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Strange Adventures of Eric Blackburn

<h3>Chapter Seven.</h3> Billy tells how we became wrecked. “My word,” began Billy, “I shan’t forget in a hurry the awful look of the sky, that night, when you ordered me to come below, and I heard you slam the companion doors behind me, and draw over the slide. I felt certain that, with a sky blazing like that, when it was gettin’ on toward the middle of the night, something dreadful was goin’ to happen; and—it did, didn’t it? I was frightened enough, to start with, but when you battened me down I tell you, Mr Blackburn, I was fairly terrified, and two or three times I climbed half-way up the companion stairs, intendin’ to shout to you to let me out; then I thought again that you wouldn’t have sent me below if you hadn’t known it was the best place for me, so I crept back again and curled up on the locker cushions. And then came the hurricane. I heard it, even before it struck the ship; and when it hit her, and I felt her shiver, I made sure that it was all up with us, and I knelt down on the cabin floor and kept on sayin’ my prayers, over and over again. “I was still sayin’ ’em when I suddenly heard the slide pushed back and the companion doors flung open; there was a scuffling of feet on the stairs, and I heard Enderby and Chips warnin’ one another to be careful. Then they came into the cabin, carryin’ you between ’em; and they laid you on the cabin table, and said you’d met with an accident; and I saw that your head was bleedin’. They undressed you, all in a hurry, put you in your bunk, told me to look after you, and then rushed up on deck again, shuttin’ me in, just as you did. “You were insensible then, so I got to work and hunted up some stuff to make bandages with. Then I opened the medicine-chest and got out the book of instructions; and while I was trying to find out what was the proper thing to do I heard the bosun and Chips shoutin’ something. I listened, tryin’ to hear what they were shoutin’ about; and then, above the noise of the wind, I heard another sound, like—well, I can hardly describe it, but you can hear it now, the roar of the surf on the reef. It grew louder, and louder still, until it was—well, just deafenin’; then I felt the ship hove, first up and then down; then she touched something, but didn’t seem to hit it very hard; I felt a blow, like a heavy sea hittin’ her; I heard the fall and rush of water on her deck, and a crash that sounded as if the mainmast had gone over the side, then she struck again—harder—three or four times, heeling over until she seemed to be on her beam-ends, and flinging me right across the cabin floor; and all the time I could hear that she was bein’ swept by awfully heavy seas. But after a bit things got rather more quiet. I felt that we were aground, but still rolling heavily, and I could hear at every roll a sort of crunching sound, as though the planking of the ship’s bottom was grinding upon something; but the seas weren’t coming aboard now nearly so heavy nor so often as they were, and after a time they didn’t come aboard at all; the rocking motion eased up, and I thought, from the sound, that it didn’t seem to be blowin’ quite so hard. “All this time you were in your bunk, insensible; but as soon as I was able to stand without bein’ flung down again I got some water from the pantry filter, and bathed your head. There was a nasty cut in it, and it was still bleedin’, but I washed it as well as I could, and made a pad that I bound tightly over it, accordin’ to the directions I found in the book. And then I think I must have fallen asleep, for I don’t remember anything more happenin’ until I awoke and saw the sun shinin’ through your scuttle and the cabin skylight. “You were still insensible, so I bathed your head afresh, put a new dressing on it, and then went on deck to have a look round. My word! Mr Blackburn, I was astonished when I pushed open the companion slide and looked out. The ship is ashore on a reef; a total wreck; both masts gone by the board; bulwarks carried away; decks swept, and everything but the galley gone—and you and I are all that are left of the crew.” “Good Heavens, Billy, you surely don’t mean to say that all hands except ourselves are lost!” I exclaimed, in horrified tones. “Yes, I do, Mr Blackburn,” protested the boy; “and you wouldn’t be surprised if you had heard—as I did—the tremendous seas that swept the ship when she first hit the reef. I shouldn’t have been a bit surprised if she had gone to pieces right then. It’s no wonder that the decks were clean swept.” “No wonder, indeed,” I agreed. “You say that we are ashore on a reef, Billy. What sort of a reef is it; just ordinary rocks, or—?” “No,” answered Billy; “it’s not just jagged, seaweed-covered rocks, but all white, almost like marble, a little bit rough and uneven, but not like the rocks we get at home. This reef seems to be all in a piece, like a great, tremendously thick wall—” “Yes,” I interrupted; “I think I understand. It is probably a coral reef. How far does it extend?” “How far?” reiterated Billy. “Why,”—pointing—“it comes from away over there, as far as you can see, and stretches right across to as far as you can see on the other side.” “Ay,” I agreed; “a coral reef, without a doubt. And how much water is there alongside?” “Not more than two or three feet, at most,” answered Billy. “We’re standin’ a lot higher out of the water than we were when afloat. When I first noticed it I thought it was because it happened to be low water when I looked; but it isn’t that, because it’s always pretty nearly the same. I don’t think there’s a difference of more than just a few inches between high and low water.” “In that case,” I commented, as much to myself as to my companion, “the explanation probably is that when we hit the reef the sea was heaped up by the gale considerably above its usual level, and that it has now subsided again, leaving us nearly high and dry. Now, Billy, is there any land in sight? If so, what does it look like?” Billy considered for a moment or two, evidently conjuring up a mental picture. Then he answered: “First, about two miles off, there’s a beach of very white sand. Then there’s a lot of trees—palm trees, I think they must be—growing all along the inner edge of the beach, and, behind them, bushes and more trees—thousands—millions of ’em, of all sorts of colours—white, yellow, green, red, purple—but I don’t remember seein’ any that were really black.” “Is there a mountain on the island?” I asked. “Well—no; not exactly what you’d call a mountain, I think; but there are plenty of fairly high hills,” answered Billy. “And how big do you suppose the island to be?” I asked. “How big?” repeated Billy. “Oh, really I don’t know; quite a big place, I’d say. It stretches athwart our bows as far as you can see, both ways.” “The dickens it does!” I exclaimed. “That is very extraordinary. I cannot understand it. At that rate the island must be at least thirty miles long! Yet there is no such island shown on the chart; no island of any sort, indeed, large or small, just where we are. Yet I have been under the impression that these seas have been thoroughly surveyed. The main fact, however, and the one most important to us is that we are here, with very little prospect, I fear, of getting away again for some time. I must turn out and begin to get busy; there is evidently no time to waste. Billy, please find me my clothes.” Billy regarded me gravely; then shook his head. “That’s all very well, Mr Blackburn,” he said, “but what’s the good of talkin’ about turnin’ out, when you haven’t even got strength enough to lift yourself up in bed? No, sir, please don’t attempt to do anything so foolish; you’d only fall, and hurt yourself worse. What you’ve got to do is to get well as quick as ever you can; and the best way to do that is to stay where you are until you’ve got your strength again. And I’ll help you all I can; I’ll feed you up, and look after you, and tell you everything that happens; but please—please don’t be in too great a hurry; this is a case of ‘the more hurry, the less speed’; I’m sure of it. Only trust yourself to me, Mr Blackburn, and I’ll get you well as quick as ever I can.” “By Jove, Billy,” said I, “I believe you will. You have done marvellously well, thus far. Why, boy, you must have been born to become a great physician; and you talk more wisely than many lads of twice your age. Yes; I will trust myself absolutely to you. But, now that I come to look at you, your eyes are so heavy with sleeplessness that you seem scarcely able to keep them open. How have you managed for sleep while I have been ill?” “Oh,” answered Billy, “I’ve done pretty well. When you’ve been quiet for a bit I’ve stretched myself out on the sofa and slept until you woke me with your ravin’; but now that you’ve come to your senses I expect I shall be able to get a really good rest.” “I hope you will,” said I. “And there’s no time like the present; so, as I am feeling very comfortable just now, and much inclined to sleep, go and turn in, and get that really good rest that you spoke of. Leave open the door of my state-room, and that of your own, and if I need anything I’ll call out for you.” Thanks to the tireless attention with which Billy tended me, and the meticulous care with which he followed the instructions set forth in the book of directions attached to the ship’s medicine-chest, for such a case as mine, I was not again troubled with delirium, nor did I experience any other set-back of any kind; on the contrary, I made such excellent progress that within the fortnight I was able to be up and about again, although it was something of a task to climb the companion stairway to the deck, even with the help of Billy. But, that task once achieved, I made rapid headway, and was soon my old self again. Upon my first visit to the deck after my illness I sustained something of a shock. My last view of the brigantine had shown her all ataunto, and although what Billy had told me ought to have prepared me for the change that met my gaze, I must confess that I was distinctly taken aback when upon my first emergence from the companion I beheld both masts gone by the board, all the bulwarks swept away, and the deck hampered by a confused mass of raffle consisting of the mainmast with all attached stretched fore and aft, while the foremast had gone over the bows, its head resting upon the coral while its splintered lower extremity projected some ten feet above the knightheads. The fore topmast had carried away close to the cap and, with the yards, was afloat under the bows, fast to the wreck by the standing and running rigging. The life-boat that had served me so well had practically disappeared, only the keel and a fragment of the sternpost remaining; but, by a miracle, the galley remained intact, and was in regular use by Billy for the preparation of our meals. Almost my first care was to sound the well, in the hope that by some stroke of marvellous good fortune the hull might have, so far, escaped serious damage and be capable of being floated again; but, of course, that was too much to expect. I found nearly two and a half feet of water in the well, which was about the depth alongside; the inference therefore was that, upon striking the reef, the ship had been bilged, or some of her planks had been started, and that therefore, if it depended upon my efforts alone, she would never float again. I next turned my attention to externals. Helped by Billy, I tottered to the skylight and seated myself upon the cover, from which I obtained a clear view of the whole reef, from horizon to horizon. It appeared to be a typical example of a coral barrier reef, running roughly parallel to the shore of the island, from north to south; but it seemed to vary greatly in width, for while in some places I judged it to be not more than five or six yards wide, it was nearly or quite three hundred yards wide where the brigantine lay. And most fortunate was it for us that it was so; for if, after striking, the ship had been driven over the inner edge of the reef to the comparatively deep water of the lagoon, she would assuredly have gone down, taking us with her. As it was, there was a space of only about a fathom between our forefoot and the inner edge of the reef, as I ascertained later. The great wall of surf, fifty feet high, breaking perpetually upon the outer face of the reef, and stretching mile after mile to north and south of us, was a wonderful sight, especially in the early morning, when the sun’s rays struck the great cloud of spray, creating a most beautiful and perfect rainbow. That same wall of spray, by the way, effectually excluded all view of the ocean outside, so that even if a whole navy happened to be passing, we should never catch the smallest glimpse of it, so long as we remained aboard the wreck. It was evident, therefore, that the first step toward an escape from our present predicament must be the transfer of ourselves and everything of value to the island. By a natural transition of thought I next turned my attention to the land which stretched north and south athwart the bows of the wreck. A great belt of smooth water, averaging some two miles in width, lay between the reef and the beach of dazzling white sand, both extending to right and left as far as the eye could see. To the south the land seemed to dip out of sight below the horizon, but northward it appeared to terminate in a high headland which I estimated to be about eighteen miles distant; I considered, therefore, that the island must measure, from north to south, at least forty miles. What it might measure from east to west was not to be easily determined, but the summits of the most distant range of hills appeared to be nearly or quite twenty miles distant; and how much land lay beyond them it was of course impossible to guess. The description of the island which Billy had given me, several days earlier, was quite a good one. There was the far-stretching ribbon of white beach, bordered on its inshore margin by innumerable cocoa-nut palms, beyond which the land rose gently, in irregular folds, to the hills in the rear, every inch of soil, apparently, being clothed with vegetation of some sort, chiefly trees, many of which seemed—as seen through the ship’s telescope—to be smothered in blossoms of varied and most beautiful hues. I subjected every foot of the land in sight to a most rigorous scrutiny through the lenses of the telescope, in search of some indication of inhabitants, but could find nothing; no cleared and cultivated land, no smoke, suggestive of dwellings, no canoes on the beach, no moving figures; to all appearances, indeed, the gulls, pelicans, and other aquatic birds that wheeled and screamed over the lagoon and dived into its waters might be the only life on the island. “Well, Mr Blackburn, what do you think of it?” demanded Billy, when at length I lowered the telescope from my eye. “It is wonderful,” I declared. “I am amazed. I simply cannot understand it. That island is quite a big place. There is nothing in the least like it shown on the chart anywhere near the spot which it actually occupies, yet how it has so far escaped the notice of the hydrographers is a puzzle to me. The matter, however, which most concerns us is that, viewed from here at least, it appears to be a sufficiently desirable place, on which we ought, without difficulty, to find ample means of subsistence. How does the idea of living ashore there for a time appeal to you?” “Oh, I say!” exclaimed Billy, “that will be splendid! Just think of the jolly times we shall be able to have, huntin’ wild beasts, fightin’ the savages, and havin’ all sorts of splendid adventures.” “Well,” I said, “some of those things may possibly come our way, but we really want no excitements of that sort, Billy boy. Of course, we are all right where we are, so long as the wreck holds together and remains habitable; but the trouble is that we don’t know how long that may be. Another such gale as placed us here might send such a tremendous sea pouring in over the reef as to wash the old hooker off the reef into the lagoon, where she would quickly founder—which is the reason why I consider that we must establish ourselves ashore as soon as possible.” “Oh!” exclaimed Billy, “I never thought of that. Do you really think, Mr Blackburn, that there’s a chance of the wreck sinking?” “It is quite possible,” I replied, “although I have known cases where stranded wrecks have remained for years undisturbed. Still the possibility must be recognised and provided against, wherefore it is of the utmost importance that we lose no time in getting ourselves safely settled ashore.” “Then, what do you propose to do, sir?” demanded Billy. “The moment that I am strong enough to do any work,” said I, “I shall start to build some sort of a craft in which we can ferry ourselves across the lagoon and explore the island in search of a suitable spot upon which to pitch our camp. After that, everything will depend upon the conditions on which we find it possible to live. But one condition is of paramount importance; we must establish ourselves where a clear view of the open sea can be obtained, and from which it will be possible to signal to any ship that may heave in sight. And now, Billy, do you happen to know whether there is any timber aboard, out of which it would be possible for me to build a boat without the preliminary necessity to start breaking up the Yorkshire Lass?” “Why—yes—I—I believe—there is,” answered Billy hesitatingly. “I can’t say for certain, but I seem to remember hearin’ Dad say something about buyin’ some planks as a stand-by in case of repairs of any sort bein’ needed; and I believe I saw some planks and scantlin’ down in the fore hold a bit later, while the ship was still in dock. If the timber’s aboard anywhere, that’s where you’ll find it, Mr Blackburn.” “Thanks, Billy,” said I. “As soon as I am strong enough to lift a hatch we will explore the fore hold, and see what is to be found there.” Nearly a fortnight elapsed before I was strong enough to open the fore hatchway, even with Billy’s help; but when at length we managed it we were amply rewarded for our labour, an abundant supply of planks and scantling for our utmost need being found. I took careful stock of it all, recording the nature and dimensions of each piece of scantling and plank, and then, providing myself with paper, pencil, and scale, I set to work to scheme out a craft that should be easy to build, fast, stiff and weatherly under canvas, a fairly good sea-boat, and of light draught. It was a decidedly ambitious scheme for an individual who, up to then, had attempted nothing bigger than a three-foot model; but even that experience was, I soon found, of great value to me; and ultimately I evolved a design that I believed would approach within a reasonable distance of my requirements. This done, I routed out the carpenter’s chest of tools from the forecastle, cleaned and sharpened them, got up on deck such timber as I immediately required, and started work, with Billy as an enthusiastic helpmate. <hr> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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