Jethou; or, Crusoe Life in the Channel Isles

CHAPTER XI.

There nothing seemed to grow during the winter, all vegetation slumbered, sometimes never to awaken; here in mid winter the primrose and violet were in full bloom, and on New Year's Day I gathered quite a posy of garden flowers, including roses and other fragrant flowers.

Snow fell on two or three occasions, but the bright sun dissipated it very quickly, and the frosts were not at all severe; in fact, were only of occasional occurrence. These frosts are only severe enough to hurt one class of persons, and that is the gardeners, who dread a frost coming after the blossoms are set on the trees. The climate being so mild the blossom buds burst at a very early period, so that a late frost coming nips them, then good-bye to the fruit.

Frequently potatoes are here being eaten before the green tops are above ground in England, which is another proof of the mildness of the climate. No doubt this mildness and equability of temperature is due in a great measure to the influence of the Gulf Stream, which keeps the surrounding sea at an even temperature; the sea in turn tempering the wind, keeps the thermometer very level.

There is usually a very mild fortnight towards the end of October, which the natives call "La petite été;" it appears like a return of summer, and is greatly enjoyed by everyone as the last of the really warm weather.

In the matter of sunshine England cannot be compared with these islands, for taking our much-favoured Devonshire, and comparing the hours of sunshine for December, January, and February, I find that in the Channel Islands the sun shews its face just double the number of hours that it does in fertile Devon.

In my garden on January 25th I had peas a foot above ground. How I should have liked to shew my father these, he would scarcely have believed his eyes, for April 25th in Norfolk, would not have produced anything much more forward.

Now, having mentioned my father, I must tell a curious incident which happened concerning him upon the last day of January. About eight o'clock in the evening I was sitting finishing a sketch of Creviçhon, with my dog lying asleep near the fire, when he suddenly half raised himself, and looking towards the other end of the room commenced to whine.

I followed his eyes, and there to my astonishment sat my father. He sat on a stool facing me, with his leg, which was enveloped in a huge covering, upon another stool. His right hand rested upon the covered leg, while his left was placed upon his heart. As the dog whined he looked straight at me, and in his well-known voice said,

"It's all right, Harry, my boy, but it was a shake!"

I stood up to rush to him, but as I rose he melted away, leaving nothing but the two empty seats. I was staggered, but calm immediately, for I had read of things of this kind before, and concluded that my father had met with some accident, and had thus by some unknown means communicated with me in spirit.

I knew nothing of the why or wherefore of this wonderful means of communication between two persons, but judged that in this case it happened in this wise. My father had met with a severe accident, which he was probably afraid might have had a fatal termination, that his thoughts were intent upon me, his absent son. As he intently thought of me, and how he should like to speak to me, he may have actually spoken the words to himself, which by some unknown means I heard apparently fall from his own lips, and in his very voice.

The words assured me of his safety, and therefore beyond taking a note of the day and the hour, I did not trouble myself much more about the curious incident.

While on this subject of the apparently supernatural, I will mention one or two other inexplicable things which occurred to me during my residence on Jethou.

One night in autumn I could not sleep, so towards dawn got up and dressed myself, as I had frequently done before, and took a walk round the island, a distance of over a mile. This proceeding always had the effect of giving me the desired sleep upon my again wooing Morpheus. On this particular night my mind was filled with the question, "How can I keep my fish pond always replenished with sea water?" and as I wandered on in the dark, knowing the path so well, I was concocting a new pumping device, when my steps were suddenly arrested by the word "Harry!" pronounced gently but plainly just behind me. This woke me abruptly from my reverie, and I turned round quickly, but could see nothing but my faithful dog at my heels. "Strange, very strange indeed," I thought, and was about to resume my walk, but there, not four steps away, was the yawning abyss of La Creux Derrible, into which I should have walked in another second, and been dashed to pieces on the rocks below. My life was saved, but by what? Was it a spirit voice or some night bird that in my abstraction I fancied pronounced my name?[2] Some will say the latter, but I must maintain that it was a curious thing that this should happen at precisely the correct instant, just in time to save me from a violent death. It was a voice, for I recognized it as that of my own love, Priscilla, who was at the moment two or three hundred miles away. But how could she know of my danger?

It may strike the reader as strange, and it is strange, I will allow; but on another occasion my life was saved in a remarkable manner. One afternoon late in the winter, after a heavy fall of rain, I was sitting near the brink of the granite cliff on the west side of the island, making a sketch of some rock masses in the glow of the ruddy setting sun, when "Begum" became suddenly restive, and rubbed several times with his head against my leg, looking up into my eyes at intervals. Then he would walk away, looking round as if wanting me to follow and see something (a proceeding he had often done before); but being busy I did not give way to his solicitations, and went on working. This did not please him, for he now took hold of my coat sleeve, and gave me a tug, with his eyes at the same time fixed on mine; so, to oblige him, I rose, and went after him to see what wonder he had to shew me. Contrary to his usual custom he appeared to have nothing for me to see, but seemed pleased to have me follow him, shewing his joy by wagging his tail, as if he would wriggle his body in two, and looking up into my face over his shoulder to shew his pleasure. As I had nearly finished my sketch I thought I would humour him, and avoid taking cold by sitting too long in the cool atmosphere among the damp rocks. With this thought in my mind I turned round to fetch my colours and sketch, when suddenly near the top of the island a large block of granite, about the size of a thirty-six gallon barrel became detached, and commenced a downward career, crashing all before it in its course. I paused and watched it, waiting to see it bury itself with a mighty splash in the sea.

It descended in leaps and bounds with increasing velocity, till, with a final rise it launched itself upon the very stone on which I was sitting a minute before, and with a sharp crash broke it completely in two, hurling the pieces and itself the next instant into the sea!

My sketch went with the rocky seat, and but for the intervention of my dog I should have been killed first and drowned afterwards. My colours, lying on the ground a foot away, were uninjured.

What is the interpretation of this? It might be said that the previous heavy rains had loosened the rock, and the warm sunshine having swelled the mass of the earth beneath, had overbalanced it, and thus nearly brought about a catastrophe. But what of the dog's warning? It was strange, that is all the solution I can give. As a Norfolk labourer once said to me when I was pumping him upon the subject of superstition,

"Master, there's more things about than we knows of about both by day and night."

Perhaps there are, and if they are things of good, so much the better. We know of hypnotism, psychic force, spiritualism, thought reading, and other occult sciences which appear to produce nothing very grand as results for good, but who shall say there is not some "Guiding Good" which can (even against our wills) warn us, or sway our minds in a given direction or in some way influence our movements, by means outside ourselves?

Sometimes after dark, with a half gale blowing, I have fancied all kinds of things were about, of which the eye or ear might get indistinct glimpses, and with the wind sighing and moaning among the trees and rocks and my solitary life also taken into consideration, was this to be wondered at.

Solitude gives latitude for an imaginative mind to expand itself, and for one shut up by himself as I was, trifles are frequently made prominent, simply because there is nothing greater to attract one's attention and thought.

The wind sweeping among the rocks in a gale, will at times, form at it were, notes or peculiar noises, which will, with other sounds of rustling branches, the cry of wild fowl and the beat of the sea on the shore, all taking place concurrently, cause the listener to imagine he hears voices. Again, who has not, when walking by a noisy babbling brook, where it falls among rocks and other impediments in a quiet place, heard as he has thought voices as of persons conversing at a distance? Many trout-fishers will have heard these sounds, and know the reason of their being heard; they can fully explain the cause, but I doubt if they could explain the curious experiences related in this chapter.

CHAPTER XII.

Although little could be done in the garden or field during the winter days I was never idle; that is, I never indulged in lying in bed or letting the time slip dreamily by, so as to induce the belief that I was enjoying myself. No, that would not suit me at all, for my disposition was to be ever on the go—seeing, hearing, or trying to learn something. Thus I knew almost every rock and cranny round the island, as I was always poking and ogling into odd crannies and pools to see what I could discover. Among my favourite places was the Fauconnaire, which being surrounded at every tide, was always having fresh life and vegetation brought to it by the ever-moving sea.

There were many pools and wonderful little caves round this curious, conical island, of which I knew, and into whose recesses I loved to pry; and although I visited them frequently they seemed ever new to me.

There was, facing due east, a large mass of rock near the foot of the Fauconnaire, upon which I often sat on a calm day, looking down into the mysteries of the sea. The water was so wonderfully clear, that at a depth of twenty feet I could see every pebble and bunch of weed as plainly as if only a sheet of glass hid them from view. This was to me very remarkable, as on the sandy east coast of England, an object two or three feet beneath the surface is hidden from the eye by the discolouration of the water, caused by the sand and soft clay cliffs. Here I could look down at one of the most lovely gardens the eye of man ever rested upon.

It was a wonderfully diversified collection of marine plants of all sizes, shapes, and colours; in fact, a perfect marine paradise. The colours embraced every hue of green, from the pale tint of a cut cucumber to the darkest shade of bronze, merging upon blackness. The yellow plants embraced every tint of yellow and orange imaginable, while the pinks ran the whole gamut of shades of that colour.

The forms and sizes of this enchanting garden of flowers without blossom were as varied as the colours. On the rocky slopes adhered tiny anemonæ; lower down were other bushy weeds growing in all forms and positions, while further away in the deeper water rose up great feathery fronds and waving arms, like the tentacles of some giant octopus feeling for its prey. This bed of snake-like brown arms was a weird spot, which only wanted a mermaid or two to make it complete; but I, as a mere man, could only complete the picture by magnifying in my mind's eye the innumerable fishes which swam in and out among the luxuriance of marine vegetation, so as to fancy them mermaidens, and thus people this wonderful water palace.

The fish sometimes came along in shoals, principally the spotted rock-fish, which seemed to be painted by nature to resemble the colours of the surrounding rocks, stones, and sea-weed. Sometimes they would appear singly, swimming hurriedly, just giving the leaves a pat with their tails, as if closing the door behind them. These seemed to be messengers, for presently others of a larger size would come along more leisurely, as if to clear the way, and in a short time would appear quite a shoal of these beautiful fish of all sizes, forming a procession, as if they had some kind of carnival or festival afoot, and were making the most of the day.

What a spot for a poet to muse in! How he could roll his azure eyes and comb out his locks with his lily-white taper fingers, and gaze into space for a word to rhyme! How he would wrinkle his lofty brow, compress his cupidon upper lip, and unloose his negligé necktie, to give room for his bosom to swell with pride at the enchanting poem which would, at the picture before him, be sure to flow from the tip of his pretty little golden stylographic pen! At least this is how I fancy a poet must act, but never having seen one of those wonderful beings at work, I have, like the said poet, to get my picture from the source of some of his best work—the imagination.

But a truce to badinage. True poetry is not a thing to laugh at and disdain, for it is the salt of life, which makes existence endurable, and gives a savour to our worldly toil.

Pierce, a modern poet, hits off the shores of Jethou capitally, thus:

At low tide—or rather, at half tide—may be seen a huge square-headed fissure or cave quite through a portion of La Fauconnaire. Its sides are walls of granite, and the roof is also of that stone, from ten to twelve feet high on the average, but much more in parts. Although daylight is admitted at each end of this tunnel it is somewhat gloomy in the centre, which perhaps adds to its charms, as objects are seen less clearly, thus giving more scope to the imagination, of which daylight is frequently a great destroyer. Semi-gloom causes one to speculate upon things which, seen in the broad glare of day, have nothing of mystery or wonder about them; they are but too evident to the eye. A grammar-school education does not permit of great descriptive flights, or this cavern would be for me an exquisite theme upon which to write a chapter on fairyland.

The walls of this vaulted chamber sparkled from the constant dripping of water, which appeared to ooze from the sides and roof as the tide went down; but what appeared most noticeable was the pink hue of these walls, which upon closer inspection appeared to be lined with a kind of coral, or some such substance, while here and there from roof and walls depended most lovely fern-like sea-weed, whose long fronds waved gracefully in the grateful breeze which came in from the south end in puffs, just enough to stir the glorious pool of water covering the whole floor of the cave. The chamber is not very wide, probably not more than from four to five feet, so that the pool on the floor forms a miniature lake of surpassing beauty, some forty or fifty feet long, and from one to two feet deep; but the contents and the arrangement of that pool who shall describe? In this small space may be found animal and vegetable life of all kinds, anemonæ, lovely weeds, zoophytes, curious fish, sponges, shells, coral, and a hundred other things, all in such perfection and orderly wildness that no artificial aquarium can ever hope to present, for they are made by hands, and can never vie with Nature in the formation of the wild and picturesque aspect of these rocky pools.

As the sea filled this cave at every tide there was always something new for me to admire whenever I made a visit, and my only regret was that I could not take it home with me if I should be spared to see Norfolk again.

Now to proceed a little further with my narrative.

Christmas was a time which I knew not how to fill up. I wanted to be jolly and to make some festive difference in the usual routine of my daily life and fare, but with no companion I found it a very difficult task, even to make myself believe it really was Christmas time.

I made a plum pudding which had scarcely the consistence to hang together when I rolled it out of the cloth; but that mattered little, as a broken pudding required less muscular activity for the jaws. The main point was the flavour; it was not at all bad. Tinned beef, potatoes, tomatoes, a cauliflower, a rabbit pie, walnuts, and apples formed my Christmas dinner, which was washed down by a bottle of Bass I had reserved as a special Christmas treat. I drank the health of my absent friends, and even gave three cheers for the King of Jethou—myself.

To make the season appear as Christmassy as possible I cudgelled my brain for a whole week, and composed what I am pleased to call

Although the lines seemed to go very well, I had great difficulty in hitting upon a suitable tune; but when once I did fit the verses to a composition of my own, I howled it from morning till night all over the island. The very animals and birds must have been satiated with it. Possibly they would gladly have exchanged Christmas for Easter, or some other church festival, just for the sake of variety and change of tune.

One misty morning at the end of February, I was standing near the old cannon, chopping firewood wherewith to heat my oven, for it was my weekly baking day, when I saw a boat containing two men coming through the Creviçhon channel towards the house. One was pulling, and the other, who sat in the stern sheets, waved a white flag or handkerchief upon a stick, to attract my attention. I noticed them as soon as they did me, and waved in return, making signs for them not to land.

With my chopping hook still in my hand I ran down the rocky path towards them, and arrived at the water's edge just as they were about to run the boat ashore. I did not know what their intention in landing might be, so shook the chopper at them to warn them off. My stature, and the sight of my bare right arm, had their due effect, for they sheered off, a few boats' lengths, much to my relief. I soon found, however, that they were two of the men of Herm on a very peaceful mission, as they simply came to deliver a letter to me which a boat had brought over from St. Peter Port. I dare not speak, or could have asked them their mission, and they seemed quite dumbfounded at my bellicose attitude towards them.

The man in the stern now held up the letter, upon which I pantomimically intimated my wish that he should come close in and throw the letter to me. I then, lest they should be afraid to approach, threw my chopper as far behind me as I could, sending it clattering among the boulders nearly up to the cliff. Then the man in the stern folded the letter in two, and tied a piece of spun yarn round it, to which he attached a piece of stone, and tossed it to me. It fell fluttering near me, and I was almost afraid to pick it up, for fear it might contain some bad news of my family; but stooping, I secured it, placing it in my shirt bosom. Then by signs I expressed my thanks to the kind Hermese who had brought the missive.

When they had pulled out of sight towards Herm I sat down on a rock, and very mistrustfully drew forth the crumpled envelope. Was my father dead? What of Priscilla? Was mother ailing? These and a hundred other questions flashed across my mind as I slowly broke open the envelope. It was a letter from my dear old dad. Short, but quite assuring it ran:

"My Dear Boy,

"All is well. On the 2nd of March you will have occupied Jethou just twelve months. Some of my Yarmouth friends say I am cruel to allow you to stay alone so long, and think you must be so broken down by your exile, that nothing would keep you in Jethou six months longer. Young Johnson has even gone so far as to say he would wager you one hundred pounds you dare not stay another six months, and I therefore write to make known his offer, which I have in black and white, duly signed by him.

"Write me the word, YES or NO, only.

"Your affectionate Father,

"WILLIAM K. NILFORD."

What a curious letter from my father after all these months! Not a word as to himself, mother, or Priscilla. Not a line of news except the first three words, "All is well." That was assuring, at any rate, and made me feel happy. Young Johnson was the squire's son, a dashing, go-ahead fellow, but not greatly liked in the village, by reason of his haughtiness.

Although I had been looking forward to my return home I would not go to be laughed at by our Yarmouth friends; no, I would stay at all risks, and with the one hundred pounds I could make my future bride, Priscilla, a grand present. Yes, my mind was made up at once, and if the men had been within hail they might have come back and received my answer to send over to the St. Peter Port post office, from which the packet would take it to England, so that in about three or four days my father would receive it.

My answer was quickly written, for my reply was very laconic:

"February 28th, 18—.

"My Dear Father,

"All is well. I accept Johnson's wager of one hundred pounds, that I do not occupy Jethou for another six months.

"Your affectionate Son,

"HARRY NILFORD."

About noon I espied two men fishing off the nearest point of Herm, and going to the north-east corner of my island, to the promontory guarding Lobster Bay, I signalled them with a handkerchief upon an ash sapling. They soon saw the signal and pulled towards me. As they neared me I was pleased to find they were the same two men who brought my father's letter to me in the morning. They came close into the bay, so that I had only to lean down and drop the letter into the boat, pointing towards St. Peter Port to signify I wanted it to go there by the first boat going.

"Oui, très bien."

Then I dropped half a crown (three francs) into their boat, and away they pulled, quite pleased. I went about my work, but in about twenty minutes, looking towards Guernsey, I saw the two men pulling away to St. Peter Port with my letter. This was more than I expected, as it would give them a rough pull of six miles. I only meant them to take the letter to Herm; but away it went, and a day was saved.

Away to my digging. I returned and forgot all about the men and the letter, but to my astonishment about four hours after, they hailed me, shouting and gesticulating, "C'est juste," they cried, and then away they went home, and I saw them no more.

CHAPTER XIII.

The sun rose red and angry, the wind blew in great jerks and booms that staggered me as I walked along the perilously narrow paths. Just before high tide I walked along the lower path which, although fifty feet above the sea, was soaked with salt spray from the roaring coamers breaking below. The wind was so laden with spray that it was difficult to face it while staggering along the rugged cliff path; but presently I arrived at the point opposite the "Yellow Boy," and was glad to see her still there, although she was sadly buffeted by the waves, which continually leapt up to lick her off her granite cradle.

I had secured her with ropes as well as I could, and had even taken an anchor (attached to her mooring rope) some fifty feet up on a grassy ledge above, and there securely fixed it into the short turf, with which the first plateau of rocks were covered.

I sat down in my oilskins in the shelter of a rock to watch my precious boat, but I could see that her doom was sealed if the wind did not drop; but that it did not do, for as the tide rose, so did the wind, till it fairly howled among the rocks and tore through the trees in an awful rage, so that presently the ropes which bound the "Yellow Boy" gave way, as she was now very heavy, being level full of water. She only hung by the anchor rope now, like a man being hanged, and every wave that rose and broke in and around her, swung her from side to side, or spun her round till she gradually banged herself to pieces against the cruel granite walls. Then the tide gradually went down, and left the mere dangling skeleton of my once beloved craft, hanging high and dry above the send of the foaming waves, which at intervals rushed among the now exposed rocks. The anchor held, and to the rope hung the two upper strakes, to which were attached the two fore compartments; all the rest was completely swept away, and with it my hope of again being able to take the sea for fishing, shooting, or sailing purposes. Alas! poor "Yellow Boy," I shall never see your like again! (neither probably will anyone else!) She answered my purpose admirably, but as a model of naval construction she was an absolute monstrosity, and would have made an object of great interest in a naval exhibition. I deeply regretted her loss, as I wanted to take her home as a great curiosity to open the eyes of the Yarmouth fishermen; but it was not to be, and I turned sadly away; my chief occupation (that of boating) being completely gone.

As I stood once more on the Cotills I saw two small vessels making for the Little Russel, or "Petit Ruan," as the Channel between Guernsey and Herm is called. They were labouring heavily, with very little canvas set, and evidently trying to gain the shelter of the islands, and if possible make for St. Peter's or St. Sampson's Harbour. Along they came, struggling and creeping closer, fathom by fathom, till just as the foremost was passing La Fauconnaire, her foremast snapped short off by the deck. In a moment she broached too, driving gradually broadside on to Jethou. The other finding she could not run into port, ran off towards Jersey where she might get better shelter, if it were not altogether a case of leaping out of the frying-pan into the fire, as the Jersey rocks are quite as hard and sharp as ours. At any rate in half an hour she was lost to sight.

The one which was now so helplessly driving towards where I stood was a trim little trading ketch of some fifty tons burthen, and from my elevated position I could see everything that took place on her deck. I saw the men (there were three men and a boy) cast out two anchors which appeared to hold her, then they commenced to cut away the mast and gear, which had fallen overboard and was thumping her sides so continuously as to cause grave apprehension of her being stove in. Having done this they rigged the pump, and at it they went with vigour. All their activity was required, as every wave that broke over her must have penetrated her seams, which were doubtless opened by the buffeting she had received. But alas! their noble efforts were all in vain, for with a snap, snap, which I could distinctly hear, her cables both broke, and she drifted quickly towards the shore. Seeing this, and thinking I might possibly be of some service, I ran down to a little wooden shelter I had built at the side of the Cotills, and procured a coil of thin rope, and slinging it over my shoulder I hurried back with it to the scene of what would probably be in a few minutes, a wreck.

When I got back, having only been absent three or four minutes, I saw that the crew had given up all hope of saving their vessel, and were now only intent on saving their lives. To this end they were getting their only boat out, lowering it safely on the lee side with two of the men and the boy in it; the third man, who appeared to be the skipper, would not leave the vessel, so the boat pushed off, but had not moved ten fathoms away when a tremendous sea curled up under its stern, and turned the boat a complete somersault, shooting the three occupants out into the water. They could none of them swim apparently, and in a few seconds disappeared beneath the turbulent waves; at least I did not see them again, so that doubtless they found a watery grave.

The last man evidently saw his danger, but was quite calm, although his end seemed near, as only about two hundred yards now intervened between the vessel and the rocky shore. He proceeded to lash a spar across the two water barrels, which he emptied and bunged up, and then stood ready to jump overboard with them, when the vessel struck. I also was on the alert with my coil of rope, following the vessel as she drifted slowly along the shore, till she neared a spur of cliff, which runs out near the watch-house, close to the homestead, and here she came in full contact with a mass of rock which shook her, crushed in her stem, and made her recoil. The next wave threw her back again, but luckily more steadily, so that I was enabled to throw my coil of rope down upon her deck from my coign of vantage. I quickly whipped the shore end round the stem of a huge furze bush, which grew within ten feet of the brink of the cliff, and to my joy found that the man had seized the end which I had thrown towards him. He stood amidship, being afraid to venture too close to the bows, as the next wave would doubtless ram the ship hard against the rocks again, and if he jumped now, he would simply be smashed to pieces between the rocks and the vessel.

He waited, holding on to the coamings of the hatchway, which had been burst open, till the little ketch gave another tremendous leap upon the cruel rocks, and then as she recoiled he sprang to his feet, threw over his barrel life preserver, and without hesitation leaped overboard with the rope round his chest just beneath his arms. He swam, and I hauled, and as he mounted the next wave I slackened, or he might have been dashed to pieces, then on the wave breaking and running back, I hauled with all my might, and in a short time had him safe in my arms, and bore him amid the dashing spray and foam safely beyond danger. He was just able to stand, and that was all, for directly I had half dragged and half carried him up the cliffs to a grassy spot, he fell backwards insensible. He could not have been in the sea more than two minutes, yet he was terribly cut about, his hands being covered with blood; some of his fingers were cut to the bone. This was done when the first wave threw him against the rocks, when all depended upon his being able to hold on against the receding water. He did in his despair hold on, as he afterwards described it, "like a limpet," and thus though terribly battered he was saved, the sole survivor of his little crew.

When he came to, I assisted him up to the house, where I gave him some hot grog and more solid refreshment, and then prepared him a warm bath. Poor fellow! his legs made me shudder to look at them, so cruelly had the rocks torn and lacerated them from the knee downward. Yet in his terrible state the brave fellow was quite beside himself with joy at his miraculous escape, while the next minute the hot tears would gush from his eyes at the thought of his poor messmates, who had sailed their last voyage, and were now floating about to be devoured by the huge congers, crabs, and lobsters, which are so numerous in these deep seas.

A long night's rest greatly restored my guest, who had come to me à la Friday in "Robinson Crusoe;" in fact, I felt an almost irresistible longing to call him Friday, and introduce myself to him as R. Crusoe, Esq.; but when I looked at his pale face and hands swathed in huge bandages, I concluded it to be an ill time for any joking. After a day or two's rest and unceasing attention to his wounds on my part, I was pleased to find him greatly improved both in body and spirits, and therefore felt that I might ask him a little about himself. What information he gave me I will here epitomise.

He was by name Alexander Ducas, a son of France, his native village being situate on the Bay of Avranches, facing Jersey. He was about my own age, but had seen more ups and downs than most men of double his years. He had been in the French navy; had been mate of several vessels; had also taken charge of several English yachts; had been skipper of two or three small trading vessels, and finally had become owner and skipper of the little ketch which had met with such a disastrous end a few days before. This was not the first nor the second time he had narrowly escaped death by drowning; but as he afterwards told me, "he thought he had done with the surface of the water," and probably had I not opportunely been on the spot, he would have shared the fate of his poor crew, none of whose bodies were ever seen again.

"Why did you throw overboard your water barrel life preserver; before you clutched my rope," I asked him.

"A double chance," he replied, "for if the rope business had failed, I might still have secured the aid of the barrels to support me. A poor chance I allow, but a chance nevertheless."

He was of medium height, fair, with sandy moustache, compactly knit, and of surprising strength for a man of his inches. I afterwards found that he was possessed with more than an ordinary amount of physical endurance, for no matter how much work he crowded into a long summer's day, he was always as blithe as a cricket when work was over, and we sat by the old cannon to smoke an evening pipe and chat together about our plans and prospects.

Strange to say, he knew the man I buried at sea some months before, in fact, had sailed with him on one vessel for several months, and he moreover gave him a very bad character. It appears that he was a most desperate fellow, having been in prison on several occasions for violent conduct, and was noted for his brutal language and bad behaviour. He had been turned out of the French navy for insubordination, and while on the frigate was a perfect terror to his messmates. He was noted as the strongest man of the three hundred who formed her crew, and as Ducas said, "There won't be enough tears shed over his death by the friends who knew him to wet a postage stamp!"

What a lucky thing for me this man did not become my comrade.

By the end of a week Ducas, or as I more familiarly called him Alec, was able to take short walks, and the more he saw of the island the better he liked it, and finally asked to be allowed to stay with me, and cultivate the land, and render what service he could in other ways.

I was in a quandary to know how to answer him, as I did not know how it would affect my agreement with Young Johnson "to stay on the island for six months longer." I therefore told Alec I would let him know my decision in four days from then, giving myself that time to turn the matter over in my mind.

So far as the agreement with my father went that was concluded, as my twelve months had already expired; but what I was puzzled about was how I should stand with Johnson. It seemed to me that he expected me to remain alone on the island for the specified time—six months—but what was I to do now man Friday had arrived? I puzzled over the matter a long time, and then came to the conclusion that win or lose I would stay on the island another summer, and whether I transgressed the contract or not, I would retain Ducas, as it would be very pleasant to have a companion, and if I was by so doing breaking the contract, must abide by the consequences.

I next interviewed Alec Ducas, and found that between his sea engagements he had assisted in gardening and the usual routine of farm work, beside which, being a thorough seaman, he could make his own clothes and boots, consequently mine; in fact, could turn his hand to anything, as only a sailor can.

"Well, Ducas, I am going to stay here for another six months; you have seen the resources of the house and island, and can judge best, if you think you would rather stay here than go over to St. Peter Port in prospect of getting another vessel. What do you say, would you rather go or stay?"

To this he made reply, his face beaming with delight,

"Well, sir, I have not much of a mind to make up, but if you will allow me to stay and help you, nothing will give me greater pleasure; in fact, such a life is the one I crave. There is liberty for a man here, and plenty of work to be done, and I have ample health and strength to do it, so if you will say 'Yes,' I will take up my quarters with you."

He spoke very good English, but with a decidedly foreign accent (which sounded very pleasant to me, more so as he had a very musical voice), and was a plain spoken man, one who called a spade a spade, and made no nonsense about it.

"Very well, Alec," said I; "then you stay, and I trust we may get along happily together."

CHAPTER XIV.

Alec was a wonder for singing; in fact he was warbling all day long over his work, and I must say he had rather a nice tenor voice, just such as an Englishman would expect a Frenchman to possess. His répertoire of songs was large, and embraced both ancient and modern, sacred and secular, French and English; so there was plenty of variety.

Somehow or other, although he was of a most lively disposition, most of his "best songs," as he called those he could sing with the greatest ease and effect, were of the somewhat dismal or semi-lachrymose type, as "Tom Bowling," "Half Mast High," "The Skipper and his Boy," etc. These are all beautiful in their way, but with repetition pall upon one somewhat, while your jovial song seems ever fresh, and will stand singing many times before it becomes threadbare.

Sometimes of an evening, after supper and a pipe, we would indulge in duet singing, and when we came to the end of the song we would praise each other and encore ourselves.

"Let's have that one again. That's capital! Bravo!"

Then at it we would go again, sometimes till near midnight.

I had an old volume of sea songs in my trunk, several of which we both knew, as "All's Well," "Larboard Watch," "The Anchor's Weighed," etc. Alec's tenor and my deep baritone harmonized rather well, so we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. As we had no hearers we used to give wonderful expression to our singing, possibly it was lucky no one could hear us, for it would certainly unstring their nerves.

On Sundays we did no work, but at eleven o'clock had a kind of service which lasted quite an hour and a half. I was parson and read the service, while Alec was clerk and read the lessons and made the responses, while, to pass the time away, we always sang two hymns wherever only one should be sung. This was to give each of us an opportunity of selecting his favourites. There was no levity in all this, we did it as a duty to our Maker, in thankfulness for the manifold blessings bestowed upon us during the week; for our health, welfare, and all the other blessings which He bestowed upon us from day to day. Alec had great cause to be thankful that he had been spared ever to put foot on land again, while I, beside my numerous lucky escapes, had not had a day's real illness since I landed. Before I left the island, Sankey and Moody's "Sacred Songs" would scarcely hold together, so much had it suffered from being turned by our great rough thumbs and fingers, while to say that some of the pages were slightly soiled was putting it in a very mild manner. A stranger might have thought that we hid the volume up the chimney, when not in use, and the appearance would quite have warranted his surmise.

Our first great work together was to build another boat, a larger one than the "Yellow Boy," and on an improved principle. First we collected whatever we thought would be of use in the construction of our craft, which we christened, before a stick of her was laid, "The Anglo-Franc." This was a curious commencement, I must own, but then we did some very strange things on Jethou. The name was chosen because we, as shipwrights, were respectively English and French. We scoured the whole island for material, and succeeded in getting a huge pile together from various sources, thus we were not so cramped as when I built the famous "Yellow Boy."

Speaking of the "Yellow Boy" reminds me that after the big storm I saved the portion which still depended from the cable, suspended from the side of La Fauconnaire. These pieces were the two upper strakes, fifteen feet long, and the fore and second compartments. The timber from these helped us greatly in the building of the new boat. Besides this there were a number of rafters and floor boards that I had collected from the old store-house after the explosion; but our third and best supply was obtained from the wreck of Alec's ketch, "Jeanette," the fore part of which still remained jammed high up between two rocks, which stood about twelve feet apart, near high-water mark, on La Creviçhon. From this, by dint of three days' hard work, we secured several loads of deck-timber and other very useful pieces, which "Eddy" dragged up for us to the ruined store-house.

We found our cart wheels were not high enough to clear the big stones on the beach, so we took them off and replaced them by two runners so as to form a kind of sledge, which answered much better, although many pieces were jerked off en route, by reason of the rugged path and primitive construction of the sledge. As Alec remarked, they served as guide posts, so that there was no losing the way. This idea I got by reading Catlin's "North American Indians." By lashing two long tent poles at a horse's sides, with the ends trailing on the ground, they form a kind of sledge, upon which they can carry considerable loads upon transverse sticks.

From the battered hulk we also brought a great number of bolts and other iron-work, a companion ladder, windlass, pump, bowsprit bits, bell, a torn jib, a quantity of cordage, and whatever else we could lay our hands upon, that might have the most remote chance of being of future use to us.

In story books it is usual to have a ship come ashore just in a convenient spot, and with a full cargo; but ours, unfortunately, was only half a battered hulk, perfectly empty, and in a most awkward position to get at, as we had to cross the Creviçhon Channel at every trip, so that we could only bring the wreckage over at low tide. We could, however, continue our work of dismantling right through the day, except for two hours, when the high tide flowed in and out through poor "Jeanette's" ribs. These two hours we took for rest, food, and the soothing pipe. Bless Raleigh!

When we had collected all our material, both iron and wood, we commenced building the "Anglo-Franc," and in three weeks had her finished and afloat. She was sixteen feet over all, by five feet beam, and was rigged in the style peculiar to the Guernsey boats; that is to say she had two small masts. The foremast was stepped exactly amidships, while the mizen was placed close to the stern. This arrangement strikes an Englishman as very strange, as they are in the habit of seeing the foremast very nearly in the bows; but Ducas was a sailor, and knew the rig adapted to these waters, and I must say that under most circumstances the "Anglo-Franc" behaved herself admirably. She was a success in every way. One special feature was, that we built a kind of half-deck forward, which formed a small cuddy or cabin quite large enough for one of us to have "a watch below" in, or for a regular sleep at night, or we could both squeeze inside during a pelting rain. We spent several single nights at sea in the "Anglo-Franc" during the summer, and by putting a sail-cloth awning from the aft edge of the cuddy deck we lengthened our cabin by four feet, and could thus both obtain a good night's rest, or cook in any wind or weather.

When we had finished the boat we were rather at a loss to know how to find accommodation for her when we did not actually require to use her. In fine weather she could lie moored just off the house, and to enable us always to keep her afloat, we rigged up an out-haul, so that standing on the shore we could haul the boat out or in to its moorings whenever we chose. This was all very well in fine weather, but when a fresh south-west wind was blowing, and a heavy sea on, she would pitch and roll to such an extent that we were afraid she would break loose and drift away. We had therefore to cast about for some safer place for her, and with this in view inspected the whole island round. When we came to Lobster Bay, at the north-east corner, we agreed that that was the most sheltered position we could find, and most suitable in every way for a haven.

Quite at the angle of the island a promontory runs straight out to the eastward for a distance of about forty yards, thus forming a shelter from the rush of the rising tide through the Perchée Channel, while the island of Herm kept the wind from the north-east in check.

"Now," said Alec, "if we could build a little stone breakwater from the end of Cape Homard (Cape Lobster, as Alec called the point, because we kept the lobster and crab pots there), we could make as safe a little harbour as one could wish for."

This proposition seemed all very well, but the quantity of stone I knew it would take rather staggered me, and I was a long time before I could be brought to give my consent to help in the matter. But when Alec had laid out his plans to me, I found them so consistent that I readily agreed to help in the work.

Without wearying the reader by describing in too great detail the building of our breakwater, I will just give an outline of how it was built, and another great success achieved, although to ensure that success we had to work like a couple of galley slaves. Still, with all our hard work, we were as happy as a couple of schoolboys. We toiled, sang, and ate with such appetites as only those who are used to hard work in the sea air can know.

Our plan was to work on Monday; enjoy fishing, etc., on Tuesday; work on Wednesday at the breakwater, at the garden on Thursday; on Friday at the breakwater again; and on Saturday till noon also, after which we devoted the rest of the day to baking, clothes washing and mending, and other domestic duties. How my mother and 'Cilla would have laughed to see me at the wash-tub, or hanging out the linen to dry on the furze bushes; or to have seen Alec using a flat iron which, with great labour, we had forged, and which was of a peculiar construction, but still very efficacious in its work. Men are notoriously awkward in their manner of wringing and other laundry work, and I expect we were no exception to the general rule. We made our clothes clean, and that was all we required.

Alec was a capital baker, so we had some excellent bread, while my pastry was not to be sneezed at; in fact, at a rabbit pie I was quite a grand chef. I also introduced several new culinary matters to Alec, some of which he had never seen before; among them being the all-filling Norfolk dumpling, which at first he did not seem to care for, but in time he became inordinately fond of them, and would often ask me to make him a pouding de rien (a pudding of nothing), which was his idea of these articles of everyday diet in East Anglia.

But I am not building my breakwater of dumplings, so will get back to stone; not that I wish the reader to infer that my dumplings were ever approaching that substance in their degree of firmness.

First we collected all the very large stones we could find in the bay, and placed them as a foundation for our breakwater; but these only formed a layer about a foot deep. All these were large stones (some of them weighed nearly three hundredweight), so to cope with them we made a kind of four-handled hand barrow, upon which we rolled our rock, and then taking two handles each, staggered off with it. These large pieces we placed near the end of the breakwater, and when we had denuded the bay, we obtained, with "Eddy's" help, some large piece of massed rock and mortar from the ruined boathouse. These pieces we took in the sledge, and built into a kind of wall to form the outer shell of the breakwater, while the interior we filled with any odds and ends of rocks (none of them less than a man's head in size) which we could find on the shore. The interstices we filled with shingle, and the detritus of granite, but when we had raised our structure to the level of high water our available stone gave out. This rather nonplussed us, but at last we decided to open a small quarry and see what granite we could obtain to raise our undertaking another four feet in height.

I had still several pounds of gunpowder left, and with part of this we constructed some long thin cartridges for blasting. With these, a pick-axe, and some long iron stanchions, which we used as levers, we obtained a good supply of stone. The little quarry may still be seen, so I am informed, although it is greatly covered with furze and weeds. It is situated on the hill side, midway between the homestead and the ruins of the boathouse. We chose an elevated position for our quarry, so that we could roll the huge stones down the hill to the pathway below, where we levered them up into the sledge, and dragged them to what we were pleased to term "the works." Let it suffice to say that about the middle of May our task was completed, and to commemorate the event we gave a grand banquet on the pier head (for we called it a pier now, as it sounded more dignified) to commemorate the event. Four of us sat down to the banquet, or rather two stood and two sat. As architect I took the head of the table (a wine cask), and Alec, as engineer, the foot; while "Eddy," the donkey, as contractor, supported me on the right (dining luxuriously on a bunch of carrots and some hay), and on my left was dear old "Begum" as clerk of the works, enjoying two whole rabbits as his share of the entertainment.

We drank "Success to Jethou Pier," and trusted it would take every care of the "Anglo-Franc," which we now placed within its encircling arm for the first time.

At low water we removed all the big stones from the little haven in which our boat was now moored. This was for fear she might hurt her bottom (as the tide left her careened half an hour before dead low water), and thus made everything snug for her. At half-tide she floated, so that for six hours out of every twelve we could go off just when we liked, without any pushing or hard work of any kind; while to assist her to her moorings, if we wished to bring her in at low tide, we rigged up the windlass which we brought from the wreck, and thus we could at any time haul her bodily out of the sea.

Now, having given up a whole chapter to hard work, we will proceed to something a little more interesting and exciting.

CHAPTER XV.

It seemed to me that the set of the Gulf Stream had something to do with this, as we found some rare shells that did not appear indigenous to these waters; we also found two old swords and the steel portion of a flint lock pistol, beside some curious old pottery, all of which finds I have preserved, and with other curios have formed quite a museum.

Our plan of "Marine Exploration," as we called it, was this: We would have a couple of hours trawling for fish in the usual manner, and then if wind and tide were favourable, would run in and land our trawl, and fish at the pier head, and bring out with us another implement, which was a cross between a dredge and a trawl. It had an iron beam about six feet wide, which kept the net on the bottom by reason of its weight; from this rose an iron bow, forming a flattened half circle, and to this was attached a piece of heavy double netting, the bottom of which was protected from the rocks by a piece of old sail cloth a little larger than the plan of the net. The poke of the net was only about seven feet from beam to tail, so that we had no difficulty in raising it, especially as we had a line fastened to the tail, which one of us could haul upon, while the other (with a curious hand windlass, which looked like some diabolical instrument of torture) raised the beam.

We used to drain the net fairly well before bringing it inboard, and then turn the contents out on the floor, then kneeling down we would search among them just like a couple of misers counting their gold; indeed, upon one occasion, we did have gold to count among our other items.

It was the bowl portion of a golden goblet, from which the foot had become detached. From its encrusted appearance it must have lain for many years in the sea. On another occasion we felt something heavy in the net as we hauled, and knowing that in the spot in which we were then trawling, there were no rocks, we naturally wondered what it could be. As we hove up the net, I remarked that I hoped it was not a dead body, which remark made Alec feel quite queer, as he thought it might be one of his comrades. He refused to help me haul for fear such should be the case. I quickly pointed out to him that it could not be the case, as apart from a corpse being devoured by the voracious fish, it would swell as it decomposed, and gas being formed in it, it would buoy the body up, and float it to the surface, when the send of the waves would waft it away, no one knew whither.

"Now," said I to Alec, "your messmates have been dead these four months, and nothing of them now remains round this island, except perchance their skeletons, and we are not likely to come upon them, so bear a hand and let's see what luck has sent us."

Slowly the net came up, and as the water left it there appeared among the brown seaweed two huge pieces of rock tied to something which looked very horrid. And horrid it turned out to be, for it was the remains of the man I had buried months before, that is to say, the leg bones, with some few remaining tendons and other parts, which the fish had not stripped from the bones. We were glad to find that the upper part with the skull attached had fallen off, so turning the net inside out, I for a second time buried the poor man, or rather all that was left of him.

One day in July, a very warm day, we had been fishing and caught but little, so were having an hour's chat and smoke as our boat rocked lazily on the clear blue water, when somehow the conversation turned on curious discoveries and accidental finds. Suddenly the thought of my valuable discovery of the lace entered my head. Should I tell Alec? No! I would keep my secret; but what of the paper I had discovered in the niche in the wall? Could not Alec decipher that for me? Should I tell him of that? Why not? By keeping the paper to myself I should not know if it were of value or no, so revolving the matter in my mind as to how I should broach the subject, I at last made up my mind to consult him upon the subject, but said nothing of it just then. We set to work again, after a rest, and fished, but fortune that day was not kind to us, or the fish were as lazy as ourselves; anyhow, we caught very few; in fact, not more than we could consume in a fresh state. When we obtained plenty we gutted them, split them, took off their heads, and dried them in the sun for future use, just as the natives of the Pacific Islands do theirs.

That evening, when supper was finished, I told Alec I had something to shew him, which did not belong to me, but which might or might not be of value to me as the holder.

Somehow I had, by associating the old leathern cup and the lace together, brought myself to believe that the paper was like the lace, of some value. Therefore it behoved me to be careful as to how I broached the subject to Alec.

I quietly took it from my trunk, and handed it to him carelessly, with the remark,

"Can you read that for me, Alec?"

He had a good look at it, holding it very close to the lamp, and read it quite through to himself, while I sat impatiently waiting for him to say something about it. Not wishing to appear anxious I pretended to read, but although I looked at the page it might just as well have been a brick I was looking at as a book for all the information I got from it.

At length he laid the paper down, and informed me that he could read it well enough, but what did it all refer to?

"It is a list of articles followed by some curious signs that I cannot make out," said he. "Then it goes on to say that anyone finding the things mentioned, may have them as a gift for his trouble in searching for them. Then follows the date, Nov. 13, 17—. So probably your musty old paper is at least one hundred years old."

Then he laid the document on the table, relit his pipe, and went on cutting out a netting needle for to-morrow's use. I merely remarked it was an old paper I had had by me a long time, and as I wanted to know what it was about had kept it. With that I put it away in the trunk, and changed the subject by turning my attention to snooding a score or two of fish hooks for conger fishing.

Next day when I saw an opportunity I got away to a quiet spot, and puzzled myself with the hieroglyphic-looking portion of the paper which appeared thus:—

I opened my eyes and found Alec bending over me, while "Begum" sat licking my hand. I tried to speak, but did so with extreme difficulty, as if something were amiss with my chest. Whatever had happened! I tried to rise, but had not the power.

"How do you feel?" said Alec.

Then I remembered slipping carelessly over the edge of the path at a part that was not at all dangerous, and bumping myself against a granite rock, but beyond that I remembered nothing whatever.

Alec had missed me for nearly three hours, so calling to "Begum," he strolled along to see what I was doing. It was our invariable custom to tell each other where we were going, and what we were going to do, whenever we separated for a time; but on this occasion I had purposely omitted this precaution. The dog had found me on the lower pathway doubled up, or as Alec put it, "Standing on my head in a very undignified position, with my back against a granite boulder."

I could not rise, in fact could scarcely move, so battered and bruised was I in my fall of about fifty yards. Of course this was not a perpendicular fall, or I should never have penned these lines; but as the slope was one that a man could not walk up without using his hands, it is a wonder to me to this day that I was not killed on the spot. Evidently I had broken my swift fall by clutching at some furze bushes, for my right hand was dreadfully lacerated, and full of furze needles, and my shoulder so stiff that my arm seemed paralyzed; besides which, I found I was spitting blood, which frightened me very much, as I was afraid of some internal injury.