A Boy Crusoe; or, The Golden Treasure of the Virgin Islands

by Harriet L. Smith

  *CHAPTER XV.*

  _*A Hurricane and a Shipwreck*_*.*

  I strove to occupy my mind by digging a large store of yams, andgathering hundreds of cocoanuts, and storing them inside the house foruse when the rain should prevent my going far from the shore. I alsogathered an immense quantity of dead branches for firewood, which Ipiled in the rear of the house, covering it thickly with grass and thenbroad leaves and bark stripped from the trees, to shed the water.

  The rain became almost constant, and after a day of hard work makingsome repairs that I thought necessary on my house, I lay on my couch,secure from the rain and wind, thinking of the past, present and future.The wind had risen rapidly until it had become a gale. I listened tothe rustle and flapping of the leaves of the palm trees, and to the roarof the waves on the shore. At length, through the crevices around thedoor I could see that the night was frequently lighted up by vividflashes of lightning. Heavy thunder began to rumble away back over theforest. The wind increased, and then came a roar which seemed to shakethe earth, and shrieks sounded above the dashing of the surf as the windcame with terrible force.

  I could hear the stockade creak, and see the walls of the house tremble.The rain came in torrents, and swept against the enclosure. Anotherblinding flash and roar, and, above the rattle of the palm leaves Icould hear the crack and crash of breaking and falling branches and treetrunks. A hurricane had broken over the island. I lay appalled, andlistened to the terrible havoc of the tempest. I could not close myeyes.

  It seemed as though the night would never pass; but after long, wearyhours, a faint gray light stole into the house, denoting the approach ofday and the end of that awful night.

  The storm abated a little, but the crashing sounds continued to comefrom the forest. As soon as it was light enough to see plainly Iventured to go outside the stockade. The structure had withstood theforce of the wind; but what a pitiful sight greeted me as I lookedabout. Many of the tall cocoanut palms that had been my friends andcompanions from the first lay prostrate, twisted and broken. The groundwas covered with nuts, leaves and broken branches. The little streamwas full to the very top of the banks.

  The waves roared and thundered on the narrow beach. I turned toward thesea and thought about the night of the wreck.

  But had I gone mad? Had the horrors of the night so affected my mind?I covered my eyes, and in a moment looked again.

  Yes, out toward the bluff, only a few rods from the shore, was a vessel.It lay as though at anchor. I saw that it was a barkentine. The vesselhad not anchored; she was stranded. Then I ran to the shore and waved myarms wildly. I could not go to the bluff on account of the swollenstream. I saw several men walking around the windlass. Then they ranexcitedly along the deck; and then I saw but two men on the deck. Igazed out at the rocking vessel and saw a boat slowly swing around thebow. It was filled with men rowing. I saw the boat pointed toward theshore. I watched it eagerly. The boat seemed to make no headway. But,yes, it was slowly making headway. Then again my heart sank, as throughthe flying spume I saw a mountain of water, a great billow many timeshigher than the stranded ship, come rolling into the bay. I stoodtransfixed with horror, spellbound, as I watched the water, coming withthe speed of the wind, with a roar which every instant became moreterrific. Powerless to aid the poor souls in the boat, strugglingagainst a forlorn hope, in this moment of peril--of instant death, Istood, sick and faint, in contemplation of their fate.

  The great wave now overhung the vessel. Its foam-fringed crest curledover and, with a fearful snarl of anger, like some dread monster withjaws agape, it rushed over the vessel and obscured it from sight.

  I sank to the ground and covered my face, as I wept in anguish. I wasovercome at the awful thought of the catastrophe and by the instant, butfull realization of my great disappointment,--almost at the moment whenrescue from my long, lonely exile seemed near, every hope vanished; andin a few moments I should see the bodies of those whom I hoped wouldsuccor me tossed ashore, bruised and mangled. These thoughts flashedrapidly through my mind as I sank to the earth.

  Yet there was a faint hope, and the flitting thought caused my courageto revive for an instant.

  If the boat, perchance, escaped being swamped and should be borne farenough toward the beach to ground firmly and thus escape being carriedback by the receding water, her passengers might be saved; but if not,her fate was certain, for she would be hurled back upon upon the reefand not a soul would escape.

  I started to my feet and strained my eyes in the direction of the vesselas the huge wave thundered upon the beach, the water rolling far uptoward my house.

  Oh, the awful anguish of that moment! At first I could see no sign ofthe vessel, but as the succeeding wave subsided I caught a glimpse ofthe vessel and saw that her masts, spars and rigging were hanging abouther in a tangled mass of wreck. The hull seemed to remain in about thesame position, it only having careened shoreward. The boat was nowhereto be seen, though I carefully scanned every inch of the swirling water.Perhaps it had been dashed ashore unseen by me, obscured in the cloud offoam.

  I dashed to the beach and ran eagerly along the shore, hoping to findthe boat and to rescue her passengers who, if discovered, would be in astate of insensibility. But my search was fruitless, and I stood againa hopeless castaway, no nearer rescue than when, on that bright morningafter the storm which sent the _Ethelyn Hope_ to the bottom, I regainedconsciousness to find myself alone at this very spot.

  I returned to my house and tried to reconcile myself to mydisappointment, and to adjust my mind to the rapid succession of eventsin which were mingled joy and sorrow, hope and despair, all withinlittle more than a half-hour.

  Fortunately my house, thanks to the thoroughness with which the builder,assisted by nature, had done his work, had withstood the fury of thehurricane and had proved to be impervious to the rain, so I had nodifficulty in making a fire, by which I prepared breakfast, drying mycostume in the meantime.

  The wind had by this time nearly all died away, though the incessantroar of the surf continued on the beach. Hoping still that some onefrom the ill-fated vessel might escape to keep me company, I went againto the beach, walking along toward the creek. Seeing neither a body nora sign of the boat, I started to follow along the bank of the creek withthe intention of crossing it and searching along the shore in front ofthe bluff; but I had taken a few steps only when I stopped inastonishment, for almost at my feet, her shoulders upon a tangle ofreeds, lay the body of a young woman. I thought she must be dead, forshe was very white and her eyes, while open, were fixed, turned upwardtoward the palm leaves. As gently as I could I lifted her and with somedifficulty bore her to a mound at the foot of a palm tree, where I laidher carefully down, resting her drooping head in a natural position.

  Poor girl--for she was but a girl--cast up by the sea, dead; and thatwas all I could ever know, about her. How tenderly I would lay herbeneath the tropical flowers on the bluff, in a grave lined with softgrass!--alas, all I could do.

  Sadly I gazed at the still form, and was about to turn away again towardthe beach when, to my great surprise, I thought I noticed a faint tremoron her face and a movement of her hands. I must be mistaken; but no,again there was a movement--no mistaking it this time--then her eyesclosed. I knelt beside her and held her wrist. It was cold, but Ithought I could detect a tiny flicker of the pulse. Certain now thatlife remained, I lifted her as tenderly as possible. She was veryslight and I could easily bear her weight; but her body was so limp thatI found it difficult to carry her, supporting her head at the same time.

  However, I reached the house, bore her within and laid her upon thecouch. Then I took a piece of the cocoanut cloth, hastily twisting itto make it as soft as possible, and went to work vigorously chafing herwrists and hands, and I was presently rewarded by seeing her open hereyes. Her head was turned slightly away, but with a faint sigh shemoved it toward me. With a wondering gaze
she looked full into my facefor a moment, and then her eyes closed again. She had lostconsciousness, and I again chafed her hands and loosened her wetgarments about her throat. In what must have been a few moments only,but what seemed to me to be hours, she again opened her eyes and I sawher lips move. I bent close to her and made out to catch her words,faintly whispered.

  "Where am I? Is papa here?"

  That was all, for then she swooned away again.

  Her father. How strange it all was, and now for the first time, Iremembered that I had not noticed a woman on the deck of the ship beforethe boat was launched. Satisfied now that her life was safe, I lefther, hurried to the beach and renewed my search, when, directly in frontof my door, with the water washing partly over it, I saw the body of aman resting upon the sand. From his appearance I judged him to be asailor. I dragged the body out of the water. The limbs were rigid andthere was a deep gash on the left temple.

  Feeling certain that life was extinct, I turned and continued my search.I soon picked up an oar, and as I came to the mouth of the creek I sawsomething which caused me to start back, involuntarily. It was a handprotruding from a pile of broken reeds. Hastily I tore away the reeds,revealing the body of a man, which, I noticed, was not dressed like asailor. While I was moving the body away from the edge of the creek Iobserved that the man was rather past middle life, well built and ratherstout, of medium complexion, with thick hair and moustache, both beingsprinkled with gray. His limbs were not rigid, which caused me to hopethat a spark of life remained. I therefore began to treat him as I knewdrowning persons should be dealt with, and shortly, to my great joy, hebegan to revive and was, ere long, able to sit up and look about him.He gazed at me in seeming wonder as though thinking me to be a being ofa different species from himself, which was not to be wondered at inview of my picturesque costume.

  "Oh Marjorie, my poor girl:" were his first words.

  "If you mean your daughter, sir," I said, "she is safe and sound in myhouse yonder." He extended his hand to me, which I took and held whilehe recovered his vitality sufficiently to go to the house.

  "I fear we shall intrude greatly upon the hospitality of yourhousehold;" he said, with a little effort.

  "No fear of that, sir," I made reply; "for the company of yourself anddaughter is certainly a great pleasure to me and I am the sole member ofmy household."

  "Are you alone, then?" he asked.

  "Yes, sir, alone on this island," I answered.

  He was going to say more but I begged him to desist until he wasstronger, and until he was able to proceed to the house.

  He expressed himself as being fully able to do so, and as he seemedanxious about his daughter I assisted him to rise; and, placing an armabout him I supported him as he walked slowly to the house.

  The meeting of father and daughter was a joyous one. The girl was ableto sit up and the color was returning to her cheeks. I could not helpnoticing at a glance that she was very pretty, tall with a slender wellmoulded figure, with brown hair and blue eyes and a clear complexion.She was, I judged, anywhere from seventeen to nineteen years old. Withusual feminine thoughtfulness of her appearance she had already coiledher hair neatly and rearranged her damp garments as well as she wasable. While I stirred up the fire so that my visitors might dry theirclothes, the father related, briefly, the story of their experiences.

  His name was Richard Harborough, of Halifax, Nova Scotia, from whichport the wrecked barkentine, _Three Sisters_, of which he was the owner,hailed. His family consisted of his wife, and three daughters for whomhis vessel was named. He had determined to make a voyage in his vesselfor health and recreation and his daughter Marjorie, a student atDalhousie College, whose health had been impaired by overstudy, hadaccompanied him, the family physician strongly recommending a voyage inthe southern seas as a restorative.

  The _Three Sisters_ had taken out a cargo of general merchandise toDemerara, British Guiana, and after discharging she had proceeded toGreytown, British Honduras, where she had taken in a partial cargo ofmahogany for Boston, proceeding from the Central American coast to SanDomingo where she took on board sufficient logwood to complete hercargo. During heavy weather the seas that came aboard had polluted herfresh-water casks and seeing the island just at dusk they had put intoward it intending to anchor until morning and then to come ashore andrefill her casks. But the storm broke upon her, the rain obscured theisland, and she would have gone ashore had she not struck one of thehidden coral reefs. What prevented her masts from going overboard themen could not explain; but it must have been a miracle, they said. Assoon as the barkentine struck, the anchor was let go, by which it washoped she would be prevented from drifting, until daylight. When firstI saw the men on the deck they were hauling up the anchor, finding thatthe barkentine had not drifted, with the intention of taking it towindward and trying to work her off the reef by heaving at the windlass.But realizing that the vessel was hopelessly aground, and fearing thatshe might break up, it was decided to try to reach the shore, the resultof which attempt I had witnessed.