"Man's rich with little, were his judgments true;
Nature is frugal, and her wants are few;
These few wants answered bring sincere delights,
But fools create themselves new appetites."
Young.
It would have been madness in Mark to pursue his intention. A boat, or
craft of any sort, once adrift in such a gale, could not have been
overtaken by even one of those islanders who are known to pass half
their lives in the water; and the young man sunk down on the rock,
almost gasping for breath in the intensity of his distress. He felt more
for Bob than he did for himself, for escape with life appeared to him to
be a forlorn hope for his friend. Nevertheless, the sturdy old sea-dog
who was cast adrift, amid the raging of the elements, comported himself
in a way to do credit to his training. There was nothing like despair in
his manner of proceeding; but so coolly and intelligently did he set
about taking care of his craft, that Mark soon found himself a curious
and interested observer of all he did, feeling quite as much of
admiration for Bob's steadiness and skill, as concern for his danger.
Betts knew too well the uselessness of throwing over his kedge to
attempt anchoring. Nor was it safe to keep the boat in the trough of the
sea, his wisest course being to run before the gale until he was clear
of the rocks, when he might endeavour to lie-to, if his craft would bear
it. In driving off the Reef the Neshamony had gone stern foremost,
almost as a matter of course, vessels usually being laid down with their
bows towards the land. No sooner did the honest old salt find he was
fairly adrift, therefore, than he jumped into the stern-sheets and put
the helm down. With stern-way on her, this caused the bows of the craft
to fall off; and, as she came broadside to the gale, Mark thought she
would fall over, also. Some idea could be formed of the power of the
wind, in the fact that this sloop-rigged craft, without a rag of sail
set, and with scarce any hamper aloft, no sooner caught the currents of
air abeam, than she lay down to it, as one commonly sees such craft do
under their canvas in stiff breezes.
It was a proof that the Neshamony was well modelled, that she began to
draw ahead as soon as the wind took her fairly on her broadside, when
Betts shifted the helm, and the pinnace fell slowly off. When she had
got nearly before the wind, she came up and rolled to-windward like a
ship, and Mark scarce breathed as he saw her plunging down upon the
reefs, like a frantic steed that knows not whither he is rushing in his
terror. From the elevated position he occupied, Mark could see the ocean
as far as the spray, which filled the atmosphere, would allow of
anything being seen at all. Places which were usually white with the
foam of breakers, could not now be distinguished from any of the raging
cauldron around them, and it was evident that Bob must run at hazard.
Twenty times did Mark expect to see the pinnace disappear in the foaming
waves, as it drove furiously onward; but, in each instance, the light
and buoyant boat came up from cavities where our young man fancied it
must be dashed to pieces, scudding away to leeward like the sea-fowl
that makes its flight with wings nearly dipping. Mark now began to hope
that his friend might pass over the many reefs that lay in his track,
and gain the open water to leeward. The rise in the ocean favoured such
an expectation, and no doubt was the reason why the Neshamony was not
dashed to pieces within the first five minutes after she was washed off
her ways. Once to leeward of the vast shoals that surrounded the crater,
there was the probability of Bob's finding smoother water, and the
chance of his riding out the tempest by bringing his little sloop up
head to sea. The water through which the boat was then running was more
like a cauldron, bubbling and boiling under some intense heat produced
by subterranean fires, than the regular, rolling billows of the ocean
when piled up by gales. Under the lee of the shoals this cauldron would
disappear, while the mountain waves of the open ocean could not rise
until a certain distance from the shallow water enabled them to 'get
up,' as sailors express it. Mark saw the Neshamony for about a quarter
of an hour after she was adrift, though long before the expiration of
even that brief period she was invisible for many moments at a time, in
consequence of the distance, her want of sail, her lowness in the water,
and the troubled state of the element through which she was driving. The
last look he got of her was at an instant when the spray was filling the
atmosphere like a passing cloud; when it had driven away, the boat could
no longer be seen!
Here was a sudden and a most unexpected change for the worse in the
situation of Mark Woolston! Not only had he lost the means of getting
off the island, but he had lost his friend and companion. It was true,
Bob was a rough and an uncultivated associate; but he was honest as
human frailty could leave a human being, true as steel in his
attachments, strong in body, and of great professional skill. So great,
indeed, was the last, that our young man was not without the hope he
would be able to keep under the lee of the shoals until the gale broke,
and then beat up through them, and still come to his rescue. There was
one point, in particular, on which Mark felt unusual concern. Bob knew
nothing whatever of navigation. It was impossible to teach him anything
on that subject. He knew the points of the compass, but had no notion of
the variations, of latitude or longitude, or of anything belonging to
the purely mathematical part of the business. Twenty times had he asked
Mark to give him the latitude and longitude of the crater; twenty times
had he been told what they were, and just as often had he forgotten
them. When questioned by his young friend, twenty-four hours after a
lesson of this sort, if he remembered the figures at all, he was apt to
give the latitude for the longitude, or the longitude for the latitude,
the degrees for the minutes, or the minutes for the degrees. Ordinarily,
however, he forgot all about the numbers themselves. Mark had in vain
endeavoured to impress on his mind the single fact that any number which
exceeded ninety must necessarily refer to longitude, and not to
latitude; for Bob could not be made to remember even this simple
distinction. He was just as likely to believe the Reef lay in the
hundred and twentieth degree of latitude, as he was to fancy it lay in
the twentieth. With such a head, therefore, it was but little to be
expected Bob could give the information to others necessary to find the
reef, even in the almost hopeless event of his ever being placed in
circumstances to do so. Still, while so completely ignorant of
mathematics and arithmetic, in all their details, few mariners could
find their way better than Bob Betts by the simple signs of the ocean.
He understood the compass perfectly, the variations excepted; and his
eye was as true as that of the most experienced artist could be, when it
became necessary to judge of the colour of the water. On many occasions
had Mark known him intimate that the ship was in a current, and had a
weatherly or a lee set, when the fact had escaped not only the officers,
but the manufacturers of the charts. He judged by ripples, and sea-weed,
and the other familiar signs of the seas, and these seldom failed him.
While, therefore, there was not a seaman living less likely to find the
Reef again, when driven off from its vicinity, by means of observations
and the charts, there was not a seaman living more likely to find it, by
resorting to the other helps of the navigator. On this last peculiarity
Mark hung all his hopes of seeing his friend again, when the gale should
abate.
Since the moment when all the charge of the ship fell upon his
shoulders, by the loss of Captain Crutchely, Mark had never felt so
desolate, as when he lost sight of Bob and the Neshamony. Then, indeed,
did he truly feel himself to be alone, with none between him and his God
with whom to commune. It is not surprising, therefore, that one so much
disposed to cherish his intercourse with the Divine Spirit, knelt on the
naked rock and prayed. After this act of duty and devotion, the young
man arose, and endeavoured to turn his attention to the state of things
around him.
The gale still continued with unabated fury. Each instant the water rose
higher and higher on the Reef, until it began to enter within the
crater, by means of the gutters that had been worn in the lava, covering
two or three acres of the lower part of its plain. As for the Rancocus,
though occasionally pitching more heavily than our young man could have
believed possible behind the sea-wall, her anchor still held, and no
harm had yet come to her. Finding it impossible to do any more, Mark
descended into the crater, where it was a perfect lull, though the wind
fairly howled on every side, and got into one of the South American
hammocks, of which there had been two or three in the ship, and of which
he had caused one to be suspended beneath the sort of tent he and poor
Bob had erected near the garden. Here Mark remained all the rest of that
day, and during the whole of the succeeding night. But for what he had
himself previously seen, the roar of the ocean on the other side of his
rocky shelter, and the scuffling of the winds about the Summit, he might
not have been made conscious of the violence of the tempest that was
raging so near him. Once and awhile, however, a puff of air would pass
over him; but, on the whole, he was little affected by the storm, until
near morning, when it rained violently. Fortunately, Mark had taken the
precaution to give a low ridge to all his awnings and tent-coverings,
which turned the water perfectly. When, therefore, he heard the
pattering of the drops on the canvas, he did not rise, but remained in
his hammock until the day returned. Previously to that moment, however,
he dropped into a deep sleep, in which he lay several hours.
When consciousness returned to Mark, he lay half a minute trying to
recall the past. Then he listened for the sounds of the tempest. All was
still without, and, rising, he found that the sun was shining, and that
a perfect calm reigned in the outer world. Water was lying in spots, in
holes on the surface of the crater, where the pigs were drinking and the
ducks bathing. Kitty stood in sight, on the topmost knoll of the Summit,
cropping the young sweet grass that had so lately been refreshed by
rain, disliking it none the less, probably, from the circumstance that a
few particles of salt were to be found among it, the deposit of the
spray. The garden looked smiling, the plants refreshed, and nothing as
yet touched in it, by the visitors who had necessarily been introduced.
Our young man washed himself in one of the pools, and then crossed the
plain to drive out the pigs and poultry, the necessity of husbanding his
stores pressing even pain fully on his mind. As he approached the
gate-way, he saw that the sea had retired; and, certain that the animals
would take care of themselves, he drove them through the hole, and
dropped the sail before it. Then he sought one of the ascents, and was
soon on the top of the hill. The trades had returned, but scarce blew in
zephyrs; the sea was calm; the points in the reefs were easily to be
seen; the ship was at rest and seemingly uninjured, and the whole view
was one of the sweetest tranquillity and security. Already had the pent
and piled waters diffused themselves, leaving the Reef as before, with
the exception that those cavities which contained rain-water, during
most of the year, now contained that which was not quite so palatable.
This was a great temporary inconvenience, though the heavy showers of
the past night had done a good deal towards sweetening the face of the
rock, and had reduced most of the pools to a liquid that was brackish
rather than salt. A great many fish lay scattered about, on the island,
and Mark hastened down to examine their qualities.
The pigs and poultry were already at work on the game that was so
liberally thrown in their way, and Mark felt indebted to these
scavengers for aiding him in what he perceived was now a task
indispensable to his comfort. After going to the ship, and breaking his
fast, he returned to the crater, obtained a wheelbarrow, and set to work
in earnest to collect the fish, which a very few hours' exposure to the
sun of that climate would render so offensive as to make the island next
to intolerable. Never in his life did our young friend work harder than
he did all that morning. Each load of fish, as it was-wheeled into the
crater, was thrown into a trench already prepared for that purpose, and
the ashes were hauled over it, by means of the hoe. Feeling the
necessity of occupation to lessen his sorrow, as well as that of getting
rid of pestilence, which he seriously apprehended from this inroad of
animal substances, Mark toiled two whole days at this work, until fairly
driven from it by the intolerable effluvium which arose, notwithstanding
all he had done, on every side of the island. It is impossible to say
what would have been consequences had not the birds come, in thousands,
to his relief. They made quick work of it, clearing off the fish in
numbers that would be nearly incredible. As it was, however, our young
hermit was driven into the ship, where-he passed a whole week, the
steadiness of the trades driving the disagreeable odours to leeward. At
the end of that time he ventured ashore, where he found it possible to
remain, though the Reef did not get purified for more than a month.
Finding a great many fish still remaining that neither hog nor bird
would touch, Mark made a couple of voyages to Loam Island, whence he
brought two cargoes of the deposit, and landed at the usual place. This
he wheeled about the Reef, throwing two or three-shovels full on each
offensive creature, thus getting rid of the effluvium and preparing a
considerable store of excellent manure for his future husbandry. It may
be as well said here, that, at odd times, he threw these little deposits
into large heaps, and subsequently wheeled them into the crater, where
they were mixed with the principal pile of compost that had now been,
for months, collecting there.
It is a proof of the waywardness of human nature that we bear great
misfortunes better than small ones. So it proved with Mark, on this
occasion; for, much as he really regarded Bob, and serious as was the
loss of his friend to himself, the effects of the inundation occupied
his thoughts, and disturbed him more, just at that time, than the
disappearance of the Neshamony. Nevertheless, our young man had not
forgotten to look out for the missing boat, in readiness to hail its
return with joy. He passed much of the week he was shut up in the ship
in her topmast-cross-trees, vainly examining the sea to leeward, in the
hope of catching a distant view of the pinnace endeavouring to bear up
through the reefs. Several times he actually fancied he saw her; but it
always turned out to be the wing of some gull, or the cap of a distant
breaker. It was when Mark had come ashore again, and commenced the toil
of covering the decayed fish, and of gathering them into piles, that
these smaller matters supplanted the deep griefs of his solitude.
One of the annoyances to which our solitary man found himself most
subject, was the glare produced by a burning sun on rocks and ashes of
the drab colour of the crater. The spots of verdure that he had
succeeded in producing on the Summit, not only relieved and refreshed
his eyes, but they were truly delightful as aids to the view, as well as
grateful to Kitty, which poor creature had, by this time, cropped them
down to a pretty short herbage. This Mark knew, however, was an
advantage to the grass, making it finer, and causing it to thicken at
the roots. The success of this experiment, the annoyance to his eyes,
and a feverish desire to be doing, which succeeded the disappearance of
Botts, set Mark upon the project of sowing grass-seed over as much of
the plain of the crater as he thought he should not have occasion to use
for the purposes of tillage. To work he went then, scattering the seed
in as much profusion as the quantity to be found in the ship would
justify. Friend Abraham White had provided two barrels of the seed, and
this went a good way. While thus employed a heavy shower fell, and
thinking the rain a most favourable time to commit his grass-seeds to
the earth, Mark worked through the whole of it, or for several hours,
perspiring with the warmth and exercise.
This done, a look at the garden, with a free use of the hoe, was the
next thing undertaken. That night Mark slept in his hammock, under the
crater-awning, and when he awoke in the morning it was to experience a
weight, like that of lead in his forehead, a raging thirst, and a
burning fever. Now it was that our poor solitary hermit felt the
magnitude of his imprudence and the weight of the evils of his peculiar
situation. That he was about to be seriously ill he knew, and it behoved
him to improve the time that remained to him, to the utmost. Everything
useful to him was in the ship, and thither it became indispensable for
him to repair, if he wished to retain even a chance for life. Opening an
umbrella, then, and supporting his tottering legs by a cane, Mark
commenced a walk of very near a mile, under an almost perpendicular sun,
at the hottest season of the year. Twenty times did the young man think
he should be compelled to sink on the bare rock, where there is little
question he would soon have expired, under the united influence of the
fever within and the burning heat without. Despair urged him on, and,
after pausing often to rest, he succeeded in entering the cabin, at the
end of the most perilous hour he had ever yet passed.
No words of ours can describe the grateful sense of coolness, in spite
of the boiling blood in his veins, that Mark Woolston experienced when
he stepped beneath the shade of the poop-deck of the Rancocus. The young
man knew that he was about to be seriously ill and his life might depend
on the use he made of the next hour, or half-hour, even. He threw
himself on a settee, to get a little rest, and while there he
endeavoured to reflect on his situation, and to remember what he ought
to do. The medicine-chest always stood in the cabin, and he had used its
contents too often among the crew, not to have some knowledge of their
general nature and uses. Potions were kept prepared in that depository,
and he staggered to the table, opened the chest, took a ready-mixed dose
of the sort he believed best for him, poured water on it from the
filterer, and swallowed it. Our mate ever afterwards believed that
draught saved his life. It soon made him deadly sick, and produced an
action in his whole system. For an hour he was under its influence, when
he was enabled to get into his berth, exhausted and literally unable any
longer to stand. How long he remained in that berth, or near it
rather--for he was conscious of having crawled from it in quest of
water, and for other purposes, on several occasions--but, how long he
was confined to his cabin, Mark Woolston never knew. The period was
certainly to be measured by days, and he sometimes fancied by weeks. The
first probably was the truth, though it might have been a fortnight.
Most of that time his head was light with fever, though there were
intervals when reason was, at least partially, restored to him, and he
became painfully conscious of the horrors of his situation. Of food and
water he had a sufficiency, the filterer and a bread-bag being quite
near him, and he helped himself often from the first, in particular; a
single mouthful of the ship's biscuit commonly proving more than he
could swallow, even after it was softened in the water. At length he
found himself indisposed to rise at all, and he certainly remained
eight-and-forty hours in his berth, without quitting it, and almost
without sleeping, though most of the time in a sort of doze.
At length the fever abated in its violence, though it began to assume,
what for a man in Mark Woolston's situation was perhaps more dangerous,
a character of a low type, lingering in his system and killing him by
inches. Mark was aware of his condition, and though: of the means of
relief. The ship had some good Philadelphia porter in her, and a bottle
of it stood on a shelf over his berth. This object caught his eye, and
he actually longed for a draught of that porter. He had sufficient
strength to raise himself high enough to reach it, but it far exceeded
his powers to draw the cork, even had the ordinary means been at hand,
which they were not. There was a hammer on the shelf, however, and with
that instrument he did succeed in making a hole in the side of the
bottle, and in filling a tumbler. This liquor he swallowed at a single
draught. It tasted deliciously to him, and he took a second tumbler
full, when he lay down, uncertain as to the consequences. That his head
was affected by these two glasses of porter, Mark himself was soon
aware, and shortly after drowsiness followed. After lying in an uneasy
slumber for half an hour, his whole person was covered with a gentle
perspiration, in which condition, after drawing the sheet around him,
the sick man fell asleep.
Our patient never knew how long he slept, on this all-important
occasion. The period certainly included part of two days and one entire
night; but, afterwards, when Mark endeavoured to correct his calendar,
and to regain something, like a record of the time, he was inclined to
think he must have lain there two nights with the intervening day. When
he awoke, Mark was immediately sensible that he was free from disease.
He was not immediately sensible, nevertheless, how extremely feeble
disease had left him. At first, he fancied he had only to rise, take
nourishment, and go about his ordinary pursuits. But the sight of his
emaciated limbs, and the first effort he made to get up, convinced him
that he had a long state of probation to go through, before he became
the man he had been a week or two before. It was well, perhaps, that his
head was so clear, and his judgment so unobscured at this, his first
return to consciousness.
Mark deemed it a good symptom that he felt disposed to eat. How many
days he had been altogether without nourishment he could not say, but
they must have been several; nor had he received more than could be
obtained from a single ship's biscuit since his attack. All this came to
his mind, with a distinct recollection that he must be his own physician
and nurse. For a few minutes he lay still, during which he addressed
himself to God, with thanks for having spared his life until reason was
restored. Then he bethought him, well as his feeble state would allow,
of the course he ought to pursue. On a table in the cabin, and in sight
of his berth, through the state-room door, was a liquor-case, containing
wines, brandy, and gin. Our sick man thought all might yet go well,
could he get a few spoonsfull of an excellent port wine which that case,
contained, and which had been provided expressly for cases of sickness.
To do this, however, it was necessary to obtain the key, to open the
case, and to pour out the liquor; three things, of which he distrusted
his powers to perform that which was the least difficult.
The key of the liquor-case was in the draw of an open secretary, which,
fortunately, stood between him and the table. Another effort was made to
rise, which so far succeeded as to enable the invalid to sit up in his
bed. The cool breeze which aired the cabin revived him a little, and he
was able to stretch out a hand and turn the cock of the filterer, which
he had himself drawn near his berth, while under the excitement of
fever, in order to obtain easy access to water. Accidentally this
filterer stood in a draught, and the quart or two of water that had not
yet evaporated was cool and palatable; that is, cool for a ship and such
a climate. One swallow of the water was all Mark ventured on, but it
revived him more than he could believe possible. Near the glass into
which he had drawn the water, lay a small piece of pilot bread, and this
he dropped into the tumbler. Then he ventured to try his feet, when he
found a dizziness come over him, that compelled him to fall back on his
berth. Recovering from this in a minute or two, a second attempt
succeeded better, and the poor fellow, by supporting himself against the
bulkheads, and by leaning on chairs, was enabled to reach the desk. The
key was easily obtained, and the table was next reached. Here Mark sunk
into a chair, as much exhausted as he would have been, previously to his
illness, by a desperate effort to defend life.
The invalid was in his shirt, and the cool sea-breeze had the effect of
an air-bath on him. It revived him in a little while, when he applied
the key, opened the case, got out the bottle by using both hands, though
it was nearly empty, and poured out a wine-glass of the liquor. With
these little exertions he was so much exhausted as almost to faint.
Nothing saved him, probably, but a sip of the wine which he took from
the glass as it stood on the table. It has been much the fashion, of
late years, to decry wine, and this because it is a gift of Providence
that has been greatly abused. In Mark Woolston's instance it proved,
what it was designed to be, a blessing instead of a curse. That single
sip of wine produced an effect on him like that of magic. It enabled him
soon to obtain his tumbler of water, into which he poured the remainder
of the liquor. With the tumbler in his hand, the invalid next essayed to
cross the cabin, and to reach the berth in the other state-room. He was
two or three minutes in making this passage, sustained by a chair, into
which he sunk not less than three times, and revived by a few more sips
of the wine and water. In this state-room was a bed with clean cool
linen, that had been prepared for Bob, but which that worthy fellow had
pertinaciously refused to use, out of respect to his officer. On these
sheets Mark now sank, almost exhausted. He had made a happy exchange,
however, the freshness and sweetness of the new bed, of itself, acting
as delicious restoratives.
After resting a few minutes, the solitary invalid formed a new plan of
proceeding. He knew the importance of not over-exerting himself, but he
also knew the importance of cleanliness and of a renovation of his
strength. By this time the biscuit had got to be softened in the wine
and water, and he took a piece, and after masticating it well, swallowed
it. This was positively the first food the sick and desolate young man
had received in a week. Fully aware of this, he abstained from taking a
second mouthful, though sorely pressed to it by hunger. So strong was
the temptation, and so sweet did that morse taste, that Mark felt he
might not refrain unless he had something to occupy his mind for a few
minutes. Taking a small swallow of the wine and water, he again got on
his feet, and staggered to the drawer in which poor Captain Crutchely
had kept his linen. Here he got a shirt, and tottered on as far as the
quarter-deck. Beneath the awning Mark had kept the section of a
hogshead, as a bathing-tub, and for the purpose of catching the
rain-water that ran from the awning, Kitty often visiting the ship and
drinking from this reservoir.
The invalid found the tub full of fresh and sweet water, and throwing
aside the shirt in which he had lain so long, he rather fell than seated
himself in the water. After remaining a sufficient, time to recover his
breath, Mark washed his head, and long matted beard, and all parts of
his frame, as well as his strength would allow. He must have remained in
the water several minutes, when he managed to tear himself from it, as
fearful of excess from this indulgence as from eating. The invalid now
felt like a new man! It is scarcely possible to express the change that
came over his feelings, when he found himself purified from the effects
of so long a confinement in a feverish bed, without change, or nursing
of any sort. After drying himself as well as he could with a towel,
though the breeze and the climate did that office for him pretty
effectually, Mark put on the clean, fresh shirt, and tottered back to
his own berth, where he fell on the mattress, nearly exhausted. It was
half-an-hour before he moved again, though all that time experiencing
the benefits of the nourishment taken, and the purification undergone.
The bath, moreover, had acted as a tonic, giving a stimulus to the whole
system. At the end^of the half hour, the young man took another mouthful
of the biscuit, half emptied the tumbler, fell back on his pillow, and
was soon in a sweet sleep.
It was near sunset when Mark lost his consciousness on this occasion,
nor did he recover it until the light of day was once more cheering the
cabin. He had slept profoundly twelve hours, and this so much the more
readily from the circumstance that he had previously refreshed himself
with a bath and clean linen. The first consciousness of his situation
was accompanied with the bleat of poor Kitty. That gentle animal,
intended by nature to mix with herds, had visited the cabin daily, and
had been at the sick man's side, when his fever was at its height; and
had now come again, as if to inquire after his night's rest. Mark held
out his hand, and spoke to his companion, for such she was, and thought
she was rejoiced to hear his voice again, and to be allowed to lick his
hand. There was great consolation in this mute intercourse, poor Mark
feeling the want of sympathy so much as to find a deep pleasure in this
proof of affection even in a brute.
Mark now arose, and found himself sensibly improved by his night's rest,
the washing, and the nourishment received, little as the last had been.
His first step was to empty the tumbler, bread and all. Then he took
another bath, the last doing quite as much good, he fancied, as his
breakfast. All that day, the young man managed his case with the same
self-denial and prudence, consuming a ship's biscuit in the course of
the next twenty-four hours, and taking two or three glasses of the wine,
mixed with water and sweetened with sugar. In the afternoon he
endeavoured to shave, but the first effort convinced him he was getting
well too fast.
It was thrice twenty-four hours after his first bath, before Mark
Woolston had sufficient strength to reach the galley and light a fire.
In this he then succeeded, and he treated himself to a cup of good warm
tea. He concocted some dishes of arrow-root and cocoa, too, in the
course of that and the next day, continuing his baths, and changing his
linen repeatedly. On the fifth day, he got off his beard, which was a
vast relief to him, and by the end of the week he actually crawled up on
the poop, where he could get a sight of his domains.
The Summit was fast getting to be really green in considerable patches,
for the whole rock was now covered with grass. Kitty was feeding quietly
enough on the hillside, the gentle creature having learned to pass the
curtain at the gate, and go up and down the ascents at pleasure. Mark
scarce dared to look for his hogs, but there they were rooting and
grunting about the Reef, actually fat and contented. He knew that this
foreboded evil to his garden, for the creatures must have died for want
of food during his illness, had not some such relief been found. As yet,
his strength would not allow him to go ashore, and he was obliged to
content himself with this distant view of his estate. The poultry
appeared to be well, and the invalid fancied he saw chickens running at
the side of one of the hens.
It was a week later before Mark ventured to go as far as the crater. On
entering it, he found that his conjectures concerning the garden were
true. Two-thirds of it had been dug over by the snouts of his pigs,
quite as effectually as he could have done it, in his vigour, with the
spade. Tops and roots had been demolished alike, and about as much
wasted as had been consumed, Kitty was found, _flagrante delictu_,
nibbling at the beans, which, by this time, were dead ripe. The peas,
and beans, and Indian corn had made good picking for the poultry; and
everything possessing life had actually been living in abundance, while
the sick man had lain unconscious of even his own, existence, in a state
as near death as life.
Mark found his awning standing, and was glad to rest an hour or two in
his hammock, after looking at the garden. While there the hogs entered
the crater, and made a meal before his eyes. To his surprise, the sow
was followed by ten little creatures, that were already getting to be of
the proper size for eating. A ravenous appetite was now Mark's greatest
torment, and the coarse food of the ship was rather too heavy for him.
He had exhausted his wit in contriving dishes of flour, and pined for
something more grateful than salted beef, or pork. Although he somewhat
distrusted his strength, yet longing induced him to make an experiment.
A fowling-piece, loaded with ball, was under the awning; and freshening
the priming, the young man watched his opportunity when one of the
grunters was in a good position, and shot it in the head. Then cutting
its throat with a knife, he allowed it to bleed, when he cleaned, and
_skinned it_. This last operation was not very artistical, but it was
necessary in the situation of our invalid. With the carcase of this pig,
which was quite as much as he could even then carry back to the ship,
though the animal was not yet six weeks old, Mark made certain savoury
and nourishing dishes, that contributed essentially to the restoration
of his strength. In the course of the ensuing month three more of the
pigs shared the same fate, as did half-a-dozen of the brood of chickens
already mentioned, though the last were not yet half-grown. But Mark
felt, now, as if he could eat the crater, though as yet he had not been
able to clamber to the Summit.