In the second verse occur the lines:
Certainly it was very seldom I heard a human voice, even in the distance, sometimes not for weeks together; but as to starting at the sound of my own, well, that is not at all correct. Probably if my friends could have heard the voice of either "Eddy" or myself, when in full song, they would have had a start, if not a severe shock to the system.
Again:
Dove's wings would not have borne my thirteen stone weight. Perchance the giant wings of the Albatross would have been more practicable, if less poetical, and with these appendages I might have been tempted to have a peep at my friends in England, despite the supremely ridiculous figure I should have cut in the air, and the chance I should have stood of being shot as a very rara avis. Fancy me lighting down on our old thatched-roof house, and frightening everyone out of their seven senses, including my darling Priscilla, who, if she were not too frightened, would certainly bring me down with a charge of No. 4 (chilled) shot.
The next verse is nearly true of my state in its entirety:
It is scarcely true to say that the rocks never hear the sound of the church-going bell, for with a westerly breeze the bells can be heard quite plainly, and I have even heard a dog bark at that distance, which shows how distinctly, and to what a great distance sound will travel over water.
If rocks have ears they must occasionally have been ravished by my rendering of Sankey and Moody's hymns. If they have a memory they must have learnt several of them by heart; in fact, have been so familiar with them as to desire a change for something secular. They never applauded me, but when the Heavens spoke with thunder they clapped their granite hands till they cracked again.
The last verse hits me again—quite a bull's eye:
Yes, I nightly had to repair to my cabin, and in the wet season had my cabin to repair; but I made it so cosy, that like the last line, "it reconciled me to my lot."
Oh, Crusoe! how I would have loved to have shared Juan Fernandez with thee! What a Friday I would have been, and what enjoyment I should have discovered in everything—except black man killing! But even that I should have taken my part in it if it came to the question "kill or be killed."
[1] It so happened that only a few years since, a young lady, taking a row after church one Sunday evening, lost an oar overboard and drifted out to sea. In the morning she was picked up (being then quite out of sight of land) by a vessel bound for Canada, and actually taken to Newfoundland, from whence in about a month she arrived home safely, much to the joy of her sorrowing friends, who had given her up as drowned.
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A TRIP TO ST. SAMPSON'S HARBOUR—A HORRID PORCINE MURDER—A VOYAGE ROUND SARK—NEARLY CAPSIZED—TRIP ROUND GUERNSEY—THE PEPPER-BOX—CURIOSITY OF TOURISTS.
From time to time I made many improvements in the "Yellow Boy," and learnt her capabilities, so that in time I took quite long cruises as far as Guernsey, and even to Sark.
It will be remembered that two of the conditions my father imposed upon me, were that I should not land on any other island nor speak to anyone under any pretence whatever, and these rules I rigorously carried out. Many a time passing boatmen hailed me, but a wave of the hand and my finger pointed to my output tongue was the only answer they received, consequently I was called the "Dumb Man of Jethou," or the "Yellow Boy," and as such and by no other name many of the fishermen knew me. Those who did not know my history pitied me as a kind of voiceless castaway or semi-sane being.
My long trips were sometimes undertaken on calm moonlight nights: one, I remember, was to St. Sampson's Harbour, Guernsey. I started about three a.m., and reached the harbour before four o'clock, so that I had a good look around the little haven, and at the shipping before anyone was astir. I moored to the cable of a big brigantine which was lying alongside the wharf ready for her cargo of granite for London. Curb stones, blocks for paving, and broken metal for macadam roads are all shipped here to the amount of several thousand tons weekly, so that the granite quarrying and dressing give occupation to about 2,000 men, women, and children. Granite working and fruit growing are the two great industries of the island, which seems to me to be composed principally of two extremely different materials—granite and glass; at any rate it is not the place for stone throwing.
As I swung on the cable of the big ship, I made myself a cup of coffee; for I always carried a small lamp stove with me, so that I could cook the fish I caught fresh from the sea, or make myself a cup of tea or coffee to wash my meal down with.
I have since found, that within the memory of persons still alive, Guernsey was nearly cut off from Vale Parish by an arm of the sea, which flowed over the salt marshes at high tide, so that all communication was cut off between the two parts of the island except by one little bridge and the ferry boat. The bridge was about 380 yards west of St. Sampson's Church; but at the present day pleasant meadows, houses, and roads take the place of the broad stream of salt water and marshes, which formerly made Guernsey and Vale separate islands twice a day, at the time of high tide.
Just before five o'clock when heads began to peep over bulwarks, and men to appear on the quay, passing to their work, I thought it time to be off, as my strange craft would be sure to attract attention, which I did not court, so I packed up and made snug for sailing. I was only just in time, for a bearded face looked over the bulwarks of the brigantine, and hailed me with a "Good morning, mate!" but I only pointed to my mouth and ears as I unmoored. When I looked up again as I pushed off there were half a dozen merry faces peering over the side at me, and I could see they were surprised at the "Yellow Boy" and her dumb skipper. As I sculled out of the harbour I could hear their remarks and laughter, despite my deaf-mutism, and would gladly have had a chat with them if it had not been for my "rules," for these were the first human voices I had heard close by me for nearly four months.
Away I scudded, taking my way across the Little Russel, past the stone fort, with its one pop-gun on top, which is supposed to dominate the channel, standing as it does on a rocky islet midway between Guernsey and Herm. If a modern warship meant business, the bellicose gunners of this little inkpot-looking fort would have what the French call a mauvais quart d'heure. Arrived home about seven I had all the day before me. One of our poets says,
This I used frequently to do, but always took care to take my piece off the night, so as to prefix the day instead of making it a kind of baccanalian appendix. I have sometimes had my day twenty hours long, from two in the morning till ten at night; but with this I used afterwards to take an antidote in the shape of ten or eleven hours' sleep. On such occasions I always gave my animals a double allowance of food, and if they were improvident enough to consume it, as if it were carnival time, or a period of some great feast, that was their look out, and after their feast came a fast, which at worst only gave them an increased appetite, and did them no real harm.
Speaking of appetite and eating, I must describe my first pig-killing. I felt that I required pork, and the more I thought of it the more I was convinced that I must have it, although a murder had to be committed before I could have it either roast, boiled, or fried. Very well, what easier! There were the two pigs, each about one hundred and forty pounds weight; all I had to do was to kill one. Of course I would set about it at once; but upon reflection I became aware that some courage was required, and that I was totally ignorant of the work before me. However, I sharpened a long knife and went and had a look at the pigs, and the more I looked the less I liked my task; so much so, that after half an hour I decided that I would have tinned mutton for dinner—the pork would be too fresh, and perhaps it might be a dull day to-morrow, and I should want something to do! So the pig received a respite. Next morning when I awoke and considered how and when I should kill the pig, I made the resolve that come what might "that day the pig should die."
After breakfast I again sharpened the knife, as if it had become blunt again in the night, and got up a razor edge on the weapon, and once more proceeded to the stye. I selected my victim, and got one of my legs over the wall of the enclosure; but then my heart failed me, it seemed as if I was about to slay an old friend; indeed, they were old friends, those two piggies, and I had had many a chat with them, in fact, could almost understand their language of grunts.
How was I going to secure my victim before giving the coup de grace? Should he not be offered up on a stool? if so, I had not one to use; but an idea struck me, and that idea I adopted. Over the stye, about ten feet from the ground, the limb of a walnut tree stretched across, and my idea was to drop a line over the bough and make it fast round the porker's snout, haul him up on his hind legs, and bury my knife up to the hilt in his throat about where I thought his heart was situated. Away I went and procured my cord, threw the end over the limb, made a noose, and got it in the pig's mouth and over his nose; then I hauled away amid the most blood-curdling shrieks imaginable. I got him on his hind legs, and then for the first time, as I took the knife from my belt, I knew the full meaning of the word "coward." But the deed had to be done, it would never do to let the animal die of old age while I wanted meat; so, setting my teeth, plunge went the knife, and at the same time in my eagerness to step back, down I fell backward over the other pig, who turned and bit me in the thigh, and then as he rushed away went full butt into his comrade, which broke the rope, and down came the bleeding animal on top of me. I was in an awful state of filth, and as I rose they both came at me again; in fact I might have been seriously hurt had I not used my knife freely on the already-wounded pig. Luckily the other ran away, or it might have been serious for me. In falling a second time I went down with my leg under me, and could not rise; but I drove the knife into the animal's breast with all my might, and then, seizing him round the body with my arms, forced the hilt further in with my chest, but instead of killing the beast, to my horror the point came out of his back as he freed himself and walked away. I rose and got out of the stye as nimbly as I possibly could, and sat down to try and find my face through the accumulation of blood and filth, which having done, I peeped over the stye wall, and found the pig still alive; so, to end the poor thing's misery and my own, I took up my gun and shot him dead. What a relief it was to see him lie stone still in an instant. I vowed never to attempt a porcine murder again, and while I was on the island the other pig had a good time of it, for as governor of Jethou I abolished capital punishment, and if a pig's years were as many as Methuselah's, he might enjoy them all before I should again attempt to put a period to them.
From assassination to boat sailing is a long stride but at least a change.
I performed two long voyages in my little craft; at least they seemed long ones to me at the time, considering the dangers of navigation in these rocky, swift seas.
A PORCINE MURDER.
One trip was to Sark, which lies about six miles south-east of Jethou. I selected a beautiful day in August for this trip, and started at daylight, about four a.m., well provisioned, and with "Begum" to accompany me, for somehow I always felt safer with him beside me. A light south-west wind was blowing, so we reached Sark by six a.m., and mooring the boat at the foot of the Coupée, in a bay called Grand Gréve, I prepared coffee, and had a very leisurely breakfast, wondering at man's capacity for stowage; but that is due to the salt breeze which never yet put a man's liver wrong.
After enjoying the rocking in the bright warm sunshine, and watching the tiny people crossing the Coupée (like the little men crossing a bridge on a willow-patterned plate), three hundred feet overhead, off I started again. I kept about two hundred yards from the precipitous sides of the island, steering so close to the rock Moie de la Bretagne, which rises ninety feet above the sea, that I touched it as we (my boat, dog, and I) glided by.
Next, into the romantic little bay of Port Gorey (just a lovers' paradise), where I let "Begum" have a run ashore while I sketched. Here are situate the mines which were abandoned many years ago as a dismal failure, leaving as a legacy to those fond of sketching some ruinous cottages and huge chimney shafts, which look down on the little Bay of Gorey, as Gog and Magog look down on the visitors to the London Guildhall.
Leaving Gorey we had a good look at the rock called L'Etac de Sark with its satellites, and gave them a wide berth, for their tooth-like appearance is not at all pleasant when but an inch of wood lies between one and a watery grave. L'Etac is the highest isolated rock round the island, rising nearly two hundred feet above low water.
ROCKS AT SOUTH END OF SARK.
To save time, instead of sweeping the bays we made a straight line, so as to pass between Point Derrible and La Couchée, and quickly arrived off what one may suppose the most picturesque spot in the Channel Isles—Creux Harbour, with its stumpy little breakwater pier and cave cutting which gives entrance to the island. The half-dozen fishermen on the quay gave us a cheer as we passed, in answer to a wave from my yellow cap.
On our right were the rocky islets, rising about one hundred feet above the sea, called La Burons, and I passed just in time to see a sheep fall with a plunge and splash into the sea, shot by a man in a boat. This appeared to be the local way of slaughtering the sheep which are put on the rocks to crop the sparse herbage which grows above high-water mark. After a fortnight among the rocks sheep will get so agile and surefooted, that a man has no chance with them in running or climbing, hence the rifle has to be employed to obtain mutton.
After passing Grand Moie (one hundred and seventeen feet)—there are no other rocks of any magnitude—so keeping well out I stripped and tumbled overboard, hanging now to the stern, and then swimming alongside, but never more than a yard away, for fear a current might part my boat and me. "Begum," of course, swam with me, and seemed to keep an eye on his master, for he seldom went far away from me. Whenever I looked round his dear old brown eyes were upon me, as if he would say, "How are you getting on, master?"
We rounded the northernmost point of Sark, a rock called Bec du Nez, about twelve a.m., and with a fair wind ran into Port Jument, where we hove to for dinner; then creeping round Point Moie de Mouton, anchored off the famous Gouilot caves, and took a sketch, but could not by reason of my compact enter them. This was very annoying, for I had heard so much about them and their wonderful pools and anemonæ. Disappointedly hauling in my anchor I steered for the Gouilot Pass, and like a fool nearly lost myself and craft. The distance between Moie de Gouilot and the island of Brechou is only about seventy yards, and as it was now past three o'clock, a swift tide was pouring pell-mell through the channel; this in my indolence I did not think of, and had like an ass taken a turn of the sheet round a cleat, and somehow got it jammed. Away went the "Yellow Boy," like a shot out of a gun, and as we passed through, a big puff of wind came round the end of Brechou, and nearly took the mast out before I could let go the sheet. Another two or three inches more and we must have capsized, and it was only due to the boat being rather heavily laden with cooking apparatus, gun, and cartridges, extra provisions, and the weight of "Begum" (eighty pounds), who was fortunately lying to windward, that we did not heel right over. As it was we were all afloat in each compartment, so I ran into the beautiful bay of Havre Gosselin and anchored. It took an hour to bale out and sponge dry and put everything in order for the run home. After rightsiding, and when over my tea, I cast my eyes upon the beautiful precipitous vale which comes down from a height of about one hundred and fifty feet to the sandy shore. It was an exquisite sight in the full glow of the western sun, and would make a lovely theme for a canvas. It was an emerald valley, through the trees of which the sun glinted and made splendid contrasts of light and shade so beloved by the artist, while at the top of the vale, hung, or appeared to hang, half a dozen fishermen's cottages, such as the aforesaid artist frequently looks for in vain; but here they are, and perhaps my artistic friends may thank me for pointing out these delightful "bits" to them.
I lingered as long as prudence would allow at this enchanting spot, and crept along the lee of Brechou Island to get a peep at its harbour or port, and soon found it, facing due west, a snug little haven enough in calm weather; but the very thought of trying to get into it in a heavy sea was enough to make one shudder. A steep path leads up from the beach to a farmhouse, which stands high upon the island; it is the only habitation in the place.
This island is probably larger than Jethou, but being so near Havre Gosselin is not so lonely, as help may very quickly be summoned in case of accident or illness.
How I should have loved to pay the old farmer and his family a visit to compare notes with him; but it could not be, and even if I had seen him it is doubtful if I could have understood him, as doubtless he spoke Sarkoise French, and with that language I was totally unacquainted. Still, we might have had what the Indians call a "pow-wow," and fraternised to some extent if only by signs.
At a little past six away we steered for home, but with a head wind and rather choppy sea, so there was no help for it but to tack, which made a long trip of it; but to make it short to the reader we reached home about nine p.m., tired, wet, and hungry, for it began to drizzle at sundown. Still, I never enjoyed a trip better than this memorable one of about twenty-five miles, although I was glad after supper to lay my head down on my pillow (and dream it all over again).
At the risk of wearying my readers I must tell them of a trip I took round Guernsey about a month later.
"Begum" went with me, that was now a matter of course, for directly the boat was shoved off, he would jump in and take his seat as if he were pilot: there was no getting him out again.
Well provisioned and provided for casualties, we started at the somewhat late hour of six a.m., and in an hour made the land opposite St. Sampson's harbour, and peeped in on passing, so as to see the busy scene of granite trimming, breaking, and loading, which goes on here from sunrise to sunset all the year round. I could plainly hear the detonations as shots were fired in the quarries, and the dull rumble of the stone, as great masses of granite, which have been unmoved since the creation, were rent asunder and toppled into the quarry below. Vale Castle and Bordeaux harbour, where I anchored, look picturesque from whatever points they are seen, whether from land or sea, and two hours quickly glided by as I sketched the lovely little bits of scenery around me. My plan was to take about half an hour for each sketch, to get the general outline and feeling of color, so that on my return I had plenty to occupy me on a rainy day.
The next point of interest was a little rocky island just past Bordeaux, called Hommet Paradis, which is the scene of the death of Victor Hugo's hero, Gilliatt, as related in "The Toilers of the Sea." He creates a splendid hero, and in the last chapter makes him commit suicide in an impossible manner. He causes his hero to stand in the sea, so that the tide rises up to his feet, his knees, his waist, his shoulders, till, still watching the vessel which bears his love from him through his own stupid act, nothing but his head remains. Then the tide continues to rise, and as the vessel vanishes on the horizon, "the head of Gilliatt disappears. Nothing was visible now but the sea." Surely he might have left a lock of hair or a sigh to mark the spot where he disappeared. I have tried on even a very calm day to stand as Hugo's hero did, and let the tide rise around me, but find the thing an impossibility. The motion of the rising tide would lift one off their feet long before the water rose above their shoulders, and as to making the man stand still and drown, why the idea is ludicrous. But as Hugo created his hero, why should he not be allowed to destroy him as he likes? The book (except the last chapter) is an exquisite piece of word painting, but I always wish he had made a happy end of his hero. I felt this so much when I read it on Jethou (for the third or fourth time) that I actually re-wrote the last chapter for my own edification, and made Gilliatt marry Dérnchette willy-nilly, so that everything ended properly, and the lovers "lived happily ever after."
North Guernsey (called Parish) is very uninteresting, in fact, from the sea it looks a perfectly flat wilderness or desert, and I was glad when the "Yellow Boy" glided into the deep clear blue water of Grand Havre, where we moored for lunch.
Here an incident occurred which might have caused me to go ashore against my wish. While peppering some fish I was eating, the lid came off my little tin box, and the contents were strewn thickly on my food. Some of the condiment I scooped back into the box, and then gave a mighty puff to blow the rest off my plate, when, unluckily blowing against the wind, some of it blew into my eyes, causing me exquisite pain for some time, necessitating my rubbing them.
Had I remembered the Spanish proverb, "Never rub your eyes but with your elbows," I should have saved myself a lot of needless pain, for they became quite inflamed. I bathed them first in tepid water and afterwards in cold, and then sat down in the bottom of the boat with a wet handkerchief over them for an hour. This did them much good, but still they felt very hot and inflamed. I could only just see to pick my way among the shoals of rocks along this west coast, and consequently made very slow progress. Saline, Cobo, and Vazon Bays were all sailed slowly through, and very pretty they were; but it now dawned upon me that I should not see Jethou to-night, as it was already approaching the gloaming of the day. Lowering the sail I put out the sculls, and paddled back to a little inlet I had noticed near Cobo Bay, called Albecq Cove, a rocky little inlet, but nicely sheltered from the south-west wind, then gently blowing. Here I made all snug for the night; put on my kettle to boil water for tea, while with the sail I made a kind of awning to roof in the boat should it come on to rain, and made myself generally comfortable.
At nine p.m. I went to sleep, and at four a.m. was up again getting ready for a start. My eyes felt nearly well again, but still rather weak, so, stripping, I jumped overboard, and had a swim and dive, then dressed, and after a cup of coffee felt no more of the eye soreness.
Between Lihou Island and the shore I moored in shallow water to make a sketch of the remains of what are said to have once been a Priory, standing on the island, and which have since been used as a manufactory of iodine, although it is now discontinued. When my sketch was nearly completed, I became suddenly aware, by reason of the cessation of motion, that my craft was aground. Sure enough so it was, for the tide had left me on the causeway (laid bare at low tide), which serves as a means of communication with the shore for the family who occupy the only house on the eighteen-acre island. I jumped up and seized the oars, and pushed with main and utmost might, but the "Yellow Boy" refused to budge, and I was in a quandary. The tide would not float me for another three or four hours, so to wait would spoil my whole morning, and if I stepped overboard and pushed off, should I not be breaking my contract by landing? I sat down a few minutes and held council with myself, and came to the conclusion that to stand in a foot of water was not landing, so over I jumped, and by dint of a great deal of pushing, hauling, perspiring, and the use of interjections (not profane, for I never use a bad word), I got her off into deep water, and jumped in, resolving never to anchor again in fleet water with a falling tide.
From Lihou I made a bee-line to the Hanois lighthouse, which stands about a mile from the shore, and forcibly reminds one of the Longship Light off Land's End, Cornwall. I passed so close that the two men who were standing on the rocks with a tub between them doing their week's washing, asked me ashore; but I made a gurgling noise in my throat, and pointed to my ears and mouth as I passed on. I meant them to understand by this that I was a deaf mute, but they evidently took me for a lunatic, as I could hear by their remarks.
Rounding Pleinmont Point, upon which stands the dreary, solitary stone house mentioned so frequently in Hugo's "Toilers of the Sea," I caught the south breeze which was now blowing very fresh, and having a lea shore on my left, I had to give it rather a wide berth till I came to La Moye Point, where I turned into Petit Bo Bay for my mid-day meal, that being somewhat sheltered from the wind. It is a lovely little haven, and so I found Icart, Moulin-Huet, and Fermain Bays, with their Titanic surroundings.
While moored in Fermain Bay admiring the beautiful scene, the wooded slopes of the environing hills, the grand rocks, the pretty little semicircular stretch of yellow sandy beach, the puny little martello tower, and other items of interest, I discovered that while my surroundings were interesting me, that I was also interesting my surroundings, for I found I was gradually being surrounded by boats. These contained pleasure parties, to whom the fishermen had evidently told the story of my Crusoe life, and they were therefore anxious to get a near view of me and my curious craft, while "Begum" came in for his share of attention also.
Some of the people wished to speak to me, but I up anchor, and with my usual dumb appeal to my ears and mouth tried to get away, but there was so little wind under the great cliffs that my progress was very slow, so I had to sit, tiller and sheet in hand, while my tormentors said their say, to me and about me, in French, German, and English. One young lady, when she found I was dumb to her enquiries, made a confidant of "Begum," and told him how she would like to see over Crusoe's island, as she called Jethou, but all to no purpose, for, like his master, the dog was dumb also, though not deaf.
I should have bubbled over with pleasure to show the damsel my island and resources; but all I could do was to raise my yellow cap, and expand my mouth horizontally across my face, to signify my approval of her attention to my dog!
As the boat crept out from the headland of Fermain Bay my yellow sail began to draw, and very soon I left my pursuers behind. I had become so used to my queer yellow boat and its yellow sail and flag, that I had long ceased to see anything peculiar in it; but of course to other eyes my craft and its crew were a source of speculation and surprise. After this I never went near Guernsey again during the day-time.
I made a straight run for home now, but somehow felt rather melancholy, and could not get the young lady's face out of my mind. I felt somewhat depressed to think I was fleeing from my fellow-men, as if I had committed some grave offence and could not face them; but when once my foot touched Jethou's shore (about seven p.m.) my thoughts and melancholia vanished. There I was, home again, patting "Eddy's" back, and pulling his long ears, and feeding the pig, and milking the goat, getting ready my tea, and finally stretching my weary legs to take out the kinks, which a couple of days in an open boat will put into any man's limbs.
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HARVEST OPERATIONS—EXPLORE LA CREUX DERRIBLE, AND NEARLY LOSE MY LIFE—CRUSOE ON CRUTCHES—AN EXTRAORDINARY DISCOVERY—KILL A GRAMPUS—OIL ON TROUBLED WATERS—MAKE AN OVERFLOW PUMP.
After my boating adventures I began to think it was high time I should spend a week or two ashore, looking after my crops and the estate generally.
It was now September, and my apples and pears were ripe, and so were the lovely mulberries. The giant tree was a sight to behold, with its bushels of red, purple, and blackish-ruby fruit. I might have gathered enough fruit and vegetables to have supplied a small community throughout the season, so prolific is the soil, and encouraging to vegetation the air.
My potatoes turned out remarkably well—free from blemish, and of good flavour. I must have had two or three tons, and went through the labour of digging them and picking up all the tiny ones, as if I expected or feared a famine. The pig's winter food was assured, at all events.
THE MAIN PATH OF THE ISLAND.
Long previous to this I had cut and gathered my hay crop, which was to form the chief sustenance for "Eddy," and the goat, "Corny," for the next five or six months. This I made into a neat stack close to the house, and thatched thickly with brakes, beside which I covered it with tarpaulin, and girded it about with old chain-cable to prevent its being blown away: also I guarded the base with a surrounding of wire-netting to preserve it from the rabbits.
The crop I took most pleasure in was the barley, which I looked upon as my legitimate harvest; the other crops seeming to be more like gardening than real harvest work. I cut every handful with a reaping hook, which took a long time; but as I had not a scythe this was my only way of cutting it down. True, the Channel Islands mode of harvesting the barley is to pull it up by the roots, a handful at a time, knocking the soil off the roots upon the toe of the boot; but this seemed to me such an un-English method that I would have nothing to do with it.
After it had lain to dry for three or four days I called "Eddy" and my solid-wheeled cart into requisition, and took it, load by load, down the rocky path to the store-house, where I placed it all safely away in the upper chamber. The pathway was so narrow in places that the deviation of a few inches would have caused donkey, load, and cart, to be precipitated scores of feet down the abrupt slope into the sea beneath. To avoid this catastrophe I had to take a pick-axe and shovel, and devote a whole day to widening it in parts, making this, the main path to the top of the island, nowhere less than four feet wide.
I rode home atop of the last load, and at my own door drank my own health, with three cheers for everything and everybody, to which "Flap," the gull gave a kind of croak, by way of approval to my sentiments.
While my harvest was in progress I met with an adventure which might have terminated the harvesting and my existence at the same time.
It was a boisterous day. I was tired of digging potatoes, for my back ached, and I wanted a rest. The Cotills being near the awful crater-like mouth of La Creux Derrible, I thought I would go and explore it, and find out in my own way, all about it; so, dropping my occupation, I wandered slowly down the zig-zag, bracken-hemmed path, lit my pipe, and prepared myself for laziness for an hour.
When I am lazy I like to be thorough. I cannot bear to be half at work and half at play; it is neither one thing nor another. So on this occasion I strolled quietly down the pathway, which zig-zags seven or eight times before it ends abruptly on the brow of a little cliff facing La Fauconnaire. I scrambled down the cliff, across the beach, and over the rocks which form a barrier to the entrance of the cavern leading to the Creux. I noticed that the tide allowed an entrance to be effected, so I climbed in over the gigantic boulders with which the floor of the black cavern is covered, and soon found myself standing on the pebbly floor of the chasm, looking up at its perpendicular sides, and admiring the various ferns, weeds, and flowers which grew in beauty from its many clefts and fissures. Then I saw something move in a hole near my feet, and found it to be a wounded rabbit, which had apparently fallen down the shaft from one of the little ledges a hundred and fifty feet above. The timid little fellow did not attempt to run away, so, picking him up, I examined him and discovered that both his fore legs were broken, and it quite hurt me to see the pitiful look he gave with his bright, prominent, gazelle-like eyes. I fondled the wounded animal, and looking upward intently, presently saw other little rodents hopping round little ledges near the top, which did not appear, from where I stood, to be so wide as their bodies; but there they were, and although I waited expectantly for a long time for a prospective dinner, no others fell upon me. I should have been afraid to shoot at them had I had my gun, for fear of detaching pieces of rock, which, falling from such a height, might have crushed my skull in.
Seeing it was hopeless to think of saving the poor little bunny's life, I gave him the "regulation stretch," and quieted him for ever. It seemed strange that I should have cared for this one's life, and would have saved it if I could, when I was daily trapping and shooting them in all directions.
I think it was his plaintive look that did it, or the consciousness that I was a superior being, and had his little life (to a certain extent) at my command, just as our Father above has mine; but anyway, in his wounded state I knew that death was his best friend. Looking round I at once realized what death meant—death in a terrible form—not to a rabbit, but death to myself—and for a moment I felt paralyzed; for there was the sea creeping in upon me, not ten yards away. The roof of the cavern through which I had to pass, did not appear far above the water at the outer mouth. As I gazed along the tunnel-like aperture the waves continually broke, sending spray to the roof, shutting out much of the daylight seaward, though from the opening above me the sunlit sky shed its light upon me.
Could I find a means of climbing up the perpendicular sides of my prison, if only a few feet? No, I could not see a spot where even a squirrel could ascend. What was to be done? The outlet was now filled to the roof with the incoming tide, which here has a rise of from twenty-five to thirty feet from low to high tide.
The sea reached my feet, and to my excited imagination felt like the fingers of death trying to clutch me. But I am not one to give up without a big struggle, and I made up my mind to attempt to swim round and round the opening, like a rat in a pail, if it came to the worst; but although I am a good swimmer, I doubted my ability to keep afloat for three or four hours, with a heavy sea pouring into the circular cavity, which would presently be filled with a whirlpool of seething, foaming water. I should be knocked and buffeted from side to side against the adamantine rocks till I was dead, then tossed and played with till the tide ran out and carried my body into the vast ocean beyond, as food for fishes. My friends would never hear of me again, and my animals on the island would starve till—yes, why not try?
My soliloquy was cut short by noticing a crag project beyond the others about ten or twelve feet from the ground. Why could I not throw my doubled silk sash over it, and haul myself up? I would try.
The sea was now up to my knees, and was beginning to exert a rotary motion, which, as the tide rose, would increase in velocity. So off came my waist-sash, and after a few attempts it lodged over the boss of rock; then to strengthen it I twisted it like a double rope, and carefully hauled myself up it, hand over hand, till I grasped the protruding rock; but as it only jutted out a few inches there was no possibility of sitting upon it, so I gradually worked my way up by clutching at any inequalities in the surrounding rock till I got one knee upon it, and there I hung, with my fingers bent over a fissure like fish-hooks. How I envied the rabbits overhead, who occasionally dislodged the detritus of rock, which fell upon me. What would I not have given to be back on the ledges of the Cotills, digging potatoes! But there I was, like a rat in a trap, with no means of egress.
In a short time my fingers became cramped, and the sharp rock cut my knee to such an extent that the perspiration broke out clammily on my forehead, as I realised that in a few minutes I must loose my hold and drop into the whirling water beneath, unless I could find some other means of supporting myself. I looked about, and presently found a small hole for my right hand—one deep enough to get a fairly good hold upon—and putting my fingers into this, I gently let my left hand glide down the rock and bring up the sash on that side. This I placed in my mouth, gently changed hands and hauled up the right end of the sash, then, after many attempts, with my mouth and right hand I managed to tie a knot in it so as to form the sash into a short endless band. This I dropped down, and putting my foot in the loop, had a somewhat secure support.
La CREUX DERRIBLE.
There I hung for about three hours, till the tide only left about two feet of water on the upper part of the floor of the cavern. When I attempted to descend I found I could not straighten my right leg because of the constant pressure for such a long time upon the knee-joint, so I waited till the cave floor was almost bare, and then let myself fall down as gently as possible. I was not hurt by the fall, but could not stand, as my knee would not allow itself to be straightened. I sat down for an hour till the tide allowed me to hop out in great pain. Oh, how glad I was to be out of that dreadful place; and even in my crippled state I rejoiced at my liberty! Upon getting to the foot of the Cotills cliff, I whistled for my faithful "Begum," but no "Begum" came, so I sat down and rested, and whistled, and whistled again, till presently away he came tumbling down the breech in the cliffs, to my great delight. After a bit I despatched him to fetch "Eddy," and while that worthy was on his way to my help, managed, with great exertion and risk, to scale the cliff. "Eddy" bore me up the zig-zag, and home by the lower path, and thankful indeed was I to get there.
I bathed my knee, and did all I could for it, but it was many days before I fully recovered the use of the limb; in fact, for three days I used a crutch, which helped me along famously. Fancy a Crusoe on crutches! After this adventure I made up my mind that I was not born to be drowned.
Now, a week after my Creux adventure another incident occurred which greatly influenced my career both as regards my stay on the island and my after life. This was a curious discovery I made quite by accident.
It happened to be a very wet morning when I rose, and looked as if it would continue all day, so I thought I would stay indoors and tidy up my dwelling. I soon prepared my breakfast, and sat down to enjoy it, and as I and my dog were discussing it, I could not help noticing the dilapidated state of the stained and ragged wall-paper. It had probably been on many years, and I recollected that somewhere among my stores I had about a dozen rolls of new paper, so I said to myself, "Why not strip the walls and re-paper the room?"
Good! I soon cleared the room, and with a pail of water and a brush began to soak the old paper and strip it off, when I found, to my surprise, that it was several layers thick—five at least—while underneath all was a kind of netting of some sort of linen-looking fabric. I surmised that this was to give a better adhesive power to the paste, as probably the walls might be damp, although they did not appear to be so. So I tore the various papers off the wall, till I clumsily dragged off a piece of the netting also. The netting came quite off in my hand; a circular piece, about eighteen inches across. I examined it to see what it really was, and to my amazement discovered it was a beautiful lace collar. What a curious way of putting a collar on I thought, and returned to the wall to see if it wore any other finery, and quickly discovered that the four walls were covered all over with lace of beautiful design. There were pieces of all shapes and sizes, and most of it of exquisite workmanship; so, packing it into a trunk with plenty of tobacco among it to keep away insects, I sealed it up, and stood it in a dry place for future consideration.
Even this curious find was not all I discovered, nor the most important, although at the time I made my second discovery I did not attach any value to it. It was this. When I came to the third side of the room, opposite the door, I came upon a sort of niche or cupboard, close up to the ceiling, which had no door, but simply a piece of lace tacked over the aperture, and then thickly papered over some seven or eight times. The opening was about ten inches high, eight inches wide, by six inches deep, and in it stood two leathern drinking cups, capable of containing about a pint each. In the first I took down was a tiny vial and three gem rings, and in the second a small roll of paper, which upon unrolling I found to be about two feet long by four inches wide. Upon it, in very faded ink, was a long list of something in French. It looked like a very heavy washing bill, and I was about to throw it away when I reflected that it might tell something about the lace and the rings, so I rolled it up in a linen bandage, and put it and the other articles in my clothes box, so that some day I might get it deciphered.
All this made me very excited, and I am afraid my thoughts were more on my discoveries than upon my work, for the new paper was very badly put on the walls; it was not hung perpendicularly, and had several gaping joints, which annoyed me all the time I was on the island. But I had not paper enough to recover the walls, as I used the rest for my bed-chamber; therefore it remained, a lasting memorial of my slovenliness and bad workmanship.
About this time I shot a curious specimen—too large for stuffing—a grampus. I was in my boat one day fishing for whiting, when I heard a peculiar noise behind me, and looking round, saw a huge monster rise from the sea about a hundred yards off, and make straight for me. Before getting to the boat he dived again and again, when I saw that it was apparently a young whale. Instinctively I clutched my gun, and as the monster dived within a dozen yards of my boat I watched its rising; up he came, not twenty feet away, whereupon I let him have both barrels at the back of his head, and to my surprise he immediately turned over, belly upward, gave a shudder, and was dead. I took my prize in tow, and found on landing that it was upwards of ten feet long, and must have weighed several hundredweight, for out of the water it was perfectly unmanageable. I had to yoke "Eddy" and myself together, and drag the monster above high water-mark, till I decided what to do with it.
In the morning I took off the skin, which would have made excellent leather, but I had no means of tanning it, so was jettisoned. Beneath the skin was a thick layer of blubber, and this I flayed off, making myself in a pretty pickle, and soon had a large pile of this reeking adipose deposit. Then I brought my copper on the beach, as it was a portable one, and lighting a fire I "tryed," or boiled my blubber down and had several gallons to bottle by the end of the day.
The flesh, I believe, is eatable, but it looked so dark and rich that I was afraid to cook a piece and try it. Grampus is, no doubt, all very well for shipwrecked mariners, but as I had plenty of other food the carcase followed the skin into the sea. As it glided into the rough water the oil exuded, and made a large patch of calm water as smooth as a mill-pond.
This gave me a splendid idea for using the oil. For the future I would always take some with me on my boating expeditions! I did, and put it in a bottle which I kept near the bows, and whenever I got into difficulties near rocks or in a rough sea I could command a calm. This power I used on many occasions, and with invariable success. For instance, if my lines got foul in a choppy sea, I could make the sea calm, and get my gear out of tangle capitally, which, with the pitching of my craft and the "send" of the following waves, would have otherwise been a nearly hopeless task. Another use I put the oil to was to pour some on my fish pond and bring the surface to a perfect calm; then I could study my fish as well as if they were simply under a sheet of glass, while by lying flat down on the margin of the pool, with my face near the water, I could see even the most minute object on the bottom. Looking into this pool was to me like looking into another world. Once when very intent upon the doings of some spider-crabs, the rock upon which I leaned my chest and hands gave way beneath my weight, and I was immediately transformed into a fish, or at any rate, for some moments I was an occupant of the same element and abode as the fish; but I soon scrambled out without even a crab or lobster taking the opportunity of tweaking my nose.
To keep up my supply of oil I was continually on the look out for grampuses or porpoises; but I did not see another of the former, although plenty of the latter were to be seen at times—generally out of range. Two I shot, but I believe when hit they sink. Anyway I did not see either of them again, although the water was coloured with blood, shewing that my aim had been true. I doubly wished to get a porpoise, for the sake of its oil, and also to cut a steak and try its flavour, as I have heard that in some of the ports on the eastern seaboard of the United States, boats are fitted out to capture young porpoises for the hotels, as porpoise calf is considered a delicacy. If cod liver oil is good for consumptives, why not porpoise cutlets?
How I would have liked to place a porpoise in my fish pond! What a rumpus he would have caused? I might have seen him then in his habit as he lived.
My bucket pump frequently took it into its head to go on strike; that is, it would work when it pleased, and be idle if it wished; so I had to supplement it with another kind of apparatus. This contrivance was by using a nine-foot length of four-inch iron piping, which I found in the boat-store, and which had probably belonged to some vessel as the barrel of a pump, or something of the kind. To this I fitted a long wooden piston, having a wooden disk on the end, through which I cut a circular hole, and fitted over it a leathern valve. When I pushed this piston down into the water the valve would open and the water would enter the barrel, and when I drew the piston up the valve would close and draw the water to the mouth of the pipe, where it poured out of a hole a few inches from the top into a wooden trough, which conveyed it into the pool. This meant hard manual labour; but as I only had to use it about once a week it was exercise for me, and I enjoyed it. So did the fish, for they would come to the new water in numbers, either because of the food contained in the water, or because of its coolness in the hot weather, or some other reason that I am not scientist enough to fathom.
My pond was my place of meditation, and often I would dream a couple of hours away, thinking of home and those dear to me. I was like Adam, and sometimes sadly sighed for my Eve; but Eve, otherwise Priscilla, was hundreds of miles away; so I sighed and yawned, and made myself very content with my dog and gun, and other belongings.
A STORM AND A WRECK—THE CASTAWAY—DEAD—A NIGHT OF HORROR—THE BOATHOUSE DESTROYED—A BURIAL AT SEA.
Winter was now rapidly approaching, but before its advent something of a very grave nature happened.
It had been a very blustering day, with occasional showers of sleet, when about four p.m. I found myself standing by the watch-house, holding my hat on; the sun fast setting in a very angry-looking sky.
Evidently a storm was brewing, so I hauled my saucy little "Yellow Boy" high above high-water line, and made everything snug before I went indoors just after darkness had fallen all around. I felt uncomfortable somehow, but could not tell why; but when the time for bed came, and the wind was howling round the house as if it meant to cast it bodily into the sea, I did not for some reason care to turn in; so replenishing my lamp I sat down to read, but the wind shook the casements so roughly that I had to give it up. About midnight, although it was late in the autumn, a flash of lightning lit up the room and startled me; in a few seconds the thunder began to roll, but a long way off.
I sat waiting for another flash, and presently it came, this time with the thunder much nearer. A little while and another more vivid flash, with the thunder close to its heels, upon which I started up on the impulse of the moment and donned my oilskin suit and sou'wester and sallied out into the night; why I knew not. At first the night was pitch dark, but a flash of brilliant lightning seemed to light up the whole island, while at the same time came a crash of thunder, such as I hope never to hear the like of again. It was as if the whole of the granite island had been shivered to atoms by some awful volcanic crash; in fact, I thought it was an earthquake. It only lasted a few seconds, but it seemed to literally paralyze me; so much so, that I thought I should have fallen. Other flashes succeeded, one of them striking a granite block, which it shivered to pieces, although it weighed many tons, and in the shock appeared itself to be broken; that is, it seemed like the first stroke of a smith's hammer upon a red hot piece of iron, when the sparks fly off in every direction. I dare not go along that path, although it was now probably the safest; but as I went towards the beach I could see the lightning run among the wet rocks like phosphorus.
As I stood by the watch-house I fancied I could detect human voices crying for aid, but put it down to my imagination, till I saw, to my horror, not a hundred yards from the shore, a French Chasse-maré, or fishing boat, driving straight for the rocks. I shouted, but the noise of the breaking sea rendered it inaudible five yards off against such a wind. Two of her three masts were gone, and by the next flash I could distinguish several men crouching by the bulwarks, and one at the tiller. Then came a sudden lurch and a dead stop, a tremendous sea crashed on deck, and I knew she had struck the rocks on the beach not fifty yards from where I stood.
Heaven help them, for no earthly power could. I was helpless to render the slightest assistance. I could only pray, and that I did fervently. Doubtless the men would jump into the sea, with the very remote chance of being thrown ashore alive, but that was very improbable.
Still, there was a chance, and I went along the beach, as far as the nature of the rocky shore would allow me, up and down, up and down, like a dog on a race course, till at last, among a lot of cordage and fishing gear, I thought I espied a man cast ashore, and so it was. He was entangled in the mass of wreckage, and appeared dead. As I thought a spark of life might still remain, I tried to disengage him, but try as I would I could not disentangle his legs, so had recourse to my knife to cut away the ropes which held him so fast. This I found a long process, but at length I freed the poor fellow, and carried, or rather half dragged him to the shelter of some rocks, and tried to revive him. His heart still beat, so I ran to the house and got a bundle of straw and some brandy. With the straw I made him a kind of bed, as he was a big man, and the pathway too steep for me to carry him up, and pouring some brandy into his mouth as he lay back I succeeded in causing him to open his eyes, after about twenty minutes. I chafed his hands and did all I could for him, and then ran back to procure more comforts. When I returned he appeared much better; but although he looked at me he appeared unable to speak, although he made a curious unintelligible noise, such as one hears a dumb man make when he wishes to call a person's attention. I noticed that blood was oozing from the corners of his mouth, and signed to him to open it, when, to my horror, I perceived that he had bitten his tongue completely off; hence his inability to articulate. I then proceeded to examine him all over, but when I touched his body he gave great groans, so that I would fain have left him alone, had I not considered it my duty to act the Good Samaritan to him.
I tried to persuade him by signs to rise, that I might support him to the house, but he shook his head and groaned again, when it occurred to me that his legs might be injured, and this I found to be but too true; both his thighs were broken. Then an idea came happily to my mind, I would fetch my donkey and cart, and so endeavour to get him by a circuitous route to the house and put him to bed.
Away I went and harnessed my faithful servant to his wonderful cart, and was back again in about twenty minutes; but that short period had bereft me of my patient, for when I bent over him to see if he were better, I found he was again senseless. Taking up the lantern so that it shed its full light on his face, I at once saw, to my consternation, that he was dead. His eyes were wide open, and his teeth clenched in such a ghastly manner as to make me, for a brief time, tremble with horror to think I was thus left alone with a corpse.
I threw a handful of straw over the awful countenance, and went home in an unutterable frame of mind, as to me death has a most unnerving effect. I laid down on my bed, after taking off my wet oil skins; but sleep would not give me the oblivion I so craved till dawn. Sometimes I dozed off, but only to dream horribly, so that I would awake in a great perspiration, and with my nerves thoroughly unstrung, I would start to my feet and gaze round the room, as if I expected some dread visitor. It was an awful night for me.
About four o'clock in the morning I had just dozed off again, when a loud gust of wind gave my window an extra hard rattle, which woke me. I laid quite still, but presently heard a curious shuffling outside my door, which made me sit upright upon my bed, with my eyes starting from my head, and riveted upon the door, which gradually opened with a peculiar sliding noise, little by little, in jerks, and as it did so I could feel my hair move on my head, as if trying to stand on end with horror, but as it was very long it could only move in locks like writhing eels. Little by little the door opened, and I expected to see my black-bearded dead giant, with the awful face enter. I looked instinctively near the top of the door for the face to show itself; but such an awful visitant I was not doomed to see, though in his place, and much nearer the floor, appeared a black head surmounted by a pair of pointed horns. My eyes seemed as if they would fly from their sockets at this sight, but only for a minute, for a body followed the head, which was perfectly familiar to me—it was my goat.
TOO LATE!
I dropped upon my bed, overcome by the sudden change from horror to joy, and laid there for some minutes, till the faithful Nanny came and licked my ear and brought me back to consciousness again.
I afterward accounted for her unexpected visit by surmising that the wind must have blown open the outer door and let her into the passage, as I had never fastened the doors, although the outer ones were provided with bolts. Then Miss Nanny must have pushed open the door of my room with a series of prods with her nose, and as she did so the old rug, which I always threw at the bottom of the door to keep out the draught, was gradually forced back till she had made sufficient space for the admission of her body.
Oh, the horrors of that night! Shall I ever forget them? No, not if I live to the age of Noah, who ran his grandfather, Methuselah, very close in the race of years.
Day did dawn at last, and putting out my lamp I slept soundly for several hours; in fact, when I awoke it was mid-day, and the sun shining down pleasantly from a blue and cloudless sky.
I breakfasted, fed my animals, and then—then! What of the dead man lying on the beach? I shuddered at the mere idea of going near the poor fellow. I dreaded gazing upon that face again—it must be done, still it need not be done just yet. I would take a walk round the island and see if the storm had thrown up anything else upon the shore, and give myself time to think what I should do with the dead Frenchman. I would walk the reverse way round to that which I usually did; that is to go round past the boathouse, and thus along the east shore. This I did so that I might make the tour of the island before seeing the dreadful man again.
Gun on shoulder, and dog at heel, I started slowly along, but had not gone more than two hundred yards—in fact, had only just got in sight of the boathouse—when I was startled by its changed appearance. The roof was completely gone, and so were huge masses of the walls, the stones of which were scattered thickly about the pathway along which I was walking. I was so excited by the curious appearance that I actually ran towards the building, as if the remaining portion had made up its mind to take its flight after the part which was missing.
When I arrived at the ruins I soon discerned what had taken place. The lightning had struck it last night, and what felt to me like an earthquake was the explosion of my large cask of gunpowder. The boathouse was a complete ruin, and the ruin involved the loss of many things of great value to me, among them being my canoe, most of my lamp oil, paints, and above all, tools.
I was like the prophet Jeremiah weeping over Jerusalem, for I sat down on a rock, and viewing the desolation around me, wept also. Then I dried my wet cheeks, and there and then set about clearing the ruin. But it was a great task, and would take several days before I could clear the debris and recover such goods and chattels as were not totally destroyed. I dug, I heaved over great masses of granite wall which had been tumbled inward and outward by the explosion, I sawed through beams and hacked through rafters with an axe, but my thoughts were not altogether with my work.
Every man has a skeleton in his cupboard, but I had more; I had a whole carcase lying near my house, and this occupied my mind as much as my labour. As I thought of it, so the harder I worked, but to no purpose, and presently, for a spell of breathing, I sat down, axe in hand, upon a beam, and resolved to decide there and then what to do.
During the daylight I did not so much mind my dread visitor, but it was the approaching night I did not like. Why are we so much more in fear of unseen things at night than during the day? Whence comes the spell of dread that night brings beneath its black wing? Does darkness affect the nerves of a blind man as it does that of one with his full visual powers? I think not. Probably day and night are but as one to the blind. Then why does darkness bring a certain awe to ordinary mortals?
But to resume the thread of my narrative.
It appeared to me that there were three courses open to me. I could fire the cannon (I had a few pounds of powder in the store near the house) and summon aid; I could dig a grave and bury the body; or I could hitch on my donkey and drag it down to the water at low tide, and let it be washed whithersoever the sea should take it.
I did not like either of these plans. If I fired the cannon it would bring a possé of curious, prying people to the island, and probably I should be taken away to St. Peter Port upon a coroner's quest. If I buried the man I should always shun that part of the island, and should have a constant memorial of my "night of horror" to depress me; while if I committed the body to the waves I should for ever have it on my conscience that I refused burial to a christian.
Then I thought, why not at dawn in the morning tow the body to Herm, and drag it ashore on the rocks opposite the labourers' cottages, as if it had been flung there by the waves; but a high sea was running, and to my craft the passage of the Percée was impossible, for the current running through it would have swept me away, so that with a weight towing astern I should never have reached Herm, not even if I had taken the corpse as a passenger inside my boat. I lit my pipe to conjure up fresh inspiration, and the charm worked, for I got an idea which seemed to me to fulfil all my requirements from a religious point of view, and it also appeared practicable.
Being a sailor, my idea was to give the poor fellow a sailor's funeral, and bury him myself at sea; and if the sea were not too rough it should take place this very night. It wanted yet an hour of dusk, and I would commence my preparations at once. Having formed my plan, and looked calmly upon my undertaking as one that was a duty for a christian man to perform, the fear in a great measure seemed to leave me.
I hauled down my boat, with "Eddy's" help, to high-water mark, and then went, with as bold a mien as I could muster, to the poor man's side; nerving myself with a prayer I lifted the straw from his face, and was pleased to find that the features had assumed their normal aspect, in fact but for the eyes being partly opened, he looked as if he were asleep. This was a great relief to me, and I now felt firm for the task I had undertaken. I got the body on the cart by great exertion, and transported it to the boat, where I laid it across amidships on two planks and tied a huge rock to each ankle; then, having prepared everything by the time night set in, I left the boat, as I found the tide would not float her away, and went home.
I thought if I waited another four or five hours the swell of the sea would run down with the tide and become calm enough for me to venture out upon my mission. I therefore had a substantial meal, and lay down on my bed to rest, as I was very tired with my day's work and my previous sleepless night.
When I awoke I found that it was past eleven p.m., but on looking out discovered that it was a fine night, though very dark. The sea had greatly quieted down, so taking my lantern and dog, I blundered along down the rocky path with "Eddy" at my heels, till I came to the boat of which I was presently to become the Charon.
With "Eddy's" help the boat was safely, though riskily launched, as my passenger made it very top heavy. Seeing this, I caught "Begum" up and tossed him overboard, so that he might swim ashore again, which I daresay he thought a great liberty and very unkind, but it was a necessity.
Away into the darkness of the night I steered my little bark, among the big hills and vales of the pathless deep. When I had gone as far as I judged it prudent to venture, I thought I would drop anchor and down sail, and accordingly hove the anchor overboard; but somehow the sail would not descend. I had therefore to climb over my passenger and go to the foot of the mast with the lantern to see what was amiss. I found the halyard had jammed in the sheave, and in trying to release it, as the boat slid down the side of a great black wave, she gave a tremendous lurch, and I thought was about to capsize, but she righted quickly as the yard came down on my head by the run. I gathered in the canvas and turned round to see how I could make room for the yard to lie safely when, presto, the dead man was gone! It certainly made my heart give a big thump, but a moment's reflection shewed me that the rolling of my boat had caused the body to shoot off the boards, feet downward, thus saving me the trouble of having to tip it off the planks.
The boat was now in good trim, and I had no fear for her safety nor my own, so placing the lantern on the floor, I sat down and read by its uncertain light the stirring service for the "Burial of those who die at Sea." Fervently I said those prayers as the salt spray, mingling with my tears, ran down my face, and when I pronounced the words, "I therefore commit his body to the deep," I looked around fearfully, as if the man might still be near me, but I saw him no more.
The bell of St. Peter's struck twelve o'clock just as the service was finished, sounding as I had never heard it sound before—so solemn and full of meaning as it tolled out in the still midnight air.
I pulled back with great effort, by reason of the heavy roll of the sea, and landed by the ruined boathouse, with great risk of losing both myself and boat. When safely ashore at last I was thankful to have accomplished my dread mission without accident. As I hauled my boat up I felt as if a tremendous weight had been lifted from my shoulders, and was quite happy again; probably at having acted the Good Samaritan to a man who, like the one in the Bible, was not of the same country or creed as myself.
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