CHAPTER III
On the wreck--Efforts to kindle a fire--My flagstaff--Clothingimpossible--Growing corn in turtles' blood--My house of pearl shells--Howthe pelicans fished for me--Stung by a "sting-rae"--My amusements--Apeculiar clock--Threatened madness--I begin to build a boat--An appallingblunder--Riding on turtles--Preaching to Bruno--Canine sympathy--Asail--How I got fresh water--Sending messages by the pelicans--Awonderful almanac--A mysterious voice of hope--Human beings at last.
That morning I made my breakfast off raw sea-gulls' eggs, but was unableto get anything to drink. Between nine and ten o'clock, as the tide wasthen very low, I was delighted to find that it was possible to reach thewreck by walking along the rocks. So, scrambling aboard, I collected asmany things as I could possibly transfer ashore. I had to take dangerousheaders into the cabin, as the whole ship's interior was now full ofwater, but all I could manage to secure were a tomahawk and my bow andarrows, which had been given me by the Papuans. I had always taken akeen interest in archery, by the way, and had made quite a name formyself in this direction long before I left Switzerland. I also took outa cooking-kettle. All these seemingly unimportant finds were of vitalimportance in the most literal sense of the phrase, particularly thetomahawk and the bow, which were in after years my very salvation timeafter time.
I was very delighted when I secured my bow and arrows, for I knew thatwith them I could always be certain of killing sea-fowl for food. Therewas a stock of gunpowder on board and a number of rifles and shot-guns,but as the former was hopelessly spoiled, I did not trouble about either.With my tomahawk I cut away some of the ship's woodwork, which I threwoverboard and let drift to land to serve as fuel. When I did eventuallyreturn to my little island, I unravelled a piece of rope, and then triedto produce fire by rubbing two pieces of wood smartly together amidst theinflammable material. It was a hopeless business, however; a full half-hour's friction only made the sticks hot, and rub as hard as I would Icould not produce the faintest suspicion of a spark. I sat downhelplessly, and wondered how the savages I had read of ever got fire inthis way.
Up to this time I had not built myself a shelter of any kind. At night Isimply slept in the open air on the sand, with only my blankets round me.One morning I was able to get out of the vessel some kegs of preciouswater, a small barrel of flour, and a quantity of tinned foods. Allthese, together with some sails, spars, and ropes, I got safely ashore,and in the afternoon I rigged myself up a sort of canvas awning as asleeping-place, using only some sails and spars.
Among the things I brought from the ship on a subsequent visit were astiletto that had originally been given to me by my mother. It was anold family relic with a black ebony handle and a finely tempered steelblade four or five inches in length. I also got a stone tomahawk--a merecurio, obtained from the Papuans; and a quantity of a special kind ofwood, also taken on board at New Guinea. This wood possessed thepeculiar property of smouldering for hours when once ignited, withoutactually bursting into flame. We took it on board because it made suchgood fuel.
As the most urgent matter was to kindle a fire, I began experiments withmy two weapons, striking the steel tomahawk against the stone one over aheap of fluffy material made by unravelling and teasing out a piece ofblanket. Success attended my patient efforts this time, and to myinexpressible relief and joy I soon had a cheerful fire blazing alongsidemy improvised shelter--and, what is more, I took good care _never to letit go out during the whole lime I remained a prisoner on the island_. Thefire was always my first thought, and night and day it was kept at leastsmouldering by means of the New Guinea wood I have already mentioned, andof which I found a large stock on board. The ship itself, I shouldmention, provided me with all the fuel that was required in the ordinaryway, and, moreover, I was constantly finding pieces of wreckage along theshore that had been gathered in by the restless waves. Often--oh!often--I reflected with a shudder what my fate would have been had theship gone down in deep water, leaving me safe, but deprived of all thestores she contained. The long, lingering agony, the starvation, themadness of thirst, and finally a horrible death on that far-away strip ofsand, and another skeleton added to that grisly pile!
The days passed slowly by. In what part of the world I was located I hadnot the remotest idea. I felt that I was altogether out of the beatentrack of ships because of the reefs that studded these seas, andtherefore the prospect of my being rescued was very remote indeed--athought that often caused me a kind of dull agony, more terrible than anymere physical pain.
However, I fixed up a flagstaff on the highest point of the island--(poor"island,"--_that_ was not many inches)--and floated an ensign _upsidedown_ from it, in the hope that this signal of distress might be sightedby some stray vessel, and indicate the presence of a castaway to those onboard. Every morning I made my way to the flagstaff, and scanned thehorizon for a possible sail, but I always had to come away disappointed.This became a habit; yet, so eternal is hope, that day by day, week byweek, and month by month the bitter disappointment was always a keentorture. By the way, the very reefs that made those seas so dangerousserved completely to protect my little island in stormy weather. Thefury of the billows lost itself upon them, so that even the surf veryrarely reached me. I was usually astir about sunrise. I knew that thesun rose about 6 A.M. in those tropical seas and set at 6 P.M.; there wasvery little variation all the year round. A heavy dew descended atnight, which made the air delightfully cool; but in the day it was sofrightfully hot that I could not bear the weight of ordinary clothes uponmy person, so I took to wearing a silk shawl instead, hung loosely roundmy waist.
Another reason why I abandoned clothes was because I found that when arent appeared the sun blazed down through it and raised a painfulblister. On the other hand, by merely wearing a waist-cloth, and takingconstant sea baths, I suffered scarcely at all from the scorchingtropical sun. I now devoted all my energies to the wreck of the_Veielland_, lest anything should happen to it, and worked with feverishenergy to get everything I possibly could out of the ship. It took mesome months to accomplish this, but eventually I had removedeverything--even the greater part of the cargo of pearl shells. The workwas rendered particularly arduous in consequence of the decks being sofrequently under water; and I found it was only at the full and new moonsthat I could actually _walk_ round on the rocks to the wreck. In courseof time the ship began to break up, and I materially assisted theoperation with an axe. I wanted her timbers to build a boat in which toescape.
The casks of flour I floated ashore were very little the worse for theirimmersion; in fact, the water had only soaked through to the depth of acouple of inches, forming a kind of protecting wet crust, and leaving theinner part perfectly dry and good. Much of this flour, however, wasafterwards spoiled by weevils; nor did my spreading out the preciousgrain in the sunlight on tarpaulins and sails save it from at leastpartial destruction. I also brought ashore bags of beans, rice, andmaize; cases of preserved milk and vegetables, and innumerable otherarticles of food, besides some small casks of oil and rum. In fact, Istripped the ship's interior of everything, and at the end of nine monthsvery little remained of her on the rocks but the bare skeleton of thehull. I moved all the things out day by day according to the tides.
In a large chest that came ashore from the captain's cabin I found astock of all kinds of seeds, and I resolved to see whether I could grow alittle corn. Jensen himself had put the seeds aboard in order to plantthem on some of the islands near which we might be compelled to anchorfor some length of time. Another object was to grow plants on board forthe amusement of the Malays. The seeds included vegetables, flowers, andIndian corn, the last named being in the cob. The Malays are very fondof flowers, and the captain told them that they might try and cultivatesome in boxes on board; but when he saw that this would mean anadditional drain upon his supply of fresh water he withdrew thepermission. I knew that salt water would not nourish plants, and I wasequally certain I could not spare fresh water from
my own stock for thispurpose.
Nevertheless, I set my wits to work, and at length decided upon aninteresting experiment. I filled a large turtle shell with sand and alittle clay, and thoroughly wetted the mixture with turtle's blood, thenstirring the mass into a puddle and planting corn in it.
The grain quickly sprouted, and flourished so rapidly, that within a veryshort time I was able to transplant it--always, however, nourishing itwith the blood of turtles. This most satisfactory result induced me toextend my operation, and I soon had quaint little crops of maize andwheat growing in huge turtle shells; the wheat-plants, however, did notreach maturity.
For a long time I was content with the simple awning I have described asa place of shelter, but when I began to recover the pearl shells from theship, it occurred to me that I might use them as material with which tobuild some kind of a hut. Altogether there were about thirty tons ofpearl shells on board, and at first I took to diving for them merely as asort of pastime.
I spent many weeks getting enough shells ashore to build a couple ofparallel walls, each about seven feet high, three feet thick, and tenfeet in length. The breeze blew gratefully through them. I filled theinterstices of these walls with a puddle of clayey sand and water,covered in the top with canvas, and made quite a comfortable living-placeout of it. The walls at any rate had a high commercial value! When thewet season set in I built a third wall at one end, and erected a sort ofdouble awning in front, under which I always kept my fire burning. Ialso put a straw thatch over the hut, proudly using my own straw which Ihad grown with blood.
In course of time I made myself crude articles of furniture, including atable, some chairs, a bed, &c. My bedding at first consisted of sails,but afterwards I was able to have a mattress filled with straw from mycorn patch. The kettle I had saved from the wreck was for a long time myonly cooking utensil, so when I had anything to prepare I generally madean oven in the sand, after the manner of the natives I had met on the NewGuinea main. I could always catch plenty of fish--principally mullet;and as for sea-fowls, all that I had to do was walk over to that part ofthe island where they were feeding and breeding, and knock them over witha stick. I made dough-cakes from the flour whilst it lasted; and I haddeputies to fish for me--I mean the hundreds of pelicans. The birds whohad little ones to feed went out in the morning, and returned in theafternoon, with from three to ten pounds of delicious fresh fish in theircurious pouches.
On alighting on the island they emptied their pouches on the sand--toooften, I must confess, solely for my benefit. Selfish bachelor birds onreturning with full pouches jerked their catch into the air, and soswallowed it. It used to amuse me, however, to watch a robber gull,perched on their back, cleverly and neatly intercepting the fish as itascended. These fish, with broiled turtle meat and tinned fruits, madequite a sumptuous repast.
After breakfast I would have a swim when the tide was low and there wasno likelihood of sharks being about. A run along the beach in the sununtil I was dry followed, and then I returned to my awning and read aloudto myself in English, from my medical books and my English-FrenchTestament, simply for the pleasure of hearing my own voice. I was a verygood linguist in those days, and spoke English particularly well longbefore I left Switzerland. After breakfast, my dog and I would go out tocatch a peculiar sort of fish called the "sting-rae." These curiouscreatures have a sharp bony spike about two inches in length near thetail and this I found admirably adapted for arrow-heads. The body of thefish resembled a huge flounder, but the tail was long and tapering. Theywould come close in-shore, and I would spear them from the rocks with aPapuan fishing-spear. The smallest I ever caught weighed fifteen pounds,and I could never carry home more than a couple of average weight. Theyhave the power of stinging, I believe, electrically, hence their name. Atall events, I was once stung by one of these fish, and it was anexperience I shall never forget. It fortunately happened at a time whensome friendly blacks were at hand, otherwise I question very much whetherI should be alive to-day.
I was wading slowly along the beach in rather deep water, when I suddenlyfelt a most excruciating pain in my left ankle. It seemed as though Ihad just received a paralysing shock from a powerful battery, and down Ifell in a state of absolute collapse, unable to stir a finger to savemyself, although I knew I was rapidly drowning. Fortunately the blackswho were with me came and pulled me ashore, where I slowly recovered.There was only a slight scratch on my ankle, but for a long time my wholebody was racked with pain, and when the natives got to know of thesymptoms they told me that I had been attacked by a "sting-rae." Thespike or sting measures from two to six inches in length according to thesize of the fish.
But to return to my solitary life on the island. The flesh of the sting-rae was not pleasant to eat, being rather tough and tasteless, so I usedit as a bait for sharks. Turtles visited the island in great numbers,and deposited their eggs in holes made in the sand above high-water mark.They only came on land during the night, at high tide; and whenever Iwanted a special delicacy, I turned one over on its back till morning,when I despatched it leisurely with my tomahawk. The creatures' shells Ialways devoted to the extension of my garden, which became very large,and eventually covered fully two-thirds of the island. The maize and cob-corn flourished remarkably well, and I generally managed to get threecrops in the course of a year. The straw came in useful for beddingpurposes, but as I found the sand-flies and other insects becoming moreand more troublesome whilst I lay on the ground, I decided to try ahammock. I made one out of shark's hide, and slung it in my hut, when Ifound that it answered my purpose splendidly.
The great thing was to ward off the dull agony, the killing depression,and manias generally. Fortunately I was of a very active disposition,and as a pastime I took to gymnastics, even as I had at Montreux. Ibecame a most proficient tumbler and acrobat, and could turn two or threesomersaults on dashing down from the sloping roof of my pearl-shell hut;besides, I became a splendid high jumper, with and without the pole.Another thing I interested myself in was the construction of a sun-dial.
Indeed, I spent many hours devising some means whereby I could fashion areliable "clock," and at last I worked out the principle of the sun-dialon the sand. I fixed a long stick perfectly upright in the ground, andthen marked off certain spaces round it by means of pegs and pearlshells. I calculated the hours according to the length of the shadowscast by the sun.
But, in spite of all that I could do to interest or amuse myself, I wasfrequently overwhelmed with fits of depression and despair, and more thanonce I feared I should lose my mental balance and become a maniac. Areligious craze took possession of me, and, strive as I might, I couldnot keep my mind from dwelling upon certain apparent discrepancies in thevarious apostles' versions of the Gospel!
I found myself constantly brooding over statements made in one form bySt. Matthew, and in another by St. Luke; and I conjured up endlesstheological arguments and theories, until I was driven nearly frantic.Much as I regretted it, I was compelled at last to give up reading my NewTestament, and by the exercise of a strong will I forced myself to thinkabout something totally different.
It took me a long time to overcome this religious melancholia, but Imastered it in the long run, and was greatly delighted when I found Icould once more read without being hypercritical and doubtful ofeverything. Had I been cast on a luxuriant island, growing fruits andflowers, and inhabited at least by animals--how different would it havebeen! But here there was nothing to save the mind from madness--merely atiny strip of sand, invisible a few hundred yards out at sea.
When the fits of depression came upon me I invariably concluded that lifewas unbearable, and would actually rush into the sea, with the deliberateobject of putting an end to myself. At these times my agony of mind wasfar more dreadful that any degree of physical suffering could have been,and death seemed to have a fascination for me that I could not resist.Yet when I found myself up to my neck in water, a sudden revulsion offeeling would c
ome over me, and instead of drowning myself I wouldindulge in a swim or a ride on a turtle's back by way of diverting mythoughts into different channels.
Bruno always seemed to understand when I had an attack of melancholia,and he would watch my every movement. When he saw me rushing into thewater, he would follow at my side barking and yelling like a mad thing,until he actually made me forget the dreadful object I had in view. Andwe would perhaps conclude by having a swimming race. These fits ofdepression always came upon me towards evening, and generally about thesame hour.
In spite of the apparent hopelessness of my position, I neverrelinquished the idea of escaping from the island some day, andaccordingly I started building a boat within a month of my shipwreck.
Not that I knew anything whatever about boat-building; but I wasconvinced that I could at least make a craft of some sort that wouldfloat. I set to work with a light heart, but later on paid dearly for myignorance in bitter, bitter disappointment and impotent regrets. For onething, I made the keel too heavy; then, again, I used planks that wereabsurdly thick for the shell, though, of course, I was not aware of thesethings at the time. The wreck, of course, provided me with all thewoodwork I required. In order to make the staves pliable, I soaked themin water for a week, and then heated them over a fire, afterwards bendingthem to the required shape. At the end of nine months of unremittinglabour, to which, latterly, considerable anxiety--glorious hopes andsickening fears--was added, I had built what I considered a substantialand sea-worthy sailing boat, fully fifteen feet long by four feet wide.It was a heavy ungainly looking object when finished, and it requiredmuch ingenuity on my part to launch it. This I eventually managed,however, by means of rollers and levers; but the boat was frightfully lowin the water at the stern. It was quite watertight though, having anouter covering of sharks' green hide, well smeared with Stockholm tar,and an inside lining of stout canvas. I also rigged up a mast, and madea sail. When my boat floated I fairly screamed aloud with wild delight,and sympathetic Bruno jumped and yelped in unison.
But when all my preparations were complete, and I had rowed out a littleway, I made a discovery that nearly drove me crazy. I found I hadlaunched the boat in a sort of lagoon several miles in extent, barred bya crescent of coral rocks, over which _I could not possibly drag my craftinto the open sea_. Although the water covered the reefs at high tide itwas never of sufficient depth to allow me to sail the boat over them. Itried every possible opening, but was always arrested at some point orother. After the first acute paroxysm of despair--beating my head withmy clenched fists--I consoled myself with the thought that when the hightides came, they would perhaps lift the boat over that terrible barrier.I waited, and waited, and waited, but alas! only to be disappointed. Mynine weary months of arduous travail and half-frantic anticipation werecruelly wasted. At no time could I get the boat out into the open sea inconsequence of the rocks, and it was equally impossible for me unaided todrag her back up the steep slope again and across the island, where shecould be launched opposite an opening in the encircling reefs. So theremy darling boat lay idly in the lagoon--a useless thing, whose sightfilled me with heartache and despair. And yet, in this very lagoon Isoon found amusement and pleasure. When I had in some measure got overthe disappointment about the boat, I took to sailing her about in thelagoon. I also played the part of Neptune in the very extraordinary wayI have already indicated. I used to wade out to where the turtles were,and on catching a big six-hundred-pounder, I would calmly sit astride onhis back.
Away would swim the startled creature, mostly a foot or so below thesurface. When he dived deeper I simply sat far back on the shell, andthen he was forced to come up. I steered my queer steeds in a curiousway. When I wanted my turtle to turn to the left, I simply thrust myfoot into his right eye, and _vice versa_ for the contrary direction. Mytwo big toes placed simultaneously over both his optics caused a halt soabrupt as almost to unseat me. Sometimes I would go fully a mile out tosea on one of these strange steeds. It always frightened them to have meastride, and in their terror they swam at a tremendous pace untilcompelled to desist through sheer exhaustion.
Before the wet season commenced I put a straw thatch on the roof of myhut, as before stated, and made my quarters as snug as possible. And itwas a very necessary precaution, too, for sometimes it rained for days ata stretch. The rain never kept me indoors, however, and I took exercisejust the same, as I didn't bother about clothes, and rather enjoyed theshower bath. I was always devising means of making life more tolerable,and amongst other things I made a sort of swing, which I found extremelyuseful in beguiling time. I would also practise jumping with long poles.One day I captured a young pelican, and trained him to accompany me in mywalks and assist me in my fishing operations. He also acted as a decoy.Frequently I would hide myself in some grass, whilst my pet bird walked afew yards away to attract his fellows. Presently he would be joined by awhole flock, many of which I lassoed, or shot with my bow and arrows.
But for my dog--my almost human Bruno--I think I must have died. I usedto talk to him precisely as though he were a human being. We wereabsolutely inseparable. I preached long sermons to him from Gospeltexts. I told him in a loud voice all about my early life and school-days at Montreux; I recounted to him all my adventures, from the fatalmeeting with poor Peter Jensen in Singapore, right up to the present; Isang little _chansons_ to him, and among these he had his favourites aswell as those he disliked cordially. If he did not care for a song, hewould set up a pitiful howl. I feel convinced that this constantcommuning aloud with my dog saved my reason. Bruno seemed always to bein such good spirits that I never dreamed of anything happening to him;and his quiet, sympathetic companionship was one of the greatestblessings I knew throughout many weird and terrible years. As I talkedto him he would sit at my feet, looking so intelligently at me that Ifancied he understood every word of what I was saying.
When the religious mania was upon me, I talked over all sorts oftheological subjects with my Bruno, and it seemed to relieve me, eventhough I never received any enlightenment from him upon the knotty pointthat would be puzzling me at that particular time. What delighted himmost of all was for me to tell him that I loved him very dearly, and thathe was even more valuable to me than the famous dogs of St. Bernard wereto benighted travellers in the snow.
I knew very little about musical instruments, but as I had often longedfor something to make a noise with, if only to drown the maddening crashof the eternal surf, I fashioned a drum out of a small barrel, withsharks' skin stretched tightly over the open ends. This I beat with acouple of sticks as an accompaniment to my singing, and as Brunooccasionally joined in with a howl of disapproval or a yell of joy, theeffect must have been picturesque if not musical. I was ready to doalmost anything to drown that ceaseless cr-ash, cr-ash of the breakers onthe beach, from whose melancholy and monotonous roar I could never escapefor a single moment throughout the whole of the long day. However, Iescaped its sound when I lay down to sleep at night by a very simpleplan. As I was stone-deaf in the right ear I always slept on the leftside.
Seven weary months had passed away, when one morning, on scanning thehorizon, I suddenly leaped into the air and screamed: "My God! A sail! Asail!" I nearly became delirious with excitement, but, alas! the shipwas too far out to sea to notice my frantic signals. My island lay verylow, and all that I could make out of the vessel in the distance was hersails. She must have been fully five miles away, yet, in my excitement,I ran up and down the miserable beach, shouting in a frenzy and waving myarms in the hope of attracting the attention of some one on board; but itwas all in vain. The ship, which I concluded was a pearler, keptsteadily on her way, and eventually disappeared below the horizon.
Never can I hope to describe the gnawing pain at my heart as, hoarse andhalf mad, I sank exhausted on the sand, watching the last vestige of theship disappearing. Altogether, I saw five ships pass in this way duringmy sojourn on the island, but they were always t
oo far out at sea tonotice my signals. One of these vessels I knew to be a man-o'-war flyingthe British ensign. I tried to rig up a longer flag-staff, as I thoughtthe original one not high enough for its purpose. Accordingly I spliceda couple of long poles together, but to my disappointment found them tooheavy to raise in the air. Bruno always joined in my enthusiasm when asail was in sight; in fact, he was generally the first to detect it, andhe would bark and drag at me until he had drawn my attention to the newhope. And I loved him for his tender sympathy in my paroxysms of regretand disappointment. The hairy head would rub coaxingly against my arm,the warm tongue licking my hand, and the faithful brown eyes gazing at mewith a knowledge and sympathy that were more than human--these I feelsure saved me again and again. I might mention that, although my boatwas absolutely useless for the purpose of escape, I did not neglect heraltogether, but sailed her about the enclosed lagoon by way of practicein the handling of her sails. This was also a welcome recreation.
I never feared a lack of fresh water, for when, in the dry season, theship's stock and my reserve from the wet season were exhausted, I busiedmyself with the condensing of sea water in my kettle, adding to my storeliterally drop by drop. Water was the only liquid I drank, all the teaand coffee carried on board having been rendered utterly useless.
The powerful winged birds that abounded on the island one day gave me anidea: Why not hang a message around their necks and send them forth intothe unknown? Possibly they might bring help--who knows? And with me toconceive was to act. I got a number of empty condensed-milk tins, and,by means of fire, separated from the cylinder the tin disc that formedthe bottom. On this disc I scratched a message with a sharp nail. In afew words I conveyed information about the wreck and my deplorablecondition. I also gave the approximate bearings--latitude fifteen tothirteen degrees, not far from the Australian main.
These discs--I prepared several in English, French, bad Dutch, German,and Italian--I then fastened round the necks of the pelicans, by means offish-gut, and away across the ocean sped the affrighted birds, so scaredby the mysterious encumbrance that _they never returned to the island_.
I may say here that more than twenty years later, when I returned tocivilisation, I chanced to mention the story about my messenger-birds tosome old inhabitants at Fremantle, Western Australia, when, to myamazement, they told me that a pelican carrying a tin disc round itsneck, bearing a message in French from a castaway, _had_ been found manyyears previously by an old boatman on the beach near the mouth of theSwan River. But it was not mine.
So appalling was the monotony, and so limited my resources, that Iwelcomed with childish glee any trifling little incident that happened.For example, one lovely night in June I was amazed to hear a tremendouscommotion outside, and on getting up to see what was the matter, I behelddimly countless thousands of birds--Java sparrows I believe them to be. Iwent back to bed again, and in the morning was a little dismayed to findthat my pretty visitors had eaten up nearly all my green corn. And thebirds were still there when I went forth in the morning. They made theair ring with their lively chatter, but the uproar they made was as musicto me. The majority of them had greyish-yellow bodies, with yellow beaksand pink ruffs, and they were not at all afraid of me. I moved aboutfreely among them, and did not attempt to drive them out of my cornpatch, being only too grateful to see so much life about me. They rose,however, in great clouds the next day, much to my regret, and as theysoared heavenwards I could not help envying them their blessed freedom.
I kept count of the long days by means of pearl shells, for I had notused up the whole cargo in the walls of my hut. I put shells side byside in a row, one for each day, until the number reached seven, and thenI transferred one shell to another place, representing the weeks. Anotherpile of shells represented the months; and as for the years, I kept countof those by making notches on my bow. My peculiar calendar was alwayschecked by the moon.
Now, I am not a superstitious man, so I relate the followingextraordinary occurrence merely as it happened, and without advancing anytheory of my own to account for it. I had been many, many months--perhapsmore than a year--on that terrible little sand-spit, and on the night Iam describing I went to bed as usual, feeling very despondent. As I layasleep in my hammock, I dreamed a beautiful dream. Some spiritual beingseemed to come and bend over me, smiling pityingly. So extraordinarilyvivid was the apparition, that I suddenly woke, tumbled out of myhammock, and went outside on a vague search. In a few minutes, however,I laughed at my own folly and turned in again.
I lay there for some little time longer, thinking about the past--for Idared not dwell on the future--when suddenly the intense stillness of thenight was broken by a strangely familiar voice, which said, distinctlyand encouragingly, "_Je suis avec toi. Soit sans peur_. _Tureviendras_." I can never hope to describe my feelings at that moment.
It was not the voice of my father nor of my mother, yet it was certainlythe voice of some one I knew and loved, yet was unable to identify. Thenight was strangely calm, and so startling was this mysterious messagethat instinctively I leaped out of my hammock again, went outside andcalled out several times, but, of course, nothing happened. From thatnight, however, I never absolutely despaired, even when things lookedtheir very worst.
Two interminable years had passed away, when one day the weather suddenlychanged, and a terrible gale commenced to blow, which threatened almostto wreck my little hut. One morning, a few days later, when the stormhad abated somewhat, I heard Bruno barking wildly on the beach. A fewseconds afterwards he came rushing into the hut, and would not rest untilI prepared to follow him outside. Before doing so, however, I picked upan oar--I knew not why. I then followed my dog down to the beach,wondering what could possibly have caused him to make such a fuss. Thesea was somewhat agitated, and as it was not yet very light, I could notclearly distinguish things in the distance.
On peering seawards for the third or fourth time, however, I fancied Icould make out a long, black object, which I concluded must be some kindof a boat, tossing up and down on the billows. Then I must confess Ibegan to share Bruno's excitement,--particularly when a few minutes laterI discerned a well-made catamaran, _with several human figures lyingprostrate upon it_!
The Adventures of Louis de Rougemont Page 3