias John Oliver Hobbes, who suggested a +comic rather than tragic treatment. Years later, Stacpoole retold +the story in The Man Who Lost Himself (1918), a commercially +successful comic novel about a down-and-out American who +impersonates his wealthy look-alike in England. + +Set in France during the Franco-Prussian War, Stacpoole's second +novel, Pierrot (1896), recounts a French boy's eerie +relationship with a patricidal doppelganger. Like its predecessor, +it was a commercial failure, and it was at this point, perhaps, +that Stacpoole began to view literary success only in terms of +sales figures and numbers of editions. + +A strange tale of reincarnation, cross dressing, and uxoricide, +Stacpoole's third novel, Death, the Knight, and the Lady (1897), +purports to be the deathbed confession of Beatrice Sinclair, who +is both a reincarnated murderer (male) and a descendant of the +murder victim (female). She falls in love with Gerald Wilder, a +man disguised as a woman, who is both a reincarnated murder +victim (female) and the descendant of the murderer (male). +Despite its originality, the novel was killed by "Public +Indifference" (Stacpoole's term), which also killed The Rapin +(1899), a novel about an art student in Paris. + +Stacpoole spent the summer of 1898 in Sommerset, where he took +over the medical practice of an ailing country doctor. So peaceful +were his days in this pastoral setting that he had time to write +The Doctor (1899), a novel about an old-fashioned physician +practicing medicine in rural England. "It is the best book I have +written," Stacpoole declared more than forty years later. He +could also say, in retrospect, that the book's weak sales were a +disguised blessing, "for I hadn't ballast on board in those days to +stand up to the gale of success, which means incidentally money." +He would be spared the gale of success for nine more years, +during which he published seven books, including a collection of +children's stories and two collaborative novels with his friend +William Alexander Bryce. + +In 1907, two events occurred that altered the course of +Stacpoole's life: he wrote The Blue Lagoon and he married +Margaret Robson. Unable to sleep one night, he found himself +thinking about and envying the caveman, who in his primitiveness +was able to marvel at such commonplace phenomena as sunsets +and thunderstorms. Civilized, technological man had unveiled +these mysteries with his telescopes and weather balloons, so +that they were no longer "nameless wonders" to be feared and +contemplated. As a doctor, Stacpoole had witnessed countless +births and deaths, and these events no longer seemed miraculous +to him. He conceived the idea of two children growing up alone on +an island and experiencing storms, death, and birth in almost +complete ignorance and innocence. The next morning, he started +writing The Blue Lagoon. The exercise was therapeutic because +he was able to experience the wonders of life and death +vicariously through his characters. + +The Blue Lagoon is the story of two cousins, Dicky and +Emmeline Lestrange, stranded on a remote island with a beautiful +lagoon. As children, they are cared for by Paddy Button, a portly +sailor who drinks himself to death after only two and a half years +in paradise. Frightened and confused by the man's gruesome +corpse, the children flee to another part of Palm Tree Island. Over +a period of five years, they grow up and eventually fall in love. +Sex and birth are as mysterious to them as death, but they +manage to copulate instinctively and conceive a child. The birth is +especially remarkable: fifteen-year-old Emmeline, alone in the +jungle, loses consciousness and awakes to find a baby boy on the +ground near her. Naming the boy Hannah (an example of +Stacpoole's penchant for gender reversals), the Lestranges live in +familial bliss until they are unexpectedly expelled from their +tropical Eden. + +The parallels between The Blue Lagoon and the Biblical story of +Adam and Eve are obvious and intentional, but Stacpoole was also +influenced by Lewis Carroll's Alice's Adventures in Wonderland +(1865), which he invokes in a passage describing the castaways' +approach Palm Tree Island: + +"One could see the water swirling round the coral piers, for the +tide was flooding into the lagoon; it had seized the little dinghy +and was bearing it along far swifter than the sculls could have +driven it. Seagulls screamed about them, the boat rocked and +swayed. Dick shouted with excitement, and Emmeline shut her +eyes TIGHT. + +"Then, as though a door had been swiftly and silently closed, the +sound of the surf became suddenly less. The boat floated on an +even keel; she opened her eyes and found herself in Wonderland." + +This direct reference to Wonderland prepares the reader for the +many parallels that follow. When their adventures begin, both +girls are about the same age, Alice seven and a half, Emmeline +exactly eight. Just as Alice joins a tea party in Wonderland, +Emmeline plays with her tiny tea set on the beach after they land. +Emmeline's former pet, like the Cheshire Cat, "had white stripes +and a white chest, and rings down its tail" and died "showing its +teeth." Whereas Alice looks for a poison label on a bottle that +says "Drink Me," Emmeline innocently tries to eat "the never- +wake-up berries" and receives a stern rebuke and a lecture about +poison from Paddy Button. "The Poetry of Learning" chapter +echoes Alice's dialogue with the caterpillar. Like the wily +creature smoking a hookah, Paddy smokes a pipe and shouts +"Hurroo!" as the children teach him to write his name in the sand. +The children lose "all count of time," just as the Mad Hatter does. +Whereas Alice grows nine feet taller, Dick sprouts "two inches +taller" and Emmeline "twice as plump." Like the baby in the "Pig +and Pepper," Hannah sneezes at the first sight of Dicky. The novel +is artfully littered with references to wonder, curiosity, and +strangeness--all evidence of Stacpoole's conscious effort to +invoke and honor his Victorian predecessor. + +Stacpoole presented The Blue Lagoon to Publisher T. Fisher +Unwin in September 1907 and went to Cumberland to assist +another ailing doctor in his practice. Every day from Eden Vue in +Langwathby, Stacpoole wrote to his fiancee, Margaret Robson (or +Maggie, as he called her), and waited anxiously for their wedding +day. On December 17, 1907, the couple were married and spent +their honeymoon at Stebbing Park, a friend's country house in +Essex, about three miles from the village of Stebbing. It was +there that they stumbled upon Rose Cottage, where Stacpoole +lived for several years before he moved to Cliff Dene on the Isle +of Wight in the 1920s. + +Published in January 1908, The Blue Lagoon was an immediate +success, both with reviewers and the public. "[This] tale of the +discovery of love, and innocent mating, is as fresh as the ozone +that made them strong," declared one reviewer. Another claimed +that "for once the title of `romance,' found in so many modern +stories, is really justified." The novel was reprinted more than +twenty times in the next twelve years and remained popular in +other forms for more than eighty years. Norman MacOwen and +Charlton Mann adapted the story as a play, which ran for 263 +performances in London from August 28, 1920, to April 16, 1921. +Film versions of the novel were made in 1923, 1949, and 1980. + +Stacpoole also wrote two successful sequels: The Garden of +God (1923) and The Gates of Morning (1925). These three +books and two others were combined to form The Blue Lagoon +Omnibus in 1933. The Garden of God was filmed as Return to +the Blue Lagoon in 1992. + +This Gutenberg etext of The Blue Lagoon: A Romance is based +on the 1908 first American edition published by J. B. Lippincott +Company of Philadelphia. + +========================================================== + + + + +The Blue lagoon: A Romance + +by H. de Vere Stacpoole + + + + + +CONTENTS + +BOOK I + +PART I + +I. WHERE THE SLUSH LAMP BURNS +II. UNDER THE STARS +III. THE SHADOW AND THE FIRE +IV. AND LIKE A DREAM DISSOLVED +V. VOICES HEARD IN THE MIST +VI. DAWN ON A WIDE, WIDE SEA +VII. STORY OF THE PIG AND THE BILLY-GOAT +VIII. "S-H-E-N-A-N-D-O-A-H" +IX. SHADOWS IN THE MOONLIGHT +X. THE TRAGEDY OF THE BOATS + + +PART II + +XI. THE ISLAND +XII. THE LAKE OF AZURE +XIII. DEATH VEILED WITH LICHEN +XIV. ECHOES OF FAIRY-LAND +XV. FAIR PICTURES IN THE BLUE + + +PART III + +XVI. THE POETRY OF LEARNING +XVII. THE DEVIL'S CASK +XVIII. THE RAT HUNT +XIX. STARLIGHT ON THE FOAM +XX. THE DREAMER ON THE REEF +XXI. THE GARLAND OF FLOWERS +XXII. ALONE +XXIII. THEY MOVE AWAY + + +BOOK II + +PART I + +I. UNDER THE ARTU TREE +II. HALF CHILD_HALF SAVAGE +III. THE DEMON OF THE REEF +IV. WHAT BEAUTY CONCEALED +V. THE SOUND OF A DRUM +VI. SAILS UPON THE SEA +VII. THE SCHOONER +VIII. LOVE STEPS IN +IX. THE SLEEP OF PARADISE + + +PART II + +X. AN ISLAND HONEYMOON +XI. THE VANISHING OF EMMELINE +XII. THE VANISHING OF EMMELINE (CONTINUED) +XIII. THE NEWCOMER +XIV. HANNAH +XV. THE LAGOON OF FIRE +XVI. THE CYCLONE +XVII. THE STRICKEN WOODS +XVIII. A FALLEN IDOL +XIX. THE EXPEDITION +XX. THE KEEPER OF THE LAGOON +XXI. THE HAND OF THE SEA +XXII. TOGETHER + + +BOOK III + + +I. MAD LESTRANGE +II. THE SECRET OF THE AZURE +III. CAPTAIN FOUNTAIN +IV. DUE SOUTH + + + +THE BLUE LAGOON + + +BOOK I + +PART I + +CHAPTER I + +WHERE THE SLUSH LAMP BURNS + + +Mr Button was seated on a sea-chest with a fiddle under his left +ear. He was playing the "Shan van vaught," and accompanying the +tune, punctuating it, with blows of his left heel on the fo'cs'le +deck. + + "O the Frinch are in the bay, + Says the Shan van vaught." + +He was dressed in dungaree trousers, a striped shirt, and a jacket +baize--green in parts from the influence of sun and salt. A typical +old shell-back, round-shouldered, hooked of finger; a figure with +strong hints of a crab about it. + +His face was like a moon, seen red through tropical mists; and as +he played it wore an expression of strained attention as though +the fiddle were telling him tales much more marvellous than the +old bald statement about Bantry Bay. + +"Left-handed Pat," was his fo'cs'le name; not because he was +left-handed, but simply because everything he did he did wrong-- +or nearly so. Reefing or furling, or handling a slush tub--if a +mistake was to be made, he made it. + +He was a Celt, and all the salt seas that had flowed between him +and Connaught these forty years and more had not washed the +Celtic element from his blood, nor the belief in fairies from his +soul. The Celtic nature is a fast dye, and Mr Button's nature was +such that though he had been shanghaied by Larry Marr in 'Frisco, +though he had got drunk in most ports of the world, though he had +sailed with Yankee captains and been man-handled by Yankee +mates, he still carried his fairies about with him--they, and a +very large stock of original innocence. + +Nearly over the musician's head swung a hammock from which +hung a leg; other hammocks hanging in the semi-gloom called up +suggestions of lemurs and arboreal bats. The swinging kerosene +lamp cast its light forward past the heel of the bowsprit to the +knightheads, lighting here a naked foot hanging over the side of a +bunk, here a face from which protruded a pipe, here a breast +covered with dark mossy hair, here an arm tattooed. + +It was in the days before double topsail yards had reduced ships' +crews, and the fo'cs'le of the Northumberland had a full +company: a crowd of packet rats such as often is to be found on a +Cape Horner "Dutchmen" [sic] Americans--men who were farm +labourers and tending pigs in Ohio three months back, old +seasoned sailors like Paddy Button--a mixture of the best and the +worst of the earth, such as you find nowhere else in so small a +space as in a ship's fo'cs'le. + +The Northumberland had experienced a terrible rounding of the +Horn. Bound from New Orleans to 'Frisco she had spent thirty days +battling with head-winds and storms--down there, where the +seas are so vast that three waves may cover with their amplitude +more than a mile of sea space; thirty days she had passed off +Cape Stiff, and just now, at the moment of this story, she was +locked in a calm south of the line. + +Mr Button finished his tune with a sweep of the bow, and drew +his right coat sleeve across his forehead. Then he took out a sooty +pipe, filled it with tobacco, and lit it. + +"Pawthrick," drawled a voice from the hammock above, from +which depended the leg, "what was that yarn you wiz beginnin' to +spin ter night 'bout a lip-me-dawn?" + +"A which me-dawn?" asked Mr Button, cocking his eye up at the +bottom of the hammock while he held the match to his pipe. + +"It vas about a green thing," came a sleepy Dutch voice from a +bunk. + +"Oh, a Leprachaun, you mane. Sure, me mother's sister had one +down in Connaught." + +"Vat vas it like?" asked the dreamy Dutch voice--a voice +seemingly possessed by the calm that had made the sea like a +mirror for the last three days, reducing the whole ship's company +meanwhile to the level of wasters. + +"Like? Sure, it was like a Leprachaun; and what else would it be +like?" + +"What like vas that?" persisted the voice. + +"It was like a little man no bigger than a big forked radish, an' as +green as a cabbidge. Me a'nt had one in her house down in +Connaught in the ould days. O musha! musha! the ould days, the +ould days! Now, you may b'lave me or b'lave me not, but you could +have put him in your pocket, and the grass-green head of him +wouldn't more than'v stuck out. She kept him in a cupboard, and +out of the cupboard he'd pop if it was a crack open, an' into the +milk pans he'd be, or under the beds, or pullin' the stool from +under you, or at some other divarsion. He'd chase the pig--the +crathur!--till it'd be all ribs like an ould umbrilla with the fright, +an' as thin as a greyhound with the runnin' by the marnin; he'd +addle the eggs so the cocks an' hens wouldn't know what they wis +afther wid the chickens comin' out wid two heads on them, an' +twinty-seven legs fore and aft. And you'd start to chase him, an' +then it'd be main-sail haul, and away he'd go, you behint him, till +you'd landed tail over snout in a ditch, an' he'd be back in the +cupboard." + +"He was a Troll," murmured the Dutch voice. + +"I'm tellin' you he was a Leprachaun, and there's no knowin' the +divilments he'd be up to. He'd pull the cabbidge, maybe, out of the +pot boilin' on the fire forenint your eyes, and baste you in the +face with it; and thin, maybe, you'd hold out your fist to him, and +he'd put a goulden soverin in it." + +"Wisht he was here!" murmured a voice from a bunk near the +knightheads. + +"Pawthrick," drawled the voice from the hammock above, "what'd +you do first if you found y'self with twenty pound in your +pocket?" + +"What's the use of askin' me?" replied Mr Button. "What's the use +of twenty pound to a sayman at say, where the grog's all wather +an' the beef's all horse? Gimme it ashore, an' you'd see what I'd +do wid it!" + +"I guess the nearest grog-shop keeper wouldn't see you comin' for +dust," said a voice from Ohio. + +"He would not," said Mr Button; "nor you afther me. Be damned to +the grog and thim that sells it!" + +"It's all darned easy to talk," said Ohio. "You curse the grog at sea +when you can't get it; set you ashore, and you're bung full." + +"I likes me dhrunk," said Mr Button, "I'm free to admit; an' I'm the +divil when it's in me, and it'll be the end of me yet, or me ould +mother was a liar. `Pat,' she says, first time I come home from +say rowlin', `storms you may escape, an wimmen you may escape, +but the potheen 'ill have you.' Forty year ago--forty year ago!" + +"Well," said Ohio, "it hasn't had you yet." + +"No," replied Mr Button, "but it will." + + + +CHAPTER II + +UNDER THE STARS + +It was a wonderful night up on deck, filled with all the majesty +and beauty of starlight and a tropic calm. + +The Pacific slept; a vast, vague swell flowing from far away +down south under the night, lifted the Northumberland on its +undulations to the rattling sound of the reef points and the +occasional creak of the rudder; whilst overhead, near the fiery +arch of the Milky Way, hung the Southern Cross like a broken kite. + +Stars in the sky, stars in the sea, stars by the million and the +million; so many lamps ablaze that the firmament filled the mind +with the idea of a vast and populous city--yet from all that living +and flashing splendour not a sound. + +Down in the cabin--or saloon, as it was called by courtesy--were +seated the three passengers of the ship; one reading at the table, +two playing on the floor. + +The man at the table, Arthur Lestrange, was seated with his +large, deep-sunken eyes fixed on a book. He was most evidently in +consumption--very near, indeed, to reaping the result of that last +and most desperate remedy, a long sea voyage. + +Emmeline Lestrange, his little niece--eight years of age, a +mysterious mite, small for her age, with thoughts of her own, +wide-pupilled eyes that seemed the doors for visions, and a face +that seemed just to have peeped into this world for a moment ere +it was as suddenly withdrawn--sat in a corner nursing something +in her arms, and rocking herself to the tune of her own thoughts. + +Dick, Lestrange's little son, eight and a bit, was somewhere under +the table. They were Bostonians, bound for San Francisco, or +rather for the sun and splendour of Los Angeles, where Lestrange +had bought a small estate, hoping there to enjoy the life whose +lease would be renewed by the long sea voyage. + +As he sat reading, the cabin door opened, and appeared an angular +female form. This was Mrs Stannard, the stewardess, and Mrs +Stannard meant bedtime. + +"Dicky," said Mr Lestrange, closing his book, and raising the +table-cloth a few inches, "bedtime." + +"Oh, not yet, daddy!" came a sleep-freighted voice from under the +table; "I ain't ready. I dunno want to go to bed, I-- Hi yow!" + +Stannard, who knew her work, had stooped under the table, seized +him by the foot, and hauled him out kicking and fighting and +blubbering all at the same time. + +As for Emmeline, she having glanced up and recognised the +inevitable, rose to her feet, and, holding the hideous rag-doll she +had been nursing, head down and dangling in one hand, she stood +waiting till Dicky, after a few last perfunctory bellows, suddenly +dried his eyes and held up a tear-wet face for his father to kiss. +Then she presented her brow solemnly to her uncle, received a +kiss, and vanished, led by the hand into a cabin on the port side of +the saloon. + +Mr Lestrange returned to his book, but he had not read for long +when the cabin door was opened, and Emmeline, in her nightdress, +reappeared, holding a brown paper parcel in her hand, a parcel of +about the same size as the book you are reading. + +"My box," said she; and as she spoke, holding it up as if to prove +its safety, the little plain face altered to the face of an angel. + +She had smiled. + +When Emmeline Lestrange smiled it was absolutely as if the light +of Paradise had suddenly flashed upon her face: the happiest form +of childish beauty suddenly appeared before your eyes, dazzled +them and was gone. + +Then she vanished with her box, and Mr Lestrange resumed his +book. + +This box of Emmeline's, I may say in parenthesis, had given more +trouble aboard ship than all of the rest of the passengers' luggage +put together. + +It had been presented to her on her departure from Boston by a +lady friend, and what it contained was a dark secret to all on +board, save its owner and her uncle; she was a woman, or, at all +events, the beginning of a woman, yet she kept this secret to her- +self--a fact which you will please note. + +The trouble of the thing was that it was frequently being lost. +Suspecting herself, maybe, as an unpractical dreamer in a world +filled with robbers, she would cart it about with her for safety, +sit down behind a coil of rope and fall into a fit of abstraction; be +recalled to life by the evolutions of the crew reefing or furling or +what not, rise to superintend the operations--and then suddenly +find she had lost her box. + +Then she would absolutely haunt the ship. Wide-eyed and +distressed of face she would wander hither and thither, peeping +into the galley, peeping down the forescuttle, never uttering a +word or wail, searching like an uneasy ghost, but dumb. + +She seemed ashamed to tell of her loss, ashamed to let any one +know of it; but every one knew of it directly they saw her, to use +Mr Button's expression, "on the wandher," and every one hunted +for it. + +Strangely enough it was Paddy Button who usually found it. He +who was always doing the wrong thing in the eyes of men, +generally did the right thing in the eyes of children. Children, in +fact, when they could get at Mr Button, went for him con amore. +He was as attractive to them as a Punch and Judy show or a +German band--almost. + +Mr Lestrange after a while closed the book he was reading, looked +around him and sighed. + +The cabin of the Northumberland was a cheerful enough place, +pierced by the polished shaft of the mizzen mast, carpeted with +an Axminster carpet, and garnished with mirrors let into the +white pine panelling. Lestrange was staring at the reflection of +his own face in one of these mirrors fixed just opposite to where +he sat. + +His emaciation was terrible, and it was just perhaps at this +moment that he first recognised the fact that he must not only +die, but die soon. + +He turned from the mirror and sat for a while with his chin +resting upon his hand, and his eyes fixed on an ink spot upon the +table-cloth; then he arose, and crossing the cabin climbed +laboriously up the companionway to the deck. + +As he leaned against the bulwark rail to recover his breath, the +splendour and beauty of the Southern night struck him to the +heart with a cruel pang. He took his seat on a deck chair and gazed +up at the Milky Way, that great triumphal arch built of suns that +the dawn would sweep away like a dream. + +In the Milky Way, near the Southern Cross, occurs a terrible +circular abyss, the Coal Sack. So sharply defined is it, so +suggestive of a void and bottomless cavern, that the +contemplation of it afflicts the imaginative mind with vertigo. +To the naked eye it is as black and as dismal as death, but the +smallest telescope reveals it beautiful and populous with stars. + +Lestrange's eyes travelled from this mystery to the burning +cross, and the nameless and numberless stars reaching to the +sea-line, where they paled and vanished in the light of the rising +moon. Then he became aware of a figure promenading the quarter- +deck. It was the "Old Man." + +A sea captain is always the "old man," be his age what it may. +Captain Le Farges' age might have been forty-five. He was a sailor +of the Jean Bart type, of French descent, but a naturalised +American. + +"I don't know where the wind's gone," said the captain as he drew +near the man in the deck chair. "I guess it's blown a hole in the +firmament, and escaped somewheres to the back of beyond." + +"It's been a long voyage," said Lestrange; "and I'm thinking, +Captain, it will be a very long voyage for me. My port's not +'Frisco; I feel it." + +"Don't you be thinking that sort of thing," said the other, taking +his seat in a chair close by. "There's no manner of use forecastin' +the weather a month ahead. Now we're in warm latitoods, your +glass will rise steady, and you'll be as right and spry as any one +of us, before we fetch the Golden Gates." + +"I'm thinking about the children," said Lestrange, seeming not to +hear the captain's words. "Should anything happen to me before +we reach port, I should like you to do something for me. It's only +this: dispose of my body without--without the children knowing. +It has been in my mind to ask you this for some days. Captain, +those children know nothing of death." + +Le Farge moved uneasily in his chair. + +"Little Emmeline's mother died when she was two. Her father-- +my brother--died before she was born. Dicky never knew a +mother; she died giving him birth. My God, Captain, death has laid +a heavy hand on my family; can you wonder that I have hid his very +name from those two creatures that I love!" + +"Ay, ay," said Le Farge, "it's sad! it's sad! " + +"When I was quite a child," went on Lestrange, "a child no older +than Dicky, my nurse used to terrify me with tales about dead +people. I was told I'd go to hell when I died if I wasn't a good +child. I cannot tell you how much that has poisoned my life, for +the thoughts we think in childhood, Captain, are the fathers of the +thoughts we think when we are grown up. And can a diseased +father have healthy children?" + +"I guess not." + +"So I just said, when these two tiny creatures came into my care, +that I would do all in my power to protect them from the terrors +of life--or rather, I should say, from the terror of death. I don't +know whether I have done right, but I have done it for the best. +They had a cat, and one day Dicky came in to me and said: `Father, +pussy's in the garden asleep, and I can't wake her.' So I just took +him out for a walk; there was a circus in the town, and I took him +to it. It so filled his mind that he quite forgot the cat. Next day he +asked for her. I did not tell him she was buried in the garden, I +just said she must have run away. In a week he had forgotten all +about her--children soon forget." + +"Ay, that's true," said the sea captain. "But 'pears to me they must +learn some time they've got to die." + +"Should I pay the penalty before we reach land, and be cast into +that great, vast sea, I would not wish the children's dreams to be +haunted by the thought: just tell them I've gone on board another +ship. You will take them back to Boston; I have here, in a letter, +the name of a lady who will care for them. Dicky will be well off, +as far as worldly goods are concerned, and so will Emmeline. Just +tell them I've gone on board another ship-- children soon forget." + +"I'll do what you ask," said the seaman. + +The moon was over the horizon now, and the Northumberland +lay adrift in a river of silver. Every spar was distinct, every reef +point on the great sails, and the decks lay like spaces of frost cut +by shadows black as ebony. + +As the two men sat without speaking, thinking their own +thoughts, a little white figure emerged from the saloon hatch. It +was Emmeline. She was a professed sleepwalker--a past +mistress of the art. + +Scarcely had she stepped into dreamland than she had lost her +precious box, and now she was hunting for it on the decks of the +Northumberland. + +Mr Lestrange put his finger to his lips, took off his shoes and +silently followed her. She searched behind a coil of rope, she +tried to open the galley door; hither and thither she wandered, +wide-eyed and troubled of face, till at last, in the shadow of the +hencoop, she found her visionary treasure. Then back she came, +holding up her little nightdress with one hand, so as not to trip, +and vanished down the saloon companion very hurriedly, as if +anxious to get back to bed, her uncle close behind, with one hand +outstretched so as to catch her in case she stumbled. + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE SHADOW AND THE FIRE + +It was the fourth day of the long calm. An awning had been rigged +up on the poop for the passengers, and under it sat Lestrange, +trying to read, and the children trying to play. The heat and +monotony had reduced even Dicky to just a surly mass, languid in +movement as a grub. As for Emmeline, she seemed dazed. The rag- +doll lay a yard away from her on the poop deck, unnursed; even the +wretched box and its whereabouts she seemed to have quite +forgotten. + +"Daddy!" suddenly cried Dick, who had clambered up, and was +looking over the after-rail. + +"What?" + +"Fish!" + +Lestrange rose to his feet, came aft and looked over the rail. + +Down in the vague green of the water something moved, +something pale and long--a ghastly form. It vanished; and yet +another came, neared the surface, and displayed itself more fully. +Lestrange saw its eyes, he saw the dark fin, and the whole +hideous length of the creature; a shudder ran through him as he +clasped Dicky. + +"Ain't he fine?" said the child. "I guess, daddy, I'd pull him aboard +if I had a hook. Why haven't I a hook, daddy? Why haven't I a hook, +daddy?-- Ow, you're SQUEEZIN' me!" + +Something plucked at Lestrange's coat: it was Emmeline--she +also wanted to look. He lifted her up in his arms; her little pale +face peeped over the rail, but there was nothing to see: the forms +of terror had vanished, leaving the green depths untroubled and +unstained. + +"What's they called, daddy?" persisted Dick, as his father took +him down from the rail, and led him back to the chair. + +"Sharks," said Lestrange, whose face was covered with +perspiration. + +He picked up the book he had been reading--it was a volume of +Tennyson--and he sat with it on his knees staring at the white +sunlit main-deck barred with the white shadows of the standing +rigging. + +The sea had disclosed to him a vision. Poetry, Philosophy, Beauty, +Art, the love and joy of life--was it possible that these should +exist in the same world as those? + +He glanced at the book upon his knees, and contrasted the +beautiful things in it which he remembered with the terrible +things he had just seen, the things that were waiting for their +food under the keel of the ship. + +It was three bells--half-past three in the afternoon--and the +ship's bell had just rung out. The stewardess appeared to take the +children below; and as they vanished down the saloon +companionway, Captain Le Farge came aft, on to the poop, and +stood for a moment looking over the sea on the port side, where a +bank of fog had suddenly appeared like the spectre of a country. + +"The sun has dimmed a bit," said he; "I can a'most look at it. Glass +steady enough--there's a fog coming up--ever seen a Pacific +fog?" + +"No, never." + +"Well, you won't want to see another," replied the mariner, +shading his eyes and fixing them upon the sea-line. The sea-line +away to starboard had lost somewhat its distinctness, and over +the day an almost imperceptible shade had crept. + +The captain suddenly turned from his contemplation of the sea +and sky, raised his head and sniffed. + +"Something is burning somewhere--smell it? Seems to me like an +old mat or summat. It's that swab of a steward, maybe; if he isn't +breaking glass, he's upsetting lamps and burning holes in the +carpet. Bless MY soul, I'd sooner have a dozen Mary Anns an' their +dustpans round the place than one tomfool steward like Jenkins." +He went to the saloon hatch. "Below there!" + +"Ay, ay, sir." + +"What are you burning?" + +"I an't burnin' northen, sir." + +"Tell you, I smell it!" + +"There's northen burnin' here, sir." + +"Neither is there; it's all on deck. Something in the galley, +maybe-- rags, most likely, they've thrown on the fire." + +"Captain!" said Lestrange. + +"Ay, ay." + +"Come here, please." + +Le Farge climbed on to the poop. + +"I don't know whether it's my weakness that's affecting my eyes, +but there seems to me something strange about the main-mast." + +The main-mast near where it entered the deck, and for some +distance up, seemed in motion--a corkscrew movement most +strange to watch from the shelter of the awning. + +This apparent movement was caused by a spiral haze of smoke so +vague that one could only tell of its existence from the mirage- +like tremor of the mast round which it curled. + +"My God!" cried Le Farge, as he sprang from the poop and rushed +forward. + +Lestrange followed him slowly, stopping every moment to clutch +the bulwark rail and pant for breath. He heard the shrill bird-like +notes of the bosun's pipe. He saw the hands emerging from the +forecastle, like bees out of a hive; he watched them surrounding +the main-hatch. He watched the tarpaulin and locking-bars +removed. He saw the hatch opened, and a burst of smoke--black, +villainous smoke--ascend to the sky, solid as a plume in the +windless air. + +Lestrange was a man of a highly nervous temperament, and it is +just this sort of man who keeps his head in an emergency, whilst +your level-headed, phlegmatic individual loses his balance. His +first thought was of the children, his second of the boats. + +In the battering off Cape Horn the Northumberland lost several +of her boats. There were left the long-boat, a quarter-boat, and +the dinghy. He heard Le Farge's voice ordering the hatch to be +closed and the pumps manned, so as to flood the hold; and, +knowing that he could do nothing on deck, he made as swiftly as +he could for the saloon companionway. + +Mrs Stannard was just coming out of the children's cabin. + +"Are the children lying down, Mrs Stannard?" asked Lestrange, +almost breathless from the excitement and exertion of the last +few minutes. + +The woman glanced at him with frightened eyes. He looked like +the very herald of disaster. + +"For if they are, and you have undressed them, then you must put +their clothes on again. The ship is on fire, Mrs Stannard." + +"Good God, sir!" + +"Listen!" said Lestrange. + +From a distance, thin, and dreary as the crying of sea-gulls on a +desolate beach, came the clanking of the pumps. + + + +CHAPTER IV + +AND LIKE A DREAM DISSOLVED + +Before the woman had time to speak a thunderous step was heard +on the companion stairs, and Le Farge broke into the saloon. The +man's face was injected with blood, his eyes were fixed and +glassy like the eyes of a drunkard, and the veins stood on his +temples like twisted cords. + +"Get those children ready!" he shouted, as he rushed into his own +cabin. "Get you all ready--boats are being swung out and +victualled. Ho! where are those papers?" + +They heard him furiously searching and collecting things in his +cabin--the ship's papers, accounts, things the master mariner +clings to as he clings to his life; and as he searched, and found, +and packed, he kept bellowing orders for the children to be got on +deck. Half mad he seemed, and half mad he was with the +knowledge of the terrible thing that was stowed amidst the +cargo. + +Up on deck the crew, under the direction of the first mate, were +working in an orderly manner, and with a will, utterly +unconscious of there being anything beneath their feet but an +ordinary cargo on fire. The covers had been stripped from the +boats, kegs of water and bags of biscuit placed in them. The +dinghy, smallest of the boats and most easily got away, was +hanging at the port quarter-boat davits flush with the bulwarks; +and Paddy Button was in the act of stowing a keg of water in her, +when Le Farge broke on to the deck, followed by the stewardess +carrying Emmeline, and Mr Lestrange leading Dick. The dinghy was +rather a larger boat than the ordinary ships' dinghy, and +possessed a small mast and long sail. Two sailors stood ready to +man the falls, and Paddy Button was just turning to trundle +forward again when the captain seized him. + +"Into the dinghy with you," he cried, "and row these children and +the passenger out a mile from the ship--two miles, three miles, +make an offing." + +"Sure, Captain dear, I've left me fiddle in the--" + +Le Farge dropped the bundle of things he was holding under his +left arm, seized the old sailor and rushed him against the +bulwarks, as if he meant to fling him into the sea THROUGH the +bulwarks. + +Next moment Mr Button was in the boat. Emmeline was handed to +him, pale of face and wide-eyed, and clasping something wrapped +in a little shawl; then Dick, and then Mr Lestrange was helped +over. + +"No room for more!" cried Le Farge. "Your place will be in the long- +boat, Mrs Stannard, if we have to leave the ship. Lower away, +lower away!" + +The boat sank towards the smooth blue sea, kissed it and was +afloat. + +Now Mr Button, before joining the ship at Boston, had spent a +good while lingering by the quay, having no money wherewith to +enjoy himself in a tavern. He had seen something of the lading of +the Northumberland, and heard more from a stevedore. No +sooner had he cast off the falls and seized the oars, than his +knowledge awoke in his mind, living and lurid. He gave a whoop +that brought the two sailors leaning over the side. + +"Bullies!" + +"Ay, ay!" + +"Run for your lives I've just rimimbered--there's two bar'ls of +blastin' powther in the houldt." + +Then he bent to his oars, as no man ever bent before. Lestrange, +sitting in the stern-sheets clasping Emmeline and Dick, saw +nothing for a moment after hearing these words. The children, +who knew nothing of blasting powder or its effects, though half +frightened by all the bustle and excitement, were still amused +and pleased at finding themselves in the little boat so close to +the blue pretty sea. + +Dick put his finger over the side, so that it made a ripple in the +water (the most delightful experience of childhood). Emmeline, +with one hand clasped in her uncle's, watched Mr Button with a +grave sort of half pleasure. + +He certainly was a sight worth watching. His soul was filled with +tragedy and terror. His Celtic imagination heard the ship blowing +up, saw himself and the little dinghy blown to pieces--nay, saw +himself in hell, being toasted by "divils." + +But tragedy and terror could find no room for expression on his +fortunate or unfortunate face. He puffed and he blew, bulging his +cheeks out at the sky as he tugged at the oars, making a hundred +and one grimaces--all the outcome of agony of mind, but none +expressing it. Behind lay the ship, a picture not without its +lighter side. The long-boat and the quarter-boat, lowered with a +rush and seaborne by the mercy of Providence, were floating by +the side of the Northumberland. + +From the ship men were casting themselves overboard like +water-rats, swimming in the water like ducks, scrambling on +board the boats anyhow. + +From the half-opened main-hatch the black smoke, mixed now +with sparks, rose steadily and swiftly and spitefulIy, as if driven +through the half-closed teeth of a dragon. + +A mile away beyond the Northumberland stood the fog bank. It +looked solid, like a vast country that had suddenly and strangely +built itself on the sea--a country where no birds sang and no +trees grew. A country with white, precipitous cliffs, solid to look +at as the cliffs of Dover. + +"I'm spint!" suddenly gasped the oarsman, resting the oar handles +under the crook of his knees, and bending down as if he was +preparing to butt at the passengers in the stern-sheets. "Blow up +or blow down, I'm spint, don't ax me, I'm spint." + +Mr Lestrange, white as a ghost, but recovered somewhat from his +first horror, gave the Spent One time to recover himself and +turned to look at the ship. She seemed a great distance off, and +the boats, well away from her, were making at a furious pace +towards the dinghy. Dick was still playing with the water, but +Emmeline's eyes were entirely occupied with Paddy Button. New +things were always of vast interest to her contemplative mind, +and these evolutions of her old friend were eminently new. + +She had seen him swilling the decks, she had seen him dancing a +jig, she had seen him going round the main deck on all fours with +Dick on his back, but she had never seen him going on like this +before. + +She perceived now that he was exhausted, and in trouble about +something, and, putting her hand in the pocket of her dress, she +searched for something that she knew was there. She produced a +Tangerine orange, and leaning forward she touched the Spent +One's head with it. + +Mr Button raised his head, stared vacantly for a second, saw the +proffered orange, and at the sight of it the thought of "the +childer" and their innocence, himself and the blasting powder, +cleared his dazzled wits, and he took to the sculls again. + +"Daddy," said Dick, who had been looking astern, "there's clouds +near the ship." + +In an incredibly short space of time the solid cliffs of fog had +broken. The faint wind that had banked it had pierced it, and was +now making pictures and devices of it, most wonderful and weird +to see. Horsemen of the mist rode on the water, and were dis- +solved; billows rolled on the sea, yet were not of the sea; +blankets and spirals of vapour ascended to high heaven. And all +with a terrible languor of movement. Vast and lazy and sinister, +yet steadfast of purpose as Fate or Death, the fog advanced, +taking the world for its own. + +Against this grey and indescribably sombre background stood the +smouldering ship with the breeze already shivering in her sails, +and the smoke from her main-hatch blowing and beckoning as if to +the retreating boats. + +"Why's the ship smoking like that?" asked Dick. "And look at those +boats coming--when are we going back, daddy?" + +"Uncle," said Emmeline, putting her hand in his, as she gazed +towards the ship and beyond it, "I'm 'fraid." + +"What frightens you, Emmy?" he asked, drawing her to him. + +"Shapes," replied Emmeline, nestling up to his side. + +"Oh, Glory be to God!"gasped the old sailor, suddenly resting on +his oars. "Will yiz look at the fog that's comin'--" + +"I think we had better wait here for the boats," said Mr +Lestrange; "we are far enough now to be safe if anything happens." + +"Ay, ay," replied the oarsman, whose wits had returned. "Blow up +or blow down, she won't hit us from here." + +"Daddy," said Dick, "when are we going back? I want my tea." + +"We aren't going back, my child," replied his father. "The ship's on +fire; we are waiting for another ship." + +"Where's the other ship?" asked the child, looking round at the +horizon that was clear. + +"We can't see it yet," replied the unhappy man, "but it will come." + +The long-boat and the quarter-boat were slowly approaching. They +looked like beetles crawling over the water, and after them +across the glittering surface came a dullness that took the +sparkle from the sea--a dullness that swept and spread like an +eclipse shadow. + +Now the wind struck the dinghy. It was like a wind from +fairyland, almost imperceptible, chill, and dimming the sun. A +wind from Lilliput. As it struck the dinghy, the fog took the +distant ship. + +It was a most extraordinary sight, for in less than thirty seconds +the ship of wood became a ship of gauze, a tracery flickered, and +was gone forever from the sight of man. + + + +CHAPTER V + +VOICES HEARD IN THE MIST + +The sun became fainter still, and vanished. Though the air round +the dinghy seemed quite clear, the on-coming boats were hazy and +dim, and that part of the horizon that had been fairly clear was +now blotted out. + +The long-boat was leading by a good way. When she was within +hailing distance the captain's voice came. + +"Dinghy ahoy!" + +"Ahoy!" + +"Fetch alongside here!" + +The long-boat ceased rowing to wait for the quarter-boat that +was slowly creeping up. She was a heavy boat to pull at all times, +and now she was overloaded. + +The wrath of Captain Le Farge with Paddy Button for the way he +had stampeded the crew was profound, but he had not time to give +vent to it. + +"Here, get aboard us, Mr Lestrange!" said he, when the dinghy was +alongside; "we have room for one. Mrs Stannard is in the quarter- +boat, and it's overcrowded; she's better aboard the dinghy, for she +can look after the kids. Come, hurry up, the smother is coming +down on us fast. Ahoy!"--to the quarter-boat, "hurry up, hurry +up." + +The quarter-boat had suddenly vanished. + +Mr Lestrange climbed into the long-boat. Paddy pushed the dinghy +a few yards away with the tip of a scull, and then lay on his oars +waiting. + +"Ahoy! ahoy!" cried Le Farge. + +"Ahoy!" came from the fog bank. + +Next moment the long-boat and the dinghy vanished from each +other's sight: the great fog bank had taken them. + +Now a couple of strokes of the port scull would have brought Mr +Button alongside the long-boat, so close was he; but the quarter- +boat was in his mind, or rather imagination, so what must he do +but take three powerful strokes in the direction in which he +fancied the quarter-boat to be. + +The rest was voices. + +"Dinghy ahoy!" + +"Ahoy!" + +"Ahoy!" + +"Don't be shoutin' together, or I'll not know which way to pull. +Quarter-boat ahoy! where are yez?" + +"Port your helm!" + +"Ay, ay!" putting his helm, so to speak, to starboard--"I'll be wid +yiz in wan minute, two or three minutes' hard pulling." + +"Ahoy !"--much more faint. + +"What d'ye mane rowin' away from me?"--a dozen strokes. + +"Ahoy!" fainter still. + +Mr Button rested on his oars. + +"Divil mend them I b'lave that was the long-boat shoutin'." + +He took to his oars again and pulled vigorously. + +"Paddy," came Dick's small voice, apparently from nowhere, +"where are we now?" + +"Sure, we're in a fog; where else would we be? Don't you be +affeared." + +"I ain't affeared, but Em's shivering." + +"Give her me coat," said the oarsman, resting on his oars and +taking it off. "Wrap it round her; and when it's round her we'll all +let one big halloo together. There's an ould shawl som'er in the +boat, but I can't be after lookin' for it now." + +He held out the coat and an almost invisible hand took it; at the +same moment a tremendous report shook the sea and sky. + +"There she goes," said Mr Button; "an' me old fiddle an' all. Don't +be frightened, childer; it's only a gun they're firin' for divarsion. +Now we'll all halloo togither--are yiz ready?" + +"Ay, ay," said Dick, who was a picker-up of sea terms. + +"Halloo!" yelled Pat. + +"Halloo! Halloo!" piped Dick and Emmeline. + +A faint reply came, but from where, it was difficult to say. The +old man rowed a few strokes and then paused on his oars. So still +was the surface of the sea that the chuckling of the water at the +boat's bow as she drove forward under the impetus of the last +powerful stroke could be heard distinctly. It died out as she lost +way, and silence closed round them like a ring. + +The light from above, a light that seemed to come through a vast +scuttle of deeply muffed glass, faint though it was, almost to +extinction, still varied as the little boat floated through the +strata of the mist. + +A great sea fog is not homogeneous--its density varies: it is +honeycombed with streets, it has its caves of clear air, its cliffs +of solid vapour, all shifting and changing place with the subtlety +of legerdemain. It has also this wizard peculiarity, that it grows +with the sinking of the sun and the approach of darkness. + +The sun, could they have seen it, was now leaving the horizon. + +They called again. Then they waited, but there was no response. + +"There's no use bawlin' like bulls to chaps that's deaf as adders," +said the old sailor, shipping his oars; immediately upon which +declaration he gave another shout, with the same result as far as +eliciting a reply. + +"Mr Button!" came Emmeline's voice. + +"What is it, honey?" + +"I'm 'fraid." + +"You wait wan minit till I find the shawl-- here it is, by the same +token!--an' I'll wrap you up in it." + +He crept cautiously aft to the stern-sheets and took Emmeline in +his arms. + +"Don't want the shawl," said Emmeline; "I'm not so much afraid in +your coat." The rough, tobacco-smelling old coat gave her courage +somehow. + +"Well, thin, keep it on. Dicky, are you cowld?" + +"I've got into daddy's great coat; he left it behind him." + +"Well, thin, I'll put the shawl round me own shoulders, for it's +cowld I am. Are ya hungray, childer?" + +"No," said Dick, "but I'm direfully slapy?" + +"Slapy, is it? Well, down you get in the bottom of the boat, and +here's the shawl for a pilla. I'll be rowin' again in a minit to keep +meself warm." + +He buttoned the top button of the coat. + +"I'm a'right," murmured Emmeline in a dreamy voice. + +"Shut your eyes tight," replied Mr Button, "or Billy Winker will be +dridgin' sand in them. + + `Shoheen, shoheen, shoheen, shoheen, + Sho-hu-lo, sho-hu-lo. + Shoheen, shoheen, shoheen, shoheen, + Hush a by the babby 0.'" + +It was the tag of an old nursery folk-song they sing in the hovels +of the Achill coast fixed in his memory, along with the rain and +the wind and the smell of the burning turf, and the grunting of the +pig and the knickety-knock of a rocking cradle. + +"She's off," murmured Mr Button to himself, as the form in his +arms relaxed. Then he laid her gently down beside Dick. He shifted +forward, moving like a crab. Then he put his hand to his pocket for +his pipe and tobacco and tinder box. They were in his coat pocket, +but Emmeline was in his coat. To search for them would be to +awaken her. + +The darkness of night was now adding itself to the blindness of +the fog. The oarsman could not see even the thole pins. He sat +adrift mind and body. He was, to use his own expression, +"moithered." Haunted by the mist, tormented by "shapes." + +It was just in a fog like this that the Merrows could be heard +disporting in Dunbeg bay, and off the Achill coast. Sporting and +laughing, and hallooing through the mist, to lead unfortunate +fishermen astray. + +Merrows are not altogether evil, but they have green hair and +teeth, fishes' tails and fins for arms; and to hear them walloping +in the water around you like salmon, and you alone in a small +boat, with the dread of one coming floundering on board, is enough +to turn a man's hair grey. + +For a moment he thought of awakening the children to keep him +company, but he was ashamed. Then he took to the sculls again, +and rowed "by the feel of the water." The creak of the oars was +like a companion's voice, the exercise lulled his fears. Now and +again, forgetful of the sleeping children, he gave a halloo, and +paused to listen. But no answer came. + +Then he continued rowing, long, steady, laborious strokes, each +taking him further and further from the boats that he was never +destined to sight again. + + + +CHAPTER VI + +DAWN ON A WIDE, WIDE SEA + +"Is it aslape I've been?" said Mr Button, suddenly awaking with a +start. + +He had shipped his oars just for a minute's rest. He must have +slept for hours, for now, behold, a warm, gentle wind was +blowing, the moon was shining, and the fog was gone. + +"Is it dhraming I've been?" continued the awakened one. + +"Where am I at all, at all? O musha! sure, here I am. O wirra! +wirra! I dreamt I'd gone aslape on the main-hatch and the ship +was blown up with powther, and it's all come true." + +"Mr Button!" came a small voice from the stern-sheets +(Emmeline's). + +"What is it, honey?" + +"Where are we now?" + +"Sure, we're afloat on the say, acushla; where else would we be?" + +"Where's uncle?" + +"He's beyant there in the long-boat--he'll be afther us in a minit." + +"I want a drink." + +He filled a tin pannikin that was by the beaker of water, and gave +her a drink. Then he took his pipe and tobacco from his coat +pocket. + +She almost immediately fell asleep again beside Dick, who had +not stirred or moved; and the old sailor, standing up and steadying +himself, cast his eyes round the horizon. Not a sign of sail or boat +was there on all the moonlit sea. + +From the low elevation of an open boat one has a very small +horizon, and in the vague world of moonlight somewhere round +about it was possible that the boats might be near enough to show +up at daybreak. + +But open boats a few miles apart may be separated by long +leagues in the course of a few hours. Nothing is more mysterious +than the currents of the sea. + +The ocean is an ocean of rivers, some swiftly flowing, some slow, +and a league from where you are drifting at the rate of a mile an +hour another boat may be drifting two. + +A slight warm breeze was frosting the water, blending moonshine +and star shimmer; the ocean lay like a lake, yet the nearest +mainland was perhaps a thousand miles away. + +The thoughts of youth may be long, long thoughts, but not longer +than the thoughts of this old sailor man smoking his pipe under +the stars. Thoughts as long as the world is round. Blazing bar +rooms in Callao--harbours over whose oily surfaces the sampans +slipped like water-beetles--the lights of Macao--the docks of +London. Scarcely ever a sea picture, pure and simple, for why +should an old seaman care to think about the sea, where life is all +into the fo'cs'le and out again, where one voyage blends and +jumbles with another, where after forty-five years of reefing +topsails you can't well remember off which ship it was Jack +Rafferty fell overboard, or who it was killed who in the fo'cs'le +of what, though you can still see, as in a mirror darkly, the fight, +and the bloody face over which a man is holding a kerosene lamp. + +I doubt if Paddy Button could have told you the name of the first +ship he ever sailed in. If you had asked him, he would probably +have replied: "I disremimber; it was to the Baltic, and cruel cowld +weather, and I was say-sick till I near brought me boots up; and it +was 'O for ould Ireland!' I was cryin' all the time, an' the captin +dhrummin me back with a rope's end to the tune uv it--but the +name of the hooker--I disremimber--bad luck to her, whoever she +was!" + +So he sat smoking his pipe, whilst the candles of heaven burned +above him, and calling to mind roaring drunken scenes and +palmshadowed harbours, and the men and the women he had +known--such men and such women! The derelicts of the earth and +the ocean. Then he nodded off to sleep again, and when he awoke +the moon had gone. + +Now in the eastern sky might have been seen a pale fan of light, +vague as the wing of an ephemera. It vanished and changed back to +darkness. + +Presently, and almost at a stroke, a pencil of fire ruled a line +along the eastern horizon, and the eastern sky became more +beautiful than a rose leaf plucked in May. The line of fire +contracted into one increasing spot, the rim of the rising sun. + +As the light increased the sky above became of a blue impossible +to imagine unless seen, a wan blue, yet living and sparkling as if +born of the impalpable dust of sapphires. Then the whole sea +flashed like the harp of Apollo touched by the fingers of the god. +The light was music to the soul. It was day. + +"Daddy!" suddenly cried Dick, sitting up in the sunlight and rubbing +his eyes with his open palms. "Where are we?" + +"All right, Dicky, me son!" cried the old sailor, who had been +standing up casting his eyes round in a vain endeavour to sight the +boats. "Your daddy's as safe as if he was in hivin; he'll be wid us +in a minit, an' bring another ship along with him. So you're awake, +are you, Em'line?" + +Emmeline, sitting up in the old pilot coat, nodded in reply without +speaking. Another child might have supplemented Dick's enquiries +as to her uncle by questions of her own, but she did not. + +Did she guess that there was some subterfuge in Mr Button's +answer, and that things were different from what he was making +them out to be? Who can tell? + +She was wearing an old cap of Dick's, which Mrs Stannard in the +hurry and confusion had popped on her head. It was pushed to one +side, and she made a quaint enough little figure as she sat up in +the early morning brightness, dressed in the old salt-stained coat +beside Dick, whose straw hat was somewhere in the bottom of +the boat, and whose auburn locks were blowing in the faint +breeze. + +"Hurroo!" cried Dick, looking around at the blue and sparkling +water, and banging with a stretcher on the bottom of the boat. +"I'm goin' to be a sailor, aren't I, Paddy? You'll let me sail the +boat, won't you, Paddy, an' show me how to row?" + +"Aisy does it," said Paddy, taking hold of the child. "I haven't a +sponge or towel, but I'll just wash your face in salt wather and +lave you to dry in the sun." + +He filled the bailing tin with sea water. + +"I don't want to wash!" shouted Dick. + +"Stick your face into the water in the tin," commanded Paddy. "You +wouldn't be going about the place with your face like a sut-bag, +would you?" + +"Stick yours in!" commanded the other. + +Button did so, and made a hub-bubbling noise in the water; then he +lifted a wet and streaming face, and flung the contents of the +bailing tin overboard. + +"Now you've lost your chance," said this arch nursery strategist, +"all the water's gone." + +"There's more in the sea." + +"There's no more to wash with, not till to-morrow--the fishes +don't allow it." + +"I want to wash," grumbled Dick. "I want to stick my face in the +tin, same's you did; 'sides, Em hasn't washed." + +"I don't mind," murmured Emmeline. + +"Well, thin," said Mr Button, as if making a sudden resolve, "I'll ax +the sharks." He leaned over the boat's side, his face close to the +surface of the water. "Halloo there!" he shouted, and then bent his +head sideways to listen; the children also looked over the side, +deeply interested. + +"Halloo there! Are y'aslape? Oh, there y'are! Here's a spalpeen +with a dhirty face, an's wishful to wash it; may I take a bailin' +tin of-- Oh, thank your 'arner, thank your 'arner--good day to you, +and my respects." + +"What did the shark say, Mr Button?" asked Emmeline. + +"He said: `Take a bar'l full, an' welcome, Mister Button; an' it's +wishful I am I had a drop of the crathur to offer you this fine +marnin'.' Thin he popped his head under his fin and went aslape +agin; leastwise, I heard him snore." + +Emmeline nearly always "Mr Buttoned" her friend; sometimes she +called him "Mr Paddy." As for Dick, it was always "Paddy," pure +and simple. Children have etiquettes of their own. + +It must often strike landsmen and landswomen that the most +terrible experience when cast away at sea in an open boat is the +total absence of privacy. It seems an outrage on decency on the +part of Providence to herd people together so. But, whoever has +gone through the experience will bear me out that the human mind +enlarges, and things that would shock us ashore are as nothing out +there, face to face with eternity. + +If so with grown-up people, how much more so with this old +shell-back and his two charges? + +And indeed Mr Button was a person who called a spade a spade, +had no more conventions than a walrus, and looked after his two +charges just as a nursemaid might look after her charges, or a +walrus after its young. + +There was a large bag of biscuits in the boat, and some tinned +stuff--mostly sardines. + +I have known a sailor to open a box of sardines with a tin tack. He +was in prison, the sardines had been smuggled into him, and he +had no can-opener. Only his genius and a tin tack. + +Paddy had a jack-knife, however, and in a marvellously short time +a box of sardines was opened, and placed on the stern-sheets +beside some biscuits. + +These, with some water and Emmeline's Tangerine orange, which +she produced and added to the common store, formed the feast, +and they fell to. When they had finished, the remains were put +carefully away, and they +proceeded to step the tiny mast. + +The sailor, when the mast was in its place, stood for a moment +resting his hand on it, and gazing around him over the vast and +voiceless blue. + +The Pacific has three blues: the blue of morning, the blue of +midday, and the blue of evening. But the blue of morning is the +happiest: the happiest thing in colour--sparkling, vague, newborn- +-the blue of heaven and youth. + +"What are you looking for, Paddy?" asked Dick. + +"Say-gulls," replied the prevaricator; then to himself: "Not a sight +or a sound of them! Musha! musha! which way will I steer--north, +south, aist, or west? It's all wan, for if I steer to the aist, they +may be in the west; and if I steer to the west, they may be in the +aist; and I can't steer to the west, for I'd be steering right in the +wind's eye. Aist it is; I'll make a soldier's wind of it, and thrust +to chance." + +He set the sail and came aft with the sheet. Then he shifted the +rudder, lit a pipe, leaned luxuriously back and gave the bellying +sail to the gentle breeze. + +It was part of his profession, part of his nature, that, steering, +maybe, straight towards death by starvation and thirst, he was as +unconcerned as if he were taking the children for a summer's sail. +His imagination dealt little with the future; almost entirely +influenced by his immediate surroundings, it could conjure up no +fears from the scene now before it. The children were the same. + +Never was there a happier starting, more joy in a little boat. +During breakfast the seaman had given his charges to understand +that if Dick did not meet his father and Emmeline her uncle in a +"while or two," it was because he had gone on board a ship, and +he'd be along presently. The terror of their position was as deeply +veiled from them as eternity is veiled from you or me. + +The Pacific was still bound by one of those glacial calms that can +only occur when the sea has been free from storms for a vast +extent of its surface, for a hurricane down by the Horn will send +its swell and disturbance beyond the Marquesas. De Bois in his +table of amplitudes points out that more than half the sea +disturbances at any given space are caused, not by the wind, but +by storms at a great distance. + +But the sleep of the Pacific is only apparent. This placid lake, +over which the dinghy was pursuing the running ripple, was +heaving to an imperceptible swell and breaking on the shores of +the Low Archipelago, and the Marquesas in foam and thunder. + +Emmeline's rag-doll was a shocking affair from a hygienic or +artistic standpoint. Its face was just inked on, it had no features, +no arms; yet not for all the dolls in the world would she have +exchanged this filthy and nearly formless thing. It was a fetish. + +She sat nursing it on one side of the helmsman, whilst Dick, on +the other side, hung his nose over the water, on the look-out for +fish. + +"Why do you smoke, Mr Button?" asked Emmeline, who had been +watching her friend for some time in silence. + +"To aise me thrubbles," replied Paddy. + +He was leaning back with one eye shut and the other fixed on the +luff of the sail. He was in his element: nothing to do but steer and +smoke, warmed by the sun and cooled by the breeze. A landsman +would have been half demented in his condition, many a sailor +would have been taciturn and surly, on the look-out for sails, and +alternately damning his soul and praying to his God. Paddy +smoked. + +"Whoop!" cried Dick. "Look, Paddy!' + +An albicore a few cables-lengths to port had taken a flying leap +from the flashing sea, turned a complete somersault and vanished. + +"It's an albicore takin' a buck lep. Hundreds I've seen before this; +he's bein' chased." + +"What's chasing him, Paddy?" + +"What's chasin' him? why, what else but the gibly-gobly ums!" + +Before Dick could enquire as to the personal appearance and +habits of the latter, a shoal of silver arrow heads passed the boat +and flittered into the water with a hissing sound. + +"Thim's flyin' fish. What are you sayin'?--fish can't fly! Where's +the eyes in your head?" + +"Are the gibblyums chasing them too?" asked Emmeline fearfully. + +"No; 'tis the Billy balloos that's afther thim. Don't be axin' me any +more questions now, or I'll be tellin' you lies in a minit." + +Emmeline, it will be remembered, had brought a small parcel with +her done up in a little shawl; it was under the boat seat, and +every now and then she would stoop down to see if it were safe. + + + +CHAPTER VII + +STORY OF THE PIG AND THE BILLY-GOAT + +Every hour or so Mr Button would shake his lethargy off, and rise +and look round for "seagulls," but the prospect was sail-less as +the prehistoric sea, wingless, voiceless. When Dick would fret +now and then, the old sailor would always devise some means of +amusing him. He made him fishing tackle out of a bent pin and +some small twine that happened to be in the boat, and told him to +fish for "pinkeens"; and Dick, with the pathetic faith of childhood, +fished. + +Then he told them things. He had spent a year at Deal long ago, +where a cousin of his was married to a boatman. + +Mr Button had put in a year as a longshoreman at Deal, and he had +got a great lot to tell of his cousin and her husband, and more +especially of one, Hannah; Hannah was his cousin's baby--a most +marvellous child, who was born with its "buck" teeth fully +developed, and whose first unnatural act on entering the world +was to make a snap at the "docther." "Hung on to his fist like a +bull-dog, and him bawlin' `Murther!'" + +"Mrs James," said Emmeline, referring to a Boston acquaintance, +"had a little baby, and it was pink." + +"Ay, ay," said Paddy; "they're mostly pink to start with, but they +fade whin they're washed." + +"It'd no teeth," said Emmeline, "for I put my finger in to see." + +"The doctor brought it in a bag," put in Dick, who was still +steadily fishing--"dug it out of a cabbage patch; an' I got a trow'l +and dug all our cabbage patch up, but there weren't any babies but +there were no end of worms." + +"I wish I had a baby," said Emmeline, "and I wouldn't send it back +to the cabbage patch. + +"The doctor," explained Dick, "took it back and planted it again; +and Mrs James cried when I asked her, and daddy said it was put +back to grow and turn into an angel." + +"Angels have wings," said Emmeline dreamily. + +"And," pursued Dick, "I told cook, and she said to Jane [that] daddy +was always stuffing children up with--something or 'nother. And +I asked daddy to let me see him stuffing up a child--and daddy +said cook'd have to go away for saying that, and she went away +next day." + +"She had three big trunks and a box for her bonnet," said +Emmeline, with a far-away look as she recalled the incident. + +"And the cabman asked her hadn't she any more trunks to put on +his cab, and hadn't she forgot the parrot cage," said Dick. + +"I wish _I_ had a parrot in a cage," murmured Emmeline, moving +slightly so as to get more in the shadow of the sail. + +"And what in the world would you be doin' with a par't in a cage?" +asked Mr Button. + +"I'd let it out," replied Emmeline. + +"Spakin' about lettin' par'ts out of cages, I remimber me +grandfather had an ould pig," said Paddy (they were all talking +seriously together like equals). "I was a spalpeen no bigger than +the height of me knee, and I'd go to the sty door, and he'd come to +the door, and grunt an' blow wid his nose undher it; an' I'd grunt +back to vex him, an' hammer wid me fist on it, an' shout `Halloo +there! halloo there!' and `Halloo to you!' he'd say, spakin' the pigs' +language. `Let me out,' he'd say, `and I'll give yiz a silver shilling.' + +"`Pass it under the door,' I'd answer him. Thin he'd stick the snout +of him undher the door an' I'd hit it a clip with a stick, and he'd +yell murther Irish. An' me mother'd come out an' baste me, an' +well I desarved it. + +"Well, wan day I opened the sty door, an' out he boulted and away +and beyant, over hill and hollo he goes till he gets to the edge of +the cliff overlookin' the say, and there he meets a billy-goat, and +he and the billy-goat has a division of opinion. + +"`Away wid yiz!' says the billy-goat. + +"`Away wid yourself!' says he. + +"`Whose you talkin' to?' says t'other. + +"`Yourself,' says him. + +"`Who stole the eggs?' says the billy-goat. + +"`Ax your ould grandmother!' says the pig. + +"`Ax me ould WHICH mother?' says the billy-goat. + +"`Oh, ax me--' And before he could complete the sintence, ram, +blam, the ould billygoat butts him in the chist, and away goes the +both of thim whirtlin' into the say below. + +"Thin me ould grandfather comes out, and collars me by the +scruff, and `Into the sty with you!' says he; and into the sty I +wint, and there they kep' me for a fortnit on bran mash and skim +milk--and well I desarved it." + +They dined somewhere about eleven o'clock, and at noon Paddy +unstepped the mast and made a sort of little tent or awning with +the sail in the bow of the boat to protect the children from the +rays of the vertical sun. + +Then he took his place in the bottom of the boat, in the stern, +stuck Dick's straw hat over his face to preserve it from the sun, +kicked about a bit to get a comfortable position, and fell asleep. + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +"S-H-E-N-A-N-D-O-A-H" + +He had slept an hour and more when he was brought to his senses +by a thin and prolonged shriek. It was Emmeline in a nightmare, or +more properly a day-mare, brought on by a meal of sardines and +the haunting memory of the gibbly-gobbly-ums. When she was +shaken (it always took a considerable time to bring her to, from +these seizures) and comforted, the mast was restepped. + +As Mr Button stood with his hand on the spar looking round him +before going aft with the sheet, an object struck his eye some +three miles ahead. Objects rather, for they were the masts and +spars of a small ship rising from the water. Not a vestige of sail, +just the naked spars. It might have been a couple of old skeleton +trees jutting out of the water for all a landsman could have told. + +He stared at this sight for twenty or thirty seconds without +speaking, his head projected like the head of a tortoise. Then he +gave a wild "Hurroo! " + +"What is it, Paddy?" asked Dick. + +"Hurroo!" replied Button. "Ship ahoy! ship ahoy! Lie to till I be +afther boardin' you. Sure, they are lyin' to--divil a rag of canvas +on her--are they aslape or dhramin'? Here, Dick, let me get aft +wid the sheet; the wind'll take us up to her quicker than we'll +row." + +He crawled aft and took the tiller; the breeze took the sail, and +the boat forged ahead. + +"Is it daddy's ship?" asked Dick, who was almost as excited as his +friend. + +"I dinno; we'll see when we fetch her." + +"Shall we go on her, Mr Button?" asked Emmeline. + +"Ay will we, honey." + +Emmeline bent down, and fetching her parcel from under the seat, +held it in her lap. + +As they drew nearer, the outlines of the ship became more +apparent. She was a small brig, with stump topmasts, from the +spars a few rags of canvas fluttered. It was apparent soon to the +old sailor's eye what was amiss with her. + +"She's derelick, bad cess to her!" he muttered; "derelick and done +for--just me luck!" + + "I can't see any people on the ship," cried Dick, who had crept +forward to the bow. "Daddy's not there." + +The old sailor let the boat off a point or two, so as to get a view +of the brig more fully; when they were within twenty cable +lengths or so he unstepped the mast and took to the sculls. + +The little brig floated very low on the water, and presented a +mournful enough appearance; her running rigging all slack, shreds +of canvas flapping at the yards, and no boats hanging at her +davits. It was easy enough to see that she was a timber ship, and +that she had started a butt, flooded herself and been abandoned. + +Paddy lay on his oars within a few strokes of her. She was +floating as placidly as though she were in the harbour of San +Francisco; the green water showed in her shadow, and in the green +water waved the tropic weeds that were growing from her copper. +Her paint was blistered and burnt absolutely as though a hot iron +had been passed over it, and over her taffrail hung a large rope +whose end was lost to sight in the water. + +A few strokes brought them under the stern. The name of the ship +was there in faded letters, also the port to which she belonged. " +Shenandoah. Martha's Vineyard." + +"There's letters on her," said Mr Button. "But I can't make thim +out. I've no larnin'." + +"I can read them," said Dick. + +"So c'n I," murmured Emmeline. + +"S_H-E-N-A-N-D-O-A H," spelt Dick. + +"What's that?" enquired Paddy. + +"I don't know," replied Dick, rather downcastedly. + +"There you are!" cried the oarsman in a disgusted manner, pulling +the boat round to the starboard side of the brig. "They pritind to +tache letters to childer in schools, pickin' their eyes out wid +book-readin', and here's letters as big as me face an' they can't +make hid or tail of them--be dashed to book-readin'! + +The brig had old-fashioned wide channels, regular platforms; and +she floated so low in the water that they were scarcely a foot +above the level of the dinghy. + +Mr Button secured the boat by passing the painter through a +channel plate, then, with Emmeline and her parcel in his arms or +rather in one arm, he clambered over the channel and passed her +over the rail on to the deck. Then it was Dick's turn, and the +children stood waiting whilst the old sailor brought the beaker of +water, the biscuit, and the tinned stuff on board. + +It was a place to delight the heart of a boy, the deck of the +Shenandoah; forward right from the main hatchway it was +laden with timber. Running rigging lay loose on the deck in coils, +and nearly the whole of the quarter-deck was occupied by a deck- +house. The place had a delightful smell of sea-beach, decaying +wood, tar, and mystery. Bights of buntline and other ropes were +dangling from above, only waiting to be swung from. A bell was +hung just forward of the foremast. In half a moment Dick was +forward hammering at the bell with a belaying pin he had picked +from the deck. + +Mr Button shouted to him to desist; the sound of the bell jarred +on his nerves. It sounded like a summons, and a summons on that +deserted craft was quite out of place. Who knew what mightn't +answer it in the way of the supernatural? + +Dick dropped the belaying pin and ran forward. He took the +disengaged hand, and the three went aft to the door of the deck- +house. The door was open, and they peeped in. + +The place had three windows on the starboard side, and through +the windows the sun was shining in a mournful manner. There was +a table in the middle of the place. A seat was pushed away from +the table as if someone had risen in a hurry. On the table lay the +remains of a meal, a teapot, two teacups, two plates. On one of +the plates rested a fork with a bit of putrifying bacon upon it that +some one had evidently been conveying to his mouth when +something had happened. Near the teapot stood a tin of condensed +milk, haggled open. Some old salt had just been in the act of +putting milk in his tea when the mysterious something had +occurred. Never did a lot of dead things speak so eloquently as +these things spoke. + +One could conjure it all up. The skipper, most likely, had finished +his tea, and the mate was hard at work at his, when the leak had +been discovered, or some derelict had been run into, or whatever +it was had happened--happened. + +One thing was evident, that since the abandonment of the brig she +had experienced fine weather, else the things would not have been +left standing so trimly on the table. + +Mr Button and Dick entered the place to prosecute enquiries, but +Emmeline remained at the door. The charm of the old brig +appealed to her almost as much as to Dick, but she had a feeling +about it quite unknown to him. A ship where no one was had about +it suggestions of "other things." + +She was afraid to enter the gloomy deckhouse, and afraid to +remain alone outside; she compromised matters by sitting down +on the deck. Then she placed the small bundle beside her, and +hurriedly took the rag-doll from her pocket, into which it was +stuffed head down, pulled its calico skirt from over its head, +propped it up against the coaming of the door, and told it not to be +afraid. + +There was not much to be found in the deck -house, but aft of it +were two small cabins like rabbit hutches, once inhabited by the +skipper and his mate. Here there were great findings in the way of +rubbish. Old clothes, old boots, an old top-hat of that extra- +ordinary pattern you may see in the streets of Pernambuco, +immensely tall, and narrowing towards the brim. A telescope +without a lens, a volume of Hoyt, a nautical almanac, a great bolt +of striped flannel shirting, a box of fish hooks. And in one corner- +- glorious find!--a coil of what seemed to be ten yards or so of +black rope. + +"Baccy, begorra!" shouted Pat, seizing upon his treasure. It was +pigtail. You may see coils of it in the tobacconists' windows of +seaport towns. A pipe full of it would make a hippopotamus +vomit, yet old sailors chew it and smoke it and revel in it. + +"We'll bring all the lot of the things out on deck, and see what's +worth keepin' an' what's worth leavin'," said Mr Button, taking an +immense armful of the old truck; whilst Dick, carrying the top- +hat, upon which he had instantly seized as his own special booty, +led the way. + +"Em," shouted Dick, as he emerged from the doorway, "see what +I've got!" + +He popped the awful-looking structure over his head. It went right +down to his shoulders. + +Emmeline gave a shriek. + +"It smells funny," said Dick, taking it off and applying his nose to +the inside of it--"smells like an old hair brush. Here, you try it +on." + +Emmeline scrambled away as far as she could, till she reached +the starboard bulwarks, where she sat in the scupper, breathless +and speechless and wide-eyed. She was always dumb when +frightened (unless it were a nightmare or a very sudden shock), +and this hat suddenly seen half covering Dick frightened her out +of her wits. Besides, it was a black thing, and she hated black +things--black cats, black horses; worst of all, black dogs. + +She had once seen a hearse in the streets of Boston, an old-time +hearse with black plumes, trappings and all complete. The sight +had nearly given her a fit, though she did not know in the least the +meaning of it. + +Meanwhile Mr Button was conveying armful after armful of stuff +on deck. When the heap was complete, he sat down beside it in the +glorious afternoon sunshine, and lit his pipe. + +He had searched neither for food or water as yet; content with the +treasure God had given him, for the moment the material things of +life were forgotten. And, indeed, if he had searched he would have +found only half a sack of potatoes in the caboose, for the +lazarette was awash, and the water in the scuttle-butt was +stinking. + +Emmeline, seeing what was in progress, crept up, Dick promising +not to put the hat on her, and they all sat round the pile. + +"Thim pair of brogues," said the old man, holding a pair of old +boots up for inspection like an auctioneer, "would fetch half a +dollar any day in the wake in any sayport in the world. Put them +beside you, Dick, and lay hold of this pair of britches by the ends +of em'--stritch them." + +The trousers were stretched out, examined and approved of, and +laid beside the boots. + +"Here's a tiliscope wid wan eye shut," said Mr Button, examining +the broken telescope and pulling it in and out like a concertina. +"Stick it beside the brogues; it may come in handy for somethin'. +Here's a book"--tossing the nautical almanac to the boy. "Tell me +what it says." + +Dick examined the pages of figures hopelessly. + +"I can't read 'em," said Dick; "it's numbers." + +"Buzz it overboard," said Mr Button. + +Dick did what he was told joyfully, and the proceedings resumed. + +He tried on the tall hat, and the children laughed. On her old +friend's head the thing ceased to have terror for Emmeline. + +She had two methods of laughing. The angelic smile before +mentioned--a rare thing--and, almost as rare, a laugh in which +she showed her little white teeth, whilst she pressed her hands +together, the left one tight shut, and the right clasped over it. + +He put the hat on one side, and continued the sorting, searching +all the pockets of the clothes and finding nothing. When he had +arranged what to keep, they flung the rest overboard, and the +valuables were conveyed to the captain's cabin, there to remain +till wanted. + +Then the idea that food might turn up useful as well as old +clothes in their present condition struck the imaginative mind of +Mr Button, and he proceeded to search. + +The lazarette was simply a cistern full of sea water; what else it +might contain, not being a diver, he could not say. I n the copper +of the caboose lay a great lump of putrifying pork or meat of +some sort. The harness cask contained nothing except huge +crystals of salt. All the meat had been taken away. Still, the +provisions and water brought on board from the dinghy would be +sufficient to last them some ten days or so, and in the course of +ten days a lot of things might happen. + +Mr Button leaned over the side. The dinghy was nestling beside +the brig like a duckling beside a duck; the broad channel might +have been likened to the duck's wing half extended. He got on the +channel to see if the painter was safely attached. Having made all +secure, he climbed slowly up to the main-yard arm, and looked +round upon the sea. + + + +CHAPTER IX + +SHADOWS IN THE MOONLIGHT + + +"Daddy's a long time coming," said Dick all of a sudden. + +They were seated on the baulks of timber that cumbered the deck +of the brig on either side of the caboose. An ideal perch. The sun +was setting over Australia way, in a sea that seemed like a sea of +boiling gold. Some mystery of mirage caused the water to heave +and tremble as if troubled by fervent heat. + +"Ay, is he," said Mr Button; "but it's better late than never. Now +don't be thinkin' of him, for that won't bring him. Look at the sun +goin' into the wather, and don't be spakin' a word, now, but listen +and you'll hear it hiss." + +The children gazed and listened, Paddy also. All three were mute +as the great blazing shield touched the water that leapt to meet +it. + +You COULD hear the water hiss--if you had imagination enough. +Once having touched the water, the sun went down behind it, as +swiftly as a man in a hurry going down a ladder. As he vanished a +ghostly and golden twilight spread over the sea, a light exquisite +but immensely forlorn. Then the sea became a violet shadow, the +west darkened as if to a closing door, and the stars rushed over +the sky. + +"Mr Button," said Emmeline, nodding towards the sun as he +vanished, "where's over there?" + +"The west," replied he, staring at the sunset. "Chainy and Injee +and all away beyant." + +"Where's the sun gone to now, Paddy?" asked Dick. + +"He's gone chasin' the moon, an' she's skedadlin' wid her dress +brailed up for all she's worth; she'll be along up in a minit. He's +always afther her, but he's never caught her yet." + +"What would he do to her if he caught her?" asked Emmeline. + +"Faith, an' maybe he'd fetch her a skelp an' well she'd desarve it." + +"Why'd she deserve it?" asked Dick, who was in one of his +questioning moods. + +"Because she's always delutherin' people an' leadin' thim asthray. +Girls or men, she moidhers thim all once she gets the comeither +on them; same as she did Buck M'Cann." + +"Who's he?" + +"Buck M'Cann? Faith, he was the village ijit where I used to live +in the ould days." + +"What's that'" + +"Hould your whisht, an' don't be axin' questions. He was always +wantin' the moon, though he was twinty an' six feet four. He'd a +gob on him that hung open like a rat-trap with a broken spring, +and he was as thin as a barber's pole, you could a' tied a reef knot +in the middle of 'um; and whin the moon was full there was no +houldin' him." Mr Button gazed at the reflection of the sunset on +the water for a moment as if recalling some form from the past, +and then proceeded. "He'd sit on the grass starin' at her, an' thin +he'd start to chase her over the hills, and they'd find him at last, +maybe a day or two later, lost in the mountains, grazin' on +berries, and as green as a cabbidge from the hunger an' the cowld, +till it got so bad at long last they had to hobble him." + +"I've seen a donkey hobbled," cried Dick. + +"Thin you've seen the twin brother of Buck M'Cann. Well, one night +me elder brother Tim was sittin' over the fire, smokin' his dudeen +an' thinkin' of his sins, when in comes Buck with the hobbles on +him. + +"`Tim,' says he, `I've got her at last!' + +"`Got who?' says Tim. + +"`The moon,' says he. + +"`Got her where?' says Tim. + +"`In a bucket down by the pond,' says t'other, `safe an' sound an' +not a scratch on her; you come and look,' says he. So Tim follows +him, he hobblin', and they goes to the pond side, and there, sure +enough, stood a tin bucket full of wather, an' on the wather the +refliction of the moon. + +"`I dridged her out of the pond,' whispers Buck. `Aisy now,' says +he, `an' I'll dribble the water out gently,' says he, `an' we'll catch +her alive at the bottom of it like a trout.' So he drains the wather +out gently of the bucket till it was near all gone, an' then he looks +into the bucket expectin' to find the moon flounderin' in the +bottom of it like a flat fish. + +"`She's gone, bad 'cess to her!' says he. + +"`Try again,' says me brother, and Buck fills the bucket again, and +there was the moon sure enough when the water came to stand +still. + +"`Go on,' says me brother. `Drain out the wather, but go gentle, or +she'll give yiz the slip again.' + +"`Wan minit,' says Buck, `I've got an idea,' says he; `she won't give +me the slip this time,' says he. `You wait for me,' says he; and off +he hobbles to his old mother's cabin a stone's-throw away, and +back he comes with a sieve. + +"`You hold the sieve,' says Buck, `and I'll drain the water into it; if +she'scapes from the bucket we'll have her in the sieve.' And he +pours the wather out of the bucket as gentle as if it was crame +out of a jug. When all the wather was out he turns the bucket +bottom up, and shook it. + +"`Ran dan the thing!' he cries, `she's gone again'; an' wid that he +flings the bucket into the pond, and the sieve afther the bucket, +when up comes his old mother hobbling on her stick. + +"`Where's me bucket?' says she. + +"`In the pond,' say Buck. + +"`And me sieve?' says she. + +"`Gone afther the bucket.' + +"`I'll give yiz a bucketin!' says she; and she up with the stick and +landed him a skelp, an' driv him roarin' and hobblin' before her, +and locked him up in the cabin, an' kep' him on bread an' wather +for a wake to get the moon out of his head; but she might have +saved her thruble, for that day month in it was agin. . . . There she +comes!" + +The moon, argent and splendid, was breaking from the water. She +was full, and her light was powerful almost as the light of day. +The shadows of the children and the queer shadow of Mr Button +were cast on the wall of the caboose hard and black as +silhouettes. + +"Look at our shadows!" cried Dick, taking off his broad-brimmed +straw hat and waving it. + +Emmeline held up her doll to see ITS shadow, and Mr Button +held up his pipe. + +"Come now," said he, putting the pipe back in his mouth, and +making to rise, "and shadda off to bed; it's time you were aslape, +the both of you." + +Dick began to yowl. + +"_I_ don't want to go to bed; I aint tired, Paddy--les's stay a +little longer." + +"Not a minit," said the other, with all the decision of a nurse; "not +a minit afther me pipe's out!" + +"Fill it again," said Dick. + +Mr Button made no reply. The pipe gurgled as he puffed at it--a +kind of death-rattle speaking of almost immediate extinction. + +"Mr Button!" said Emmeline. She was holding her nose in the air +and sniffing; seated to windward of the smoker, and out of the +pigtail-poisoned air, her delicate sense of smell perceived +something lost to the others." + +"What is it, acushla?" + +"I smell something." + +"What d'ye say you smell?" + +"Something nice." + +"What's it like?" asked Dick, sniffing hard. "_I_ don't smell +anything." + +Emmeline sniffed again to make sure. + +"Flowers," said she. + +The breeze, which had shifted several points since midday, was +bearing with it a faint, faint odour: a perfume of vanilla and spice +so faint as to be imperceptible to all but the most acute olfactory +sense. + +"Flowers!" said the old sailor, tapping the ashes cut of his pipe +against the heel of his boot. "And where'd you get flowers in +middle of the say? It's dhramin' you are. Come now--to bed wid +yiz!" + +"Fill it again," wailed Dick, referring to the pipe. + +"It's a spankin' I'll give you," replied his guardian, lifting him +down from the timber baulks, and then assisting Emmeline, "in +two ticks if you don't behave. Come along, Em'line." + +He started aft, a small hand in each of his, Dick bellowing. + +As they passed the ship's bell, Dick stretched towards the +belaying pin that was still lying on the deck, seized it, and hit the +bell a mighty bang. It was the last pleasure to be snatched before +sleep, and he snatched it. + +Paddy had made up beds for himself and his charges in the deck- +house; he had cleared the stuff off the table, broken open the +windows to get the musty smell away, and placed the mattresses +from the captain and mate's cabins on the floor. + +When the children were in bed and asleep, he went to the +starboard rail, and, leaning on it, looked over the moonlit sea. He +was thinking of ships as his wandering eye roved over the sea +spaces, little dreaming of the message that the perfumed breeze +was bearing him. The message that had been received and dimly +understood by E mmeline. Then he leaned with his back to the rail +and his hands in his pockets. He was not thinking now, he was +ruminating. + +The basis of the Irish character as exemplified by Paddy Button is +a profound laziness mixed with a profound melancholy. Yet Paddy, +in his left-handed way, was as hard a worker as any man on board +ship; and as for melancholy, he was the life and soul of the +fo'cs'le. Yet there they were, the laziness and the melancholy, +only waiting to be tapped. + +As he stood with his hands thrust deep in his pockets, longshore +fashion, counting the dowels in the planking of the deck by the +mooniight, he was reviewing the "old days." The tale of Buck +M'Cann had recalled them, and across all the salt seas he could +see the moonlight on the Connemara mountains, and hear the sea- +gulls crying on the thunderous beach where each wave has behind +it three thousand miles of sea. + +Suddenly Mr Button came back from the mountains of Connemara +to find himself on the deck of the Shenandoah; and he instantly +became possessed by fears. Beyond the white deserted deck, +barred by the shadows of the standing rigging, he could see the +door of the caboose. Suppose he should suddenly see a head pop +out or, worse, a shadowy form go in? + +He turned to the deck-house, where the children were sound +asleep, and where, in a few minutes, he, too, was sound asleep +beside them, whilst all night long the brig rocked to the gentle +swell of the Pacific, and the breeze blew, bringing with it the +perfume of flowers. + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE TRAGEDY OF THE BOATS + + +When the fog lifted after midnight the people in the long-boat +saw the quarter-boat half a mile to starboard of them. + +"Can you see the dinghy?" asked Lestrange of the captain, who +was standing up searching the horizon. + +"Not a speck," answered Le Farge. "DAMN that Irishman! but for +him I'd have got the boats away properly victualled and all; as it +is I don't know what we've got aboard. You, Jenkins, what have +you got forward there?" + +"Two bags of bread and a breaker of water," answered the +steward. + +"A breaker of water be sugared!" came another voice; "a breaker +half full, you mean." + +Then the steward's voice: "So it is; there's not more than a couple +of gallons in her." + +"My God!" said Le Farge. "DAMN that Irishman!" + +"There's not more than'll give us two half pannikins apiece all +round," said the steward. + +"Maybe," said Le Farge, "the quarter-boat's better stocked; pull +for her." + +"She's pulling for us," said the stroke oar. + +"Captain," asked Lestrange, "are you sure there's no sight of the +dinghy?" + +"None," replied Le Farge. + +The unfortunate man's head sank on his breast. He had little time +to brood over his troubles, however, for a tragedy was beginning +to unfold around him, the most shocking, perhaps, in the annals of +the sea--a tragedy to be hinted at rather than spoken of. + +When the boats were within hailing distance, a man in the bow of +the long-boat rose up. + +"Quarter-boat ahoy!" + +"Ahoy!" + +"How much water have you?" + +"None!" + +The word came floating over the placid moonlit water. At it the +fellows in the long-boat ceased rowing, and you could see the +water-drops dripping off their oars like diamonds in the +moonlight. + +"Quarter-boat, ahoy!" shouted the fellow in the bow. "Lay on your +oars." + +"Here, you scowbanker!" cried Le Farge, "who are you to be giving +directions--" + +"Scowbanker yourself!" replied the fellow. "Bullies, put her about!" + +The starboard oars backed water, and the boat came round. + +By chance the worst lot of the Northumberland's crew were in +the long-boat veritable--"scowbankers" scum; and how scum +clings to life you will never know, until you have been amongst it +in an open boat at sea. Le Farge had no more command over this +lot than you have who are reading this book. + +"Heave to!" came from the quarter-boat, as she laboured behind. + +"Lay on your oars, bullies!" cried the ruffian at the bow, who was +still standing up like an evil genius who had taken momentary +command over events. "Lay on your oars, bullies; they'd better +have it now." + +The quarter-boat in her turn ceased rowing, and lay a cable's +length away. + +"How much water have you?" came the mate's voice. + +"Not enough to go round." + +Le Farge made to rise, and the stroke oar struck at him, catching +him in the wind and doubling him up in the bottom of the boat. + +"Give us some, for God's sake!" came the mate's voice; "we're +parched with rowing, and there's a woman on board!" + +The fellow in the bow of the long-boat, as if someone had +suddenly struck him, broke into a tornado of blasphemy. + +"Give us some," came the mate's voice, "or, by God, we'll lay you +aboard!" + +Before the words were well spoken the men in the quarter-boat +carried the threat into action. The conflict was brief: the +quarter-boat was too crowded for fighting. The starboard men in +the long-boat fought with their oars, whilst the fellows to port +steadied the boat. + +The fight did not last long, and presently the quarter-boat +sheered off, half of the men in her cut about the head and +bleeding--two of them senseless. + +* * * * * + +It was sundown on the following day. The long-boat lay adrift. The +last drop of water had been served out eight hours before. + +The quarter-boat, like a horrible phantom, had been haunting and +pursuing her all day, begging for water when there was none. It +was like the prayers one might expect to hear in hell. + +The men in the long-boat, gloomy and morose, weighed down with +a sense of crime, tortured by thirst, and tormented by the voices +imploring for water, lay on their oars when the other boat tried +to approach. + +Now and then, suddenly, and as if moved by a common impulse, +they would all shout out together: "We have none." But the +quarter-boat would not believe. It was in vain to hold the breaker +with the bung out to prove its dryness, the half-delirious +creatures had it fixed in their minds that their comrades were +withholding from them the water that was not. + +Just as the sun touched the sea, Lestrange, rousing himself from +a torpor into which he had sunk, raised himself and looked over +the gunwale. He saw the quarter-boat drifting a cable's length +away, lit by the full light of sunset, and the spectres in it, seeing +him, held out in mute appeal their blackened tongues. + +* * * * * + +Of the night that followed it is almost impossible to speak. +Thirst was nothing to what the scowbankers suffered from the +torture of the whimpering appeal for water that came to them at +intervals during the night. + +* * * * * + +When at last the Arago, a French whale ship, sighted them, the +crew of the long-boat were still alive, but three of them were +raving madmen. Of the crew of the quarter- boat was saved not +one. + + + +PART II + +CHAPTER XI + +THE ISLAND + + +"Childer!" shouted Paddy. He was at the cross-trees in the full +dawn, whilst the children standing beneath on deck were craning +their faces up to him. "There's an island forenint us." + +"Hurrah!" cried Dick. He was not quite sure what an island might +be like in the concrete, but it was something fresh, and Paddy's +voice was jubilant. + +"Land ho! it is," said he, coming down to the deck. "Come for'ard to +the bows, and I'll show it you." + +He stood on the timber in the bows and lifted Emmeline up in his +arms; and even at that humble elevation from the water she could +see something of an undecided colour--green for choice--on the +horizon. + +It was not directly ahead, but on the starboard bow--or, as she +would have expressed it, to the right. When Dick had looked and +expressed his disappointment at there being so little to see, +Paddy began to make preparations for leaving the ship. + +It was only just now, with land in sight, that he recognised in +some fashion the horror of the position from which they were +about to escape. + +He fed the children hurriedly with some biscuits and tinned meat, +and then, with a biscuit in his hand, eating as he went, he trotted +about the decks, collecting things and stowing them in the dinghy. +The bolt of striped flannel, all the old clothes, a housewife full of +needles and thread, such as seamen sometimes carry, the half- +sack of potatoes, a saw which he found in the caboose, the +precious coil of tobacco, and a lot of other odds and ends he +transhipped, sinking the little dinghy several strakes in the +process. Also, of course, he took the breaker of water, and the +remains of the biscuit and tinned stuff they had brought on board. +These being stowed, and the dinghy ready, he went forward with +the children to the bow, to see how the island was bearing. + +It had loomed up nearer during the hour or so in which he had been +collecting and storing the things--nearer, and more to the right, +which meant that the brig was being borne by a fairly swift +current, and that she would pass it, leaving it two or three miles +to starboard. It was well they had command of the dinghy. + +"The sea's all round it," said Emmeline, who was seated on +Paddy's shoulder, holding on tight to him, and gazing upon the +island, the green of whose trees was now visible, an oasis of +verdure in the sparkling and seraphic blue. + +"Are we going there, Paddy?" asked Dick, holding on to a stay, and +straining his eyes towards the land. + +"Ay, are we," said Mr Button. "Hot foot--five knots, if we're +makin' wan; and it's ashore we'll be by noon, and maybe sooner." + +The breeze had freshened up, and was blowing dead from the +island, as though the island were making a weak attempt to blow +them away from it. + +Oh, what a fresh and perfumed breeze it was! All sorts of tropical +growing things had joined their scent in one bouquet. + +"Smell it," said Emmeline, expanding her small nostrils. "That's +what I smelt last night, only it's stronger now." + +The last reckoning taken on board the Northumberland had +proved the ship to be south by east of the Marquesas; this was +evidentIy one of those small, lost islands that lie here and there +scuth by east of the Marquesas. Islands the most lonely and +beautiful in the world. + +As they gazed it grew before them, and shifted still more to the +right. It was hilly and green now, though the trees could not be +clearly made out; here, the green was lighter in colour, and there, +darker. A rim of pure white marble seemed to surround its base. It +was foam breaking on the barrier reef. + +In another hour the feathery foliage of the cocoanut palms could +be made out, and the old sailor judged it time to take to the boat. + +He lifted Emmeline, who was clasping her luggage, over the rail +on to the channel, and deposited her in the sternsheets; then Dick. + +In a moment the boat was adrift, the mast steeped, and the +Shenandoah left to pursue her mysterious voyage at the will of +the currents of the sea. + +"You're not going to the island, Paddy," cried Dick, as the old man +put the boat on the port tack. + +"You be aisy," replied the other, "and don't be larnin' your +gran'mother. How the divil d'ye think I'd fetch the land sailin' +dead in the wind's eye?" + +"Has the wind eyes?" + +Mr Button did not answer the question. He was troubled in his +mind. What if the island were inhabited? He had spent several +years in the South Seas. He knew the people of the Marquesas and +Samoa, and liked them. But here he was out of his bearings. + +However, all the troubling in the world was of no use. It was a +case of the island or the deep sea, and, putting the boat on the +starboard tack, he lit his pipe and leaned back with the tiller in +the crook of his arm. His keen eyes had made out from the deck of +the brig an opening in the reef, and he was making to run the +dinghy abreast of the opening, and then take to the sculls and row +her through. + +Now, as they drew nearer, a sound came on the breeze--sound +faint and sonorous and dreamy. It was the sound of the breakers +on the reef. The sea just here was heaving to a deeper swell, as if +vexed in its sleep at the resistance to it of the land. + +Emmeline, sitting with her bundle in her lap, stared without +speaking at the sight before her. Even in the bright, glorious +sunshine, and despite the greenery that showed beyond, it was a +desolate sight seen from her place in the dinghy. A white, forlorn +beach, over which the breakers raced and tumbled, seagulls +wheeling and screaming, and over all the thunder of the surf. + +Suddenly the break became visible, and a glimpse of smooth, blue +water beyond. Button unshipped the tiller, unstepped the mast, +and took to the sculls. + +As they drew nearer, the sea became more active, savage, and +alive; the thunder of the surf became louder, the breakers more +fierce and threatening, the opening broader. + +One could see the water swirling round the coral piers, for the +tide was flooding into the lagoon; it had seized the little dinghy +and was bearing it along far swifter than the sculls could have +driven it. Sea-gulls screamed around them, the boat rocked and +swayed. Dick shouted with excitement, and Emmeline shut her +eyes TIGHT. + +Then, as though a door had been swiftly and silently closed, the +sound of the surf became suddenly less. The boat floated on an +even keel; she opened her eyes and found herself in Wonderland. + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE LAKE OF AZURE + + +On either side lay a great sweep of waving blue water. Calm, +almost as a lake, sapphire here, and here with the tints of the +aquamarine. Water so clear that fathoms away below you could +see the branching coral, the schools of passing fish, and the +shadows of the fish upon the spaces of sand. + +Before them the clear water washed the sands of a white beach, +the cocoa-palms waved and whispered in the breeze; and as the +oarsman lay on his oars to look a flock of bluebirds rose, as if +suddenly freed from the treetops, wheeled, and passed soundless, +like a wreath of smoke, over the tree-tops of the higher land +beyond. + +"Look!" shouted Dick, who had his nose over the of the +boat. "Look at the FISH!" + +"Mr Button," cried Emmeline, "where are we?" + +"Bedad, I dunno; but we might be in a worse place, I'm thinkin'," +replied the old man, sweeping his eyes over the blue and tranquil +lagoon, from the barrier reef to the happy shore. + +On either side of the broad beach before them the cocoa-nut trees +came down like two regiments, and bending gazed at their own +reflections in the lagoon. Beyond lay waving chapparel, where +cocoa-palms and breadfruit trees intermixed with the mammee +apple and the tendrils of the wild vine. On one of the piers of +coral at the break of the reef stood a single cocoa-palm; bending +with a slight curve, it, too, seemed seeking its reflection in the +waving water. + +But the soul of it all, the indescribable thing about this picture of +mirrored palm trees, blue lagoon, coral reef and sky, was the +light. + +Away at sea the light was blinding, dazzling, cruel. Away at sea +it had nothing to focus itself upon, nothing to exhibit but infinite +spaces of blue water and desolation. + +Here it made the air a crystal, through which the gazer saw the +loveliness of the land and reef, the green of palm, the white of +coral, the wheeling gulls, the blue lagoon, all sharply outlined-- +burning, coloured, arrogant, yet tender--heart-breakingly +beautiful, for the spirit of eternal morning was here, eternal +happiness, eternal youth. + +As the oarsman pulled the tiny craft towards the beach, neither +he nor the children saw away behind the boat, on the water near +the bending palm tree at the break in the reef, something that for +a moment insulted the day, and was gone. Something like a small +triangle of dark canvas, that rippled through the water and sank +from sight; something that appeared and vanished like an evil +thought. + +It did not take long to beach the boat. Mr Button tumbled over the +side up to his knees in water, whilst Dick crawled over the bow. + +"Catch hould of her the same as I do," cried Paddy, laying hold of +the starboard gunwale; whilst Dick, imitative as a monkey, seized +the gunwale to port. Now then: + +"Yeo ho, Chilliman, +Up wid her, up wid her, +Heave 0, Chilliman.' + +"Lave her be now; she's high enough." + +He took Emmeline in his arms and carried her up on the sand. It +was from just here on the sand that you could see the true beauty +of the lagoon. That lake of sea-water forever protected from +storm and trouble by the barrier reef of coral. + +Right from where the little clear ripples ran up the strand, it led +the eye to the break in the coral reef where the palm gazed at its +own reflection in the water, and there, beyond the break, one +caught a vision of the great heaving, sparkling sea. + +The lagoon, just here, was perhaps more than a third of a mile +broad. I have never measured it, but I. know that, standing by the +palm tree on the reef, flinging up one's arm and shouting to a +person on the beach, the sound took a perceptible time to cross +the water: I should say, perhaps, an almost perceptible time. The +distant signal and the distant call were almost coincident, yet +not quite. + +Dick, mad with delight at the place in which he found himself, +was running about like a dog just out of the water. Mr Button was +discharging the cargo of the dinghy on the dry, white sand. +Emmeline seated herself with her precious bundle on the sand, +and was watching the operations of her friend, looking at the +things around her and feeling very strange. + +For all she knew all this was the ordinary accompaniment of a sea +voyage. Paddy's manner throughout had been set to the one idea, +not to frighten the "childer"; the weather had backed him up. But +down in the heart of her lay the knowledge that all was not as it +should be. The hurried departure from the ship, the fog in which +her uncle had vanished, those things, and others as well, she felt +instinctively were not right. But she said nothing. + +She had not long for meditation, however, for Dick was running +towards her with a live crab which he had picked up, calling out +that he was going to make it bite her. + +"Take it away!" cried Emmeline, holding both hands with fingers +widespread in front of her face. "Mr Button! Mr Button! Mr +Button!" + +"Lave her be, you little divil!" roared Pat, who was depositing the +last of the cargo on the sand. "Lave her be, or it's a cow-hidin' I'll +be givin' you!" + +"What's a `divil,' Paddy?" asked Dick, panting from his exertions. +"Paddy, what's a `divil'?" + +"You're wan. Ax no questions now, for it's tired I am, an' I want to +rest me bones." + +He flung himself under the shade of a palm tree, took out his +tinder box, tobacco and pipe, cut some tobacco up, filled his pipe +and lit it. Emmeline crawled up, and sat near him, and Dick flung +himself down on the sand near Emmeline. + +Mr Button took off his coat and made a pillow of it against a +cocoa-nut tree stem. He had found the El Dorado of the weary. +With his knowledge of the South Seas a glance at the vegetation +to be seen told him that food for a regiment might be had for the +taking; water, too. + +Right down the middle of the strand was a depression which in +the rainy season would be the bed of a rushing rivulet. The water +just now was not strong enough to come all the way to the lagoon, +but away up there "beyant" in the woods lay the source, and he'd +find it in due time. There was enough in the breaker for a week, +and green "cucanuts" were to be had for the climbing. + +Emmeline contemplated Paddy for a while as he smoked and +rested his bones, then a great thought occurred to her. She took +the little shawl from around the parcel she was holding and +exposed the mysterious box. + +"Oh, begorra, the box!" said Paddy, leaning on his elbow +interestedly; "I might a' known you wouldn't a' forgot it." + +"Mrs James," said Emmeline, "made me promise not to open it till +I got on shore, for the things in it might get lost." + +"Well, you're ashore now," said Dick; "open it." + +"I'm going to," said Emmeline. + +She carefully undid the string, refusing the assistance of Paddy's +knife. Then the brown paper came off, disclosing a common +cardboard box. She raised the lid half an inch, peeped in, and shut +it again. + +OPEN it!" cried Dick, mad with curiosity. + +"What's in it, honey?" asked the old sailor, who was as interested +as Dick. + +"Things," replied Emmeline. + +Then all at once she took the lid off and disclosed a tiny tea +service of china, packed in shavings; there was a teapot with a +lid, a cream jug, cups and saucers, and six microscopic plates, +each painted with a pansy. + +"Sure, it's a tay-set!" said Paddy, in an interested voice." + +Glory be to God! will you look at the little plates wid the flowers +on thim?" + +"Heugh!" said Dick in disgust; "I thought it might a' been soldiers." + +"_I_ don't want soldiers," replied Emmeline, in a voice of perfect +contentment. + +She unfolded a piece of tissue paper, and took from it a sugar- +tongs and six spoons. Then she arrayed the whole lot on the sand. + +"Well, if that don't beat all!" said Paddy. + +"And whin are you goin' to ax me to tay with you?" + +"Some time," replied Emmeline, collecting the things, and +carefully repacking them. + +Mr Button finished his pipe, tapped the ashes out, and placed it in +his pocket. + +"I'll be afther riggin' up a bit of a tint," said he, as he rose to his +feet, "to shelter us from the jew to-night; but I'll first have a +look at the woods to see if I can find wather. Lave your box with +the other things, Emmeline; there's no one here to take it." + +Emmeline left her box on the heap of things that Paddy had placed +in the shadow of the cocoa-nut trees, took his hand, and the three +entered the grove on the right. + +It was like entering a pine forest; the tall symmetrical stems of +the trees seemed set by mathematical law, each at a given +distance from the other. Whichever way you entered a twilight +alley set with tree boles lay before you. Looking up you saw at an +immense distance above a pale green roof patined with sparkling +and flashing points of light, where the breeze was busy playing +with the green fronds of the trees. + +"Mr Button," murmured Emmeline, "we won't get lost, will we?" + +"Lost! No, faith; sure we're goin' uphill, an' all we have to do is to +come down again, when we want to get back--'ware nuts!" A green +nut detached from up above came down rattling and tumbling and +hopped on the ground. Paddy picked it up. "It's a green cucanut," +said he, putting it in his pocket (it was not very much bigger than +a Jaffa orange), "and we'll have it for tay." + +"That's not a cocoa-nut," said Dick; "coco-anuts are brown. I had +five cents once an' I bought one, and scraped it out and y'et it." + +"When Dr. Sims made Dicky sick," said Emmeline, "he said the +wonder t'im was how Dicky held it all." + +"Come on," said Mr Button, "an' don't be talkin', or it's the +Cluricaunes will be after us." + +"What's cluricaunes?" demanded Dick. + +"Little men no bigger than your thumb that make the brogues for +the Good People." + +"Who's they?" + +"Whisht, and don't be talkin'. Mind your head, Em'leen, or the +branches'll be hittin' you in the face." + +They had left the cocoa-nut grove, and entered the chapparel. Here +was a deeper twilight, and all sorts of trees lent their foliage to +make the shade. The artu with its delicately diamonded trunk, the +great bread-fruit tall as a beech, and shadowy as a cave, the aoa, +and the eternal cocoa-nut palm all grew here like brothers. Great +ropes of wild vine twined like the snake of the laocoon from tree +to tree, and all sorts of wonderful flowers, from the orchid +shaped like a butterfly to the scarlet hibiscus, made beautiful the +gloom. + +Suddenly Mr Button stopped. + +"Whisht!" said he. + +Through the silence--a silence filled with the hum and the +murmur of wood insects and the faint, far song of the reef--came +a tinkling, rippling sound: it was water. He listened to make sure +of the bearing of the sound, then he made for it. + +Next moment they found themselves in a little grass-grown glade. +From the hilly ground above, over a rock black and polished like +ebony, fell a tiny cascade not much broader than one's hand; ferns +grew around and from a tree above a great rope of wild +convolvulus flowers blew their trumpets in the enchanted +twilight. + +The children cried out at the prettiness of it, and Emmeline ran +and dabbled her hands in the water. Just above the little water- +fall sprang a banana tree laden with fruit; it had immense leaves +six feet long and more, and broad as a dinner-table. One could see +the golden glint of the ripe fruit through the foliage. + +In a moment Mr Button had kicked off his shoes and was going up +the rock like a cat, absolutely, for it seemed to give him nothing +to climb by. + +"Hurroo!" cried Dick in admiration. "Look at Paddy!" + +Emmeline looked, and saw nothing but swaying leaves. + +"Stand from under!" he shouted, and next moment down came a +huge bunch of yellow-jacketed bananas. Dick shouted with +delight, but Emmeline showed no excitement: she had discovered +something. + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +DEATH VEILED WITH LICHEN + + +"Mr Button," said she, when the latter had descended, "there's a +little barrel"; she pointed to something green and lichen-covered +that lay between the trunks of two trees--something that eyes +less sharp than the eyes of a child might have mistaken for a +boulder. + +"Sure, an' faith it's an' ould empty bar'l," said Button, wiping the +sweat from his brow and staring at the thing. "Some ship must +have been wathering here an' forgot it. It'll do for a sate whilst +we have dinner." + +He sat down upon it and distributed the bananas to the children, +who sat down on the grass. + +The barrel looked such a deserted and neglected thing that his +imagination assumed it to be empty. Empty or full, however, it +made an excellent seat, for it was quarter sunk in the green soft +earth, and immovable. + +"If ships has been here, ships will come again," said he, as he +munched his bananas. + +"Will daddy's ship come here?" asked Dick. + +"Ay, to be sure it will," replied the other, taking out his pipe. +"Now run about and play with the flowers an' lave me alone to +smoke a pipe, and then we'll all go to the top of the hill beyant, +and have a look round us. + +"Come 'long, Em!" cried Dick; and the children started off amongst +the trees, Dick pulling at the hanging vine tendrils, and Emmeline +plucking what blossoms she could find within her small reach. + +When he had finished his pipe he hallooed, and small voices +answered him from the wood. Then the children came running +back, Emmeline laughing and showing her small white teeth, a +large bunch of blossoms in her hand; Dick flowerless, but carrying +what seemed a large green stone. + +"Look at what a funny thing I've found!" he cried; "it's got holes in +it." + +"Dhrap it!" shouted Mr Button, springing from the barrel as if +someone had stuck an awl into him. "Where'd you find it? What +d'you mane by touchin' it? Give it here." + +He took it gingerly in his hands; it was a lichen-covered skull, +with a great dent in the back of it where it had been cloven by an +axe or some sharp instrument. He hove it as far as he could away +amidst the trees. + +"What is it, Paddy?" asked Dick, half astonished, half frightened +at the old man's manner. + +"It's nothin' good," replied Mr Button. + +"There were two others, and I wanted to fetch them," grumbled +Dick. + +"You lave them alone. Musha! musha! but there's been black doin's +here in days gone by. What is it, Emmeline?" + +Emmeline was holding out her bunch of flowers for admiration. He +took a great gaudy blossom--if flowers can ever be called gaudy- +-and stuck its stalk in the pocket of his coat. Then he led the way +uphill, muttering as he went. + +The higher they got, the less dense became the trees and the +fewer the cocoa-nut palms. The cocoa-nut palm loves the sea, and +the few they had here all had their heads bent in the direction of +the lagoon, as if yearning after it. + +They passed a cane-brake where canes twenty feet high +whispered together like bulrushes. Then a sunlit sward, destitute +of tree or shrub, led them sharply upward for a hundred feet or so +to where a great rock, the highest point of the island, stood, +casting its shadow in the sunshine. The rock was about twenty +feet high, and easy to climb. Its top was almost flat, and as +spacious as an ordinary dinner-table. From it one could obtain a +complete view of the island and the sea. + +Looking down, one's eye travelled over the trembling and waving +tree-tops, to the lagoon; beyond the lagoon to the reef, beyond the +reef to the infinite-space of the Pacific. The reef encircled the +whole island, here further from the land, here closer; the song of +the surf on it came as a whisper, just like the whisper you hear in +a shell; but, a strange thing, though the sound heard on the beach +was continuous, up here one could distinguish an intermittency as +breaker after breaker dashed itself to death on the coral strand +below. + +You have seen a field of green barley ruffled over by the wind, +just so from the hill-top you could see the wind in its passage +over the sunlit foliage beneath. + +It was breezing up from the south-west, and banyan and cocoa- +palm, artu and breadfruit tree, swayed and rocked in the merry +wind. + +So bright and moving was the picture of the breeze-swept sea, +the blue lagoon, the foam-dashed reef, and the rocking trees that +one felt one had surprised some mysterious gala day, some +festival of Nature more than ordinarily glad. + +As if to strengthen the idea, now and then above the trees would +burst what seemed a rocket of coloured stars. The stars would +drift away in a flock on the wind and be lost. They were flights of +birds. All-coloured birds peopled the trees below blue, scarlet, +dove-coloured, bright of eye, but voiceless. From the reef you +could see occasionally the seagulls rising here and there in clouds +like small puffs of smoke. + +The lagoon, here deep, here shallow, presented, according to its +depth or shallowness, the colours of ultra-marine or sky. The +broadest parts were the palest, because the most shallow; and +here and there, in the shallows, you might see a faint tracery of +coral ribs almost reaching the surface. The island at its broadest +might have been three miles across. There was not a sign of house +or habitation to be seen, and not a sail on the whole of the wide +Pacific. + +It was a strange place to be, up here. To find oneself surrounded +by grass and flowers and trees, and all the kindliness of nature, +to feel the breeze blow, to smoke one's pipe, and to remember +that one was in a place uninhabited and unknown. A place to which +no messages were ever carried except by the wind or the sea- +gulls. + +In this solitude the beetle was as carefully painted and the +flower as carefully tended as though all the peoples of the +civilised world were standing by to criticise or approve. + +Nowhere in the world, perhaps, so well as here, could you +appreciate Nature's splendid indifference to the great affairs of +Man. + +The old sailor was thinking nothing of this sort. His eyes were +fixed on a small and almost imperceptible stain on the horizon to +the sou'-sou'-west. It was no doubt another island almost hull- +down on the horizon. Save for this blemish the whole wheel of the +sea was empty and serene. + +Emmeline had not followed them up to the rock. She had gone +botanising where some bushes displayed great bunches of the +crimson arita berries as if to show to the sun what Earth could do +in the way of manufacturing poison. She plucked two great +bunches of them, and with this treasure came to the base of the +rock. + +"Lave thim berries down!" cried Mr Button, when she had +attracted his attention. "Don't put thim in your mouth; thim's the +never-wake-up berries." + +He came down off the rock, hand over fist, flung the poisonous +things away, and looked into Emmeline's small mouth, which at +his command she opened wide. There was only a little pink tongue +in it, however, curled up like a rose-leaf; no sign of berries or +poison. So, giving her a little shake, just as a nursemaid would +have done in like circumstances, he took Dick off the rock, and led +the way back to the beach. + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +ECHOES OF FAIRY-LAND + + +"Mr Buttons," said Emmeline that night, as they sat on the sand +near the tent he had improvised, "Mr Button--cats go to sleep." + +They had been questioning him about the "never-wake-up" berries. + +"Who said they didn't?" asked Mr Button. + +"I mean," said Emmeline, "they go to sleep and never wake up +again. Ours did. It had stripes on it, and a white chest, and rings +all down its tail. It went asleep in the garden, all stretched out, +and showing its teeth; an' I told Jane, and Dicky ran in an' told +uncle. I went to Mrs Sims, the doctor's wife, to tea; and when I +came back I asked Jane where pussy was and she said it was +deadn' berried, but I wasn't to tell uncle." + +"I remember," said Dick. "It was the day I went to the circus, and +you told me not to tell daddy the cat was deadn' berried. But I told +Mrs James's man when he came to do the garden; and I asked him +where cats went when they were deadn' berried, and he said he +guessed they went to hell--at least he hoped they did, for they +were always scratchin' up the flowers. Then he told me not to tell +anyone he'd said that, for it was a swear word, and he oughtn't to +have said it. I asked him what he'd give me if I didn't tell, an' he +gave me five cents. That was the day I bought the cocoa-nut." + +The tent, a makeshift affair, consisting of two sculls and a tree +branch, which Mr Button had sawed off from a dwarf aoa, and the +staysail he had brought from the brig, was pitched in the centre +of the beach, so as to be out of the way of falling cocoa-nuts, +should the breeze strengthen during the night. The sun had set, but +the moon had not yet risen as they sat in the starlight on the sand +near the temporary abode. + +"What's the things you said made the boots for the people, +Paddy?" asked Dick, after a pause. + +"Which things?" + +"You said in the wood I wasn't to talk, else--" + +"Oh, the Cluricaunes--the little men that cobbles the Good +People's brogues. Is it them you mane?" + +"Yes," said Dick, not knowing quite whether it was them or not +that he meant, but anxious for information that he felt would be +curious. "And what are the good people?" + +"Sure, where were you born and bred that you don't know the Good +People is the other name for the fairies--savin' their presence?" + +"There aren't any," replied Dick. "Mrs Sims said there weren't." + +"Mrs James," put in Emmeline, "said there were. She said she +liked to see children b'lieve in fairies. She was talking to another +lady, who'd got a red feather in her bonnet, and a fur muff. They +were having tea, and I was sitting on the hearthrug. She said the +world was getting too--something or another, an' then the other +lady said it was, and asked Mrs James did she see Mrs Someone +in the awful hat she wore Thanksgiving Day. They didn't say +anything more about fairies, but Mrs James--" + +"Whether you b'lave in them or not," said Paddy, "there they are. +An' maybe they're poppin' out of the wood behint us now, an' +listenin' to us talkin'; though I'm doubtful if there's any in these +parts, though down in Connaught they were as thick as +blackberries in the ould days. O musha! musha! The ould days, the +ould days! when will I be seein' thim again? Now, you may b'lave +me or b'lave me not, but me own ould father--God rest his sowl! +was comin' over Croagh Patrick one night before Christmas with a +bottle of whisky in one hand of him, and a goose, plucked an' +claned an' all, in the other, which same he'd won in a lottery, +when, hearin' a tchune no louder than the buzzin' of a bee, over a +furze-bush he peeps, and there, round a big white stone, the Good +People were dancing in a ring hand in hand, an' kickin' their heels, +an' the eyes of them glowin' like the eyes of moths; and a chap on +the stone, no bigger than the joint of your thumb, playin' to thim +on a bagpipes. Wid that he let wan yell an' drops the goose an' +makes for home, over hedge an' ditch, boundin' like a buck +kangaroo, an' the face on him as white as flour when he burst in +through the door, where we was all sittin' round the fire burnin' +chestnuts to see who'd be married the first. + +"`An' what in the name of the saints is the mather wid yiz?' says +me mother. + +"`I've sane the Good People,' says he, `up on the field beyant,' says +he; `and they've got the goose,' says he, `but, begorra, I've saved +.the bottle,' he says. "Dhraw the cork and give me a taste of it, +for me heart's in me throat, and me tongue's like a brick-kil.' + +"An' whin we come to prize the cork out of the bottle, there was +nothin' in it; an' whin we went next marnin' to look for the goose, +it was gone. But there was the stone, sure enough, and the marks +on it of the little brogues of the chap that'd played the bagpipes +and who'd be doubtin' there were fairies after that?" + +The children said nothing for a while, and then Dick said: + +"Tell us about Cluricaunes, and how they make the boots." + +"Whin I'm tellin' you about Cluricaunes," said Mr Button, "it's the +truth I'm tellin' you, an' out of me own knowlidge, for I've spoke +to a man that's held wan in his hand; he was me own mother's +brother, Con Cogan--rest his sowl! Con was six fut two, wid a +long, white face; he'd had his head bashed in, years before I was +barn, in some ruction or other, an' the docthers had japanned him +with a five-shillin' piece beat flat." + +Dick interposed with a question as to the process, aim, and object +of japanning, but Mr Button passed the question by. + +"He'd been bad enough for seein' fairies before they japanned him, +but afther it, begorra, he was twiced as bad. I was a slip of a lad +at the time, but me hair near turned grey wid the tales he'd tell +of the Good People and their doin's. One night they'd turn him into +a harse an' ride him half over the county, wan chap on his back an' +another runnin' behind, shovin' furze prickles under his tail to +make him buck-lep. Another night it's a dunkey he'd be, harnessed +to a little cart, an' bein' kicked in the belly and made to draw +stones. Thin it's a goose he'd be, runnin' over the common wid his +neck stritched out squawkin', an' an old fairy woman afther him +wid a knife, till it fair drove him to the dhrink; though, by the +same token, he didn't want much dhrivin'. + +"And what does he do when his money was gone, but tear the five- +shillin' piece they'd japanned him wid aff the top of his hed, and +swaps it for a bottle of whisky, and that was the end of him." + +Mr Button paused to relight his pipe, which had gone out, and +there was silence for a moment. + +The moon had risen, and the song of the surf on the reef filled the +whole night with its lullaby. The broad lagoon lay waving and +rippling in the moonlight to the incoming tide. Twice as broad it +always looked seen by moonlight or starlight than when seen by +day. Occasionally the splash of a great fish would cross the +silence, and the ripple of it wouId pass a moment later across the +placid water. + +Big things happened in the lagoon at night, unseen by eyes from +the shore. You would have found the wood behind them, had you +walked through it, full of light. A tropic forest under a tropic +moon is green as a sea cave. You can see the vine tendrils and the +flowers, the orchids and tree boles all lit as by the light of an +emerald-tinted day. + +Mr Button took a long piece of string from his pocket. + +"It's bedtime," said he; "and I'm going to tether Em'leen, for fear +she'd be walkin' in her slape, and wandherin' away an' bein' lost +in the woods." + +"I don't want to be tethered," said E mmeIine. + +"It's for your own good I'm doin' it," replied Mr Button, fixing the +string round her waist. "Now come 'long." + +He led her like a dog in a leash to the tent, and tied the other end +of the string to the scull, which was the tent's main prop and +support. + +"Now," said he, "if you be gettin' up and walkin' about in the night, +it's down the tint will be on top of us all." + +And, sure enough, in the small hours of the morning, it was. + + + +CHAPTER XV + +FAIR PICTURES IN THE BLUE + + +"I don't want my old britches on! I don't want my old britches on!" + +Dick was darting about naked on the sand, Mr Button after him +with a pair of small trousers in his hand. A crab might just as +well have attempted to chase an antelope. + +They had been on the island a fortnight, and Dick had discovered +the keenest joy in life to be naked. To be naked and wallow in the +shallows of the lagoon, to be naked and sit drying in the sun. To be +free from the curse of clothes, to shed civilisation on the beach +in the form of breeches, boots, coat, and hat, and to be one with +the wind and the sun and the sea. + +The very first command Mr Button had given on the second +morning of their arrival was, "Strip and into the water wid you." + +Dick had resisted at first, and Emmeline (who rarely wept) had +stood weeping in her little chemise. But Mr Button was obdurate. +The difficulty at first was to get them in; the difficulty now was +to keep them out. + +Emmeline was sitting as nude as the day star, drying in the +morning sun after her dip, and watching Dick's evolutions on the +sand. + +The lagoon had for the children far more attraction than the land. +Woods where you might knock ripe bananas off the trees with a +big cane, sands where golden lizards would scuttle about so tame +that you might with a little caution seize them by the tail, a hill- +top from whence you might see, to use Paddy's expression, "to the +back of beyond"; all these were fine enough in their way, but they +were nothing to the lagoon. + +Deep down where the coral branches were you might watch, +whilst Paddy fished, all sorts of things disporting on the sand +patches and between the coral tufts. Hermit crabs that had +evicted whelks, wearing the evicted ones' shells--an obvious +misfit; sea anemones as big as roses. Flowers that closed up in an +irritable manner if you lowered the hook gently down and touched +them; extraordinary shells that walked about on feelers, elbowing +the crabs out of the way and terrorising the whelks. The overlords +of the sand patches, these; yet touch one on the back with a stone +tied to a bit of string, and down he would go flat, motionless and +feigning death. There was a lot of human nature lurking in the +depths of the lagoon, comedy and tragedy. + +An English rock-pool has its marvels. You can fancy the marvels +of this vast rock-pool, nine miles round and varying from a third +to half a mile broad, swarming with tropic life and flights of +painted fishes; where the glittering albicore passed beneath the +boat like a fire and a shadow; where the boat's reflection lay as +clear on the bottom as though the water were air; where the sea, +pacified by the reef, told, like a little child, its dreams. + +It suited the lazy humour of Mr Button that he never pursued the +lagoon more than half a mile or so on either side of the beach. He +would bring the fish he caught ashore, and with the aid of his +tinder box and dead sticks make a blazing fire on the sand; cook +fish and breadfruit and taro roots, helped and hindered by the +children. They fixed the tent amidst the trees at the edge of the +chapparel, and made it larger and more abiding with the aid of the +dinghy's sail. + +Amidst these occupations, wonders, and pleasures, the children +lost all count of the flight of time. They rarely asked about Mr +Lestrange; after a while they did'nt ask about him at all. Children +soon forget. + + + +PART III + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE POETRY OF LEARNING + + +To forget the passage of time you must live in the open air, in a +warm climate, with as few clothes as possible upon you. You must +collect and cook your own food. Then, after a while, if you have no +special ties to bind you to civilisation, Nature will begin to do for +you what she does for the savage. You will recognise that it is +possible to be happy without books or newspapers, letters or +bills. You will recognise the part sleep plays in Nature. + +After a month on the island you might have seen Dick at one +moment full of life and activity, helping Mr Button to dig up a +taro root or what-not, the next curled up to sleep like a dog. E +mmeline the same. Profound and prolonged lapses into sleep; +sudden awakenings into a world of pure air and dazzling light, the +gaiety of colour all round. Nature had indeed opened her doors to +these children. + +One might have fancied her in an experimental mood, saying: "Let +me put these buds of civilisation back into my nursery and see +what they will become--how they will blossom, and what will be +the end of it all." + +Just as Emmeline had brought away her treasured box from the +Northumberland, Dick had conveyed with him a small linen bag +that chinked when shaken. It contained marbles. Small olive-green +marbles and middle-sized ones of various colours; glass marbles +with splendid coloured cores; and one large old grandfather +marble too big to be played with, but none the less to be +worshipped--a god marble. + +Of course one cannot play at marbles on board ship, but one can +play WITH them. They had been a great comfort to Dick on the +voyage. He knew them each personally, and he would roll them out +on the mattress of his bunk and review them nearly every day, +whilst Emmeline looked on. + +One day Mr Button, noticing Dick and the girl kneeling opposite +each other on a flat, hard piece of sand near the water's edge, +strolled up to see what they were doing. They were playing +marbles. He stood with his hands in his pockets and his pipe in his +mouth watching and criticising the game, pleased that the +"childer" were amused. Then he began to be amused himself, and in +a few minutes more he was down on his knees taking a hand; +Emmeline, a poor player and an unenthusiastic one, withdrawing +in his favour. + +After that it was a common thing to see them playing together, +the old sailor on his knees, one eye shut, and a marble against the +nail of his horny thumb taking aim; Dick and Emmeline on the +watch to make sure he was playing fair, their shrill voices +echoing amidst the cocoa-nut trees with cries of "Knuckle down, +Paddy, knuckle down!" He entered into all their amusements just +as one of themselves. On high and rare occasions Emmeline would +open her precious box, spread its contents and give a tea-party, +Mr Button acting as guest or president as the case might be. + +"Is your tay to your likin', ma'am?" he would enquire; and +Emmeline, sipping at her tiny cup, would invariably make answer: +"Another lump of sugar, if you please, Mr Button"; to which would +come the stereotyped reply: "Take a dozen, and welcome; and +another cup for the good of your make." + +Then Emmeline would wash the things in imaginary water, replace +them in the box, and every one would lose their company manners +and become quite natural again. + +"Have you ever seen your name, Paddy?" asked Dick one morning. + +"Seen me which?" + +"Your name?" + +"Arrah, don't be axin' me questions," replied the other. "How the +divil could I see me name + +"Wait and I'll show you," replied Dick. + +He ran and fetched a piece of cane, and a minute later on the salt- +white sand in face of orthography and the sun appeared these +portentous letters: + +B U T T E N + +"Faith, an' it's a cliver boy y'are," said Mr Button admiringly, as +he leaned luxuriously against a cocoa-nut tree, and contemplated +Dick's handiwork. "And that's me name, is it? What's the letters +in it?" + +Dick enumerated them. + +"I'll teach you to do it, too," he said. "I'll teach you to write your +name, Paddy--would you like to write your name, Paddy?" + +"No," replied the other, who only wanted to be let smoke his pipe +in peace; "me name's no use to me." + +But Dick, with the terrible gadfly tirelessness of childhood, was +not to be put off, and the unfortunate Mr Button had to go to +school despite himself. In a few days he could achieve the act of +drawing upon the sand characters somewhat like the above, but +not without prompting, Dick and Emmeline on each side of him, +breathless for fear of a mistake. + +"Which next?" would ask the sweating scribe, the perspiration +pouring from his forehead--"which next? An' be quick, for it's +moithered I am." + +"N. N--that's right. Ow, you're making it crooked!--THAT'S right-- +there! it's all there now--Hurroo!" + +"Hurroo!" would answer the scholar, waving his old hat over his +own name, and "Hurroo!" would answer the cocoa-nut grove +echoes; whilst the far, faint "Hi, hi!" of the wheeling gulls on the +reef would come over the blue lagoon as if in acknowledgment of +the deed, and encouragement. + +The appetite comes with teaching. The pleasantest mental +exercise of childhood is the instruction of one's elders. Even +Emmeline felt this. She took the geography class one day in a +timid manner, putting her little hand first in the great horny fist +of her friend. + +"Mr Button!" + +"Well, honey?" + +"I know g'ography." + +"And what's that?" asked Mr Button. + +This stumped Emmeline for a moment. + +"It's where places are," she said at last. + +"Which places?" enquired he. + +"All sorts of places," replied Emmeline. "Mr Button!" + +"What is it, darlin'?" + +"Would you like to learn g'ography?" + +"I'm not wishful for larnin'," said the other hurriedly. "It makes +me head buzz to hear them things they rade out of books." + +"Paddy," said Dick, who was strong on drawing that afternoon, +"look here." He drew the following on the sand: + +[a bad drawing of an elephant] + +"That's an elephant," he said in a dubious voice. + +Mr Button grunted, and the sound was by no means filled with +enthusiastic assent. A chill fell on the proceedings. + +Dick wiped the elephant slowly and regretfully out, whilst +Emmeline felt disheartened. Then her face suddenly cleared; the +seraphic smile came into it for a moment--a bright idea had +struck her. + +"Dicky," she said, "draw Henry the Eight." + +Dick's face brightened. He cleared the sand and drew the +following figure: + + l l + <[ ]> + / \ + +"THAT'S not Henry the Eight," he explained, "but he will be in a +minute. Daddy showed me how to draw him; he's nothing till he +gets his hat on." + +"Put his hat on, put his hat on!" implored Emmeline, gazing +alternately from the figure on the sand to Mr Button's face, +watching for the delighted smile with which she was sure the old +man would greet the great king when he appeared in all his glory. + +Then Dick with a single stroke of the cane put Henry's hat on. + + === l + l l + <[ ]> + / \ + +Now no portrait could be liker to his monk-hunting majesty than +the above, created with one stroke of a cane (so to speak), yet Mr +Button remained unmoved. + +"I did it for Mrs Sims," said Dick regretfully, "and she said it was +the image of him." + +"Maybe the hat's not big enough," said Emmeline, turning her head +from side to side as she gazed at the picture. It looked right, but +she felt there must be something wrong, as Mr Button did not +applaud. Has not every true artist felt the same before the silence +of some critic? + +Mr Button tapped the ashes out of his pipe and rose to stretch +himself, and the class rose and trooped down to.the lagoon edge, +leaving Henry and his hat a figure on the sand to be obliterated by +the wind. + +After a while, as time went on, Mr Button took to his lessons as a +matter of course, the small inventions of the children assisting +their utterly untrustworthy knowledge. Knowledge, perhaps, as +useful as any other there amidst the lovely poetry of the palm +trees and the sky. + +Days slipped into weeks, and weeks into months, without the +appearance of a ship--a fact which gave Mr Button very little +trouble; and even less to his charges, who were far too busy and +amused to bother about ships. + +The rainy season came on them with a rush, and at the words +"rainy season" do not conjure up in your mind the vision of a rainy +day in Manchester. + +The rainy season here was quite a lively time. Torrential showers +followed by bursts of sunshine, rainbows, and rain-dogs in the +sky, and the delicious perfume of all manner of growing things on +the earth. + +After the rains the old sailor said he'd be after making a house of +bamboos before the next rains came on them; but, maybe, before +that they'd be off the island. + +"However," said he, "I'll dra' you a picture of what it'll be like +when it's up;" and on the sand he drew a figure like this: + +X + +Having thus drawn the plans of the building, he leaned back +against a cocoa-palm and lit his pipe. But he had reckoned without +Dick. + +The boy had not the least wish to live in a house, but he had a +keen desire to see one built, and help to build one. The ingenuity +which is part of the multiform basis of the American nature was +aroused. + +"How're you going to keep them from slipping, if you tie them +together like that?" he asked, when Paddy had more fully +explained his method. + +"Which from slippin'?" + +"The canes--one from the other?" + +"After you've fixed thim, one cross t'other, you drive a nail +through the cross-piece and a rope over all." + +"Have you any nails, Paddy?" + +"No," said Mr Button, "I haven't." + +"Then how're you goin' to build the house?" + +"Ax me no questions now; I want to smoke me pipe." + +But he had raised a devil difficult to lay. Morning, noon, and night +it was "Paddy, when are you going to begin the house?" or, "Paddy, +I guess I've got a way to make the canes stick together without +nailing." Till Mr Button, in despair, like a beaver, began to build. + +There was great cane-cutting in the canebrake above, and, when +sufficient had been procured, Mr Button struck work for three +days. He would have struck altogether, but he had found a +taskmaster. + +The tireless Dick, young and active, with no original laziness in +his composition, no old bones to rest, or pipe to smoke, kept after +him like a bluebottle fly. It was in vain that he tried to stave him +off with stories about fairies and Cluricaunes. Dick wanted to +build a house. + +Mr Button didn't. He wanted to rest. He did not mind fishing or +climbing a cocoa-nut tree, which he did to admiration by passing +a rope round himself and the tree, knotting it, and using it as a +support during the climb; but house-building was monotonous +work. + +He said he had no nails. Dick countered by showing how the canes +could be held together by notching them. + +"And, faith, but it's a cliver boy you are," said the weary one +admiringly, when the other had explained his method. + +"Then come along, Paddy, and stick 'em up." + +Mr Button said he had no rope, that he'd have to think about it, +that to-morrow or next day he'd be after getting some notion how +to do it without rope. But Dick pointed out that the brown cloth +which Nature has wrapped round the cocoa-palm stalks would do +instead of rope if cut in strips. Then the badgered one gave in. + +They laboured for a fortnight at the thing, and at the end of that +time had produced a rough sort of wigwam on the borders of the +chapparel. + +Out on the reef, to which they often rowed in the dinghy, when the +tide was low, deep pools would be left, and in the pools fish. +Paddy said if they had a spear they might be able to spear some of +these fish, as he had seen the natives do away "beyant" in Tahiti. + +Dick enquired as to the nature of a spear, and next day produced a +ten-foot cane sharpened at the end after the fashion of a quill +pen. + +"Sure, what's the use of that?" said Mr Button. "You might job it +into a fish, but he'd be aff it in two ticks; it's the barb that holds +them." + +Next day the indefatigable one produced the cane amended; he had +whittled it down about three feet from the end and on one side, +and carved a fairly efficient barb. It was good enough, at all +events, to spear a "groper" with, that evening, in the sunset-lit +pools of the reef at low tide. + +"There aren't any potatoes here," said Dick one day, after the +second rains. + +"We've et 'em all months ago," replied Paddy. + +"How do potatoes grow?" enquired Dick. + +"Grow, is it? Why, they grow in the ground; and where else would +they grow?" He explained the process of potato-planting: cutting +them into pieces so that there was an eye in each piece, and so +forth. "Having done this," said Mr Button, "you just chuck the +pieces in the ground; their eyes grow, green leaves `pop up,' and +then, if you dug the roots up maybe, six months after, you'd find +bushels of potatoes in the ground, ones as big as your head, and +weeny ones. It's like a famiIy of childer--some's big and some's +little. But there they are in the ground, and all you have to do is to +take a fark and dig a potful of them with a turn of your wrist, as +many a time I've done it in the ould days." + +"Why didn't we do that?" asked Dick. + +"Do what?" asked Mr Button. + +"Plant some of the potatoes." + +"And where'd we have found the spade to plant them with?" + +"I guess we could have fixed up a spade," replied the boy. "I made a +spade at home, out of a piece of old board once--daddy helped." + +"Well, skelp off with you, and make a spade now," replied the +other, who wanted to be quiet and think, "and you and Em'line can +dig in the sand." + +Emmeline was sitting nearby, stringing together some gorgeous +blossoms on a tendril of liana. Months of sun and ozone had made a +considerable difference in the child. She was as brown as a gipsy +and freckled, not very much taller, but twice as plump. Her eyes +had lost considerably that look as though she were contemplating +futurity and immensity--not as abstractions, but as concrete +images, and she had lost the habit of sleep-walking. + +The shock of the tent coming down on the first night she was +tethered to the scull had broken her of it, helped by the new +healthful conditions of life, the sea-bathing, and the eternal open +air. There is no narcotic to excel fresh air. + +Months of semi-savagery had made also a good deal of difference +in Dick's appearance. He was two inches taller than on the day +they landed. Freckled and tanned, he had the appearance of a boy +of twelve. He was the promise of a fine man. He was not a good-- +looking child, but he was healthy-looking, with a jolly laugh, and +a daring, almost impudent expression of face. + +The question of the children's clothes was beginning to vex the +mind of the old sailor. The climate was a suit of clothes in itself. +One was much happier with almost nothing on. Of course there +were changes of temperature, but they were slight. Eternal +summer, broken by torrential rains, and occasionally a storm, +that was the climate of the island; still, the "childer" couldn't go +about with nothing on. + +He took some of the striped flannel and made Emmeline a kilt. It +was funny to see him sitting on the sand, Emmeline standing +before him with her garment round her waist, being tried on; he, +with a mouthful of pins, and the housewife with the scissors, +needles, and thread by his side. + +"Turn to the lift a bit more," he'd say, "aisy does it. Stidy so-- +musha! musha! where's thim scissors? Dick, be holdin' the end of +this bit of string till I get the stitches in behint. Does that hang +comfortable? well, an' you're the trouble an' all. How's THAT? +That's aisier, is it? Lift your fut till I see if it comes to your +knees. Now off with it, and lave me alone till I stitch the tags to +it." + +It was the mixture of a skirt and the idea of a sail, for it had two +rows of reef points; a most ingenious idea, as it could be reefed +if the child wanted to go paddling, or in windy weather. + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE DEVIL'S CASK + + +One morning, about a week after the day on which the old sailor, +to use his own expression, had bent a skirt on Emmeline, Dick +came through the woods and across the sands running. He had been +on the hill-top. + +"Paddy," he cried to the old man, who was fixing a hook on a +fishing-line, "there's a ship!" + +It did not take Mr Button long to reach the hill-top, and there she +was, beating up for the island. Bluff-bowed and squab, the figure +of an old Dutch woman, and telling of her trade a league off. It +was just after the rains, the sky was not yet quite clear of +clouds; you could see showers away at sea, and the sea was green +and foam-capped. + +There was the trying-out gear; there were the boats, the crow's +nest, and all complete, and labelling her a whaler. She was a ship, +no doubt, but Paddy Button would as soon have gone on board a +ship manned by devils, and captained by Lucifer, as on board a +South Sea whaleman. He had been there before, and he knew. + +He hid the children under a large banyan, and told them not to stir +or breathe till he came back, for the ship was "the devil's own +ship"; and if the men on board caught them they'd skin them alive +and all. + +Then he made for the beach; he collected all the things out of the +wigwam, and all the old truck in the shape of boots and old +clothes, and stowed them away in the dinghy. He would have +destroyed the house, if he could, but he hadn't time. Then he +rowed the dinghy a hundred yards down the lagoon to the left, and +moored her under the shade of an aoa, whose branches grew right +over the water. Then he came back through the cocoa-nut grove on +foot, and peered through the trees over the lagoon to see what +was to be seen. + +The wind was blowing dead on for the opening in the reef, and the +old whaleman came along breasting the swell with her bluff +bows, and entered the lagoon. There was no leadsman in her +chains. She just came in as if she knew all the soundings by +heart--as probably she did--for these whalemen know every hole +and corner in the Pacific. + +The anchor fell with a splash, and she swung to it, making a +strange enough picture as she floated on the blue mirror, backed +by the graceful palm tree on the reef. Then Mr Button, without +waiting to see the boats lowered, made back to his charges, and +the three camped in the woods that night. + +Next morning the whaleman was off and away, leaving as a token +of her visit the white sand all trampled, an empty bottle, half an +old newspaper, and the wigwam torn to pieces. + +The old sailor cursed her and her crew, for the incident had +brought a new exercise into his lazy life. Every day now at noon +he had to climb the hill, on the look-out for whalemen. Whalemen +haunted his dreams, though I doubt if he would willingly have +gone on board even a Royal Mail steamer. He was quite happy +where he was. After long years of the fo'cs'le the island was a +change indeed. He had tobacco enough to last him for an indefinite +time, the children for companions, and food at his elbow. He +would have been entirely happy if the island had only been +supplied by Nature with a public-house. + +The spirit of hilarity and good fellowship, however, who suddenly +discovered this error on the part of Nature, rectified it, as will +be presently seen. + +The most disastrous result of the whaleman's visit was not the +destruction of the "house," but the disappearance of Emmeline's +box. Hunt high or hunt low, it could not be found. Mr Button in his +hurry must have forgotten it when he removed the things to the +dinghy--at all events, it was gone. Probably one of the crew of +the whalemen had found it and carried it off with him; no one +could say. It was gone, and there was the end of the matter, and +the beginning of great tribulation, that lasted Emmeline for a +week. + +She was intensely fond of coloured things, coloured flowers +especially; and she had the prettiest way of making them into a +wreath for her own or someone else's head. It was the hat-making +instinct that was at work in her, perhaps; at all events, it was a +feminine instinct, for Dick made no wreaths. + +One morning, as she was sitting by the old sailor engaged in +stringing shells, Dick came running along the edge of the grove. He +had just come out of the wood, and he seemed to be looking for +something. Then he found what he was in search of--a big shell-- +and with it in his hand made back to the wood. + +Item.--His dress was a piece of cocoa-nut cloth tied round his +middle. Why he wore it at all, goodness knows, for he would as +often as not be running about stark naked. + +"I've found something, Paddy!" he cried, as he disappeared among +the trees. + +"What have you found?" piped Emmeline, who was always +interested in new things. + +"Something funny!" came back from amidst the trees. + +Presently he returned; but he was not running now. He was +walking slowly and carefully, holding the shell as if it contained +something precious that he was afraid would escape. + +"Paddy, I turned over the old barrel and it had a cork thing in it, +and I pulled it out, and the barrel is full of awfully funny- +smelling stuff--I've brought some for you to see." + +He gave the shell into the old sailor's hands. There was about half +a gill of yellow liquid in the shell. Paddy smelt it, tasted, and +gave a shout. + +"Rum, begorra!" + +"What is it, Paddy?" asked Emmeline. + +"WHERE did you say you got it--in the ould bar'l, did you say?" +asked Mr Button, who seemed dazed and stunned as if by a blow. + +"Yes; I pulled the cork thing out--" + +"DID YIZ PUT IT BACK?" + +"Yes." + +"Oh, glory be to God! Here have I been, time out of mind, sittin' on +an ould empty bar'l, with me tongue hangin' down to me heels for +the want of a drink, and it full of rum all the while!" + +He took a sip of the stuff, tossed the lot off, closed his lips tight +to keep in the fumes, and shut one eye. + +Emmeline laughed. + +Mr Button scrambled to his feet. They followed him through the +chapparel till they reached the water source. There lay the little +green barrel; turned over by the restless Dick, it lay with its bung +pointing to the leaves above. You could see the hollow it had made +in the soft soil during the years. So green was it, and so like an +object of nature, a bit of old tree-bole, or a lichen-stained +boulder, that though the whalemen had actually watered from the +source, its real nature had not been discovered. + +Mr Button tapped on it with the butt-end of the shell: it was +nearly full. Why it had been left there, by whom, or how, there +was no one to tell. The old lichen-covered skulls might have told, +could they have spoken. + +"We'll rowl it down to the beach," said Paddy, when he had taken +another taste of it. + +He gave Dick a sip. The boy spat it out, and made a face, then, +pushing the barrel before them, they began to roll it downhill to +the beach, Emmeline running before them crowned with flowers. + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +THE RAT HUNT + +They had dinner at noon. Paddy knew how to cook fish, island +fashion, wrapping them in leaves, and baking them in a hole in the +ground in which a fire had previously been lit. They had fish and +taro root baked, and green cocoa-nuts; and after dinner Mr Button +filled a big shell with rum, and lit his pipe. + +The rum had been good originally, and age had improved it. Used as +he was to the appalling balloon juice sold in the drinking dens of +the "Barbary coast" at San Francisco, or the public-houses of the +docks, this stuff was nectar. + +Joviality radiated from him: it was infectious. The children felt +that some happy influence had fallen upon their friend. Usually +after dinner he was drowsy and "wishful to be quiet." To-day he +told them stories of the sea, and sang them songs--chantys: + + "I'm a flyin' fish sailor come back from Hong Kong, + Yeo ho! blow the man down. + Blow the man down, bullies, blow the man down, + Oh, give us TIME to blow the man down. + You're a dirty black-baller come back from New York, + Yeo ho! blow the man down, + Blow the man down, bullies, blow the man down. + Oh, give us time to blow the man down." + +"Oh, give us TIME to blow the man down!" echoed Dick and +Emmeline. + +Up above, in the trees, the bright-eyed birds were watching them- +-such a happy party. They had all the appearance of picnickers, +and the song echoed amongst the cocoa-nut trees, and the wind +carried it over the lagoon to where the sea-gulls were wheeling +and screaming, and the foam was thundering on the reef. + +That evening, Mr Button feeling inclined for joviality, and not +wishing the children to see him under the influence, rolled the +barrel through the cocoa-nut grove to a little clearing by the edge +of the water. There, when the children were in bed and asleep, he +repaired with some green cocoa-nuts and a shell. He was +generally musical when amusing himself in this fashion, and +Emmeline, waking up during the night, heard his voice borne +through the moonlit cocoa-nut grove by the wind: + + "There were five or six old drunken sailors + Standin' before the bar, + And Larry, he was servin' them + From a big five-gallon jar. + + "Chorus.-- + Hoist up the flag, long may it wave! + Long may it lade us to glory or the grave. + Stidy, boys, stidy--sound the jubilee, + For Babylon has fallen, and the slaves are all set + free." + +Next morning the musician awoke beside the cask. He had not a +trace of a headache, or any bad feeling, but he made Dick do the +cooking; and he lay in the shade of the cocoa-nut trees, with his +head on a "pilla" made out of an old coat rolled up, twiddling his +thumbs, smoking his pipe, and discoursing about the "ould" days, +half to himself and half to his companions. + +That night he had another musical evening all to himself, and so it +went on for a week. Then he began to lose his appetite and sleep; +and one morning Dick found him sitting on the sand looking very +queer indeed--as well he might, for he had been "seeing things" +since dawn. + +"What is it, Paddy?" said the boy, running up, followed by +Emmeline. + +Mr Button was staring at a point on the sand close by. He had his +right hand raised after the manner of a person who is trying to +catch a fly. Suddenly he made a grab at the sand, and then opened +his hand wide to see what he had caught. + +"What is it, Paddy?" + +"The Cluricaune," replied Mr Button. "All dressed in green he was- +-musha! musha! but it's only pretindin' I am." + +The complaint from which he was suffering has this strange thing +about it, that, though the patient sees rats, or snakes, or what- +not, as real-looking as the real things, and though they possess +his mind for a moment, almost immediately he recognises that he +is suffering from a delusion. + +The children laughed, and Mr Button laughed in a stupid sort of +way. + +"Sure, it was only a game I was playin'--there was no Cluricaune +at all--it's whin I dhrink rum it puts it into me head to play +games like that. Oh, be the Holy Poker, there's red rats comin' out +of the sand!" + +He got on his hands and knees and scuttle off towards the cocoa- +nut trees, looking over his shoulder with a bewildered expression +on his face. He would have risen to fly, only he dared not stand up. + +The children laughed and danced round him as he crawled. + +"Look at the rats, Paddy! look at the rats!" cried Dick. + +"They're in front of me!" cried the afflicted one, making a vicious +grab at an imaginary rodent's tail. "Ran dan the bastes! now +they're gone. Musha, but it's a fool I'm makin' of meself." + +"Go on, Paddy," said Dick; "don't stop. Look there--there's more +rats coming after you!" + +"Oh, whisht, will you?" replied Paddy, taking his seat on the sand, +and wiping his brow. "They're aff me now." + +The children stood by, disappointed of their game. Good acting +appeals to children just as much as to grown-up people. They +stood waiting for another excess of humour to take the comedian, +and they had not to wait long. + +A thing like a flayed horse came out of the lagoon and up the +beach, and this time Button did not crawl away. He got on his feet +and ran. + +"It's a harse that's afther me--it's a harse that's afther me! Dick! +Dick! hit him a skelp. Dick! Dick! dhrive him away." + +"Hurroo! Hurroo!" cried Dick, chasing the afflicted one, who was +running in a wide circle, his broad red face slewed over his left +shoulder. "Go it, Paddy! go it, Paddy!" + +"Kape off me, you baste!" shouted Paddy. "Holy Mary, Mother of God! +I'll land you a kick wid me fut if yiz come nigh me. Em'leen! +Em'leen! come betune us!" + +He tripped, and over he went on the sand, the indefatigable Dick +beating him with a little switch he had picked up to make him +continue. + +"I'm better now, but I'm near wore out," said Mr Button, sitting up +on the sand. "But, bedad, if I'm chased by any more things like +them it's into the say I'll be dashin'. Dick, lend me your arum." + +He took Dick's arm and wandered over to the shade of the trees. +Here he threw himself down, and told the children to leave him to +sleep. They recognised that the game was over and left him. And +he slept for six hours on end; it was the first real sleep he had +had for several days. When he awoke he was well, but very shaky. + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +STARLIGHT ON THE FOAM + +Mr Button saw no more rats, much to Dick's disappointment. He +was off the drink. At dawn next day he got up, refreshed by a +second sleep, and wandered down to the edge of the lagoon. The +opening in the reef faced the east, and the light of the dawn came +rippling in with the flooding tide. + +"It's a baste I've been," said the repentant one, "a brute baste." + +He was quite wrong; as a matter of fact, he was only a man beset +and betrayed. + +He stood for a while, cursing the drink, "and them that sells it." +Then he determined to put himself out of the way of temptation. +Pull the bung out of the barrel, and let the contents escape? + +Such a thought never even occurred to him--or, if it did, was +instantly dismissed; for, though an old sailor-man may curse the +drink, good rum is to him a sacred thing; and to empty half a little +barrel of it into the sea, would be an act almost equivalent to +child-murder. He put the cask into the dinghy, and rowed it over +to the reef. There he placed it in the shelter of a great lump of +coral, and rowed back. + +Paddy had been trained all his life to rhythmical drunkenness. +Four months or so had generally elapsed between his bouts--some- +times six; it all depended on the length of the voyage. Six months +now elapsed before he felt even an inclination to look at the rum +cask, that tiny dark spot away on the reef. And it was just as +well, for during those six months another whale-ship arrived, +watered and was avoided. + +"Blisther it!" said he; "the say here seems to breed whale-ships, +and nothin' but whaleships. It's like bugs in a bed: you kill wan, +and then another comes. Howsumever, we're shut of thim for a +while." + +He walked down to the lagoon edge, looked at the little dark spot +and whistled. Then he walked back to prepare dinner. That little +dark spot began to trouble him after a while; not it, but the spirit +it contained. + +Days grew long and weary, the days that had been so short and +pleasant. To the children there was no such thing as time. Having +absolute and perfect health, they enjoyed happiness as far as +mortals can enjoy it. Emmeline's highly strung nervous system, it +is true, developed a headache when she had been too long in the +glare of the sun, but they were few and far between. + +The spirit in the little cask had been whispering across the +lagoon for some weeks; at last it began to shout. Mr Button, +metaphorically speaking, stopped his ears. He busied himself with +the children as much as possible. He made another garment for +Emmeline, and cut Dick's hair with the scissors (a job which was +generally performed once in a couple of months). + +One night, to keep the rum from troubling his head, he told them +the story of Jack Dogherty and the Merrow, which is well known +on the western coast. + +The Merrow takes Jack to dinner at the bottom of the sea, and +shows him the lobster pots wherein he keeps the souls of old +sailormen, and then they have dinner, and the Merrow produces a +big bottle of rum. + +It was a fatal story for him to remember and recount; for, after +his companions were asleep, the vision of the Merrow and Jack +hobnobbing, and the idea of the jollity of it, rose before him, and +excited a thirst for joviality not to be resisted. + +There were some green cocoa-nuts that he had plucked that day +lying in a little heap under a tree--half a dozen or so. He took +several of these and a shell, found the dinghy where it was +moored to the aoa tree, unmoored her, and pushed off into the +lagoon. + +The lagoon and sky were full of stars. In the dark depths of the +water might have been seen phosphorescent gleams of passing +fish, and the thunder of the surf on the reef filled the night with +its song. + +He fixed the boat's painter carefully round a spike of coral and +landed on the reef, and with a shellful of rum and cocoa-nut +lemonade mixed half and half, he took his perch on a high ledge of +coral from whence a view of the sea and the coral strand could be +obtained. + +On a moonlight night it was fine to sit here and watch the great +breakers coming in, all marbled and clouded and rainbowed with +spindrift and sheets of spray. But the snow and the song of them +under the diffused light of the stars produced a more +indescribably beautiful and strange effect. + +The tide was going out now, and Mr Button, as he sat smoking his +pipe and drinking his grog, could see bright mirrors here and there +where the water lay in rock-pools. When he had contemplated +these sights for a considerable time in complete contentment, he +returned to the lagoon side of the reef and sat down beside the +little barrel. Then, after a while, if you had been standing on the +strand opposite, you would have heard scraps of song borne across +the quivering water of the lagoon. + + "Sailing down, sailing down, + On the coast of Barbaree." + +Whether the coast of Barbary in question is that at San Francisco, +or the true and proper coast, does not matter. It is an old-time +song; and when you hear it, whether on a reef of coral or a granite +quay, you may feel assured that an old-time sailor-man is singing +it, and that the old-time sailor-man is bemused. + +Presently the dinghy put off from the reef, the sculls broke the +starlit waters and great shaking circles of light made rhythmical +answer to the slow and steady creak of the thole pins against the +leather. He tied up to the aoa, saw that the sculls were safely +shipped; then, breathing heavily, he cast off his boots for fear of +waking the "childer." As the children were sleeping more than two +hundred yards away, this was a needless precaution especially as +the intervening distance was mostly soft sand. + +Green cocoa-nut juice and rum mixed together are pleasant +enough to drink, but they are better drunk separately; combined, +not even the brain of an old sailor can make anything of them but +mist and muddlement; that is to say, in the way of thought--in +the way of action they can make him do a lot. They made Paddy +Button swim the lagoon. + +The recollection came to him all at once, as he was walking up +the strand towards the wigwam, that he had left the dinghy tied +to the reef. The dinghy was, as a matter of fact, safe and sound +tied to the aoa; but Mr Button's memory told him it was tied to +the reef. How he had crossed the lagoon was of no importance at +all to him; the fact that he had crossed without the boat, yet +without getting wet, did not appear to him strange. He had no +time to deal with trifles like these. The dinghy had to be fetched +across the lagoon, and there was only one way of fetching it. So +he came back down the beach to the water's edge, cast down his +boots, cast off his coat, and plunged in. The lagoon was wide, but +in his present state of mind he would have swum the Hellespont. +His figure gone from the beach, the night resumed its majesty and +aspect of meditation. + +So lit was the lagoon by starshine that the head of the swimmer +could be distinguished away out in the midst of circles of light; +also, as the head neared the reef, a dark triangle that came +shearing through water past the palm tree at the pier. It was the +night patrol of the lagoon, who had heard in some mysterious +manner that a drunken sailor-man was making trouble in his +waters. + +Looking, one listened, hand on heart, for the scream of the +arrested one, yet it did not come. The swimmer, scrambling on to +the reef in an exhausted manner, forgetful evidently of the object +for which he had returned, made for the rum cask, and fell down +beside it as though sleep had touched him instead of death. + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE DREAMER ON THE REEF + +"I wonder where Paddy is?" cried Dick next morning. He was +coming out of the chapparel, pulling a dead branch after him. "He's +left his coat on the sand, and the tinder box in it, so I'll make the +fire. There's no use waiting. I want my breakfast. Bother!" + +He trod the dead stick with his naked feet, breaking it into pieces. + +Emmeline sat on the sand and watched him. + +Emmeline had two gods of a sort: Paddy Button and Dick. Paddy +was almost an esoteric god wrapped in the fumes of tobacco and +mystery. The god of rolling ships and creaking masts--the masts +and vast sail spaces of the Northumberland were an enduring +vision in her mind--the deity who had lifted her from a little boat +into this marvellous place, where the birds were coloured and the +fish were painted, where life was never dull, and the skies +scarcely ever grey. + +Dick, the other deity, was a much more understandable personage, +but no less admirable, as a companion and protector. In the two +years and five months of island life he had grown nearly three +inches. He was as strong as a boy of twelve, and could scull the +boat almost as well as Paddy himself, and light a fire. Indeed, +during the last few months Mr Button, engaged in resting his +bones, and contemplating rum as an abstract idea, had left the +cooking and fishing and general gathering of food as much as +possible to Dick. + +"It amuses the craythur to pritind he's doing things," he would +say, as he watched Dick delving in the earth to make a little +oven--Island-fashion--for the cooking of fish or what-not. + +"Come along, Em," said Dick, piling the broken wood on top of +some rotten hibiscus sticks; "give me the tinder box." + +He got a spark on to a bit of punk, and then he blew at it, looking +not unlike Aeolus as represented on those old Dutch charts that +smell of schiedam and snuff, and give one mermaids and angels +instead of soundings. + +The fire was soon sparkling and crackling, and he heaped on sticks +in profusion, for there was plenty of fuel, and he wanted to cook +breadfruit. + +The breadfruit varies in size, according to age, and in colour +according to season. These that Dick was preparing to cook were +as large as small melons. Two would be more than enough for +three people's breakfast. They were green and knobbly on the +outside, and they suggested to the mind unripe lemons, rather +than bread. + +He put them in the embers, just as you put potatoes to roast, and +presently they sizzled and spat little venomous jets of steam, +then they cracked, and the white inner substance became visible. +He cut them open and took the core out--the core is not fit to +eat--and they were ready. + +Meanwhile, Emmeline, under his directions, had not been idle. + +There were in the lagoon--there are in several other tropical +lagoons I know of--a fish which I can only describe as a golden +herring. A bronze herring it looks when landed, but when +swimming away down against the background of coral brains and +white sand patches, it has the sheen of burnished gold. It is as +good to eat as to look at, and Emmeline was carefully toasting +several of them on a piece of cane. + +The juice of the fish kept the cane from charring, though there +were accidents at times, when a whole fish would go into the +fire, amidst shouts of derision from Dick. + +She made a pretty enough picture as she knelt, the "skirt" round +the waist looking not unlike a striped bath-towel, her small face +intent, and filled with the seriousness of the job on hand, and her +lips puckered out at the heat of the fire. + +"It's so hot!" she cried in self-defence, after the first of the +accidents. + +"Of course it's hot," said Dick, "if you stick to looward of the fire. +How often has Paddy told you to keep to windward of it!" + +"I don't know which is which," confessed the unfortunate +Emmeline, who was an absolute failure at everything practical: +who could neither row nor fish, nor throw a stone, and who, +though they had now been on the island twenty-eight months or +so, could not even swim. + +"You mean to say," said Dick, "that you don't know where the wind +comes from?" + +"Yes, I know that." + +"Well, that's to windward." + +"I didn't know that." + +"Well, you know it now." + +"Yes, I know it now." + +"Well, then, come to windward of the fire. Why didn't you ask the +meaning of it before?" + +"I did," said Emmeline; "I asked Mr Button one day, and he told me +a lot about it. He said if he was to spit to windward and a person +was to stand to loo'ard of him, he'd be a fool; and he said if a ship +went too much to loo'ard she went on the rocks, but I didn't +understand what he meant. Dicky, I wonder where he is?" + +"Paddy!" cried Dick, pausing in the act of splitting open a +breadfruit. Echoes came from amidst the cocoa-nut trees, but +nothing more. + +"Come on," said Dick; "I'm not going to wait for him. He may have +gone to fetch up the night lines"--they sometimes put down night +lines in the lagoon--"and fallen asleep over them." + +Now, though Emmeline honoured Mr Button as a minor deity, Dick +had no illusions at all upon the matter. He admired Paddy because +he could knot, and splice, and climb a cocoanut tree, and exercise +his sailor craft in other admirable ways, but he felt the old man's +limitations. They ought to have had potatoes now, but they had +eaten both potatoes and the possibility of potatoes when they +consumed the contents of that half sack. Young as he was, Dick +felt the absolute thriftlessness of this proceeding. Emmeline did +not; she never thought of potatoes, though she could have told you +the colour of all the birds on the island. + +Then, again, the house wanted rebuilding, and Mr Button said +every day he would set about seeing after it to-morrow, and on +the morrow it would be to-morrow. The necessities of the life +they led were a stimulus to the daring and active mind of the boy; +but he was always being checked by the go-as-you-please +methods of his elder. Dick came of the people who make sewing +machines and typewriters. Mr Button came of a people notable for +ballads, tender hearts, and potheen. That was the main difference. + +"Paddy!" again cried the boy, when he had eaten as much as he +wanted. "Hullo! where are you?" + +They listened, but no answer came. A bright-hued bird flew +across the sand space, a lizard scuttled across the glistening +sand, the reef spoke, and the wind in the tree-tops; but Mr Button +made no reply. + +"Wait," said Dick. + +He ran through the grove towards the aoa where the dinghy was +moored; then he returned. + +"The dinghy is all right," he said. "Where on earth can he be?" + +"I don't know," said Emmeline, upon whose heart a feeling of +loneliness had fallen. + +"Let's go up the hill," said Dick; "perhaps we'll find him there." + +They went uphill through the wood, past the water-course. Every +now and then Dick would call out, and echoes would answer--there +were quaint, moist-voiced echoes amidst the trees or a bevy of +birds would take flight. The little waterfall gurgled and +whispered, and the great banana leaves spread their shade. + +"Come on," said Dick, when he had called again without receiving a +reply. + +They found the hill-top, and the great boulder stood casting its +shadow in the sun. The morning breeze was blowing, the sea +sparkling, the reef flashing, the foliage of the island waving in +the wind like the flames of a green-flamed torch. A deep swell +was spreading itself across the bosom of the Pacific. Some +hurricane away beyond the Navigators or Gilberts had sent this +message and was finding its echo here, a thousand miles away, in +the deeper thunder of the reef. + +Nowhere else in the world could you get such a picture, such a +combination of splendour and summer, such a vision of freshness +and strength, and the delight of morning. It was the smallness of +the island, perhaps, that closed the charm and made it perfect. +Just a bunch of foliage and flowers set in the midst of the +blowing wind and sparkling blue. + +Suddenly Dick, standing beside Emmeline on the rock, pointed +with his finger to the reef near the opening. + +"There he is!" cried he. + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THE GARLAND OF FLOWERS + +You could just make the figure out lying on the reef near the little +cask, and comfortably sheltered from the sun by an upstanding +lump of coral. + +"He's asleep," said Dick. + +He had not thought to look towards the reef from the beach, or he +might have seen the figure before. + +"Dicky!" said Emmeline. + +"Well?" + +"How did he get over, if you said the dinghy was tied to the tree?" + +"I don't know," said Dick, who had not thought of this; "there he is, +anyhow. I'll tell you what, Em, we'll row across and wake him. I'll +boo into his ear and make him jump." + +They got down from the rock, and came back down through the +wood. As they came Emmeline picked flowers and began making +them up into one of her wreaths. Some scarlet hibiscus, some +bluebells, a couple of pale poppies with furry stalks and bitter +perfume. + +"What are you making that for?" asked Dick, who always viewed +Emmeline's wreath-making with a mixture of compassion and +vague disgust. + +"I'm going to put it on Mr Button's head," said Emmeline; "so's +when you say boo into his ear he'll jump up with it on." + +Dick chuckled with pleasure at the idea of the practical joke, and +almost admitted in his own mind for a moment, that after all +there might be a use for such futilities as wreaths. + +The dinghy was moored under the spreading shade of the aoa, the +painter tied to one of the branches that projected over the water. +These dwarf aoas branch in an extraordinary way close to the +ground, throwing out limbs like rails. The tree had made a good +protection for the little boat, protecting it from marauding hands +and from the sun; besides the protection of the tree Paddy had +now and then scuttled the boat in shallow water. It was a new +boat to start with, and with precautions like these might be +expected to last many years. + +"Get in," said Dick, pulling on the painter so that the bow of the +dinghy came close to the beach. + +Emmeline got carefully in, and went aft. Then Dick got in, pushed +off, and took to the sculls. Next moment they were out on the +sparkling water. + +Dick rowed cautiously, fearing to wake the sleeper. He fastened +the painter to the coral spike that seemed set there by nature for +the purpose. He scrambled on to the reef, and lying down on his +stomach drew the boat's gunwale close up so that Emmeline +might land. He had no boots on; the soles of his feet, from +constant exposure, had become insensitive as leather. + +Emmeline also was without boots. The soles of her feet, as is +always the case with highly nervous people, were sensitive, and +she walked delicately, avoiding the worst places, holding her +wreath in her right hand. + +It was full tide, and the thunder of the waves outside shook the +reef. It was like being in a church when the deep bass of the organ +is turned full on, shaking the ground and the air, the walls and the +roof. Dashes of spray came over with the wind, and the +melancholy "Hi, hi!" of the wheeling gulls came like the voices of +ghostly sailor-men hauling at the halyards. + +Paddy was lying on his right side steeped in profound oblivion. His +face was buried in the crook of his right arm, and his brown +tattooed left hand lay on his left thigh, palm upwards. He had no +hat, and the breeze stirred his grizzled hair. + +Dick and Emmeline stole up to him till they got right beside him. +Then Emmeline, flashing out a laugh, flung the little wreath of +flowers on the old man's head, and Dick, popping down on his +knees, shouted into his ear. But the dreamer did not stir or move a +finger. + +"Paddy," cried Dick, "wake up! wake up!" + +He pulled at the shoulder till the figure from its sideways +posture fell over on its back. The eyes were wide open and +staring. The mouth hung open, and from the mouth darted a little +crab; it scuttled over the chin and dropped on the coral. + +Emmeline screamed, and screamed, and would have fallen, but the +boy caught her in his arms--one side of the face had been destroyed +by the larvae of the rocks. + +He held her to him as he stared at the terrible figure lying upon +its back, hands outspread. Then, wild with terror, he dragged her +towards the little boat. She was struggling, and panting and +gasping, like a person drowning in ice-cold water. + +His one instinct was to escape, to fly anywhere, no matter where. +He dragged the girl to the coral edge, and pulled the boat up close. +Had the reef suddenly become enveloped in flames he could not +have exerted himself more to escape from it and save his +companion. A moment later they were afloat, and he was pulling +wildly for the shore. + +He did not know what had happened, nor did he pause to think: he +was fleeing from horror--nameless horror; whilst the child at his +feet, with her head resting against the gunwale, stared up open- +eyed and speechless at the great blue sky, as if at some terror +visible there. The boat grounded on the white sand, and the wash +of the incoming tide drove it up sideways. + +Emmeline had fallen forward; she had lost consciousness. + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +ALONE + +The idea of spiritual life must be innate in the heart of man, for +all that terrible night, when the children lay huddled together in +the little hut in the chapparel, the fear that filled them was that +their old friend might suddenly darken the entrance and seek to +lie down beside them. + +They did not speak about him. Something had been done to him; +something had happened. Something terrible had happened to the +wor]d they knew. But they dared not speak of it or question each +other. + +Dick had carried his companion to the hut when he left the boat, +and hidden with her there; the evening had come on, and the night, +and now in the darkness, without having tasted food all day, he +was telling her not to be afraid, that he would take care of her. +But not a word of the thing that had happened. + +The thing, for them, had no precedent, and no vocabulary. They had +come across death raw and real, uncooked by religion, un- +deodorised by the sayings of sages and poets. + +They knew nothing of the philosophy that tells us that death is +the common lot, and the natural sequence to birth, or the religion +that teaches us that Death is the door to Life. + +A dead old sailor-man lying like a festering carcass on a coral +ledge, eyes staring and glazed and fixed, a wide-open mouth that +once had spoken comforting words, and now spoke living crabs. + +That was the vision before them. They did not philosophise about +it; and though they were filled with terror, I do not think it was +terror that held them from speaking about it, but a vague feeling +that what they had beheld was obscene, unspeakable, and a thing +to avoid. + +Lestrange had brought them up in his own way. He had told them +there was a good God who looked after the world; determined as +far as he could to exclude demonology and sin and death from +their knowledge, he had rested content with the bald statement +that there was a good God who looked after the world, without +explaining fully that the same God would torture them for ever +and ever, should they fail to believe in Him or keep His +commandments. + +This knowledge of the Almighty, therefore, was but a half +knowledge, the vaguest abstraction. Had they been brought up, +however, in the most strictly Calvinistic school, this knowledge +of Him would have been no comfort now. Belief in God is no +comfort to a frightened child. Teach him as many parrot-like +prayers as you please, and in distress or the dark of what use are +they to him? His cry is for his nurse, or his mother. + +During that dreadful night these two children had no comfort to +seek anywhere in the whole wide universe but in each other. She, +in a sense of his protection, he, in a sense of being her protector. +The manliness in him greater and more beautiful than physical +strength, developed in those dark hours just as a plant under +extraordinary circumstances is hurried into bloom. + +Towards dawn Emmeline fell asleep. Dick stole out of the hut +when he had assured himself from her regular breathing that she +was asleep, and, pushing the tendrils and the branches of the +mammee apples aside, found the beach. The dawn was just +breaking, and the morning breeze was coming in from the sea. + +When he had beached the dinghy the day before, the tide was just +at the flood, and it had left her stranded. The tide was coming in +now, and in a short time it would be far enough up to push her off. + +Emmeline in the night had implored him to take her away. Take +her away somewhere from there, and he had promised, without +knowing in the least how he was to perform his promise. As he +stood looking at the beach, so desolate and strangely different +now from what it was the day before, an idea of how he could +fulfil his promise came to him. He ran down to where the little +boat lay on the shelving sand, with the ripples of the incoming +tide just washing the rudder, which was still shipped. He +unshipped the rudder and came back. + +Under a tree, covered with the stay-sail they had brought from +the Shenandoah, lay most of their treasures: old clothes and +boots, and all the other odds and ends. The precious tobacco +stitched up in a piece of canvas was there, and the housewife +with the needles and threads. A hole had been dug in the sand as a +sort of cache for them, and the stay-sail put over them to protect +them from the dew. + +The sun was now looking over the sealine, and the tall cocoa-nut +trees were singing and whispering together under the strengthen- +ing breeze. + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +THEY MOVE AWAY + +He began to collect the things, and carry them to the dinghy. He +took the stay-sail and everything that might be useful; and when +he had stowed them in the boat, he took the breaker and filled it +with water at the water source in the wood; he collected some +bananas and breadfruit, and stowed them in the dinghy with the +breaker. Then he found the remains of yesterday's breakfast, +which he had hidden between two palmetto leaves, and placed it +also in the boat. + +The water was now so high that a strong push would float her. He +turned back to the hut for Emmeline. She was still asleep: so +soundly asleep, that when he lifted her up in his arms she made no +movement. He placed her carefully in the stern-sheets with her +head on the sail rolled up, and then standing in the bow pushed off +with a scull. Then, taking the sculls, he turned the boat's head up +the lagoon to the left. He kept close to the shore, but for the life +of him he could not help lifting his eyes and looking towards the +reef. + +Round a certain spot on the distant white coral there was a great +commotion of birds. Huge birds some of them seemed, and the "Hi! +hi! hi!" of them came across the lagoon on the breeze as they +quarrelled together and beat the air with their wings. He turned +his head away till a bend of the shore hid the spot from sight. + +Here, sheltered more completely than opposite the break in the +reef, the artu came in places right down to the water's edge; the +breadfruit trees cast the shadow of their great scalloped leaves +upon the water; glades, thick with fern, wildernesses of the +mammee apple, and bushes of the scarlet "wild cocoanut" all +slipped by, as the dinghy, hugging the shore, crept up the lagoon. + +Gazing at the shore edge one might have imagined it the edge of a +lake, but for the thunder of the Pacific upon the distant reef; and +even that did not destroy the impression, but only lent a +strangeness to it. + +A lake in the midst of the ocean, that is what the lagoon really +was. + +Here and there cocoa-nut trees slanted over the water, mirroring +their delicate stems, and tracing their clear-cut shadows on the +sandy bottom a fathom deep below. + +He kept close in-shore for the sake of the shelter of the trees. His +object was to find some place where they might stop +permanently, and put up a tent. He was seeking a new home, in +fact. But, pretty as were the glades they passed, they were not +attractive places to live in. There were too many trees, or the +ferns were too deep. He was seeking air and space, and suddenly +he found it. Rounding a little cape, all blazing with the scarlet of +the wild cocoa-nut, the dinghy broke into a new world. + +Before her lay a great sweep of the palest blue wind-swept +water, down to which came a broad green sward of park-like land +set on either side with deep groves, and leading up and away to +higher land, where, above the massive and motionless green of the +great breadfruit trees, the palm trees swayed and fluttered their +pale green feathers in the breeze. The pale colour of the water +was due to the extreme shallowness of the lagoon just here. So +shallow was it that one could see brown spaces indicating beds of +dead and rotten coral, and splashes of darkest sapphire where the +deep pools lay. The reef lay more than half a mile from the shore: +a great way out, it seemed, so far out that its cramping influence +was removed, and one had the impression of wide and unbroken +sea. + +Dick rested on his oars, and let the dinghy float whilst he looked +around him. He had come some four miles and a half, and this was +right at the back of the island. As the boat drifting shoreward +touched the bank, Emmeline awakened from her sleep, sat up, and +looked around her. + + + + +BOOK II + +PART I + +CHAPTER I + +UNDER THE ARTU TREE + + +On the edge of the green sward, between a diamond-chequered +artu trunk and the massive bole of a breadfruit, a house had come +into being. It was not much larger than a big hen-house, but quite +sufficient for the needs of two people in a climate of eternal +summer. It was built of bamboos, and thatched with a double +thatch of palmetto leaves, so neatly built, and so well thatched, +that one might have fancied it the production of several skilled +workmen. + +The breadfruit tree was barren of fruit, as these trees sometimes +are, whole groves of them ceasing to bear for some mysterious +reason only known to Nature. It was green now, but when +suffering its yearly change the great scalloped leaves would take +all imaginable tinges of gold and bronze and amber. Beyond the +artu was a little clearing, where the chapparel had been carefully +removed and taro roots planted. + +Stepping from the house doorway on to the sward you might have +fancied yourself, except for the tropical nature of the foliage, in +some English park. + +Looking to the right, the eye became lost in the woods, where all +tints of green were tinging the foliage, and the bushes of the wild +cocoa-nut burned scarlet as hawberries. + +The house had a doorway, but no door. It might have been said to +have a double roof, for the breadfruit foliage above gave good +shelter during the rains. Inside it was bare enough. Dried, sweet- +smelling ferns covered the floor. Two sails, rolled up, lay on +either side of the doorway. There was a rude shelf attached to one +of the walls, and on the shelf some bowls made of cocoa-nut +shell. The people to whom the place belonged evidently did not +trouble it much with their presence, using it only at night, and as +a refuge from the dew. + +Sitting on the grass by the doorway, sheltered by the breadfruit +shade, yet with the hot rays of the afternoon sun just touching +her naked feet, was a girl. A girl of fifteen or sixteen, naked, +except for a kilt of gaily-striped material reaching from her +waist to her knees. Her long black hair was drawn back from the +forehead, and tied behind with a loop of the elastic vine. A scarlet +blossom was stuck behind her right ear, after the fashion of a +clerk's pen. Her face was beautiful, powdered with tiny freckles; +especially under the eyes, which were of a deep, tranquil blue- +grey. She half sat, half lay on her left side; whilst before her, +quite close, strutted up and down on the grass, a bird, with blue +plumage, coral-red beak, and bright, watchful eyes. + +The girl was Emmeline Lestrange. Just by her elbow stood a little +bowl made from half a cocoa-nut, and filled with some white +substance with which she was feeding the bird. Dick had found it +in the woods two years ago, quite small, deserted by its mother, +and starving. They had fed it and tamed it, and it was now one of +the family, roosting on the roof at night, and appearing regularly +at meal times. + +All at once she held out her hand; the bird flew into the air, lit on +her forefinger and balanced itself, sinking its head between its +shoulders, and uttering the sound which formed its entire +vocabulary and one means of vocal expression--a sound from +which it had derived its name. + +"Koko," said Emmeline, "where is Dick?" + +The bird turned his head about, as if he were searching for his +master; and the girl lay back lazily on the grass, laughing, and +holding him up poised on her finger, as if he were some enamelled +jewel she wished to admire at a little distance. They made a +pretty picture under the cave-like shadow of the breadfruit +leaves; and it was difficult to understand how this young girl, so +perfectly formed, so fully developed, and so beautiful, had +evolved from plain little Emmeline Lestrange. And the whole +thing, as far as the beauty of her was concerned, had happened +during the last six months. + + + +CHAPTER II + +HALF CHILD--HALF SAVAGE + +Five rainy seasons had passed and gone since the tragic +occurrence on the reef. Five long years the breakers had +thundered, and the sea-gulls had cried round the figure whose +spell had drawn a mysterious barrier across the lagoon. + +The children had never returned to the old place. They had kept +entirely to the back of the island and the woods--the lagoon, +down to a certain point, and the reef; a wide enough and beautiful +enough world, but a hopeless world, as far as help from +civilisation was concerned. For, of the few ships that touched at +the island in the course of years, how many would explore the +lagoon or woods? Perhaps not one. + +Occasionally Dick would make an excursion in the dinghy to the +old place, but Emmeline refused to accompany him. He went +chiefly to obtain bananas; for on the whole island there was but +one clump of banana trees--that near the water source in the +wood, where the old green skulls had been discovered, and the +little barrel. + +She had never quite recovered from the occurrence on the reef. +Something had been shown to her, the purport of which she +vaguely understood, and it had filled her with horror and a terror +of the place where it had occurred. Dick was quite different. He +had been frightened enough at first; but the feeling wore away in +time. + +Dick had built three houses in succession during the five years. He +had laid out a patch of taro and another of sweet potatoes. He +knew every pool on the reef for two miles either way, and the +forms of their inhabitants; and though he did not know the names +of the creatures to be found there, he made a profound study of +their habits. + +He had seen some astonishing things during these five years-- +from a fight between a whale and two thrashers conducted +outside the reef, lasting an hour, and dyeing the breaking waves +with blood, to the poisoning of the fish in the lagoon by fresh +water, due to an extraordinarily heavy rainy season. + +He knew the woods of the back of the island by heart, and the +forms of life that inhabited them, butterflies and moths and +birds, lizards, and insects of strange shape; extraordinary +orchids--some filthy-looking, the very image of corruption, some +beautiful, and all strange. He found melons and guavas, and +breadfruit, the red apple of Tahiti, and the great Brazilian plum, +taro in plenty, and a dozen other good things--but there were no +bananas. This made him unhappy at times, for he was human. + +Though Emmeline had asked Koko for Dick's whereabouts, it was +only a remark made by way of making conversation, for she could +hear him in the little cane-brake which lay close by amidst the +trees. + +In a few minutes he appeared, dragging after him two canes which +he had just cut, and wiping the perspiration off his brow with his +naked arm. He had an old pair of trousers on--part of the truck +salved long ago from the Shenandoah--nothing else, and he was +well worth looking at and considering, both from a physical and +psychological point of view. + +Auburn-haired and tall, looking more like seventeen than sixteen, +with a restless and daring expression, half a child, half a man, +half a civilised being, half a savage, he had both progressed and +retrograded during the five years of savage life. He sat down +beside Emmeline, flung the canes beside him, tried the edge of the +old butcher's knife with which he had cut them, then, taking one +of the canes across his knee, he began whittling at it. + +"What are you making?" asked Emmeline, releasing the bird, which +flew into one of the branches of the artu and rested there, a blue +point amidst the dark green. + +"Fish-spear," replied Dick. + +Without being taciturn, he rarely wasted words. Life was all +business for him. He would talk to Emmeline, but always in short +sentences; and he had developed the habit of talking to inanimate +things, to the fish-spear he was carving, or the bowl he was +fashioning from a cocoa-nut. + +As for Emmeline, even as a child she had never been talkative. +There was something mysterious in her personality, something +secretive. Her mind seemed half submerged in twilight. Though +she spoke little, and though the subject of their conversations +was almost entirely material and relative to their everyday +needs, her mind would wander into abstract fields and the land of +chimerae and dreams. What she found there no one knew--least of +all, perhaps, herself. + +As for Dick, he would sometimes talk and mutter to himself, as if +in a reverie; but if you caught the words, you would find that they +referred to no abstraction, but to some trifle he had on hand. He +seemed entirely bound up in the moment, and to have forgotten +the past as completely as though it had never been. + +Yet he had his contemplative moods. He would lie with his face +over a rock-pool by the hour, watching the strange forms of life +to be seen there, or sit in the woods motionless as a stone, +watching the birds and the swift-slipping lizards. The birds came +so close that he could easily have knocked them over, but he never +hurt one or interfered in any way with the wild life of the woods. + +The island, the lagoon, and the reef were for him the three +volumes of a great picture book, as they were for Emmeline, +though in a different manner. The colour and the beauty of it all +fed some mysterious want in her soul. Her life was a long reverie, +a beautiful vision--troubled with shadows. Across all the blue +and coloured spaces that meant months and years she could still +see as in a glass dimly the Northumberland, smoking against +the wild background of fog; her uncle's face, Boston--a vague and +dark picture beyond a storm--and nearer, the tragic form on the +reef that still haunted terribly her dreams. But she never spoke of +these things to Dick. Just as she kept the secret of what was in +her box, and the secret of her trouble whenever she lost it, she +kept the secret of her feelings about these things. + +Born of these things there remained with her always a vague +terror: the terror of losing Dick. Mrs Stannard, her uncle, the dim +people she had known in Boston, all had passed away out of her +life like a dream and shadows. The other one too, most horribly. +What if Dick were taken from her as well? + +This haunting trouble had been with her a long time; up to a few +months ago it had been mainly personal and selfish--the dread of +being left alone. But lately it had altered and become more acute. +Dick had changed in her eyes, and the fear was now for him. Her +own personality had suddenly and strangely become merged in his. +The idea of life without him was unthinkable, yet the trouble +remained, a menace in the blue. + +Some days it would be worse than others. To-day, for instance, it +was worse than yesterday, as though some danger had crept close +to them during the night. Yet the sky and sea were stainless, the +sun shone on tree and flower, the west wind brought the tune of +the far-away reef like a lullaby. There was nothing to hint of +danger or the need of distrust. + +At last Dick finished his spear and rose to his feet. + +"Where are you going?" asked Emmeline. + +"The reef," he replied. "The tide's going out." + +"I'll go with you," said she. + +He went into the house and stowed the precious knife away. Then +he came out, spear in one hand, and half a fathom of liana in the +other. The liana was for the purpose of stringing the fish on, +should the catch be large. He led the way down the grassy sward +to the lagoon where the dinghy lay, close up to the bank, and +moored to a post driven into the soft soil. Emmeline got in, and, +taking the sculls, he pushed off. The tide was going out. + +I have said that the reef just here lay a great way out from the +shore. The lagoon was so shallow that at low tide one could have +waded almost right across it, were it not for pot-holes here and +there--ten-feet traps--and great beds of rotten coral, into which +one would sink as into brushwood, to say nothing of the nettle +coral that stings like a bed of nettles. There were also other +dangers. Tropical shallows are full of wild surprises in the way +of life and death. + +Dick had long ago marked out in his memory the soundings of the +lagoon, and it was fortunate that he possessed the special sense +of location which is the main stand-by of the hunter and the +savage, for, from the disposition of the coral in ribs, the water +from the shore edge to the reef ran in lanes. Only two of these +lanes gave a clear, fair way from the shore edge to the reef; had +you followed the others, even in a boat of such shallow draught as +the dinghy, you would have found yourself stranded half-way +across, unless, indeed, it were a spring tide. + +Half-way across the sound of the surf on the barrier became +louder, and the everlasting and monotonous cry of the gulls came +on the breeze. It was lonely out here, and, looking back, the shore +seemed a great way off. It was lonelier still on the reef. + +Dick tied up the boat to a projection of coral, and helped +Emmeline to land. The sun was creeping down into the west, the +tide was nearly half out, and large pools of water lay glittering +like burnished shields in the sunlight. Dick, with his precious +spear beside him, sat calmly down on a ledge of coral, and began +to divest himself of his one and only garment. + +Emmeline turned away her head and contemplated the distant +shore, which seemed thrice as far off as it was in reality. When +she turned her head again he was racing along the edge of the +surf. He and his spear silhouetted against the spindrift and +dazzling foam formed a picture savage enough, and well in +keeping with the general desolation of the background. She +watched him lie down and cling to a piece of coral, whilst the +surf rushed round and over him, and then rise and shake himself +like a dog, and pursue his gambols, his body all glittering with the +wet. + +Sometimes a whoop would come on the breeze, mixing with the +sound of the surf and the cry of the gulls, and she would see him +plunge his spear into a pool, and the next moment the spear would +be held aloft with something struggling and glittering at the end +of it. + +He was quite different out here on the reef to what he was +ashore. The surroundings here seemed to develop all that was +savage in him, in a startling way; and he would kill, and kill, just +for the pleasure of killing, destroying more fish than they could +possibly use. + + +CHAPTER III + +THE DEMON OF THE REEF + +The romance of coral has still to be written. There still exists a +widespread opinion that the coral reef and the coral island are +the work of an "insect." This fabulous insect, accredited with the +genius of Brunel and the patience of Job, has been humorously +enough held up before the children of many generations as an +example of industry--a thing to be admired, a model to be +followed. + +As a matter of fact, nothing could be more slothful or slow, more +given up to a life of ease and degeneracy, than the "reef-building +polypifer"--to give him his scientific name. He is the hobo of the +animal world, but, unlike the hobo, he does not even tramp for a +living. He exists as a sluggish and gelatinous worm; he attracts to +himself calcareous elements from the water to make himself a +house--mark you, the sea does the building--he dies, and he +leaves his house behind him--and a reputation for industry, +beside which the reputation of the ant turns pale, and that of the +bee becomes of little account. + +On a coral reef you are treading on rock that the reef-building +polypifers of ages have left behind them as evidences of their +idle and apparently useless lives. You might fancy that the reef is +formed of dead rock, but it is not: that is where the wonder of the +thing comes in--a coral reef is half alive. If it were not, it would +not resist the action of the sea ten years. The live part of the +reef is just where the breakers come in and beyond. The +gelatinous rock-building polypifers die almost at once, if exposed +to the sun or if left uncovered by water. + +Sometimes, at very low tide, if you have courage enough to risk +being swept away by the breakers, going as far out on the reef as +you can, you may catch a glimpse of them in their living state-- +great mounds and masses of what seems rock, but which is a +honeycomb of coral, whose cells are filled with the living +polypifers. Those in the uppermost cells are usually dead, but +lower down they are living. + +Always dying, always being renewed, devoured by fish, attacked +by the sea--that is the life of a coral reef. It is a thing as living +as a cabbage or a tree. Every storm tears a piece off the reef, +which the living coral replaces; wounds occur in it which actually +granulate and heal as wounds do of the human body. + +There is nothing, perhaps, more mysterious in nature than this +fact of the existence of a living land: a land that repairs itself, +when injured, by vital processes, and resists the eternal attack +of the sea by vital force, especially when we think of the extent +of some of these lagoon islands or atolls, whose existences are +an eternal battle with the waves. + +Unlike the island of this story (which is an island surrounded by a +barrier reef of coral surrounding a space of sea--the lagoon), the +reef forms the island. The reef may be grown over by trees, or it +may be perfectly destitute of important vegetation, or it may be +crusted with islets. Some islets may exist within the lagoon, but +as often as not it is just a great empty lake floored with sand and +coral, peopled with life different to the life of the outside ocean, +protected from the waves, and reflecting the sky like a mirror. + +When we remember that the atoll is a living thing, an organic +whole, as full of life, though not so highly organised, as a +tortoise, the meanest imagination must be struck with the +immensity of one of the structures. + +Vliegen atoll in the Low Archipelago, measured from lagoon edge +to lagoon edge, is sixty miles long by twenty miles broad, at its +broadest part. In the Marshall Archipelago, Rimsky Korsacoff is +fifty-four miles long and twenty miles broad; and Rimsky +Korsacoff is a living thing, secreting, excreting, and growing +more highly organised than the cocoa-nut trees that grow upon its +back, or the blossoms that powder the hotoo trees in its groves. + +The story of coral is the story of a world, and the longest chapter +in that story concerns itself with coral's infinite variety and +form. + +Out on the margin of the reef where Dick was spearing fish, you +might have seen a peach-blossom-coloured lichen on the rock. +This lichen was a form of coral. Coral growing upon coral, and in +the pools at the edge of the surf branching corals also of the +colour of a peach-bloom. + +Within a hundred yards of where Emmeline was sitting, the pools +contained corals of all colours, from lake-red to pure white, and +the lagoon behind her--corals of the quaintest and strangest +forms. + +Dick had speared several fish, and had left them lying on the reef +to be picked up later on. Tired of killing, he was now wandering +along, examining the various living things he came across. + +Huge slugs inhabited the reef, slugs as big as parsnips, and +somewhat of the same shape; they were a species of Bech de mer. +Globeshaped jelly-fish as big as oranges, great cuttlefish bones +flat and shining and white, shark's teeth, spines of echini; +sometimes a dead scarus fish, its stomach distended with bits of +coral on which it had been feeding; crabs, sea urchins, sea-weeds +of strange colour and shape; star-fish, some tiny and of the +colour of cayenne pepper, some huge and pale. These and a +thousand other things, beautiful or strange, were to be found on +the reef. + +Dick had laid his spear down, and was exploring a deep bath-like +pool. He had waded up to his knees, and was in the act of wading +further when he was suddenly seized by the foot. It was just as if +his ankle had been suddenly caught in a clove hitch and the rope +drawn tight. He screamed out with pain and terror, and suddenly +and viciously a whip-lash shot out from the water, lassoed him +round the left knee, drew itself taut, and held him. + + + +CHAPTER IV + +WHAT BEAUTY CONCEALED + +Emmeline, seated on the coral rock, had almost forgotten Dick for +a moment. The sun was setting, and the warm amber light of the +sunset shone on reef and rock-pool. Just at sunset and low tide +the reef had a peculiar fascination for her. It had the low-tide +smell of sea-weed exposed to the air, and the torment and trouble +of the breakers seemed eased. Before her, and on either side, the +foam-dashed coral glowed in amber and gold, and the great +Pacific came glassing and glittering in, voiceless and peaceful, +till it reached the strand and burst into song and spray. + +Here, just as on the hill-top at the other side of the island, you +could mark the rhythm of the rollers. "Forever, and forever-- +forever, and forever," they seemed to say. + +The cry of the gulls came mixed with the spray on the breeze. +They haunted the reef like uneasy spirits, always complaining, +never at rest; but at sunset their cry seemed farther away and +less melancholy, perhaps because just then the whole island +world seemed bathed in the spirit of peace. + +She turned from the sea prospect and looked backwards over the +lagoon to the island. She could make out the broad green glade +beside which their little house lay, and a spot of yellow, which +was the thatch of the house, just by the artu tree, and nearly +hidden by the shadow of the breadfruit. Over woods the fronds of +the great cocoa-nut palms showed above every other tree +silhouetted against the dim, dark blue of the eastern sky. + +Seen by the enchanted light of sunset, the whole picture had an +unreal look, more lovely than a dream. At dawn--and Dick would +often start for the reef before dawn, if the tide served--the +picture was as beautiful; more so, perhaps, for over the island, +all in shadow, and against the stars, you would see the palm-tops +catching fire, and then the light of day coming through the green +trees and blue sky, like a spirit, across the blue lagoon, widening +and strengthening as it widened across the white foam, out over +the sea, spreading like a fan, till, all at once, night was day, and +the gulls were crying and the breakers flashing, the dawn wind +blowing, and the palm trees bending, as palm trees only know +how. Emmeline always imagined herself alone on the island with +Dick, but beauty was there, too, and beauty is a great companion. + +The girl was contemplating the scene before her. Nature in her +friendliest mood seemed to say, "Behold me! Men call me cruel; +men have called me deceitful, even treacherous. _I_--ah well! my +answer is, `Behold me!'" + +The girl was contemplating the specious beauty of it all, when on +the breeze from seaward came a shout. She turned quickly. There +was Dick up to his knees in a rockpool a hundred yards or so away, +motionless, his arms upraised, and crying out for help. She sprang +to her feet. + +There had once been an islet on this part of the reef, a tiny thing, +consisting of a few palms and a handful of vegetation, and +destroyed, perhaps, in some great storm. I mention this because +the existence of this islet once upon a time was the means, +indirectly, of saving Dick's life; for where these islets have been +or are, "flats" occur on the reef formed of coral conglomerate. + +Emmeline in her bare feet could never have reached him in time +over rough coral, but, fortunately, this flat and comparatively +smooth surface lay between them. + +"My spear!" shouted Dick, as she approached. + +He seemed at first tangled in brambles; then she thought ropes +were tangling round him and tying him to something in the water- +-whatever it was, it was most awful, and hideous, and like a +nightmare. She ran with the speed of Atalanta to the rock where +the spear was resting, all red with the blood of new-slain fish, a +foot from the point. + +As she approached Dick, spear in hand, she saw, gasping with +terror, that the ropes were alive, and that they were flickering +and rippling over his back. One of them bound his left arm to his +side, but his right arm was free. + +"Quick!" he shouted. + +In a second the spear was in his free hand, and Emmeline had cast +herself down on her knees, and was staring with terrified eyes +into the water of the pool from whence the ropes issued. She was, +despite her terror, quite prepared to fling herself in and do battle +with the thing, whatever it might be. + +What she saw was only for a second. In the deep water of the +pool, gazing up and forward and straight at Dick, she saw a face, +lugubrious and awful. The eyes were wide as saucers, stony and +steadfast; a large, heavy, parrot-like beak hung before the eyes, +and worked and wobbled, and seemed to beckon. But what froze +one's heart was the expression of the eyes, so stony and +lugubrious, so passionless, so devoid of speculation, yet so fixed +of purpose and full of fate. + +From away far down he had risen with the rising tide. He had been +feeding on crabs, when the tide, betraying him, had gone out, +leaving him trapped in the rock-pool. He had slept, perhaps, and +awakened to find a being, naked and defenceless, invading his +pool. He was quite small, as octopods go, and young, yet he was +large and powerful enough to have drowned an ox. + +The octopod has only been described once, in stone, by a Japanese +artist. The statue is still extant, and it is the most terrible +masterpiece of sculpture ever executed by human hands. It +represents a man who has been bathing on a low-tide beach, and +has been caught. The man is shouting in a delirium of terror, and +threatening with his free arm the spectre that has him in its grip. +The eyes of the octopod are fixed upon the man--passionless and +lugubrious eyes, but steadfast and fixed. + +Another whip-lash shot out of the water in a shower of spray, and +seized Dick by the left thigh. At the same instant he drove the +point of the spear through the right eye of the monster, deep down +through eye and soft gelatinous carcass till the spear-point +dirled and splintered against the rock. At the same moment the +water of the pool became black as ink, the bands around him +relaxed, and he was free. + +Emmeline rose up and seized him, sobbing and clinging to him, and +kissing him. He clasped her with his left arm round her body, as if +to protect her, but it was a mechanical action. He was not +thinking of her. Wild with rage, and uttering hoarse cries, he +plunged the broken spear again and again into the depths of the +pool, seeking utterly to destroy the enemy that had so lately had +him in its grip. Then slowly he came to himself, and wiped his +forehead, and looked at the broken spear in his hand. + +"Beast!" he said. "Did you see its eyes? Did you see its eyes? I +wish it had a hundred eyes, and I had a hundred spears to drive +into them!" + +She was clinging to him, and sobbing and laughing hysterically, +and praising him. One might have thought that he had rescued her +from death, not she him. + +The sun had nearly vanished, and he led her back to where the +dinghy was moored, recapturing and putting on his trousers on the +road. He picked up the dead fish he had speared; and as he rowed +her back across the lagoon, he talked and laughed, recounting the +incidents of the fight, taking all the glory of the thing to himself, +and seeming quite to ignore the important part she had played in +it. + +This was not from any callousness or want of gratitude, but +simply from the fact that for the last five years he had been the +be-all and end-all of their tiny community--the Imperial master. +And he would just as soon have thought of thanking her for +handing him the spear as of thanking his right hand for driving it +home. She was quite content, seeking neither thanks nor praise. +Everything she had came from him: she was his shadow and his +slave. He was her sun. + +He went over the fight again and again before they lay down to +rest, telling her he had done this and that, and what he would do +to the next beast of the sort. The reiteration was tiresome +enough, or would have been to an outside listener, but to +Emmeline it was better than Homer. People's minds do not +improve in an intellectual sense when they are isolated from the +world, even though they are living the wild and happy lives of +savages. + +Then Dick lay down in the dried ferns and covered himself with a +piece of the striped flannel which they used for blanketing, and he +snored, and chattered in his sleep like a dog hunting imaginary +game, and Emmeline lay beside him wakeful and thinking. A new +terror had come into her life. She had seen death for the second +time, but this time active and in being. + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE SOUND OF A DRUM + +The next day Dick was sitting under the shade of the artu. He had +the box of fishhooks beside him, and he was bending a line on to +one of them. There had originally been a couple of dozen hooks, +large and small, in the box; there remained now only six--four +small and two large ones. It was a large one he was fixing to the +line, for he intended going on the morrow to the old place to fetch +some bananas, and on the way to try for a fish in the deeper parts +of the lagoon. + +It was late afternoon, and the heat had gone out of the day. +Emmeline, seated on the grass opposite to him, was holding the +end of the line, whilst he got the kinks out of it, when suddenly +she raised her head. + +There was not a breath of wind; the hush of the far-distant surf +came through the blue weather--the only audible sound except, +now and then, a movement and flutter from the bird perched in the +branches of the artu. All at once another sound mixed itself with +the voice of the surf--a faint, throbbing sound, like the beating of +a distant drum. + +"Listen!" said Emmeline. + +Dick paused for a moment in his work. All the sounds of the island +were familiar: this was something quite strange. + +Faint and far away, now rapid, now slow; coming from where, who +could say? Sometimes it seemed to come from the sea, +sometimes, if the fancy of the listener turned that way, from the +woods. As they listened, a sigh came from overhead; the evening +breeze had risen and was moving in the leaves of the artu tree. +Just as you might wipe a picture off a slate, the breeze banished +the sound. Dick went on with his work. + +Next morning early he embarked in the dinghy. He took the hook +and line with him, and some raw fish for bait. Emmeline helped +him to push off, and stood on the bank waving her hand as he +rounded the little cape covered with wild cocoa-nut. + +These expeditions of Dick's were one of her sorrows. To be left +alone was frightful; yet she never complained. She was living in a +paradise, but something told her that behind all that sun, all that +splendour of blue sea and sky, behind the flowers and the leaves, +behind all that specious and simpering appearance of happiness in +nature, lurked a frown, and the dragon of mischance. + +Dick rowed for about a mile, then he shipped his sculls, and let +the dinghy float. The water here was very deep; so deep that, +despite its clearness, the bottom was invisible; the sunlight over +the reef struck through it diagonally, filling it with sparkles. + +The fisherman baited his hook with a piece from the belly of a +scarus and lowered it down out of sight, then he belayed the line +to a thole pin, and, sitting in the bottom of the boat, hung his head +over the side and gazed deep down into the water. Sometimes +there was nothing to see but just the deep blue of the water. Then +a flight of spangled arrowheads would cross the line of sight and +vanish, pursued by a form like a moving bar of gold. Then a great +fish would materialise itself and hang in the shadow of the boat +motionless as a stone, save for the movement of its gills; next +moment with a twist of the tail it would be gone. + +Suddenly the dinghy shored over, and might have capsized, only +for the fact that Dick was sitting on the opposite side to the side +from which the line hung. Then the boat righted; the line +slackened, and the surface of the lagoon, a few fathoms away, +boiled as if being stirred from below by a great silver stick. He +had hooked an albicore. He tied the end of the fishing-line to a +scull, undid the line from the thole pin, and flung the scull +overboard. + +He did all this with wonderful rapidity, while the line was still +slack. Next moment the scull was rushing over the surface of the +lagoon, now towards the reef, now towards the shore, now flat, +now end up. Now it would be jerked under the surface entirely; +vanish for a moment, and then reappear. It was a most astonishing +thing to watch, for the scull seemed alive--viciously alive, and +imbued with some destructive purpose; as, in fact, it was. The +most venomous of living things, and the most intelligent could +not have fought the great fish better. + +The albicore would make a frantic dash down the lagoon, hoping, +perhaps, to find in the open sea a release from his foe. Then, half +drowned with the pull of the scull, he would pause, dart from side +to side in perplexity, and then make an equally frantic dash up the +lagoon, to be checked in the same manner. Seeking the deepest +depths, he would sink the scull a few fathoms; and once he sought +the air, leaping into the sunlight like a crescent of silver, whilst +the splash of him as he fell echoed amidst the trees bordering the +lagoon. An hour passed before the great fish showed signs of +weakening. + +The struggle had taken place up to this close to the shore, but +now the scull swam out into the broad sheet of sunlit water, and +slowly began to describe large circles rippling up the peaceful +blue into flashing wavelets. It was a melancholy sight to watch, +for the great fish had made a good fight, and one could see him, +through the eye of imagination, beaten, half drowned, dazed, and +moving as is the fashion of dazed things in a circle. + +Dick, working the remaining oar at the stern of the boat, rowed +out and seized the floating scull, bringing it on board. Foot by foot +he hauled his catch towards the boat till the long gleaming line of +the thing came dimly into view. + +The fight had been heard for miles through the lagoon water by all +sorts of swimming things. The lord of the place had got sound of +it. A dark fin rippled the water; and as Dick, pulling on his line, +hauled his catch closer, a monstrous grey shadow stained the +depths, and the glittering streak that was the albicore vanished +as if engulfed in a cloud. The line came in slack, and Dick hauled +in the albicore's head. It had been divided from the body as if with +a huge pair of shears. The grey shadow slipped by the boat, and +Dick, mad with rage, shouted and shook his fist at it; then, +seizing the albicore's head, from which he had taken the hook, he +hurled it at the monster in the water. + +The great shark, with a movement of the tail that caused the +water to swirl and the dinghy to rock, turned upon his back and +engulfed the head; then he slowly sank and vanished, just as if he +had been dissolved. He had come off best in this their first +encounter--such as it was. + + + +CHAPTER VI + +SAILS UPON THE SEA + +Dick put the hook away and took to the sculls. He had a three-mile +row before him, and the tide was coming in, which did not make it +any the easier. As he rowed, he talked and grumbled to himself. He +had been in a grumbling mood for some time past: the chief cause, +Emmeline. + +In the last few months she had changed; even her face had +changed. A new person had come upon the island, it seemed to +him, and taken the place of the Emmeline he had known from +earliest childhood. This one looked different. He did not know that +she had grown beautiful, he just knew that she looked different; +also she had developed new ways that displeased him--she would +go off and bathe by herself, for instance. + +Up to six months or so ago he had been quite contented; sleeping +and eating, and hunting for food and cooking it, building and +rebuilding the house, exploring the woods and the reef. But lately +a spirit of restlessness had come upon him; he did not know +exactly what he wanted. He had a vague feeling that he wanted to +go away from the place where he was; not from the island, but +from the place where they had pitched their tent, or rather built +their house. + +It may have been the spirit of civilisation crying out in him, +telling him of all he was missing. Of the cities, and the streets, +and the houses, and the businesses, and the striving after gold, +the striving after power. It may have been simply the man in him +crying out for Love, and not knowing yet that Love was at his +elbow. + +The dinghy glided along, hugging the shore, past the little glades +of fern and the cathedral gloom of the breadfruit; then, rounding a +promontory, she opened the view of the break in the reef. A little +bit of the white strand was visible, but he was not looking that +way--he was looking towards the reef at a tiny, dark spot, not +noticeable unless searched for by the eye. Always when he came +on these expeditions, just here, he would hang on his oars and +gaze over there, where the gulls were flying and the breakers +thundering. + +A few years ago the spot filled him with dread as well as +curiosity, but from familiarity and the dullness that time casts +on everything, the dread had almost vanished, but the curiosity +remained: the curiosity that makes a child look on at the +slaughter of an animal even though his soul revolts at it. He gazed +for a while, then he went on pulling, and the dinghy approached +the beach. + +Something had happened on the beach. The sand was all trampled, +and stained red here and there; in the centre lay the remains of a +great fire still smouldering, and just where the water lapped the +sand, lay two deep grooves as if two heavy boats had been +beached there. A South Sea man would have told from the shape of +the grooves, and the little marks of the out-riggers, that two +heavy canoes had been beached there. And they had. + +The day before, early in the afternoon, two canoes, possibly from +that far-away island which cast a stain on the horizon to the - +sou'-sou'-west, had entered the lagoon, one in pursuit of the +other. + +What happened then had better be left veiled. A war drum with a +shark-skin head had set the woods throbbing; the victory was +celebrated all night, and at dawn the victors manned the two +canoes and set sail for the + +home, or hell, they had come from. Had you examined the strand +you would have found that a line had been drawn across the beach, +beyond which there were no footmarks: that meant that the rest +of the island was for some reason tabu. + +Dick pulled the nose of the boat up a bit on the strand, then he +looked around him. He picked up a broken spear that had been cast +away or forgotten; it was made of some hard wood and barbed +with iron. On the right-hand side of the beach something lay +between the cocoa-nut trees. He approached; it was a mass of +offal; the entrails of a dozen sheep seemed cast here in one +mound, yet there were no sheep on the island, and sheep are not +carried as a rule in war canoes. + +The sand on the beach was eloquent. The foot pursuing and the +foot pursued; the knee of the fallen one, and then the forehead and +outspread hands; the heel of the chief who has slain his enemy, +beaten the body flat, burst a hole through it, through which he has +put his head, and who stands absolutely wearing his enemy as a +cloak; the head of the man dragged on his back to be butchered +like a sheep--of these things spoke the sand. + +As far as the sand traces could speak, the story of the battle was +still being told; the screams and the shouting, the clashing of +clubs and spears were gone, yet the ghost of the fight remained. + +If the sand could bear such traces, and tell such tales, who shall +say that the plastic aether was destitute of the story of the fight +and the butchery? + +However that may have been, Dick, looking around him, had the +shivering sense of having just escaped from danger. Whoever had +been, had gone--he could tell that by the canoe traces. Gone either +out to sea, or up the right stretch of the lagoon. It was important +to determine this. + +He climbed to the hill-top and swept the sea with his eyes. There, +away to the south-west, far away on the sea, he could distinguish +the brown sails of two canoes. There was something +indescribably mournful and lonely in their appearance; they looked +like withered leaves--brown moths blown to sea--derelicts of +autumn. Then, remembering the beach, these things became +freighted with the most sinister thoughts for the mind of the +gazer. They were hurrying away, having done their work. That they +looked lonely and old and mournful, and like withered leaves +blown across the sea, only heightened the horror. + +Dick had never seen canoes before, but he knew that these things +were boats of some sort holding people, and that the people had +left all those traces on the beach. How much of the horror of the +thing was revealed to his subconscious intelligence, who can say? + +He had climbed the boulder, and he now sat down with his knees +drawn up, and his hands clasped round them. Whenever he came +round to this side of the island, something happened of a fateful +or sinister nature. The last time he had nearly lost the dinghy; he +had beached the little boat in such a way that she floated off, and +the tide was just in the act of stealing her, and sweeping her +from the lagoon out to sea, when he returned laden with his +bananas, and, rushing into the water up to his waist, saved her. +Another time he had fallen out of a tree, and just by a miracle +escaped death. Another time a hurricane had broken, lashing the +lagoon into snow, and sending the cocoa-nuts bounding and flying +like tennis balls across the strand. This time he had just escaped +something, he knew not exactly what. It was almost as if +Providence were saying to him, "Don't come here." + +He watched the brown sails as they dwindled in the wind-blown +blue, then he came down from the hill-top and cut his bananas. He +cut four large bunches, which caused him to make two journeys to +the boat. When the bananas were stowed he pushed off. + +For a long time a great curiosity had been pulling at his heart- +strings: a curiosity of which he was dimly ashamed. Fear had +given it birth, and Fear still clung to it. It was, perhaps, the +element of fear and the awful delight of daring the unknown that +made him give way to it. + +He had rowed, perhaps, a hundred yards when he turned the boat's +head and made for the reef. It was more than five years since that +day when he rowed across the lagoon, Emmeline sitting in the +stern, with her wreath of flowers in her hand. It might have been +only yesterday, for everything seemed just the same. The +thunderous surf and the flying gulls, the blinding sunlight, and the +salt, fresh smell of the sea. The palm tree at the entrance of the +lagoon still bent gazing into the water, and round the projection +of coral to which he had last moored the boat still lay a fragment +of the rope which he had cut in his hurry to escape. + +Ships had come into the lagoon, perhaps, during the five years, but +no one had noticed anything on the reef, for it was only from the +hill-top that a full view of what was there could be seen, and +then only by eyes knowing where to look. From the beach there +was visible just a speck. It might have been, perhaps, a bit of old +wreckage flung there by a wave in some big storm. A piece of old +wreckage that had been tossed hither and thither for years, and +had at last found a place of rest. + +Dick tied the boat up, and stepped on to the reef. It was high tide +just as before; the breeze was blowing strongly, and overhead a +man-of-war's bird, black as ebony, with a blood-red bill, came +sailing, the wind doming out his wings. He circled in the air, and +cried out fiercely, as if resenting the presence of the intruder, +then he passed away, let himself be blown away, as it were, +across the lagoon, wheeled, circled, and passed out to sea. + +Dick approached the place he knew, and there lay the little old +barrel all warped by the powerful sun; the staves stood apart, and +the hooping was rusted and broken, and whatever it had contained +in the way of spirit and conviviality had long ago drained away. + +Beside the barrel lay a skeleton, round which lay a few rags of +cloth. The skull had fallen to one side, and the lower jaw had +fallen from the skull; the bones of the hands and feet were still +articulated, and the ribs had not fallen in. It was all white and +bleached, and the sun shone on it as indifferently as on the coral, +this shell and framework that had once been a man. There was +nothing dreadful about it, but a whole world of wonder. + +To Dick, who had not been broken into the idea of death, who had +not learned to associate it with graves and funerals, sorrow, +eternity, and hell, the thing spoke as it never could have spoken to +you or me. + +Looking at it, things linked themselves together in his mind: the +skeletons of birds he had found in the woods, the fish he had +slain, even trees lying dead and rotten--even the shells of crabs. + +If you had asked him what lay before him, and if he could have +expressed the thought in his mind, he would have answered you +"change." + +All the philosophy in the world could not have told him more than +he knew just then about death--he, who even did not know its +name. + +He was held spellbound by the marvel and miracle of the thing and +the thoughts that suddenly crowded his mind like a host of +spectres for whom a door has just been opened. + +Just as a child by unanswerable logic knows that a fire which has +burned him once will burn him again, or will burn another person, +he knew that just as the form before him was, his form would be +some day--and Emmeline's. + +Then came the vague question which is born not of the brain, but +the heart, and which is the basis of all religions--where shall I +be then? His mind was not of an introspective nature, and the +question just strayed across it and was gone. And still the +wonder of the thing held him. He was for the first time in his life +in a reverie; the corpse that had shocked and terrified him five +years ago had cast seeds of thought with its dead fingers upon his +mind, the skeleton had brought them to maturity. The full fact of +universal death suddenly appeared before him, and he recognised +it. + +He stood for a long time motionless, and then with a deep sigh +turned to the boat and pushed off without once looking back at the +reef. He crossed the lagoon and rowed slowly homewards, keeping +in the shelter of the tree shadows as much as possible. + +Even looking at him from the shore you might have noticed a +difference in him. Your savage paddles his canoe, or sculls his +boat, alert, glancing about him, at touch with nature at all points; +though he be lazy as a cat and sleeps half the day, awake he is all +ears and eyes--a creature reacting to the least external +impression. + +Dick, as he rowed back, did not look about him: he was thinking or +retrospecting. The savage in him had received a check. As he +turned the little cape where the wild cocoanut blazed, he looked +over his shoulder. A figure was standing on the sward by the edge +of the water. It was Emmeline. + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE SCHOONER + +They carried the bananas up to the house, and hung them from a +branch of the artu. Then Dick, on his knees, lit the fire to prepare +the evening meal. When it was over he went down to where the +boat was moored, and returned with something in his hand. It was +the javelin with the iron point or, rather, the two pieces of it. He +had said nothing of what he had seen to the girl. + +Emmeline was seated on the grass; she had a long strip of the +striped flannel stuff about her, worn like a scarf, and she had +another piece in her hand which she was hemming. The bird was +hopping about, pecking at a banana which they had thrown to him; +a light breeze made the shadow of the artu leaves dance upon the +grass, and the serrated leaves of the breadfruit to patter one on +the other with the sound of rain-drops falling upon glass. + +"Where did you get it?" asked Emmeline, staring at the piece of +the javelin which Dick had flung down almost beside her whilst +he went into the house to fetch the knife. + +"It was on the beach over there," he replied, taking his seat and +examining the two fragments to see how he could splice them +together. + +Emmeline looked at the pieces, putting them together in her mind. +She did not like the look of the thing: so keen and savage, and +stained dark a foot and more from the point. + +"People had been there," said Dick, putting the two pieces +together and examining the fracture critically. + +"Where?" + +"Over there. This was lying on the sand, and the sand was all trod +up." + +"Dick," said Emmeline, "who were the people?" + +"I don't know; I went up the hill and saw their boats going away-- +far away out. This was lying on the sand." + +"Dick," said Emmeline, "do you remember the noise yesterday?" + +"Yes," said Dick. + +"I heard it in the night." + +"When?" + +"In the night before the moon went away." + +"That was them," said Dick. + +"Dick!" + +"Yes?" + +"Who were they?" + +"I don't know," replied Dick. + +"It was in the night, before the moon went away, and it went on +and on beating in the trees. I thought I was asleep, and then I +knew I was awake; you were asleep, and I pushed you to listen, +but you couldn't wake, you were so asleep; then the moon went +away, and the noise went on. How did they make the noise?" + +"I don't know," replied Dick, "but it was them; and they left this +on the sand, and the sand was all trod up, and I saw their boats +from the hill, away out far." + +"I thought I heard voices," said Emmeline, "but I was not sure." + +She fell into meditation, watching her companion at work on the +savage and sinister-looking thing in his hands. He was splicing +the two pieces together with a strip of the brown cloth-like stuff +which is wrapped round the stalks of the cocoa-palm fronds. The +thing seemed to have been hurled here out of the blue by some +unseen hand. + +When he had spliced the pieces, doing so with marvellous +dexterity, he took the thing short down near the point, and began +thrusting it into the soft earth to clean it; then, with a bit of +flannel, he polished it till it shone. He felt a keen delight in it. It +was useless as a fish-spear, because it had no barb, but it was a +weapon. It was useless as a weapon, because there was no foe on +the island to use it against; still, it was a weapon. + +When he had finished scrubbing at it, he rose, hitched his old +trousers up, tightened the belt of cocoa-cloth which Emmeline +had made for him, went into the house and got his fish-spear, and +stalked off to the boat, calling out to Emmeline to follow him. +They crossed over to the reef, where, as usual, he divested +himself of clothing. + +It was strange that out here he would go about stark naked, yet on +the island he always wore some covering. But not so strange, +perhaps, after all. + +The sea is a great purifier, both of the mind and the body; before +that great sweet spirit people do not think in the same way as +they think far inland. What woman would appear in a town or on a +country road, or even bathing in a river, as she appears bathing in +the sea? + +Some instinct made Dick cover himself up on shore, and strip +naked on the reef. In a minute he was down by the edge of the +surf, javelin in one hand, fish-spear in the other. + +Emmeline, by a little pool the bottom of which was covered with +branching coral, sat gazing down into its depths, lost in a reverie +like that into which we fall when gazing at shapes in the fire. She +had sat some time like this when a shout from Dick aroused her. +She started to her feet and gazed to where he was pointing. An +amazing thing was there. + +To the east, just rounding the curve of the reef, and scarcely a +quarter of a mile from it, was coming a big topsail schooner; a +beautiful sight she was, heeling to the breeze with every sail +drawing, and the white foam like a feather at her fore-foot. + +Dick, with the javelin in his hand, was standing gazing at her; he +had dropped his fishspear, and he stood as motionless as though +he were carved out of stone. Emmeline ran to him and stood +beside him; neither of them spoke a word as the vessel drew +closer. + +Everything was visible, so close was she now, from the reef +points on the great mainsail, luminous with the sunlight, and +white as the wing of a gull, to the rail of the bulwarks. A crowd +of men were hanging over the port bulwarks gazing at the island +and the figures on the reef. Browned by the sun and sea-breeze, +Emmeline's hair blowing on the wind, and the point of Dick's +javelin flashing in the sun, they looked an ideal pair of savages, +seen from the schooner's deck. + +"They are going away," said Emmeline, with a long-drawn breath +of relief. + +Dick made no reply; he stared at the schooner a moment longer in +silence, then, having made sure that she was standing away from +the land, he began to run up and down, calling out wildly, and +beckoning to the vessel as if to call her back. + +A moment later a sound came on the breeze, a faint hail; a flag +was run up to the peak and dipped as in derision, and the vessel +continued on her course. + +As a matter of fact, she had been on the point of putting about. +Her captain had for a moment been undecided as to whether the +forms on the reef were those of castaways or savages. But the +javelin in Dick's hand had turned the scale of his opinion in favour +of the theory of savages. + + +CHAPTER VIII + +LOVE STEPS IN + +Two birds were sitting in the branches of the artu tree: Koko had +taken a mate. They had built a nest out of fibres pulled from the +wrappings of the cocoa-nut fronds, bits of stick and wire grass-- +anything, in fact; even fibres from the palmetto thatch of the +house below. The pilferings of birds, the building of nests, what +charming incidents they are in the great episode of spring! + +The hawthorn tree never bloomed here, the climate was that of +eternal summer, yet the spirit of May came just as she comes to +the English countryside or the German forest. The doings in the +artu branches greatly interested Emmeline. + +The love-making and the nest-building were conducted quite in +the usual manner, according to rules laid down by Nature and +carried out by men and birds. All sorts of quaint sounds came +filtering down through the leaves from the branch where the +sapphire-coloured lovers sat side by side, or the fork where the +nest was beginning to form: croonings and cluckings, sounds like +the flirting of a fan, the sounds of a squabble, followed by the +sounds that told of the squabble made up. Sometimes after one of +these squabbles a pale blue downy feather or two would come +floating earthwards, touch the palmetto leaves of the house-roof +and cling there, or be blown on to the grass. + +It was some days after the appearance of the schooner, and Dick +was making ready to go into the woods and pick guavas. He had all +the morning been engaged in making a basket to carry them in. In +civilisation he would, judging from his mechanical talent, +perhaps have been an engineer, building bridges and ships, instead +of palmetto-leaf baskets and cane houses--who knows if he would +have been happier? + +The heat of midday had passed, when, with the basket hanging +over his shoulder on a piece of cane, he started for the woods, +Emmeline following. The place they were going to always filled +her with a vague dread; not for a great deal would she have gone +there alone. Dick had discovered it in one of his rambles. + +They entered the wood and passed a little well, a well without +apparent source or outlet and a bottom of fine white sand. How +the sand had formed there, it would be impossible to say; but +there it was, and around the margin grew ferns redoubling +themselves on the surface of the crystal-clear water. They left +this to the right and struck into the heart of the wood. The heat of +midday still lurked here; the way was clear, for there was a sort +of path between the trees, as if, in very ancient days, there had +been a road. + +Right across this path, half lost in shadow, half sunlit, the lianas +hung their ropes. The hotoo tree, with its powdering of delicate +blossoms, here stood, showing its lost loveliness to the sun; in +the shade the scarlet hibiscus burned like a flame. Artu and +breadfruit trees and cocoa-nut bordered the way. + +As they proceeded the trees grew denser and the path more +obscure. All at once, rounding a sharp turn, the path ended in a +valley carpeted with fern. This was the place that always filled +Emmeline with an undefined dread. One side of it was all built up +in terraces with huge blocks of stone--blocks of stone so +enormous, that the wonder was how the ancient builders had put +them in their places. + +Trees grew along the terraces, thrusting their roots between the +interstices of the blocks. At their base, slightly tilted forward as +if with the sinkage of years, stood a great stone figure roughly +carved, thirty feet high at least--mysterious-looking, the very +spirit of the place. This figure and the terraces, the valley itself, +and the very trees that grew there, inspired Emmeline with deep +curiosity and vague fear. + +People had been here once; sometimes she could fancy she saw +dark shadows moving amidst the trees, and the whisper of the +foliage seemed to her to hide voices at times, even as its shadow +concealed forms. It was indeed an uncanny place to be alone in +even under the broad light of day. All across the Pacific for +thousands of miles you find relics of the past, like these +scattered through the islands. + +These temple places are nearly all the same: great terraces of +stone, massive idols, desolation overgrown with foliage. They +hint at one religion, and a time when the sea space of the Pacific +was a continent, which, sinking slowly through the ages, has left +only its higher lands and hill-tops visible in the form of islands. +Round these places the woods are thicker than elsewhere, hinting +at the presence there, once, of sacred groves. The idols are +immense, their faces are vague; the storms and the suns and the +rains of the ages have cast over them a veil. The sphinx is +understandable and a toy compared to these things, some of which +have a stature of fifty feet, whose creation is veiled in absolute +mystery--the gods of a people for ever and for ever lost. + +The "stone man" was the name Emmeline had given the idol of the +valley; and sometimes at nights, when her thoughts would stray +that way, she would picture him standing all alone in the +moonlight or starlight staring straight before him. + +He seemed for ever listening; unconsciously one fell to listening +too, and then the valley seemed steeped in a supernatural silence. +He was not good to be alone with. + +Emmeline sat down amidst the fears just at his base. When one +was close up to him he lost the suggestion of life, and was simply +a great stone which cast a shadow in the sun. + +Dick threw himself down also to rest. Then he rose up and went +off amidst the guava bushes, plucking the fruit and filling his +basket. Since he had seen the schooner, the white men on her +decks, her great masts and sails, and general appearance of +freedom and speed and unknown adventure, he had been more than +ordinarily glum and restless. Perhaps he connected her in his mind +with the far-away vision of the Northumberland, and the idea +of other places and lands, and the yearning for change [that] the idea of +them inspired. + +He came back with his basket full of the ripe fruit, gave some to +the girl and sat down beside her. When she had finished eating +them she took the cane that he used for carrying the basket and +held it in her hands. She was bending it in the form of a bow when +it slipped, flew out and struck her companion a sharp blow on the +side of his face. + +Almost on the instant he turned and slapped her on the shoulder. +She stared at him for a moment in troubled amazement, a sob +came in her throat. Then some veil seemed lifted, some wizard's +wand stretched out, some mysterious vial broken. As she looked +at him like that, he suddenly and fiercely clasped her in his arms. +He held her like this for a moment, dazed, stupefied, not knowing +what to do with her. Then her lips told him, for they met his in an +endless kiss. + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE SLEEP OF PARADISE + +The moon rose up that evening and shot her silver arrows at the +house under the artu tree. The house was empty. Then the moon +came across the sea and across the reef. + +She lit the lagoon to its dark, dim heart. She lit the coral brains +and sand spaces, and the fish, casting their shadows on the sand +and the coral. The keeper of the lagoon rose to greet her, and the +fin of him broke her reflection on the mirror-like surface into a +thousand glittering ripples. She saw the white staring ribs of the +form on the reef. Then, peeping over the trees, she looked down +into the valley, where the great idol of stone had kept its solitary +vigil for five thousand years, perhaps, or more. + +At his base, in his shadow, looking as if under his protection, lay +two human beings, naked, clasped in each other's arms, and fast +asleep. One could scarcely pity his vigil, had it been marked +sometimes through the years by such an incident as this. The +thing had been conducted just as the birds conduct their love +affairs. An affair absolutely natural, absolutely blameless, and +without sin. + +It was a marriage according to Nature, without feast or guests, +consummated with accidental cynicism under the shadow of a +religion a thousand years dead. + +So happy in their ignorance were they, that they only knew that +suddenly life had changed, that the skies and the sea were bluer, +and that they had become in some magical way one a part of the +other. The birds on the tree above were equally as happy in their +ignorance, and in their love. + + + +PART II + +CHAPTER X + +AN ISLAND HONEYMOON + +One day Dick climbed on to the tree above the house, and, driving +Madame Koko off the nest upon which she was sitting, peeped in. +There were several pale green eggs in it. He did not disturb them, +but climbed down again, and the bird resumed her seat as if +nothing had happened. Such an occurrence would have terrified a +bird used to the ways of men, but here the birds were so fearless +and so full of confidence that often they would follow Emmeline +in the wood, flying from branch to branch, peering at her through +the leaves, lighting quite close to her--once, even, on her +shoulder. + +The days passed. Dick had lost his restlessness: his wish to +wander had vanished. He had no reason to wander; perhaps that +was the reason why. In all the broad earth he could not have found +anything more desirable than what he had. + +Instead now of finding a half-naked savage followed dog-like by +his mate, you would have found of an evening a pair of lovers +wandering on the reef. They had in a pathetic sort of way +attempted to adorn the house with a blue flowering creeper taken +from the wood and trained over the entrance. + +Emmeline, up to this, had mostly done the cooking, such as it was; +Dick helped her now, always. He talked to her no longer in short +sentences flung out as if to a dog; and she, almost losing the +strange reserve that had clung to her from childhood, half showed +him her mind. It was a curious mind: the mind of a dreamer, +almost the mind of a poet. The Cluricaunes dwelt there, and vague +shapes born of things she had heard about or dreamt of: she had +thoughts about the sea and stars, the flowers and birds. + +Dick would listen to her as she talked, as a man might listen to +the sound of a rivulet. His practical mind could take no share in +the dreams of his other half, but her conversation pleased him. + +He would look at her for a long time together, absorbed in thought. +He was admiring her. + +Her hair, blue-black and glossy, tangled him in its meshes; he +would stroke it, so to speak, with his eyes, and then pull her +close to him and bury his face in it; the smell of it was +intoxicating. He breathed her as one does the perfume of a rose. + +Her ears were small, and like little white shells. He would take +one between finger and thumb and play with it as if it were a toy, +pulling at the lobe of it, or trying to flatten out the curved part. +Her breasts, her shoulders, her knees, her little feet, every bit of +her, he would examine and play with and kiss. She would lie and +let him, seeming absorbed in some far-away thought, of which he +was the object, then all at once her arms would go round him. All +this used to go on in the broad light of day, under the shadow of +the artu leaves, with no one to watch except the bright-eyed +birds in the leaves above. + +Not all their time would be spent in this fashion. Dick was just as +keen after the fish. He dug up with a spade--improvised from one +of the boards of the dinghy--a space of soft earth near the taro +patch and planted the seeds of melons he found in the wood; he +rethatched the house. They were, in short, as busy as they could +be in such a climate, but love-making would come on them in fits, +and then everything would be forgotten. Just as one revisits some +spot to renew the memory of a painful or pleasant experience +received there, they would return to the valley of the idol and +spend a whole afternoon in its shade. The absolute happiness of +wandering through the woods together, discovering new flowers, +getting lost, and finding their way again, was a thing beyond +expression. + +Dick had suddenly stumbled upon Love. His courtship had lasted +only some twenty minutes; it was being gone over again now, and +extended. + +One day, hearing a curious noise from the tree above the house, he +climbed it. The noise came from the nest, which had been +temporarily left by the mother bird. It was a gasping, wheezing +sound, and it came from four wide-open beaks, so anxious to be +fed that one could almost see into the very crops of the owners. +They were Koko's children. In another year each of those ugly +downy things would, if permitted to live, be a beautiful sapphire- +coloured bird with a few dove-coloured tail feathers, coral beak, +and bright, intelligent eyes. A few days ago each of these things +was imprisoned in a pale green egg. A month ago they were +nowhere. + +Something hit Dick on the cheek. It was the mother bird returned +with food for the young ones. Dick drew his head aside, and she +proceeded without more ado to fill their crops. + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE VANISHING OF EMMELINE + +Months passed away. Only one bird remained in the branches of the +artu: Koko's children and mate had vanished, but he remained. The +breadfruit leaves had turned from green to pale gold and darkest +amber, and now the new green leaves were being presented to the +spring. + +Dick, who had a complete chart of the lagoon in his head, and +knew all the soundings and best fishing places, the locality of the +stinging coral, and the places where you could wade right across +at low tide--Dick, one morning, was gathering his things together +for a fishing expedition. The place he was going to lay some two +and a half miles away across the island, and as the road was bad +he was going alone. + +Emmeline had been passing a new thread through the beads of the +necklace she sometimes wore. This necklace had a history. In the +shallows not far away, Dick had found a bed of shell-fish; wading +out at low tide, he had taken some of them out to examine. They +were oysters. The first one he opened, so disgusting did its +appearance seem to him, might have been the last, only that under +the beard of the thing lay a pearl. It was about twice the size of a +large pea, and so lustrous that even he could not but admire its +beauty, though quite unconscious of its value. + +He flung the unopened oysters down, and took the thing to +Emmeline. Next day, returning by chance to the same spot, he +found the oysters he had cast down all dead and open in the sun. +He examined them, and found another pearl embedded in one of +them. Then he collected nearly a bushel of the oysters, and left +them to die and open. The idea had occurred to him of making a +necklace for his companion. She had one made of shells, he +intended to make her one of pearls. + +It took a long time, but it was something to do. He pierced them +with a big needle, and at the end of four months or so the thing +was complete. Great pearls most of them were--pure white, +black, pink, some perfectly round, some tear shaped, some +irregular. The thing was worth fifteen, or perhaps twenty +thousand pounds, for he only used the biggest he could find, +casting away the small ones as useless. + +Emmeline this morning had just finished restringing them on a +double thread. She looked pale and not at all well and had been +restless all night. + +As he went off, armed with his spear and fishing tackle, she +waved her hand to him without getting up. Usually she followed +him a bit into the wood when he was going away like this, but +this morning she just sat at the doorway of the little house, the +necklace in her lap, following him with her eyes until he was lost +amidst the trees. + +He had no compass to guide him, and he needed none. He knew the +woods by heart. The mysterious line beyond which scarcely an +artu tree was to be found. The long strip of mammee apple--a +regular sheet of it a hundred yards broad, and reaching from the +middle of the island right down to the lagoon. The clearings, some +almost circular where the ferns grew knee-deep. Then he came to +the bad part. + +The vegetation here had burst into a riot. All sorts of great sappy +stalks of unknown plants barred the way and tangled the foot; and +there were boggy places into which one sank horribly. Pausing to +wipe one's brow, the stalks and tendrils one had beaten down, or +beaten aside, rose up and closed together, making one a prisoner +almost as closely surrounded as a fly in amber. + +All the noontides that had ever fallen upon the island seemed to +have left some of their heat behind them here. The air was damp +and close like the air of a laundry; and the mournful and perpetual +buzz of insects filled the silence without destroying it. + +A hundred men with scythes might make a road through the place +to-day; a month or two later, searching for the road, you would +find none--the vegetation would have closed in as water closes +when divided. + +This was the haunt of the jug orchid--a veritable jug, lid and all. +Raising the lid you would find the jug half filled with water. +Sometimes in the tangle up above, between two trees, you would +see a thing like a bird come to ruin. Orchids grew here as in a +hothouse. All the trees--the few there were--had a spectral and +miserable appearance. They were half starved by the voluptuous +growth of the gigantic weeds. + +If one had much imagination one felt afraid in this place, for one +felt not alone. At any moment it seemed that one might be +touched on the elbow by a hand reaching out from the surrounding +tangle. Even Dick felt this, unimaginative and fearless as he was. +It took him nearly three-quarters of an hour to get through, and +then, at last, came the blessed air of real day, and a glimpse of +the lagoon between the tree-boles. + +He would have rowed round in the dinghy, only that at low tide the +shallows of the north of the island were a bar to the boat's +passage. Of course he might have rowed all the way round by way +of the strand and reef entrance, but that would have meant a +circuit of six miles or more. When he came between the trees +down to the lagoon edge it was about eleven o'clock in the +morning, and the tide was nearly at the full. + +The lagoon just here was like a trough, and the reef was very +near, scarcely a quarter of a mile from the shore. The water did +not shelve, it went down sheer fifty fathoms or more, and one +could fish from the bank just as from a pier head. He had brought +some food with him, and he placed it under a tree whilst he +prepared his line, which had a lump of coral for a sinker. He +baited the hook, and whirling the sinker round in the air sent it +flying out a hundred feet from shore. There was a baby cocoa-nut +tree growing just at the edge of the water. He fastened the end of +his line round the narrow stem, in case of eventualities, and then, +holding the line itself, he fished. + +He had promised Emmeline to return before sundown. + +He was a fisherman. That is to say, a creature with the enduring +patience of a cat, tireless and heedless of time as an oyster. He +came here for sport more than for fish. Large things were to be +found in this part of the lagoon. The last time he had hooked a +horror in the form of a cat-fish; at least in outward appearance it +was likest to a Mississippi cat-fish. Unlike the cat-fish, it was +coarse and useless as food, but it gave good sport. + +The tide was now going out, and it was at the going-out of the +tide that the best fishing was to be had. There was no wind, and +the lagoon lay like a sheet of glass, with just a dimple here and +there where the outgoing tide made a swirl in the water. + +As he fished he thought of Emmeline and the little house under +the trees. Scarcely one could call it thinking. Pictures passed +before his mind's eye--pleasant and happy pictures, sunlit, +moonlit, starlit. + +Three hours passed thus without a bite or symptom that the +lagoon contained anything else but sea-water, and +disappointment; but he did not grumble. He was a fisherman. Then +he left the line tied to the tree and sat down to eat the food he +had brought with him. He had scarcely finished his meal when the +baby cocoa-nut tree shivered and became convulsed, and he did +not require to touch the taut line to know that it was useless to +attempt to cope with the thing at the end of it. The only course +was to let it tug and drown itself. So he sat down and watched. + +After a few minutes the line slackened, and the little cocoa-nut +tree resumed its attitude of pensive meditation and repose. He +pulled the line up: there was nothing at the end of it but a hook. He +did not grumble; he baited the hook again, and flung it in, for it +was quite likely that the ferocious thing in the water would bite +again. + +Full of this idea and heedless of time he fished and waited. The +sun was sinking into the west--he did not heed it. He had quite +forgotten that he had promised Emmeline to return before sunset; +it was nearly sunset now. Suddenly, just behind him, from among +the trees, he heard her voice, crying: + +"Dick!" + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE VANISHING OF EMMELINE (continued) + +He dropped the line, and turned with a start. There was no one +visible. He ran amongst the trees calling out her name, but only +echoes answered. Then he came back to the lagoon edge. + +He felt sure that what he had heard was only fancy, but it was +nearly sunset, and more than time to be off. He pulled in his line, +wrapped it up, took his fish-spear and started. + +It was just in the middle of the bad place that dread came to him. +What if anything had happened to her? It was dusk here, and never +had the weeds seemed so thick, dimness so dismal, the tendrils of +the vines so gin-like. Then he lost his way--he who was so sure +of his way always! The hunter's instinct had been crossed, and for +a time he went hither and thither helpless as a ship without a +compass. At last he broke into the real wood, but far to the right +of where he ought to have been. He felt like a beast escaped from +a trap, and hurried along, led by the sound of the surf. + +When he reached the clear sward that led down to the lagoon the +sun had just vanished beyond the sea-line. A streak of red cloud +floated like the feather of a flamingo in the western sky close to +the sea, and twilight had already filled the world. He could see +the house dimly, under the shadow of the trees, and he ran +towards it, crossing the sward diagonally. + +Always before, when he had been away, the first thing to greet +his eyes on his return had been the figure of Emmeline. Either at +the lagoon edge or the house door he would find her waiting for +him. + +She was not waiting for him to-night. When he reached the house +she was not there, and he paused, after searching the place, a +prey to the most horrible perplexity, and unable for the moment +to think or act. + +Since the shock of the occurrence on the reef she had been +subjected at times to occasional attacks of headache; and when +the pain was more than she could bear she would go off and hide. +Dick would hunt for her amidst the trees, calling out her name and +hallooing. A faint "halloo" would answer when she heard him, and +then he would find her under a tree or bush, with her unfortunate +head between her hands, a picture of misery. + +He remembered this now, and started off along the borders of the +wood, calling to her, and pausing to listen. No answer came. + +He searched amidst the trees as far as the little well, waking the +echoes with his voice; then he came back slowly, peering about +him in the deep dusk that now was yielding to the starlight. He +sat down before the door of the house, and, looking at him, you +might have fancied him in the last stages of exhaustion. Profound +grief and profound exhaustion act on the frame very much in the +same way. He sat with his chin resting on his chest, his hands +helpless. He could hear her voice, still as he heard it over at the +other side of the island. She had been in danger and called to him, +and he had been calmly fishing, unconscious of it all. + +This thought maddened him. He sat up, stared around him and beat +the ground with the palms of his hands; then he sprang to his feet +and made for the dinghy. He rowed to the reef: the action of a +madman, for she could not possibly be there. + +There was no moon, the starlight both lit and veiled the world, +and no sound but the majestic thunder of the waves. As he stood, +the night wind blowing on his face, the white foam seething +before him, and Canopus burning in the great silence overhead, the +fact that he stood in the centre of an awful and profound +indifference came to his untutored mind with a pang. + +He returned to the shore: the house was still deserted. A little +bowl made from the shell of a cocoa-nut stood on the grass near +the doorway. He had last seen it in her hands, and he took it up and +held it for a moment, pressing it tightly to his breast. Then he +threw himself down before the doorway, and lay upon his face, +with head resting upon his arms in the attitude of a person who is +profoundly asleep. + +He must have searched through the woods again that night just as +a somnambulist searches, for he found himself towards dawn in +the valley before the idol. Then it was daybreak--the world was +full of light and colour. He was seated before the house door, +worn out and exhausted, when, raising his head, he saw +Emmeline's figure coming out from amidst the distant trees on +the other side of the sward. + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE NEWCOMER + +He could not move for a moment, then he sprang to his feet and +ran towards her. She looked pale and dazed, and she held +something in her arms; something wrapped up in her scarf. As he +pressed her to him, the something in the bundle struggled against +his breast and emitted a squall--just like the squall of a cat. He +drew back, and Emmeline, tenderly moving her scarf a bit aside, +exposed a wee face. It was brick-red and wrinkled; there were +two bright eyes, and a tuft of dark hair over the forehead. Then +the eyes closed, the face screwed itself up, and the thing sneezed +twice. + +"Where did you GET it?" he asked, absolutely lost in astonishment +as she covered the face again gently with the scarf. + +"I found it in the woods," replied Emmeline. + +Dumb with amazement, he helped her along to the house, and she +sat down, resting her head against the bamboos of the wall. + +"I felt so bad," she explained; "and then I went off to sit in the +woods, and then I remembered nothing more, and when I woke up +it was there." + +"It's a baby!" said Dick. + +"I know," replied Emmeline. + +Mrs James's baby, seen in the long ago, had risen up before their +mind's eyes, a messenger from the past to explain what the new +thing was. Then she told him things--things that completely +shattered the old "cabbage bed" theory, supplanting it with a truth +far more wonderful, far more poetical, too, to he who can +appreciate the marvel and the mystery of life. + +"It has something funny tied on to it," she went on, as if she were +referring to a parcel she had just received. + +"Let's look," said Dick. + +"No," she replied; "leave it alone." + +She sat rocking the thing gently, seeming oblivious to the whole +world, and quite absorbed in it, as, indeed, was Dick. A physician +would have shuddered, but, perhaps fortunately enough, there was +no physician on the island. Only Nature, and she put everything to +rights in her own time and way. + +When Dick had sat marvelling long enough, he set to and lit the +fire. He had eaten nothing since the day before, and he was nearly +as exhausted as the girl. He cooked some breadfruit, there was +some cold fish left over from the day before; this, with some +bananas, he served up on two broad leaves, making Emmeline eat +first. + +Before they had finished, the creature in the bundle, as though it +had smelt the food, began to scream. Emmeline drew the scarf +aside. It looked hungry; its mouth would now be pinched up and +now wide open, its eyes opened and closed. The girl touched it on +the lips with her finger, and it seized upon her fingertip and +sucked it. Her eyes filled with tears, she looked appealingly at +Dick, who was on his knees; he took a banana, peeled it, broke off +a bit and handed it to her. She approached it to the baby's mouth. +It tried to suck it, failed, blew bubbles at the sun and squalled. + +"Wait a minute," said Dick. + +There were some green cocoa-nuts he had gathered the day before +close by. He took one, removed the green husk, and opened one of +the eyes, making an opening also in the opposite side of the shell. +The unfortunate infant sucked ravenously at the nut, filled its +stomach with the young cocoa-nut juice, vomited violently, and +wailed. Emmeline in despair clasped it to her naked breast, +wherefrom, in a moment, it was hanging like a leech. It knew +more about babies than they did. + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +HANNAH + +At noon, in the shallows of the reef, under the burning sun, the +water would be quite warm. They would carry the baby down here, +and Emmeline would wash it with a bit of flannel. After a few +days it scarcely ever screamed, even when she washed it. It +would lie on her knees during the process, striking valiantly out +with its arms and legs, staring straight up at the sky. Then when +she turned it on its face, it would lay its head down and chuckle, +and blow bubbles at the coral of the reef, examining, apparently, +the pattern of the coral with deep and philosophic attention. + +Dick would sit by with his knees up to his chin, watching it all. He +felt himself to be part proprietor in the thing--as, indeed, he +was. The mystery of the affair still hung over them both. A week +ago they two had been alone, and suddenly from nowhere this new +individual had appeared. + +It was so complete. It had hair on its head, tiny finger-nails, and +hands that would grasp you. It had a whole host of little ways of +its own, and every day added to them. + +In a week the extreme ugliness of the newborn child had vanished. +Its face, which had seemed carved in the imitation of a monkey's +face from half a brick, became the face of a happy and healthy +baby. It seemed to see things, and sometimes it would laugh and +chuckle as though it had been told a good joke. Its black hair all +came off and was supplanted by a sort of down. It had no teeth. It +would lie on its back and kick and crow, and double its fists up +and try to swallow them alternately, and cross its feet and play +with its toes. In fact, it was exactly like any of the thousand- +and-one babies that are born into the world at every tick of the +clock. + +"What will we call it?" said Dick one day, as he sat watching his +son and heir crawling about on the grass under the shade of the +breadfruit leaves. + +"Hannah," said Emmeline promptly. + +The recollection of another baby once heard about was in her +mind, and it was as good a name as any other, perhaps, in that +lonely place, notwithstanding the fact that Hannah was a boy. + +Koko took a vast interest in the new arrival. He would hop round it +and peer at it with his head on one side; and Hannah would crawl +after the bird and try to grab it by the tail. In a few months so +valiant and strong did he become that he would pursue his own +father, crawling behind him on the grass, and you might have seen +the mother and father and child playing all together like three +children, the bird sometimes hovering overhead like a good spirit, +sometimes joining in the fun. + +Sometimes Emmeline would sit and brood over the child, a +troubled expression on her face and a far-away look in her eyes. +The old vague fear of mischance had returned--the dread of that +viewless form her imagination half pictured behind the smile on +the face of Nature. Her happiness was so great that she dreaded to +lose it. + +There is nothing more wonderful than the birth of a man, and all +that goes to bring it about. Here, on this island, in the very heart +of the sea, amidst the sunshine and the wind-blown trees, under +the great blue arch of the sky, in perfect purity of thought, they +would discuss the question from beginning to end without a blush, +the object of their discussion crawling before them on the grass, +and attempting to grab feathers from Koko's tail. + +It was the loneliness of the place as well as their ignorance of +life that made the old, old miracle appear so strange and fresh-- +as beautiful as the miracle of death had appeared awful. In +thoughts vague and beyond expression in words, they linked this +new occurrence with that old occurrence on the reef six years +before. The vanishing and the coming of a man. + +Hannah, despite his unfortunate name, was certainly a most virile +and engaging baby. The black hair which had appeared and vanished +like some practical joke played by Nature, gave place to a down at +first as yellow as sun-bleached wheat, but in a few months' time +tinged with auburn. + +One day--he had been uneasy and biting at his thumbs for some +time past--Emmeline, looking into his mouth, saw something +white and like a grain of rice protruding from his gum. It was a +tooth just born. He could eat bananas now, and breadfruit, and +they often fed him on fish--a fact which again might have caused +a medical man to shudder; yet he throve on it all, and waxed +stouter every day. + +Emmeline, with a profound and natural wisdom, let him crawl +about stark naked, dressed in ozone and sunlight. Taking him out +on the reef, she would let him paddle in the shallow pools, holding +him under the armpits whilst he splashed the diamond-bright +water into spray with his feet, and laughed and shouted. + +They were beginning now to experience a phenomenon, as +wonderful as the birth of the child's body--the birth of his +intelligence, the peeping out of a little personality with +predilections of its own, likes and dislikes. + +He knew Dick from Emmeline; and when Emmeline had satisfied +his material wants, he would hold out his arms to go to Dick if he +were by. He looked upon Koko as a friend, but when a friend of +Koko's--a bird with an inquisitive mind and three red feathers in +his tail--dropped in one day to inspect the newcomer, he resented +the intrusion, and screamed. + +He had a passion for flowers, or anything bright. He would laugh +and shout when taken on the lagoon in the dinghy, and make as if +to jump into the water to get at the bright-coloured corals below. + +Ah me, we laugh at young mothers, and all the miraculous things +they tell us about their babies! They see what we cannot see: the +first unfolding of that mysterious flower, the mind. + +One day they were out on the lagoon. Dick had been rowing; he had +ceased, and was letting the boat drift for a bit. Emmeline was +dancing the child on her knee, when it suddenly held out its arms +to the oarsman and said: + +"Dick!" + +The little word, so often heard and easily repeated, was its first +word on earth. + +A voice that had never spoken in the world before had spoken; and +to hear his name thus mysteriously uttered by a being he has +created is the sweetest and perhaps the saddest thing a man can +ever know. + +Dick took the child on his knee, and from that moment his love for +it was more than his love for Emmeline or anything else on earth. + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE LAGOON OF FIRE + +Ever since the tragedy of six years ago there had been forming in +the mind of Emmeline Lestrange a something--shall I call it a +deep mistrust? She had never been clever; lessons had saddened +and wearied her, without making her much the wiser. Yet her mind +was of that order into which profound truths come by short-cuts. +She was intuitive. + +Great knowledge may lurk in the human mind without the owner of +the mind being aware. He or she acts in such or such a way, or +thinks in such and such a manner from intuition; in other words, +as the outcome of the profoundest reasoning. + +When we have learnt to call storms, storms, and death, death, and +birth, birth, when we have mastered the sailor's horn-book, and +Mr Piddington's law of cyclones, Ellis's anatomy, and Lewer's +midwifery, we have already made ourself half blind. We have +become hypnotized by words and names. We think in words and +names, not in ideas; the commonplace has triumphed, the true +intellect is half crushed. + +Storms had burst over the island before this. And what Emmeline +remembered of them might be expressed by an instance. + +The morning would be bright and happy, never so bright the sun, or +so balmy the breeze, or so peaceful the blue lagoon; then, with a +horrid suddenness, as if sick with dissimulation and mad to show +itself, something would blacken the sun, and with a yell stretch +out a hand and ravage the island, churn the lagoon into foam, beat +down the coconut trees, and slay the birds. And one bird would be +left and another taken, one tree destroyed and another left +standing. The fury of the thing was less fearful than the blindness +of it, and the indifference of it. + +One night, when the child was asleep, just after the last star was +lit, Dick appeared at the doorway of the house. He had been down +to the water's edge and had now returned. He beckoned Emmeline +to follow him, and, putting down the child, she did so. + +"Come here and look," said he. + +He led the way to the water; and as they approached it Emmeline +became aware that there was something strange about the lagoon. +From a distance it looked pale and solid; it might have been a +great stretch of grey marble veined with black. Then, as she drew +nearer, she saw that the dull grey appearance was a deception of +the eye. + +The lagoon was alight and burning. + +The phosphoric fire was in its very heart and being; every coral +branch was a torch, every fish a passing lantern. The incoming +tide moving the waters made the whole glittering floor of the +lagoon move and shiver, and the tiny waves to lap the bank, +leaving behind them glow-worm traces. + +"Look!" said Dick. + +He knelt down and plunged his forearm into the water. The +immersed part burned like a smouldering torch. Emmeline could +see it as plainly as though it were lit by sunlight. Then he drew +his arm out, and as far as the water had reached, it was covered +by a glowing glove. + +They had seen the phosphorescence of the lagoon before; indeed, +any night you might watch the passing fish like bars of silver, +when the moon was away; but this was something quite new, and +it was entrancing. + +Emmeline knelt down and dabbled her hands, and made herself a +pair of phosphoric gloves, and cried out with pleasure, and +laughed. It was all the pleasure of playing with fire without the +danger of being burnt. Then Dick rubbed his face with the water +till it glowed. + +"Wait!" he cried; and, running up to the house, he fetched out +Hannah. + +He came running down with him to the water's edge, gave +Emmeline the child, unmoored the boat, and started out from +shore. + +The sculls, as far as they were immersed, were like bars of +glistening silver; under them passed the fish, leaving cometic +tails; each coral clump was a lamp, lending its lustre till the +great lagoon was luminous as a lit-up ballroom. Even the child on +Emmeline's lap crowed and cried out at the strangeness of the +sight. + +They landed on the reef and wandered over the flat. The sea was +white and bright as snow, and the foam looked like a hedge of +fire. + +As they stood gazing on this extraordinary sight, suddenly, almost +as instantaneously as the switching off of an electric light, the +phosphorescence of the sea flickered and vanished. + +The moon was rising. Her crest was just breaking from the water, +and as her face came slowly into view behind a belt of vapour +that lay on the horizon, it looked fierce and red, stained with +smoke like the face of Eblis. + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE CYCLONE + +When they awoke next morning the day was dark. A solid roof of +cloud, lead-coloured and without a ripple on it, lay over the sky, +almost to the horizon. There was not a breath of wind, and the +birds flew wildly about as if disturbed by some unseen enemy in +the wood. + +As Dick lit the fire to prepare the breakfast, Emmeline walked up +and down, holding her baby to her breast; she felt restless and +uneasy. + +As the morning wore on the darkness increased; a breeze rose up, +and the leaves of the breadfruit trees pattered together with the +sound of rain falling upon glass. A storm was coming, but there +was something different in its approach to the approach of the +storms they had already known. + +As the breeze increased a sound filled the air, coming from far +away beyond the horizon. It was like the sound of a great +multitude of people, and yet so faint and vague was it that sudden +bursts of the breeze through the leaves above would drown it +utterly. Then it ceased, and nothing could be heard but the rocking +of the branches and the tossing of the leaves under the increasing +wind, which was now blowing sharply and fiercely and with a +steady rush dead from the west, fretting the lagoon, and sending +clouds and masses of foam right over the reef. The sky that had +been so leaden and peaceful and like a solid roof was now all in a +hurry, flowing eastward like a great turbulent river in spate. + +And now, again, one could hear the sound in the distance-- the +thunder of the captains of the storm and the shouting; but still so +faint, so vague, so indeterminate and unearthly that it seemed +like the sound in a dream. + +Emmeline sat amidst the ferns on the floor cowed and dumb, +holding the baby to her breast. It was fast asleep. Dick stood at +the doorway. He was disturbed in mind, but he did not show it. + +The whole beautiful island world had now taken on the colour of +ashes and the colour of lead. Beauty had utterly vanished, all +seemed sadness and distress. + +The cocoa-palms, under the wind that had lost its steady rush and +was now blowing in hurricane blasts, flung themselves about in +all the attitudes of distress; and whoever has seen a tropical +storm will know what a cocoa-palm can express by its +movements under the lash of the wind. + +Fortunately the house was so placed that it was protected by the +whole depth of the grove between it and the lagoon; and +fortunately, too, it was sheltered by the dense foliage of the +breadfruit, for suddenly, with a crash of thunder as if the hammer +of Thor had been flung from sky to earth, the clouds split and the +rain came down in a great slanting wave. It roared on the foliage +above, which, bending leaf on leaf, made a slanting roof from +which it rushed in a steady sheet-like cascade. + +Dick had darted into the house, and was now sitting beside +Emmeline, who was shivering and holding the child, which had +awakened at the sound of the thunder. + +For an hour they sat, the rain ceasing and coming again, the +thunder shaking earth and sea, and the wind passing overhead +with a piercing, monotonous cry. + +Then all at once the wind dropped, the rain ceased, and a pale +spectral light, like the light of dawn, fell before the doorway. + +"It's over!" cried Dick, making to get up. + +"Oh, listen!" said Emmeline, clinging to him, and holding the baby +to his breast as if the touch of him would give it protection. She +had divined that there was something approaching worse than a +storm. + +Then, listening in the silence, away from the other side of the +island, they heard a sound like the droning of a great top. + +It was the centre of the cyclone approaching. + +A cyclone is a circular storm: a storm in the form of a ring. This +ring of hurricane travels across the ocean with inconceivable +speed and fury, yet its centre is a haven of peace. + +As they listened the sound increased, sharpened, and became a +tang that pierced the ear-drums: a sound that shook with hurry +and speed, increasing, bringing with it the bursting and crashing +of trees, and breaking at last overhead in a yell that stunned the +brain like the blow of a bludgeon. In a second the house was torn +away, and they were clinging to the roots of the breadfruit, deaf, +blinded, half-lifeless. + +The terror and the prolonged shock of it reduced them from +thinking beings to the level of frightened animals whose one +instinct is preservation. + +How long the horror lasted they could not tell, when, like a +madman who pauses for a moment in the midst of his struggles +and stands stock-still, the wind ceased blowing, and there was +peace. The centre of the cyclone was passing over the island. + +Looking up, one saw a marvellous sight. The air was full of birds, +butterflies, insects--all hanging in the heart of the storm and +travelling with it under its protection. + +Though the air was still as the air of a summer's day, from north, +south, east, and west, from every point of the compass, came the +yell of the hurricane. + +There was something shocking in this. + +In a storm one is so beaten about by the wind that one has no +time to think: one is half stupefied. But in the dead centre of a +cyclone one is in perfect peace. The trouble is all around, but it is +not here. One has time to examine the thing like a tiger in a cage, +listen to its voice and shudder at its ferocity. + +The girl, holding the baby to her breast, sat up gasping. The baby +had come to no harm; it had cried at first when the thunder broke, +but now it seemed impassive, almost dazed. Dick stepped from +under the tree and looked at the prodigy in the air. + +The cyclone had gathered on its way sea-birds and birds from the +land; there were gulls, electric white and black man-of-war +birds, butterflies, and they all seemed imprisoned under a great +drifting dome of glass. As they went, travelling like things +without volition and in a dream, with a hum and a roar the south- +west quadrant of the cyclone burst on the island, and the whole +bitter business began over again. + +It lasted for hours, then towards midnight the wind fell; and when +the sun rose next morning he came through a cloudless sky, +without a trace of apology for the destruction caused by his +children the winds. He showed trees uprooted and birds lying +dead, three or four canes remaining of what had once been a +house, the lagoon the colour of a pale sapphire, and a glass-green, +foam-capped sea racing in thunder against the reef. + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE STRICKEN WOODS + +At first they thought they were ruined; then Dick, searching, +found the old saw under a tree, and the butcher's knife near it, as +though the knife and saw had been trying to escape in company +and had failed. + +Bit by bit they began to recover something of their scattered +property. The remains of the flannel had been taken by the cyclone +and wrapped round and round a slender cocoa-nut tree, till the +trunk looked like a gaily bandaged leg. The box of fish-hooks had +been jammed into the centre of a cooked breadfruit, both having +been picked up by the fingers of the wind and hurled against the +same tree; and the stay-sail of the Shenandoah was out on the +reef, with a piece of coral carefully placed on it as if to keep it +down. As for the lug-sail belonging to the dinghy, it was never +seen again. + +There is humour sometimes in a cyclone, if you can only +appreciate it; no other form of air disturbance produces such +quaint effects. Beside the great main whirlpool of wind, there are +subsidiary whirlpools, each actuated by its own special imp. + +Emmeline had felt Hannah nearly snatched from her arms twice by +these little ferocious gimlet winds; and that the whole business +of the great storm was set about with the object of snatching +Hannah from her, and blowing him out to sea, was a belief which +she held, perhaps, in the innermost recesses of her mind. + +The dinghy would have been utterly destroyed, had it not heeled +over and sunk in shallow water at the first onset of the wind; as +it was, Dick was able to bail it out at the next low tide, when it +floated as bravely as ever, not having started a single seam. + +But the destruction amidst the trees was pitiful. Looking at the +woods as a mass, one noticed gaps here and there, but what had +really happened could not be seen till one was amongst the trees. +Great, beautiful cocoa-nut palms, not dead, but just dying, lay +crushed and broken as if trampled upon by some enormous foot. +You would come across half a dozen lianas twisted into one great +cable. Where cocoa-nut palms were, you could not move a yard +without kicking against a fallen nut; you might have picked up +full-grown, half-grown, and wee baby nuts, not bigger than small +apples, for on the same tree you will find nuts of all sizes and +conditions. + +One never sees a perfectly straight-stemmed cocoa-palm; they +all have an inclination from the perpendicular more or less; +perhaps that is why a cyclone has more effect on them than on +other trees. + +Artus, once so pretty a picture with their diamond-chequered +trunks, lay broken and ruined; and right through the belt of +mammee apple, right through the bad lands, lay a broad road, as if +an army, horse, foot, and artillery, had passed that way from +lagoon edge to lagoon edge. This was the path left by the great +fore-foot of the storm; but had you searched the woods on either +side, you would have found paths where the lesser winds had been +at work, where the baby whirlwinds had been at play. + +From the bruised woods, like an incense offered to heaven, rose a +perfume of blossoms gathered and scattered, of rain-wet leaves, +of lianas twisted and broken and oozing their sap; the perfume of +newly-wrecked and ruined trees--the essence and soul of the +artu, the banyan and cocoa-palm cast upon the wind. + +You would have found dead butterflies in the woods, dead birds +too; but in the great path of the storm you would have found dead +butterflies' wings, feathers, leaves frayed as if by fingers, +branches of the aoa, and sticks of the hibiscus broken into little +fragments. + +Powerful enough to rip a ship open, root up a tree, half ruin a city. +Delicate enough to tear a butterfly wing from wing--that is a +cyclone. + +Emmeline, wandering about in the woods with Dick on the day +after the storm, looking at the ruin of great tree and little bird, +and recollecting the land birds she had caught a glimpse of +yesterday being carried along safely by the storm out to sea to be +drowned, felt a great weight lifting from her heart. Mischance had +come, and spared them and the baby. The blue had spoken, but had +not called them. + +She felt that something--the something which we in civilisation +call Fate--was for the present gorged; and, without being +annihilated, her incessant hypochondriacal dread condensed itself +into a point, leaving her horizon sunlit and clear. + +The cyclone had indeed treated them almost, one might say, +amiably. It had taken the house but that was a small matter, for +it had left them nearly all their small possessions. The tinder box +and flint and steel would have been a much more serious loss than +a dozen houses, for, without it, they would have had absolutely no +means of making a fire. + +If anything, the cyclone had been almost too kind to them; had let +them pay off too little of that mysterious debt they owed to the +gods. + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +A FALLEN IDOL + +The next day Dick began to rebuild the house. He had fetched the +stay-sail from the reef and rigged up a temporary tent. + +It was a great business cutting the canes and dragging them out +in the open. Emmeline helped; whilst Hannah, seated on the grass, +played with the bird that had vanished during the storm, but +reappeared the evening after. + +The child and the bird had grown fast friends; they were friendly +enough even at first, but now the bird would sometimes let the +tiny hands clasp him right round his body--at least, as far as the +hands would go. + +It is a rare experience for a man to hold a tame and unstruggling +and unfrightened bird in his hands; next to pressing a woman in +his arms, it is the pleasantest tactile sensation he will ever +experience, perhaps, in life. He will feel a desire to press it to +his heart, if he has such a thing. + +Hannah would press Koko to his little brown stomach, as if in +artless admission of where his heart lay. + +He was an extraordinarily bright and intelligent child. He did not +promise to be talkative, for, having achieved the word "Dick," he +rested content for a long while before advancing further into the +labyrinth of language; but though he did not use his tongue, he +spoke in a host of other ways. With his eyes, that were as bright +as Koko's, and full of all sorts of mischief; with his hands and +feet and the movements of his body. He had a way of shaking his +hands before him when highly delighted, a way of expressing +nearly all the shades of pleasure; and though he rarely expressed +anger, when he did so, he expressed it fully. + +He was just now passing over the frontier into toyland. In +civilisation he would no doubt have been the possessor of an +india-rubber dog or a woolly lamb, but there were no toys here at +all. Emmeline's old doll had been left behind when they took flight +from the other side of the island, and Dick, a year or so ago, on +one of his expeditions, had found it lying half buried in the sand +of the beach. + +He had brought it back now more as a curiosity than anything +else, and they had kept it on the shelf in the house. The cyclone +had impaled it on a tree-twig near by, if in derision; and Hannah, +when it was presented to him as a plaything, flung it away from +him as if in disgust. But he would play with flowers or bright +shells, or bits of coral, making vague patterns with them on the +sward. + +All the toy lambs in the world would not have pleased him better +than those things, the toys of the Troglodyte children--the +children of the Stone Age. To clap two oyster shells together and +make a noise--what, after all, could a baby want better than +that? + +One afternoon, when the house was beginning to take some sort of +form, they ceased work and went off into the woods; Emmeline +carrying the baby and Dick taking turns with him. They were going +to the valley of the idol. + +Since the coming of Hannah, and even before, the stone figure +standing in its awful and mysterious solitude had ceased to be an +object of dread to Emmeline, and had become a thing vaguely +benevolent. Love had come to her under its shade; and under its +shade the spirit of the child had entered into her from where, who +knows? But certainly through heaven. + +Perhaps the thing which had been the god of some unknown people +had inspired her with the instinct of religion; if so, she was his +last worshipper on earth, for when they entered the valley they +found him lying upon his face. Great blocks of stone lay around +him: there had evidently been a landslip, a catastrophe preparing +for ages, and determined, perhaps, by the torrential rain of the +cyclone. + +In Ponape, Huahine, in Easter Island, you may see great idols that +have been felled like this, temples slowly dissolving from sight, +and terraces, seemingly as solid as the hills, turning softly and +subtly into shapeless mounds of stone. + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE EXPEDITION + +Next morning the light of day filtering through the trees +awakened Emmeline in the tent which they had improvised whilst +the house was building. Dawn came later here than on the other +side of the island which faced east later, and in a different +manner for there is the difference of worlds between dawn +coming over a wooded hill, and dawn coming over the sea. + +Over at the other side, sitting on the sand with the break of the +reef which faced the east before you, scarcely would the east +change colour before the sea-line would be on fire, the sky lit up +into an illimitable void of blue, and the sunlight flooding into the +lagoon, the ripples of light seeming to chase the ripples of water. + +On this side it was different. The sky would be dark and full of +stars, and the woods, great spaces of velvety shadow. Then +through the leaves of the artu would come a sigh, and the leaves +of the breadfruit would patter, and the sound of the reef become +faint. The land breeze had awakened, and in a while, as if it had +blown them away, looking up, you would find the stars gone, and +the sky a veil of palest blue. In this indirect approach of dawn +there was something ineffably mysterious. One could see, but the +things seen were indecisive and vague, just as they are in the +gloaming of an English summer's day. + +Scarcely had Emmeline arisen when Dick woke also, and they went +out on to the sward, and then down to the water's edge. Dick went +in for a swim, and the girl, holding the baby, stood on the bank +watching him. + +Always after a great storm the weather of the island would +become more bracing and exhilarating, and this morning the air +seemed filled with the spirit of spring. Emmeline felt it, and as +she watched the swimmer disporting in the water, she laughed, +and held the child up to watch him. She was fey. The breeze, filled +with all sorts of sweet perfumes from the woods, blew her black +hair about her shoulders, and the full light of morning coming +over the palm fronds of the woods beyond the sward touched her +and the child. Nature seemed caressing them. + +Dick came ashore, and then ran about to dry himself in the wind. +Then he went to the dinghy and examined her; for he had +determined to leave the house-building for half a day, and row +round to the old place to see how the banana trees had fared +during the storm. His anxiety about them was not to be wondered +at. The island was his larder, and the bananas were a most +valuable article of food. He had all the feelings of a careful +housekeeper about them, and he could not rest till he had seen for +himself the extent of damage, if damage there was any. + +He examined the boat, and then they all went back to breakfast. +Living their lives, they had to use forethought. They would put +away, for instance, all the shells of the cocoa-nuts they used for +fuel; and you never could imagine the blazing splendour there +lives in the shell of a cocoa-nut till you see it burning. Yesterday, +Dick, with his usual prudence, had placed a heap of sticks, all wet +with the rain of the storm, to dry in the sun: as a consequence, +they had plenty of fuel to make a fire with this morning. + +When they had finished breakfast he got the knife to cut the +bananas with if there were any left to cut and, taking the javelin, +he went down to the boat, followed by Emmeline and the child. + +Dick had stepped into the boat, and was on the point of unmooring +her, and pushing her off, when Emmeline stopped him. + +"Dick!" + +"Yes?" + +"I will go with you." + +"You!" said he in astonishment. + +"Yes, I'm--not afraid any more." + +It was a fact; since the coming of the child she had lost that +dread of the other side of the island or almost lost it. + +Death is a great darkness, birth is a great light--they had +intermixed in her mind; the darkness was still there, but it was +no longer terrible to her, for it was infused with the light. The +result was a twilight sad, but beautiful, and unpeopled with +forms of fear. + +Years ago she had seen a mysterious door close and shut a human +being out for ever from the world. The sight had filled her with +dread unimaginable, for she had no words for the thing, no +religion or philosophy to explain it away or gloss it over. Just +recently she had seen an equally mysterious door open and admit a +human being; and deep down in her mind, in the place where the +dreams were, the one great fact had explained and justified the +other. Life had vanished into the void, but life had come from +there. There was life in the void, and it was no longer terrible. + +Perhaps all religions were born on a day when some woman, +seated upon a rock by the prehistoric sea, looked at her newborn +child and recalled to mind her man who had been slain, thus +closing the charm and imprisoning the idea of a future state. + +Emmeline, with the child in her arms, stepped into the little boat +and took her seat in the stern, whilst Dick pushed off. Scarcely +had he put out the sculls than a new passenger arrived. It was +Koko. He would often accompany them to the reef, though, +strangely enough, he would never go there alone of his own +accord. He made a circle or two over them, and then lit on the +gunwale in the bow, and perched there, humped up, and with his +long dove-coloured tail feathers presented to the water. + +The oarsman kept close in-shore, and as they rounded the little +cape all gay with wild cocoa-nut the bushes brushed the boat, and +the child, excited by their colour, held out his hands to them. +Emmeline stretched out her hand and broke off a branch; but it +was not a branch of the wild cocoa-nut she had plucked, it was a +branch of the never-wake-up berries. The berries that will cause +a man to sleep, should he eat of them--to sleep and dream, and +never wake up again. + +"Throw them away!" cried Dick, who remembered. + +"I will in a minute," she replied. + +She was holding them up before the child, who was laughing and +trying to grasp them. Then she forgot them, and dropped them in +the bottom of the boat, for something had struck the keel with a +thud, and the water was boiling all round. + +There was a savage fight going on below. In the breeding season +great battles would take place sometimes in the lagoon, for fish +have their jealousies just like men--love affairs, friendships. +The two great forms could be dimly perceived, one in pursuit of +the other, and they terrified Emmeline, who implored Dick to row +on. + +They slipped by the pleasant shores that Emmeline had never seen +before, having been sound asleep when they came past them those +years ago. + +Just before putting off she had looked back at the beginnings of +the little house under the artu tree, and as she looked at the +strange glades and groves, the picture of it rose before her, and +seemed to call her back. + +It was a tiny possession, but it was home; and so little used to +change was she that already a sort of home-sickness was upon +her; but it passed away almost as soon as it came, and she fell to +wondering at the things around her, and pointing them out to the +child. + +When they came to the place where Dick had hooked the albicore, +he hung on his oars and told her about it. It was the first time she +had heard of it; a fact which shows into what a state of savagery +he had been lapsing. He had mentioned about the canoes, for he had +to account for the javelin; but as for telling her of the incidents +of the chase, he no more thought of doing so than a red Indian +would think of detailing to his squaw the incidents of a bear hunt. +Contempt for women is the first law of savagery, and perhaps the +last law of some old and profound philosophy. + +She listened, and when it came to the incident of the shark, she +shuddered. + +"I wish I had a hook big enough to catch him with," said he, +staring into the water as if in search of his enemy. + +"Don't think of him, Dick," said Emmeline, holding the child more +tightly to her heart. "Row on." + +He resumed the sculls, but you could have seen from his face that +he was recounting to himself the incident. + +When they had rounded the last promontory, and the strand and the +break in the reef opened before them, Emmeline caught her breath. +The place had changed in some subtle manner; everything was +there as before, yet everything seemed different--the lagoon +seemed narrower, the reef nearer, the cocoa-palms not nearly so +tall. She was contrasting the real things with the recollection of +them when seen by a child. The black speck had vanished from the +reef; the storm had swept it utterly away. + +Dick beached the boat on the shelving sand, and left Emmeline +seated in the stern of it, whilst he went in search of the bananas; +she would have accompanied him, but the child had fallen asleep. + +Hannah asleep was even a pleasanter picture than when awake. He +looked like a little brown Cupid without wings, bow or arrow. He +had all the grace of a curled-up feather. Sleep was always in +pursuit of him, and would catch him up at the most unexpected +moments--when he was at play, or indeed at any time. Emmeline +would sometimes find him with a coloured shell or bit of coral +that he had been playing with in his hand fast asleep, a happy +expression on his face, as if his mind were pursuing its earthly +avocations on some fortunate beach in dreamland. + +Dick had plucked a huge breadfruit leaf and given it to her as a +shelter from the sun, and she sat holding it over her, and gazing +straight before her, over the white, sunlit sands. + +The flight of the mind in reverie is not in a direct line. To her, +dreaming as she sat, came all sorts of coloured pictures, recalled +by the scene before her: the green water under the stern of a ship, +and the word Shenandoah vaguely reflected on it; their landing, +and the little tea-set spread out on the white sand--she could +still see the pansies painted on the plates, and she counted in +memory the lead spoons; the great stars that burned over the reef +at nights; the Cluricaunes and fairies; the cask by the well where +the convolvulus blossomed, and the wind-blown trees seen from +the summit of the hill--all these pictures drifted before her, +dissolving and replacing each other as they went. + +There was sadness in the contemplation of them, but pleasure too. +She felt at peace with the world. All trouble seemed far behind +her. It was as if the great storm that had left them unharmed had +been an ambassador from the powers above to assure her of their +forbearance, protection, and love. + +All at once she noticed that between the boat's bow and the sand +there lay a broad, blue, sparkling line. The dinghy was afloat. + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE KEEPER OF THE LAGOON + +The woods here had been less affected by the cyclone than those +upon the other side of the island, but there had been destruction +enough. To reach the place he wanted, Dick had to climb over +felled trees and fight his way through a tangle of vines that had +once hung overhead. + +The banana trees had not suffered at all; as if by some special +dispensation of Providence even the great bunches of fruit had +been scarcely injured, and he proceeded to climb and cut them. He +cut two bunches, and with one across his shoulder came back +down through the trees. + +He had got half across the sands, his head bent under the load, +when a distant call came to him, and, raising his head, he saw the +boat adrift in the middle of the lagoon, and the figure of the girl +in the bow of it waving to him with her arm. He saw a scull +floating on the water half-way between the boat and the shore, +which she had no doubt lost in an attempt to paddle the boat back. +He remembered that the tide was going out. + +He flung his load aside, and ran down the beach; in a moment he +was in the water. Emmeline, standing up in the boat, watched him. + +When she found herself adrift, she had made an effort to row +back, and in her hurry shipping the sculls she had lost one. With a +single scull she was quite helpless, as she had not the art of +sculling a boat from the stern. At first she was not frightened, +because she knew that Dick would soon return to her assistance; +but as the distance between boat and shore increased, a cold hand +seemed laid upon her heart. Looking at the shore it seemed very +far away, and the view towards the reef was terrific, for the +opening had increased in apparent size, and the great sea beyond +seemed drawing her to it. + +She saw Dick coming out of the wood with the load on his +shoulder, and she called to him. At first he did not seem to hear, +then she saw him look up, cast the bananas away, and come +running down the sand to the water's edge. She watched him +swimming, she saw him seize the scull, and her heart gave a +great leap of joy. + +Towing the scull and swimming with one arm,he rapidly +approached the boat. He was quite close, only ten feet away, when +Emmeline saw behind him, shearing through the clear rippling +water, and advancing with speed, a dark triangle that seemed +made of canvas stretched upon a sword-point. + +Forty years ago he had floated adrift on the sea in the form and +likeness of a small shabby pine-cone, a prey to anything that +might find him. He had escaped the jaws of the dog-fish, and the +jaws of the dog-fish are a very wide door; he had escaped the +albicore and squid: his life had been one long series of miraculous +escapes from death. Out of a billion like him born in the same +year, he and a few others only had survived. + +For thirty years he had kept the lagoon to himself, as a ferocious +tiger keeps a jungle. He had known the palm tree on the reef when +it was a seedling, and he had known the reef even before the palm +tree was there. The things he had devoured, flung one upon +another, would have made a mountain; yet he was as clear of +enmity as a sword, as cruel and as soulless. He was the spirit of +the lagoon. + +Emmeline screamed, and pointed to the thing behind the +swimmer. He turned, saw it, dropped the oar and made for the +boat. She had seized the remaining scull and stood with it poised, +then she hurled it blade foremost at the form in the water, now +fully visible, and close on its prey. + +She could not throw a stone straight, yet the scull went like an +arrow to the mark, balking the pursuer and saving the pursued. In +a moment more his leg was over the gunwale, and he was saved. + +But the scull was lost. + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THE HAND OF THE SEA + +There was nothing in the boat that could possibly be used as a +paddle; the scull was only five or six yards away, but to attempt +to swim to it was certain death, yet they were being swept out to +sea. He might have made the attempt, only that on the starboard +quarter the form of the shark, gently swimming at the same pace +as they were drifting, could be made out only half veiled by the +water. + +The bird perched on the gunwale seemed to divine their trouble, +for he rose in the air, made a circle, and resumed his perch with +all his feathers ruffled. + +Dick stood in despair, helpless, his hands clasping his head. The +shore was drawing away before him, the surf loudening behind +him, yet he could do nothing. The island was being taken away +from them by the great hand of the sea. + +Then, suddenly, the little boat entered the race formed by the +confluence of the tides, from the right and left arms of the +lagoon; the sound of the surf suddenly increased as though a door +had been flung open. The breakers were falling and the sea-gulls +crying on either side of them, and for a moment the ocean seemed +to hesitate as to whether they were to be taken away into her +wastes, or dashed on the coral strand. Only for a moment this +seeming hesitation lasted; then the power of the tide prevailed +over the power of the swell, and the little boat taken by the +current drifted gently out to sea. + +Dick flung himself down beside Emmeline, who was seated in the +bottom of the boat holding the child to her breast. The bird, +seeing the land retreat, and wise in its instinct. rose into the air. +It circled thrice round the drifting boat, and then, like a beautiful +but faithless spirit, passed away to the shore. + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +TOGETHER + +The island had sunk slowly from sight; at sundown it was just a +trace, a stain on the south-western horizon. It was before the +new moon, and the little boat lay drifting. It drifted from the +light of sunset into a world of vague violet twilight, and now it +lay drifting under the stars. + +The girl, clasping the baby to her breast, leaned against her +companion's shoulder; neither of them spoke. All the wonders in +their short existence had culminated in this final wonder, this +passing away together from the world of Time. This strange +voyage they had embarked on--to where? + +Now that the first terror was over they felt neither sorrow nor +fear. They were together. Come what might, nothing could divide +them; even should they sleep and never wake up, they would sleep +together. Had one been left and the other taken! + +As though the thought had occurred to them simultaneously, they +turned one to the other, and their lips met, their souls met, +mingling in one dream; whilst above in the windless heaven space +answered space with flashes of siderial light, and Canopus shone +and burned like the pointed sword of Azrael. + +Clasped in Emmeline's hand was the last and most mysterious +gift of the mysterious world they had known--the branch of +crimson berries. + + + +BOOK III + +CHAPTER I + +MAD LESTRANGE + +They knew him upon the Pacific slope as "Mad Lestrange." He was +not mad, but he was a man with a fixed idea. He was pursued by a +vision: the vision of two children and an old sailor adrift in a +little boat upon a wide blue sea. + +When the Arago, bound for Papetee, picked up the boats of the +Northumberland, only the people in the long-boat were alive. Le +Farge, the captain, was mad, and he never recovered his reason. +Lestrange was utterly shattered; the awful experience in the +boats and the loss of the children had left him a seemingly +helpless wreck. The scowbankers, like all their class, had fared +better, and in a few days were about the ship and sitting in the +sun. Four days after the rescue the Arago spoke the Newcastle, +bound for San Francisco, and transshipped the shipwrecked men. + +Had a physician seen Lestrange on board the Northumberland as +she lay in that long, long calm before the fire, he would have +declared that nothing but a miracle could prolong his life. The +miracle came about. + +In the general hospital of San Francisco, as the clouds cleared +from his mind, they unveiled the picture of the children and the +little boat. The picture had been there daily, seen but not truly +comprehended; the horrors gone through in the open boat, the +sheer physical exhaustion, had merged all the accidents of the +great disaster into one mournful half-comprehended fact. When +his brain cleared all the other incidents fell out of focus, and +memory, with her eyes set upon the children, began to paint a +picture that he was ever more to see. + +Memory cannot produce a picture that Imagination has not +retouched; and her pictures, even the ones least touched by +Imagination, are no mere photographs, but the world of an artist. +All that is inessential she casts away, all that is essential she +retains; she idealises, and that is why her picture of a lost +mistress has had power to keep a man a celibate to the end of his +days, and why she can break a human heart with the picture of a +dead child. She is a painter, but she is also a poet. + +The picture before the mind of Lestrange was filled with this +almost diabolical poetry, for in it the little boat and her helpless +crew were represented adrift on a blue and sunlit sea. A sea most +beautiful to look at, yet most terrible, bearing as it did the +recollections of thirst. + +He had been dying, when, raising himself on his elbow, so to say, +he looked at this picture. It recalled him to life. His willpower +asserted itself, and he refused to die. + +The will of a man has, if it is strong enough, the power to reject +death. He was not in the least conscious of the exercise of this +power; he only knew that a great and absorbing interest had +suddenly arisen in him, and that a great aim stood before him-- +the recovery of the children. + +The disease that was killing him ceased its ravages, or rather +was slain in its turn by the increased vitality against which it +had to strive. He left the hospital and took up his quarters at the +Palace Hotel, and then, like the General of an army, he began to +formulate his plan of campaign against Fate. + +When the crew of the Northumberland had stampeded, hurling +their officers aside, lowering the boats with a rush, and casting +themselves into the sea, everything had been lost in the way of +ship's papers; the charts, the two logs--everything, in fact, that +could indicate the latitude and longitude of the disaster. The first +and second officers and a midshipman had shared the fate of the +quarter-boat; of the fore-mast hands saved, not one, of course, +could give the slightest hint as to the locality of the spot. + +A time reckoning from the Horn told little, for there was no +record of the log. All that could be said was that the disaster had +occurred somewhere south of the line. + +In Le Farge's brain lay for a certainty the position, and Lestrange +went to see the captain in the "Maison de Sante," where he was +being looked after, and found him quite recovered from the +furious mania that he had been suffering from. Quite recovered, +and playing with a ball of coloured worsted. + +There remained the log of the Arago; in it would be found the +latitude and longitude of the boats she had picked up. + +The Arago, due at Papetee, became overdue. Lestrange watched +the overdue lists from day to day, from week to week, from month +to month, uselessly, for the Arago never was heard of again. One +could not affirm even that she was wrecked; she was simply one +of the ships that never come back from the sea. + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE SECRET OF THE AZURE + +To lose a child he loves is undoubtedly the greatest catastrophe +that can happen to a man. I do not refer to its death. + +A child wanders into the street, or is left by its nurse for a +moment, and vanishes. At first the thing is not realised. There is +a pang and hurry at the heart which half vanishes, whilst the +understanding explains that in a civilised city, if a child gets +lost, it will be found and brought back by the neighbours or the +police. + +But the police know nothing of the matter, or the neighbours, and +the hours pass. Any minute may bring back the wanderer; but the +minutes pass, and the day wears into evening, and the evening to +night, and the night to dawn, and the common sounds of a new day +begin. + +You cannot remain at home for restlessness; you go out, only to +return hurriedly for news. You are eternally listening, and what +you hear shocks you; the common sounds of life, the roll of the +carts and cabs in the street, the footsteps of the passers-by, are +full of an indescribable mournfulness; music increases your +misery into madness, and the joy of others is monstrous as +laughter heard in hell. + +If someone were to bring you the dead body of the child, you might +weep, but you would bless him, for it is the uncertainty that kills. + +You go mad, or go on living. Years pass by, and you are an old man. +You say to yourself: "He would have been twenty years of age to- +day." + +There is not in the old ferocious penal code of our forefathers a +punishment adequate to the case of the man or woman who steals +a child. + +Lestrange was a wealthy man, and one hope remained to him, that +the children might have been rescued by some passing ship. It was +not the case of children lost in a city, but in the broad Pacific, +where ships travel from all ports to all ports, and to advertise +his loss adequately it was necessary to placard the world. Ten +thousand dollars was the reward offered for news of the lost +ones, twenty thousand for the recovery; and the advertisement +appeared in every newspaper likely to reach the eyes of a sailor, +from the Liverpool Post to the Dead Bird. + +The years passed without anything definite coming in answer to +all these advertisements. Once news came of two children saved +from the sea in the neighbourhood of the Gilberts, and it was not +false news, but they were not the children he was seeking for. +This incident at once depressed and stimulated him, for it seemed +to say, "If these children have been saved, why not yours?" + +The strange thing was, that in his heart he felt a certainty that +they were alive. His intellect suggested their death in twenty +different forms; but a whisper, somewhere out of that great blue +ocean, told him at intervals that what he sought was there, +living, and waiting for him. + +He was somewhat of the same temperament as Emmeline--a +dreamer, with a mind tuned to receive and record the fine rays +that fill this world flowing from intellect to intellect, and even +from what we call inanimate things. A coarser nature would, +though feeling, perhaps, as acutely the grief, have given up in +despair the search. But he kept on; and at the end of the fifth +year, so far from desisting, he chartered a schooner and passed +eighteen months in a fruitless search, calling at little-known +islands, and once, unknowing, at an island only three hundred +miles away from the tiny island of this story. + +If you wish to feel the hopelessness of this unguided search, do +not look at a map of the Pacific, but go there. Hundreds and +hundreds of thousands of square leagues of sea, thousands of +islands, reefs, atolls. + +Up to a few years ago there were many small islands utterly +unknown; even still there are some, though the charts of the +Pacific are the greatest triumphs of hydrography; and though the +island of the story was actually on the Admiralty charts, of what +use was that fact to Lestrange? + +He would have continued searching, but he dared not, for the +desolation of the sea had touched him. + +In that eighteen months the Pacific explained itself to him in +part, explained its vastness, its secrecy and inviolability. The +schooner lifted veil upon veil of distance, and veil upon veil lay +beyond. He could only move in a right line; to search the +wilderness of water with any hope, one would have to be endowed +with the gift of moving in all directions at once. + +He would often lean over the bulwark rail and watch the swell +slip by, as if questioning the water. Then the sunsets began to +weigh upon his heart, and the stars to speak to him in a new +language, and he knew that it was time to return, if he would +return with a whole mind. + +When he got back to San Francisco he called upon his agent, +Wannamaker of Kearney Street, but there was still no news. + + + +CHAPTER III + +CAPTAIN FOUNTAIN + +He had a suite of rooms at the Palace Hotel, and he lived the life +of any other rich man who is not addicted to pleasure. He knew +some of the best people in the city, and conducted himself so +sanely in all respects that a casual stranger would never have +guessed his reputation for madness; but when you knew him +better, you would find sometimes in the middle of a conversation +that his mind was away from the subject; and were you to follow +him in the street, you would hear him in conversation with +himself. Once at a dinner-party he rose and left the room, and did +not return. Trifles, but sufficient to establish a reputation of a +sort. + +One morning--to be precise, it was the second day of May, exactly +eight years and five months after the wreck of the +Northumberland--Lestrange was in his sitting-room reading, +when the bell of the telephone, which stood in the corner of the +room, rang. He went to the instrument. + +"Are you there?" came a high American voice. "Lestrange--right- +-come down and see me--Wannamaker--I have news for you." + +Lestrange held the receiver for a moment, then he put it back in +the rest. He went to a chair and sat down, holding his head +between his hands, then he rose and went to the telephone again; +but he dared not use it, he dare not shatter the newborn hope. + +"News!" What a world lies in that word. +I +In Kearney Street he stood before the door of Wannamaker's +office collecting himself and watching the crowd drifting by, +then he entered and went up the stairs. He pushed open a swing- +door and entered a great room. The clink and rattle of a dozen +typewriters filled the place, and all the hurry of business; clerks +passed and came with sheaves of correspondence in their hands; +and Wannamaker himself, rising from bending over a message +which he was correcting on one of the typewriters' tables, saw +the newcomer and led him to the private office. + +"What is it?" said Lestrange. + +"Only this," said the other, taking up a slip of paper with a name +and address on it. "Simon J. Fountain, of 45 Rathray Street, West- +-that's down near the wharves--says he has seen your ad. in an +old number of a paper, and he thinks he can tell you something. He +did not specify the nature of the intelligence, but it might be +worth finding out. + +"I will go there," said Lestrange. + +"Do you know Rathray Street?" + +"No." + +Wannamaker went out and called a boy and gave him some +directions; then Lestrange and the boy started. + +Lestrange left the office without saying "Thank you," or taking +leave in any way of the advertising agent who did not feel in the +least affronted, for he knew his customer. + +Rathray Street is, or was before the earthquake, a street of small +clean houses. It had a seafaring look that was accentuated by the +marine perfumes from the wharves close by and the sound of +steam winches loading or discharging cargo--a sound that ceased +not a night or day as the work went on beneath the sun or the +sizzling arc lamps. + +No. 45 was almost exactly like its fellows,. neither better nor +worse; and the door was opened by a neat, prim woman, small, and +of middle age. Commonplace she was, no doubt, but not +commonplace to Lestrange. + +"Is Mr Fountain in?" he asked. "I have come about the +advertisement." + +"Oh, have you, sir?" she replied, making way for him to enter, and +showing him into a little sitting-room on the left of the passage. +"The Captain is in bed; he is a great invalid, but he was expecting, +perhaps, someone would call, and he will be able to see you in a +minute, if you don't mind waiting." + +"Thanks," said Lestrange; "I can wait." + +He had waited eight years, what mattered a few minutes now? +But at no time in the eight years had he suffered such suspense, +for his heart knew that now, just now in this commonplace little +house, from the lips of, perhaps, the husband of that commonplace +woman, he was going to learn either what he feared to hear, or +what he hoped. + +It was a depressing little room; it was so clean, and looked as +though it were never used. A ship imprisoned in a glass bottle +stood upon the mantelpiece, and there were shells from far-away +places, pictures of ships in sand--all the things one finds as a +rule adorning an old sailor's home. + +Lestrange, as he sat waiting, could hear movements from the next +room--probably the invalid's, which they were preparing for his +reception. The distant sounds of the derricks and winches came +muted through the tightly shut window that looked as though it +never had been opened. A square of sunlight lit the upper part of +the cheap lace curtain on the right of the window, and repeated +its pattern vaguely on the lower part of the wall opposite. Then a +bluebottle fly awoke suddenly into life and began to buzz and +drum against the window pane, and Lestrange wished that they +would come. + +A man of his temperament must necessarily, even under the +happiest circumstances, suffer in going through the world; the +fine fibre always suffers when brought into contact with the +coarse. These people were as kindly disposed as anyone else. The +advertisement and the face and manners of the visitor might have +told them that it was not the time for delay, yet they kept him +waiting whilst they arranged bed-quilts and put medicine bottles +straight as if he could see! + +At last the door opened, and the woman said: + +"Will you step this way, sir?" + +She showed him into a bedroom opening off the passage. The room +was neat and clean, and had that indescribable appearance which +marks the bedroom of the invalid. + +In the bed, making a mountain under the counterpane with an +enormously distended stomach, lay a man, black-bearded, and +with his large, capable, useless hands spread out on the coverlet- +-hands ready and willing, but debarred from work. Without moving +his body, he turned his head slowly and looked at the newcomer. +This slow movement was not from weakness or disease, it was +the slow, emotionless nature of the man speaking. + +"This is the gentleman, Silas," said the woman, speaking over +Lestrange's shoulder. Then she withdrew and closed the door. + +"Take a chair, sir," said the sea captain, flapping one of his hands +on the counterpane as if in wearied protest against his own +helplessness. "I haven't the pleasure of your name, but the missus +tells me you're come about the advertisement I lit on yester- +even." + +He took a paper, folded small, that lay beside him, and held it out +to his visitor. It was a Sidney Bulletin three years old. + +"Yes," said Lestrange, looking at the paper; "that is my +advertisement." + +"Well, it's strange--very strange," said Captain Fountain, "that I +should have lit on it only yesterday. I've had it all three years in +my chest, the way old papers get lying at the bottom with odds +and ends. Mightn't a' seen it now, only the missus cleared the +raffle out of the chest, and, `Give me that paper,' I says, seeing it +in her hand; and I fell to reading it, for a man'll read anything bar +tracts lying in bed eight months, as I've been with the dropsy. I've +been whaler man and boy forty year, and my last ship was the +Sea-Horse. Over seven years ago one of my men picked up +something on a beach of one of them islands east of the +Marquesas-_we'd put in to water " + +"Yes, yes," said Lestrange. "What was it he found?" + +"Missus!" roared the captain in a voice that shook the walls of the +room. + +The door opened, and the woman appeared. + +"Fetch me my keys out of my trousers pocket." + +The trousers were hanging up on the back of the door, as if only +waiting to be put on. The woman fetched the keys, and he fumbled +over them and found one. He handed it to her, and pointed to the +drawer of a bureau opposite the bed. + +She knew evidently what was wanted, for she opened the drawer +and produced a box, which she handed to him. It was a small +cardboard box tied round with a bit of string. He undid the string, +and disclosed a child's tea service: a teapot, cream jug, six little +plates all painted with a pansy. + +It was the box which Emmeline had always been losing--lost +again. + +Lestrange buried his face in his hands. He knew the things. +Emmeline had shown them to him in a burst of confidence. Out of +all that vast ocean he had searched unavailingly: they had come to +him like a message, and the awe and mystery of it bowed him +down and crushed him. + +The captain had placed the things on the newspaper spread out by +his side, and he was unrolling the little spoons from their tissue- +paper covering. He counted them as if entering up the tale of some +trust, and placed them on the newspaper. + +"When did you find them?" asked Lestrange, speaking with his +face still covered. + +"A matter of over seven years ago," replied the captain, "we'd put +in to water at a place south of the line--Palm Tree Island we +whalemen call it, because of the tree at the break of the lagoon. +One of my men brought it aboard, found it in a shanty built of +sugarcanes which the men bust up for devilment." + +"Good God!" said Lestrange. "Was there no one there--nothing but +this box?" + +"Not a sight or sound, so the men said; just the shanty, abandoned +seemingly. I had no time to land and hunt for castaways, I was +after whales." + +"How big is the island?" + +"Oh, a fairish middle-sized island--no natives. I've heard tell it's +tabu; why, the Lord only knows--some crank of the Kanakas I +s'pose. Anyhow, there's the findings--you recognise them?" + +"I do." + +"Seems strange," said the captain, "that I should pick em up; +seems strange your advertisement out, and the answer to it lying +amongst my gear, but that's the way things go." + +"Strange!" said the other. "It's more than strange." + +"Of course," continued the captain, "they might have been on the +island hid away som'ere, there's no saying; only appearances are +against it. Of course they might be there now unbeknownst to you +or me." + +"They are there now," answered Lestrange, who was sitting up and +looking at the playthings as though he read in them some hidden +message. "They are there now. Have you the position of the +island?" + +"I have. Missus, hand me my private log." + +She took a bulky, greasy, black note-book from the bureau, and +handed it to him. He opened it, thumbed the pages, and then read +out the latitude and longitude. + +"I entered it on the day of finding--here's the entry. `Adams +brought aboard child's toy box out of deserted shanty, which men +pulled down; traded it to me for a caulker of rum.' The cruise +lasted three years and eight months after that; we'd only been out +three when it happened. I forgot all about it: three years +scrubbing round the world after whales doesn't brighten a man's +memory. Right round we went, and paid off at Nantucket. Then, +after a fortni't on shore and a month repairin', the old Sea-Horse +was off again, I with her. It was at Honolulu this dropsy took me, +and back I come here, home. That's the yarn. There's not much to +it, but, seein' your advertisement, I thought I might answer it." + +Lestrange took Fountain's hand and shook it. + +"You see the reward I offered?" he said. "I have not my cheque +book with me, but you shall have the cheque in an hour from now." + +"No, SIR," replied the captain; "if anything comes of it, I don't say +I'm not open to some small acknowledgment, but ten thousand +dollars for a five-cent box--that's not my way of doing business." + +"I can't make you take the money now--I can't even thank you +properly now," said Lestrange--"I am in a fever; but when all is +settled, you and I will settle this business. My God!" + +He buried his face in his hands again. + +"I'm not wishing to be inquisitive," said Captain Fountain, slowly +putting the things back in the box and tucking the paper shavings +round them, "but may I ask how you propose to move in this +business?" + +"I will hire a ship at once and search." + +"Ay," said the captain, wrapping up the little spoons in a +meditative manner; "perhaps that will be best." + +He felt certain in his own mind that the search would be +fruitless, but he did not say so. If he had been absolutely certain +in his mind without being able to produce the proof, he would not +have counselled Lestrange to any other course, knowing that the +man's mind would never be settled until proof positive was +produced. + +"The question is," said Lestrange, "what is my quickest way to +get there?" + +"There I may be able to help you," said Fountain tying the string +round the box "A schooner with good heels to her is what you +want; and, if I'm not mistaken, there's one discharging cargo at +this present minit at O'Sullivan's wharf. Missus!" + +The woman answered the call. Lestrange felt like a person in a +dream, and these people who were interesting themselves in his +affairs seemed to him beneficent beyond the nature of human +beings. + +"Is Captain Stannistreet home, think you?" + +"I don't know," replied the woman; "but I can go see." + +"Do." + +She went. + +"He lives only a few doors down," said Fountain, "and he's the man +for you. Best schooner captain ever sailed out of 'Frisco. The +Raratonga is the name of the boat I have in my mind--best boat +that ever wore copper. Stannistreet is captain of her, owners are +M'Vitie. She's been missionary, and she's been pigs; copra was her +last cargo, and she's nearly discharged it. Oh, M'Vitie would hire +her out to Satan at a price; you needn't be afraid of their boggling +at it if you can raise the dollars. She's had a new suit of sails +only the beginning of the year. Oh, she'll fix you up to a T, and you +take the word of S. Fountain for that. I'll engineer the thing from +this bed if you'll let me put my oar in your trouble; I'll victual +her, and find a crew three quarter price of any of those d----d +skulking agents. Oh, I'll take a commission right enough, but I'm +half paid with doing the thing " + +He ceased, for footsteps sounded in the passage outside, and +Captain Stannistreet was shown in. He was a young man of not +more than thirty, alert, quick of eye, and pleasant of face. +Fountain introduced him to Lestrange, who had taken a fancy to +him at first sight. + +When he heard about the business in hand, he seemed interested at +once; the affair seemed to appeal to him more than if it had been +a purely commercial matter, much as copra and pigs. + +"If you'll come with me, sir, down to the wharf, I'll show you the +boat now," he said, when they had discussed the matter and +threshed it out thoroughly. + +He rose, bid good-day to his friend Fountain, and Lestrange +followed him, carrying the brown paper box in his hand. + +O'Sullivan's Wharf was not far away. A tall Cape Horner that +looked almost a twin sister of the ill-fated Northumberland +was discharging iron, and astern of her, graceful as a dream, with +snow-white decks, lay the Raratonga discharging copra. + +"That's the boat," said Stannistreet; "cargo nearly all out. How +does she strike your fancy?" + +"I'll take her," said Lestrange, "cost what it will." + + + +CHAPTER IV + +DUE SOUTH + +It was on the 10th of May, so quickly did things move under the +supervision of the bedridden captain, that the Raratonga, with +Lestrange on board, cleared the Golden Gates, and made south, +heeling to a ten-knot breeze. + +There is no mode of travel to be compared to your sailing-ship. In +a great ship, if you have ever made a voyage in one, the vast +spaces of canvas, the sky-high spars, the finesse with which the +wind is met and taken advantage of, will form a memory never to +be blotted out. + +A schooner is the queen of all rigs; she has a bounding buoyancy +denied to the square-rigged craft, to which she stands in the same +relationship as a young girl to a dowager; and the Raratonga +was not only a schooner, but the queen, acknowledged of all the +schooners in the Pacific. + +For the first few days they made good way south; then the wind +became baffling and headed them off. + +Added to Lestrange's feverish excitement there was an anxiety, a +deep and soul-fretting anxiety, as if some half-heard voice were +telling him that the children he sought were threatened by some +danger. + +These baffling winds blew upon the smouldering anxiety in his +breast, as wind blows upon embers, causing them to glow. They +lasted some days, and then, as if Fate had relented, up sprang on +the starboard quarter a spanking breeze, making the rigging sing +to a merry tune, and blowing the spindrift from the forefoot, as +the Raratonga, heeling to its pressure, went humming through the +sea, leaving a wake spreading behind her like a fan. + +It took them along five hundred miles, silently and with the speed +of a dream. Then it ceased. + +The ocean and the air stood still. The sky above stood solid like a +great pale blue dome; just where it met the water line of the far +horizon a delicate tracery of cloud draped the entire round of the +sky. + +I have said that the ocean stood still as well as the air: to the eye +it was so, for the swell under-running the glitter on its surface +was so even, so equable, and so rhythmical, that the surface +seemed not in motion. Occasionally a dimple broke the surface, +and strips of dark sea-weed floated by, showing up the green; dim +things rose to the surface and, guessing the presence of man, sank +slowly and dissolved from sight. + +Two days, never to be recovered, passed, and still the calm +continued. On the morning of the third day it breezed up from the +nor'-nor'west, and they continued their course, a cloud of.canvas, +every sail drawing, and the music of the ripple under the forefoot. + +Captain Stannistreet was a genius in his profession; he could get +more speed out of a schooner than any other man afloat, and carry +more canvas without losing a stick. He was also, fortunately for +Lestrange, a man of refinement and education, and what was +better still, understanding. + +They were pacing the deck one afternoon, when Lestrange, who +was walking with his hands behind him, and his eyes counting the +brown dowels in the cream-white planking, broke silence. + +"You don't believe in visions and dreams?" + +"How do you know that?" replied the other. + +"Oh, I only put it as a question; most people say they don't." + +"Yes, but most people do." + +"I do," said Lestrange. + +He was silent for a moment. + +"You know my trouble so well that I won't bother you going over +it, but there has come over me of late a feeling--it is like a +waking dream." + +"Yes?" + +"I can't quite explain, for it is as if I saw something which my +intelligence could not comprehend, or make an image of." + +"I think I know what you mean." + +"I don't think you do. This is something quite strange. I am fifty, +and in fifty years a man has experienced, as a rule, all the +ordinary and most of the extraordinary sensations that a human +being can be subjected to. Well, I have never felt this sensation +before; it comes on only at times. I see, as you might imagine, a +young baby sees, and things are before me that I do not +comprehend. It is not through my bodily eyes that this sensation +comes, but through some window of the mind, from before which +a curtain has been drawn." + +"That's strange," said Stannistreet, who did not like the +conversation over-much, being simply a schooner captain and a +plain man, though intelligent enough and sympathetic. + +"This something tells me," went on Lestrange, "that there is +danger threatening the--" He ceased, paused a minute, and then, +to Stannistreet's relief, went on. "If I talk like that you will think +I am not right in my head: let us pass the subject by, let us forget +dreams and omens and come to realities. You know how I lost the +children; you know how I hope to find them at the place where +Captain Fountain found their traces? He says the island was +uninhabited, but he was not sure." + +"No," replied Stannistreet, "he only spoke of the beach." + +"Yes. Well, suppose there were natives at the other side of the +island who had taken these children." + +"If so, they would grow up with the natives." + +"And become savages?" + +"Yes; but the Polynesians can't be really called savages; they are +a very decent lot I've knocked about amongst them a good while, +and a kanaka is as white as a white man--which is not saying +much, but it's something. Most of the islands are civilised now. Of +course there are a few that aren't, but still, suppose even that +`savages,' as you call them, had come and taken the children off--" + +Lestrange's breath caught, for this was the very fear that was in +his heart, though he had never spoken it. + +"Well?" + +"Well, they would be well treated." + +"And brought up as savages?" + +"I suppose so." + +Lestrange sighed. + +"Look here," said the captain; "it's all very well talking, but upon +my word I think that we civilised folk put on a lot of airs, and +waste a lot of pity on savages." + +"How so?" + +"What does a man want to be but happy?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, who is happier than a naked savage in a warm climate? Oh, +he's happy enough, and he's not always holding a corroboree. He's +a good deal of a gentleman; he has perfect health; he lives the life +a man was born to live--face to face with Nature. He doesn't see +the sun through an office window or the moon through the smoke +of factory chimneys; happy and civilised too but, bless you, where +is he? The whites have driven him out; in one or two small +islands you may find him still--a crumb or so of him." + +"Suppose," said Lestrange, "suppose those children had been +brought up face to face with Nature--" +' +"Yes?" + +"Living that free life--" + +"Yes?" + +"Waking up under the stars"--Lestrange was speaking with his +eyes fixed, as if upon something very far away--"going to sleep +as the sun sets, feeling the air fresh, like this which blows upon +us, all around them. Suppose they were like that, would it not be a +cruelty to bring them to what we call civilisation?" + +"I think it would," said Stannistreet. + +Lestrange said nothing, but continued pacing the deck, his head +bowed and his hands behind his back. + +One evening at sunset, Stannistreet said: + +"We're two hundred and forty miles from the island, reckoning +from to-day's reckoning at noon. We're going all ten knots even +with this breeze; we ought to fetch the place this time to- +morrow. Before that if it freshens." + +"I am greatly disturbed," said Lestrange. + +He went below, and the schooner captain shook his head, and, +locking his arm round a ratlin, gave his body to the gentle roll of +the craft as she stole along, skirting the sunset, splendid, and to +the nautical eye full of fine weather. + +The breeze was not quite so fresh next morning, but it had been +blowing fairly all the night, and the Raratonga had made good +way. About eleven it began to fail. It became the lightest sailing +breeze, just sufficient to keep the sails drawing, and the wake +rippling and swirling behind. Suddenly Stannistreet, who had been +standing talking to Lestrange, climbed a few feet up the mizzen +ratlins, and shaded his eyes. + +"What is it?" asked Lestrange. + +"A boat," he replied. "Hand me that glass you will find in the sling +there." + +He levelled the glass, and looked for a long time without speaking. + +"It's a boat adrift--a small boat, nothing in her. Stay! I see +something white, can't make it out. Hi there!"--to the fellow at +the wheel. "Keep her a point more to starboard." He got on to the +deck. "We're going dead on for her." + +"Is there any one in her?" asked Lestrange. + +"Can't quite make out, but I'll lower the whale-boat and fetch her +alongside." + +He gave orders for the whale-boat to be slung out and manned. + +As they approached nearer, it was evident that the drifting boat, +which looked like a ship's dinghy, contained something, but what, +could not be made out. + +When he had approached near enough, Stannistreet put the helm +down and brought the schooner to, with her sails all shivering. He +took his place in the bow of the whale-boat and Lestrange in the +stern. The boat was lowered, the falls cast off, and the oars bent +to the water. + +The little dinghy made a mournful picture as she floated, looking +scarcely bigger than a walnut shell. In thirty strokes the whale- +boat's nose was touching her quarter. Stannistreet grasped her +gunwale. + +In the bottom of the dinghy lay a girl, naked all but for a strip of +coloured striped material. One of her arms was clasped round the +neck of a form that was half hidden by her body, the other clasped +partly to herself, partly to her companion, the body of a baby. +They were natives, evidently, wrecked or lost by some mischance +from some inter-island schooner. Their breasts rose and fell +gently, and clasped in the girl's hand was a branch of some tree, +and on the branch a single withered berry. + +"Are they dead?" asked Lestrange, who divined that there were +people in the boat, and who was standing up in the stern of the +whale-boat trying to see. + +"No," said Stannistreet; "they are asleep." + + + + + +End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of The Blue Lagoon: A Romance + diff --git a/old/blago10.zip b/old/blago10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d878bfd --- /dev/null +++ b/old/blago10.zip |
