by Adrien Paul
CHAPTER XIV.
THE TEARS OF CHILDHOOD AND RAIN OF THE TROPICS--CHARLES'SWAIN--VOLUNTARY ENLISTMENT--A LIKENESS GUARANTEED--THE WORLD ATPEACE--ALAS, POOR MARY!--THE SAME BREATH FOR TWO BEINGS--THE FIRSTPILLOW--THE LOGIC OF THE HEART--HOW FRITZ SUPPORTED GRIEF--A GRAIN OFSAND AND THE HIMALAYA.
At daybreak next morning, all the eyes in the colony were busilyengaged in scrutinizing the sky. This time the operation seemedsatisfactory, for immediately afterwards, all the hands were, withequal diligence, occupied in packing up and making other preparationsfor the meditated excursion to the remote dependencies of NewSwitzerland.
The dense veil that the day before had shrouded them in gloom was nowbroken up into shreds. The azure depths beyond had assumed theappearance of a blue tunic bespattered with white, and the cloudssuggested the idea of a celestial shepherd, driving myriads of sheepto the pasture. Children alone can dry up their tears with therapidity of Nature in the tropics; perhaps we may have already madethe remark, and must, therefore, beg pardon for repeating the simile asecond time.
In a short time, the two families were assembled on the lawn, in frontof the domestic trees of Falcon's Nest, ready to start on theirjourney. The cow and the buffalo were yoked to the carriage, which wassnugly covered over with a tarpauling, thrown across circular girds,like the old-fashioned waggons of country carriers. Frank mounted thebox in front; Mrs. Becker, Wolston, and Sophia got inside; whilstErnest and Jack, mounted on ostriches that had been trained and brokenin as riding horses, took up a position on each side, where the doorsof the vehicle ought to have been. These dispositions made, after afew lashes from the whip, this party started off at a brisk rate inthe direction of Waldeck.
It had been previously arranged that one half of the expedition shouldgo by land, and the other half by water, and that on their return thisorder should be reversed, so that both the interior and the coastmight be inspected at one and the same time. The only exception wasmade in favor of Willis, who was permitted both to go and return bysea.
The second party, consisting of Mrs. Wolston, Becker, Mary, and Fritz,started on foot in the direction of the coast. They had not gone farbefore Becker observed a large broadside plastered on a tree.
"What is that?" he inquired.
Nobody could give a satisfactory reply.
"Perhaps," suggested Mrs. Wolston, "paper grows ready made on thetrees of this wonderful country."
"They all approached, and, much to their astonishment, read asfollows:--
"TAKE NOTICE.
"The renowned Professor Ernest Becker is about to enlighten thebenighted inhabitants of this country, by giving a course of lectureson optics. The agonizing doubts that have hitherto envelopedastronomical science, particularly as regards the interiors of themoon and the stars, have arisen from the absurd practice of looking atthem during the night. These doubts are about to be removed for everby the aforesaid professor, as he intends to exhibit the luminaries inquestion in open day. He will also place Charles's Wain[C] at thedisposal of any one who is desirous of taking a drive in the MilkyWay. The learned professor will likewise stand for an indefiniteperiod on his head; and whilst in this position will clearlydemonstrate the rotundity of the earth, and the tendency of heavybodies to the centre of gravity. In order that the prices of admissionmay be in accordance with the intrinsic value of the lectures, nothingwill be charged for the boxes, the entrance to the pit will be gratis,and the gallery will be thrown open for the free entry of the people.The audience will be expected to assume a horizontal position. Personsgiven to snoring are invited to stay at home."
"I rather think I should know that style," remarked Willis.
"It is a pity Ernest is not with us," observed Fritz; "but the placardwill keep for a day or two."
"They say laughing is good for digestion," remarked Mrs. Wolston; "andif so, it must be confessed that Master Jack is a useful member of thecolony in a sanitary point of view."
The party had scarcely advanced a hundred paces farther, when Fritzcalled out,
"Holloa! there is another broadside in sight."
This one was headed by a smart conflict between two ferocious lookinghussars, and was couched in the following terms:--
"PROCLAMATION.
"All the inhabitants of this colony capable of bearing arms, who arepanting after glory, are invited to the Fig Tree, at Falcon's Nest,there to enrol themselves in the registry of Fritz Becker, who isabout to undertake the conquest of the world. Nobody is compelled tovolunteer, but those who hold back will be reckoned contumacious, andwill be taken into custody, and kept on raw coffee till such time asthey evince a serious desire to enlist. There will be no objection torecruits returning home at the end of the war, if they come out of italive. Neither will there be any objections to the survivors bringingback a marshal's baton, if they can get one. The Commander-in-chiefwill charge himself with the fruits of the victory. Surgicaloperations will be performed at his cost, and cork legs will be servedout with the rations. In the event of a profitable campaign, amonument will be erected to the memory of the defunct, by way of areward for their heroism on the field of battle."
"Well, Fritz," said Becker, with a merry twinkle in his eye, "you weresorry that Ernest was not present to hear the last placard read;fortunately, you are on the spot yourself this time."
Fritz tried to look amused, but the attempt was a decided failure.
When the party had gone a little farther, another announcement mettheir gaze; all were curious to know whose turn was come now; as theyapproached, the following interesting question, in large letters,stared them in the face:--
"HAVE YOU HAD YOUR PORTRAIT TAKEN YET?
"It has been reserved for the present age, and for this prolificterritory, so exuberant in cabbages, turnips, and other potables, toproduce the greatest of living artists--real genius--who is destinedto outshine all the Michel Angelos and Rubenses of former ages. Notthat these men were entirely devoid of talent, but because they coulddo nothing without their palette and their paint brushes. Now thatillustrious _maestro_, Mr. Jack Becker, has both genius and ingenuity,for he has succeeded in dispensing with the aforementioned troublesomeauxiliaries of his art. His plan which has the advantage of not beingpatented, consists in placing his subject before a mirror, where he ispermitted to stay till the portrait takes root in the glass. By thisnovel method the original and the copy will be subject alike to theravages of time, so that no one, on seeing a portrait, will be liableto mistake the grand-mother for the grand-daughter. Likenessesguaranteed. Payments, under all circumstances, to be made in advance.
"Ah, well," said Becker, laughing, "it appears that the scapegrace hasnot spared himself."
"I hope there is not a fourth proclamation," said Mrs. Wolston.
"There are no more trees on our route, at all events," repliedBecker.
"Glad to hear that; Jack must respect the avocation chosen by Frank,since he sees nothing in it to ridicule."
As they drew near the Jackal River, in which the pinnace was moored,Mary and Fritz were a little in advance of the party.
"Are you really determined to turn the world upside down, MasterFritz?"
"At present, Miss Wolston, I am myself the sum and substance of myarmy, in addition to which I have not yet quite made up my mind."
"It is an odd fancy to entertain to say the least of it."
"Does it displease you?"
"In order that it could do that, I must first have the right to judgeyour projects."
"And if I gave you that right?"
"I should find the responsibility too great to accept it. Besides, adetermination cannot be properly judged, without putting one's self inthe position of the person that makes it. You imagine happinessconsists in witnessing the shock of armies, whilst I fancy enjoymentto consist in the calm tranquility of one's home. You see our views offelicity are widely different."
"Not so very widely different as you seem to think, Miss Wolston. Asyet my victories are _nil_; I have not yet come
to an issue with myallies; to put my troops on the peace establishment I have only todisembody myself, and I disembody myself accordingly."
"Oh!" exclaimed Mary, "you are very easily turned from your purpose."
"Easily! no, Miss Wolston, not easily; you cannot admit that anobjection urged by yourself is a matter of no moment, or one that canbe slighted with impunity."
"Ah! here we are at the end of our journey."
"Already! the road has never appeared so short to me before."
"What!" exclaimed Mrs. Wolston, coming up to her daughter, "you appearvery merry."
"Well, not without reason, mamma; I have just restored peace to theworld."
The pinnace was soon launched, and, under the guidance of Willis, wasmaking way in the direction of Waldeck. The sea had not yet recoveredfrom the effects of the recent storm; it was still, to use anexpression of Willis, "a trifle ugly." Occasionally the waves wouldcatch the frail craft amidships, and make it lurch in an uncomfortablefashion, especially as regarded the ladies, which obliged Willis tokeep closer in shore than was quite to his taste. The briny elementstill bore traces of its recent rage, just as anger lingers on thehuman face, even after it has quitted the heart.
Whilst the pinnace was in the midst of a series of irregulargyrations, a shrill scream suddenly rent the air, and at the sameinstant Fritz and Willis leaped overboard.
_Mary had fallen into the sea_.
Becker strained every nerve to stay the boat. Mrs. Wolston fell on herknees with outstretched hands, but, though in the attitude of prayer,not a word escaped her pallid lips.
The two men floated for a moment over the spot where the poor girl hadsunk; suddenly Fritz disappeared, his keen eye had been of servicehere, for it enabled him to descry the object sought. In a few secondshe rose to the surface with Mary's inanimate body in his left arm.Willis hastened to assist him in bearing the precious burden to theboat, and Becker's powerful arms drew it on deck.
The joy that all naturally would have felt when this was accomplishedhad no time to enter their breasts, for they saw that the body evincedno signs of life, and a fear that the vital spark had already fledcaused every frame to shudder. They felt that not a moment was to belost; the resources of the boat were hastily put in requisition;mattresses, sheets, blankets, and dry clothes were strewn upon thedeck. Mrs. Wolston had altogether lost her presence of mind, and coulddo nothing but press the dripping form of her daughter to her bosom.
"Friction must be tried instantly," cried Becker; "here, take thisflannel and rub her body smartly with it--particularly her breast andback."
Mrs. Wolston instinctively followed these directions.
"It is of importance to warm her feet," continued Becker; "but,unfortunately, we have no means on board to make a fire."
Mrs. Wolston, in her trepidation, began breathing upon them.
"I have heard," said the Pilot, "that persons rescued from drowningare held up by the feet to allow the water to run out."
"Nonsense, Willis; a sure means of killing them outright. It is notfrom water that any danger is to be apprehended, but from want of air,or, rather, the power of respiration. What we have to do is to try andrevive this power by such means as are within our reach."
The Pilot, meantime, endeavored to introduce a few drops of brandybetween the lips of the patient. Fritz stood trembling like an aspenleaf and deadly pale; he regarded these operations as if his own lifewere at stake, and not the patient's.
"There remains only one other course to adopt, Mrs. Wolston," saidBecker, "you must endeavor to bring your daughter to life by means ofyour own breath."
"Only tell me what to do, Mr. Becker, and, if every drop of blood inmy body is wanted, all is at your disposal."
"You must apply your mouth to that of your daughter, and, whilst hernostrils are compressed, breathe at intervals into her breast, and soimitate the act of natural respiration."
Stronger lungs than those of a woman might have been urgent under suchcircumstances, but maternal love supplied what was wanting in physicalstrength.
The Pilot had turned the prow of the pinnace towards home; he feltthat, in the present case at least, the comforts of the land werepreferable to the charms of the sea.
"This time it is not my breath, but her own," said Mrs. Wolston.
"Her pulse beats," said Becker; "she lives."
"Thank God!" exclaimed Fritz and Willis in one voice.
A quarter of an hour had scarcely yet elapsed since the patient'sfirst immersion in the sea; but this brief interval had been an age ofagony to them all. As yet, her head lay quiescent on her mother'sbosom, that first pillow, common alike to rich and poor, at thethreshold of life.
The%signs of returning animation gradually became more and moreevident; at length, the patient gently raised her head, and glancedvacantly from one object to another; then, her eyes were turned uponherself, and finally rested upon Fritz and Willis, who still boreobvious traces of their recent struggle with the waves. Here sheseemed to become conscious, for her body trembled, as if some terriblethought had crossed her mind. After this paroxysm had passed, shefeebly inclined her head, as if to say--"I understand--you have savedmy life--I thank you." Then, like those jets of flame that are nosooner alight than they are extinguished, she again became insensible.
As soon as they reached the shore, Fritz hastened to Rockhouse, andmade up a sort of palanquin of such materials as were at hand, intowhich Mary was placed, and thus was conveyed, with all possible careand speed, on the shoulders of the men to Falcon's Nest. A few hoursafterwards she returned to consciousness and found herself in a warmbed, surrounded with all the comforts that maternal anxiety andBecker's intelligent mind could suggest.
Fritz was unceasing in his exertions; no amount of fatigue seemed towear him out. As soon as he saw that everything had been done for theinvalid that their united skill could accomplish, he bridled anuntrained ostrich, and rode or rather flew off in search of the landportion of the expedition.
"Mary is saved," he cried, as he came up with them.
"From what?" inquired Wolston, anxiously.
"From the sea, that was about to swallow her up."
"And by whom?"
"By Willis, myself, and us all."
The same evening, the two families were again assembled at Falcon'sNest, and thus, for a second time, the long talked-of expedition wasbrought to an abrupt conclusion.
"Ah," said Willis, "we must cast anchor for a bit; yesterday it wasthe sky, to-day it was the sea, to-morrow it will be the land,perhaps--the wind is clearly against us."
How often does it not happen, in our pilgrimage through life, that wehave the wind against us? We make a resolute determination, we set outon our journey, but the object we seek recedes as we advance; it is nouse going any farther--the wind is against us. We re-commence ten,twenty, a hundred times, but the result is invariably the same. How isthis? No one can tell. What are the obstacles? It is difficult to say.Perhaps, we meet with a friend who detains us; perhaps, a recollectionthat our memory has called, induces us to swerve from the path--theblind man that sung under our window may have something to do withit--perhaps, it was merely a fly, less than nothing.
It is not our minor undertakings, but rather our most importantenterprises, that are frustrated by such trifles as these; for it mustbe allowed that we strive less tenaciously against an obstacle thatdebars us from a pleasure, than against one that separates us from aduty--in the one case we have to stem the torrent, in the other wesail with the current.
When we observe some deplorable instance of a wrecked career--when wesee a man starting in life with the most brilliant prospectscollapsing into a dead-weight on his fellows, we are apt to supposethat some insurmountable barrier must have crossed his path--someHimalaya, or formidable wall, like that which does not now separateChina from Tartary; but no such thing. Trace the cause to its source,and what think you is invariably found? A grain of sand; theunfortunate wretch has had the wind against him--nothing mor
e.
Rescued from the sea, Mary Wolston was now a prey to a raging fever.Ill or well, at her age there is no medium, either exuberant health orcomplete prostration; the juices then are turbulent and the blood isardent.
Somehow or other, a good action attaches the doer to the recipient;so, in the case of Fritz, apart from the brotherly affection which hehad vaguely vowed to entertain for the two young girls that had sounexpectedly appeared amongst them, he now regarded the life of Maryas identical with his own, and felt that her death would inevitablyshorten his own existence; "for," said he to himself, "should she die,I was too late in drawing her out of the water." In his tribulationand irreflection, he drew no line between the present and the past,but simply concluded, that if he saved her too late, he did not saveher at all. Hope, nevertheless, did not altogether abandon him. Hewould sometimes fancy her restored to her wonted health, abounding inlife and vigour. Then the pleasing thought would cross his mind that,but for himself, that charming being, in all probability, would havebeen a tenant of the tomb. Would that those who do evil only knew thedelight that sometimes wells up in the breasts of those who do good!
The first day of Mary's illness, Fritz bore up manfully. On thesecond, he joined his father and brothers in their field labors; but,whilst driving some nails into a fence, he had so effectually fixedhimself to a stake that it was only with some difficulty that he couldbe detached. The third day, at sunrise, he called Mary's dog,shouldered his rifle, and was about to quit the house.
"Where are you going?" inquired Jack.
"I don't know--anywhere."
"Anywhere! Well, I am rather partial to that sort of place; I will gowith you."
"But I must do something that will divert my thoughts. There may bedanger."
"Well I can help you to look up a difficulty."
Every day the two brothers departed at sunrise, and returned togetheragain in the evening. Mrs. Becker felt acutely their sufferings. Shewatched anxiously for the return of the two wanderers, and generallywent a little way to meet them when they appeared in the distance.
"She does not run to meet us," said Fritz, one day; "that is a badsign."
"Not a bit of it," replied Jack. "If she had any bad news to give us,she would not come at all."
FOOTNOTES:
[C] The constellation known in astronomy as the _Great Bear_ is in,some parts of England termed the _Plough_, and in others _Charles'sWain_ or _Waggon_. It may be added, that the same constellation ispopularly known in France as the _Chariot of David_.