Читать книгу The Young Crusoe or The Shipwrecked Boy - Барбара Хофланд - Страница 6

Table of Contents

They collect Remains of the Wreck—Save the Parrot—Captain Gordon very ill—They bury the Captain—Sambo sees a Ship—Mr. Crusoe goes to the further end of the Island—Charles very ill—A great Storm of Thunder, &c.

There is nothing which makes little troubles so light as the remembrance of great ones. Our travellers had just escaped with life: they had also obtained rest, after enduring incessant fear and toil; therefore, though their situation was full of solicitude, they did not for the present, feel it. When a fire was lighted, and some coffee made, though the biscuit unfortunately was wet, and there was but little provision of any kind good, all enjoyed their breakfasts, looked round upon their houseless abode with admiration, devoutly thanked God for giving it to them, and employed their minds busily in contriving the means of existing upon it, or escaping from it; but all eagerly inquired of the captain what he happened to know concerning it.

"All I recollect hearing on the subject is this, that the island of St. Paul is to the north of the island of Amsterdam, and within sight of it; that it is covered with shrubs and trees, and has abundance of sweet water, which Amsterdam is without. Having no safe anchorage or landing-place, it is almost unknown."

"Do you think a signal of distress could be seen from hence to Amsterdam?" said Mr. Crusoe.

"Yes; but I fear there is no person now residing there, for it was considered a great wonder for the American sailors I saw to have staid a single winter; and I have never heard of any other person meeting with inhabitants since that time."

Mr. Crusoe, on hearing this, became exceedingly anxious to secure any tools which might be left on the ship, thinking that as their only chance of escape seemed to lie in forming a boat, or raft, these things were of all others most valuable. On returning to the wreck, he perceived that it was now completely parted, and the carpenter's tools were unfortunately lost; but a small (gentleman's) tool-chest was found in the cabin, and now eagerly seized upon, together with some canisters of gunpowder, which had hitherto escaped them, and some clothes of Captain Gordon's.

When Sambo had been sent on the island with these things, Mr. Crusoe began to examine portions of the parting vessel, and fasten ropes about them, with Charles's assistance, in order to drag them ashore.

"But surely, dear papa, you cannot expect to make a boat that would hold four people with such a set of tools? or, if your boat was made, could you go farther than the neighbouring island; and what good would that do?"

"A great deal, Charles. It would be one step gained, which is encouragement; and to keep alive hope, in our situation, is a great point, and a difficult one, at my time of life, though not at yours. Besides, employment is invaluable to us; you know I long since told you never to despair—to that advice I now add, never be idle."

"Misser Sharly! Misser Sharly!" cried a voice.

"That is my parrot—my pretty Poll! How could I forget her! Where can she be?"

It was evident to Mr. Crusoe that the poor bird was in great terror, and he recollected that he had been given some days before into the keeping of a sailor, because he disturbed the captain, since which time, in their distress, he had been forgotten. On looking round, he perceived Poll in his cage, which was attached to a plank, now slowly floating from the island. By venturing into the sea far enough to throw a rope with effect, Mr. Crusoe moved the plank, to the great joy of Charles, who had followed him; and in a short time, the half-drowned bird was rescued from his perilous situation. The parrot was found almost starved, for his cage had no remains of food in it; and on reaching the island, it was Charles's first care to supply his wants; but as the poor creature continued to cry incessantly all the words he had learnt, he, very properly, carried him to a considerable distance, as the captain was now asleep.

Mr. Crusoe flattered himself that when his old friend awoke, he would be much amended, and even able to assist in forming a vessel in which they might escape, when the state of the weather was favourable. To his great sorrow, when the poor gentleman again spoke, it was in a voice so weak and faint, as to preclude all hopes of his recovery, especially as his appetite was utterly gone, and he was unable to raise his head from the pillow without support. He had been a sincere Christian, and expressed himself perfectly resigned to death, and devoutly thanked God that, even in this desolate situation, he had a kind, sympathizing friend to soothe his last moments; but he lamented much that he had with him bonds and notes equal to a considerable fortune, of which his grandchildren would be deprived, in consequence of his death, unless it was in the power of Mr. Crusoe to preserve them. He said that he had placed them about his person, when the wreck became inevitable, because it was possible he might escape; but now he felt that all was over, and the little family of orphans would never obtain his property; "yet," he added, "I know their heavenly Father will provide for them, even if this property is lost to them, for 'He is a husband to the widow, and a father to the fatherless,' and will help my poor grandchildren! and I even trust you or your son will live to reach England, in which case I know you will see justice done to them."

He then told Mr. Crusoe to feel in his pocket, and take out a little Bible, in which he desired Charles to read several chapters which he named, saying—"His time was now so short, it was better that he should not talk farther of his worldly affairs." After Charles had read those portions of the word of God, which he found especially dear and valuable, his mind seemed much consoled, and his spirits renovated. He gave Mr. Crusoe a great deal of valuable information on the subject of the winds in those seas, and the times when a little vessel might navigate them in safety; also when the proper time would arrive in which ships might (from different routes being adopted) come within their signals. Every word he said was carefully treasured, both by father and son, who all night long knelt by him, with beating hearts, and frequently with streaming eyes.

When the sun arose, he looked smilingly on the light and said something, in a low voice, of the Sun of righteousness; then put his little Bible in Charles's hand, as a dying bequest, saying—"It will be your companion in the wilderness, and your guardian in the world; therefore take this blessed book, my dear boy, and never forsake it!"

Poor Charles, deeply affected, took the sacred volume, and placed it in his bosom, fervently kissing the hand that presented it—that hand was cold even now, and in a few minutes more the last sigh escaped the lips of the good old captain.

Mr. Crusoe was sincerely grieved for the loss of this worthy man, nor could he fail to look forward with extreme anxiety for the fate which awaited his survivors. He knew that by exertion alone could they be relieved from the more appalling death which threatened them; and after allowing the sorrow of Charles time to subside, he addressed himself to the painful task of examining the body, and taking thence the important papers of which the captain had spoken.

In this melancholy duty Charles assisted his father, whilst Sambo went to a place at a little distance, pointed out by his master, where, with such tools as they had procured, he endeavoured to dig a grave.

Mr. Crusoe found in Captain Gordon's bosom several sheets of parchment, and also his will, and in his pockets a bill-book, a case of jewels, and a purse of gold; and wrapping all up together, he began to cast about for a place where he could deposit them safely, observing, that his clothes were already wet, and as it was likely he might be again induced to go into the sea, it was better to put them in a dry place.

Charles recollected, when he took his parrot to a distance, seeing a little mound of earth, which appeared somewhat broken in like a cavern, and formed the only diversity from the level surface which he had yet seen on the island. To this place he conducted his father, who observed, that by a little labour, this spot might be rendered a valuable habitation, as it was already sufficiently cavernous to afford them shelter in case of rain, together with their stores, and that the trees grew around it in such a manner, that the ropes which they luckily possessed, might be so twisted about the trunks, as to guard them from wild beasts, if there were such on the island. For the present, he laid the handkerchief, with its valuable contents, on a flat stone, and covered it with another, and then returned to the spot where his poor friend still lay on the mattress, where he had breathed his last.

Having wrapped the body in a sailcloth, which they had used to carry their stores in from the vessel, the father and son proceeded to the place where the poor boy was still digging; and when Mr. Crusoe had so far assisted his labours as to make the grave sufficiently deep, they laid the body into it, and then all knelt down, whilst the friend, father, master, and mourner, poured from his heart a short but deeply affecting prayer to that Almighty Protector, whose eye alone beheld them—whose hand alone could sustain them; all remained silent many minutes afterwards, and when they arose, they pursued the necessary labour of covering the grave, and placing over it a few planks from his own ship, still meditating on the captain's fate. When this last "labour of love" was ended, Mr. Crusoe, aware that young minds cannot be long exercised on any painful subject without injury to those energies necessary for their health and activity, urged the boys to prepare some food, and spoke with a cheerfulness he was far from feeling, but which had soon the happiest effect on his young companions.

Mr. Crusoe now armed both himself and the boys, and set out to make the circuit of the island. They found it so overgrown with trees and brushwood, that it was with the utmost difficulty they could proceed in some places, and in others it was covered with beautiful long grass, which they trod with caution, lest it should harbour snakes or scorpions. None such were observed, nor any animal on the ground, except a few rabbits, or small hares, which from time to time crossed their path. The trees were much more full of life, for numerous beautiful birds were there, some of which they had never seen before; but many of them were familiar to them, and on these they gazed with great delight, as a kind of old friends that had shared their voyage and their troubles. When they had proceeded, as they supposed, about a mile and a half, they arrived at a little promontory, which ran far into the sea, and on which was a small tree or two; but there was no rock; neither any bay, so far as they could observe, which proved Captain Gordon's information correct; and Mr. Crusoe felt his heart sink, as he perceived the impossibility (even if they could make a boat of sufficient magnitude to put out to sea) of launching it from such a shore. He yet thought, if ever they were so happy as to attain this power, it must be from this spot that they should go, and he examined it with great anxiety, from this consideration.

Whilst Mr. Crusoe was thus employed, Sambo had climbed into one of the trees, to look out, as he said, "for one great shippy;" and as the evening was perfectly calm, and his master knew that the Indian had extraordinary eyes, he waited patiently for some time; but was just going to call the boy down, when he declared, that though he saw no shippy in sea or in sky, he saw their own big boat rolly, rolly, very slow, bottom at top.

This circumstance Mr. Crusoe considered extremely probable, and hope sprung in his heart at the idea of regaining this vessel, which was infinitely superior to any which he could ever hope to form; and such was his anxiety on the subject, that being a good swimmer, he would immediately have jumped into the sea, in hopes to find it, and guide it to the spot; but the evening was too far advanced for Sambo to give any directions, nor even to perceive it when he looked again; nor had he any rope with him wherewith to secure it. Besides the idea of his father going out into the sea at so late an hour, the very day when they had been all so deeply affected by the loss of their friend, so completely overcame poor Charles, that he besought him on his knees to desist, declaring—"That on this terrible day he was utterly unable to bear him out of his sight for a moment."

Mr. Crusoe took his child's hand, and immediately pursued their walk, which brought them, within half-an-hour, to the cavern where the poor captain's property was deposited, and where Mr. Crusoe said he would sleep that night. Sambo immediately began preparing to light a fire, as he had done the preceding nights; but Mr. Crusoe being convinced that there was nothing to fear from wild beasts, told him it was unnecessary; but proceeded with him to the spot where their bedding and victuals remained, and having eaten some cold pork and biscuit, and addressed their evening prayers to Heaven, they all betook themselves to that repose they so greatly required: Mr. Crusoe slept on the mattress; the boys had each a blanket, and laid on the grass, which was deep, soft, and dry.

The next morning, Mr. Crusoe's first care was so to increase the excavation, as to render it an effectual shelter in case of storm, which, with their joint labour, became, in the course of the day, effected to a considerable degree; after which they so contrived to line it with portions of the broken vessel still left on the coast, as to keep the earth from crumbling on their heads. Mr. Crusoe considered this work of the utmost importance, because there was not in the whole island any rock or mound that could afford them the least shelter from the rain; and although the weather was at this time beautifully clear and calm, nothing could be more probable than that a tremendous storm might arise in the course of a single hour; and as they had perceived many fallen trees in the course of their walk, there was reason to fear this island was often visited by terrible tempests.

The next morning, Mr. Crusoe determined to set out, and, if possible, recover the boat, and for this purpose he took with him whatever appeared necessary. Whilst collecting his materials, Charles employed himself in gathering a species of wild oranges, which he had observed grew in quantities round their hut, and which, although bitter, assuaged the thirst of which both himself and his father complained. Sambo had again climbed into a tree, and on his hasty descent, declared so positively that he saw a ship, at a great distance, that every other thing was forgotten in the anxiety to put up signals of distress.

Their first care was to take one of the pair of sheets which lay on their bed, and suspend it from a tree near the spot where they landed; and the other was taken by Mr. Crusoe, to hang up at the other end of the island. He then gave Charles the captain's glass, and told him to station himself there, and keep a sharp look-out, and from time to time fire a gun, as a signal. As the highest trees were in the middle of the island, Sambo was directed to climb up on them, and if he saw the vessel within certain limits, to make signs, either to his master or Charles, as agreed on between them.

Yet much calculated as this great event was to enliven all parties, the Indian boy was the only one who seemed really alert. Charles obeyed his father mechanically, for his eye was heavy, and his motion slow; but he knew that every thing depended on attracting the attention of the vessel, and he remembered that it was in compliance with this request, urged in the agony of the moment, that his father had abandoned his intention of seeking the boat, and therefore it was particularly his duty to do his utmost to forward his views. For this purpose he also climbed the tree on which Sambo had been; but notwithstanding he had the benefit of the glass, he could see nothing; but he knew the fault was in his own eyes, which ached excessively ever since he awoke; therefore he quickly came down, saying—"That he believed Sambo was more to be depended on than him, and begging his papa to pursue his plan."

Mr. Crusoe took a portion of food with him, and set out, having placed some in the hands of Sambo also, Charles declining any thing but the fruit he had gathered. As his father's figure slowly withdrew from his eyes, the poor boy felt exceedingly grieved to part from him, even for a few hours, and remarked that he too walked with slow and lingering steps, as one either oppressed by bodily disease, or severe sorrow.—"Alas!" said he, "it is no wonder that he is weak and poorly; besides, I know he is thinking of my dear mamma continually."

Charles roused himself from this painful recollection as well as he could; and in a short time it was certain he ceased to think of this or any other trouble, except that which was connected with his own sensations, which were now become very distressing. He had a dreadful headache, was excessively sick, yet very thirsty, and was alternately of a shuddering coldness, or burning like fire. Several times he determined to fire, in order that his papa, or Sambo, might come to his assistance; but the fear of adding to his father's uneasiness, or being the means of hindering him from accomplishing his purpose, prevented him.

Finding, at length, that he could not watch any longer on the shore, he left the flag and his gun, and tried to crawl towards the hut, which he was approaching with the greatest difficulty, when poor Sambo joined him, and perceived how ill he was. He declared that the heat was so terrible, he could not remain on the watch any longer, and expressed his surprise that his master had not returned; and thinking to cheer Charles, he predicted many good things from his protracted stay.—"Eder him get boaty, else him find large shippy, come and take them all away."

But Charles was now too ill to give even a faint smile to Sambo's predictions; and at length he fell down on the ground, utterly unable to proceed, holding his forehead with his hands, and crying, with a faint voice, for a little water. Sambo left him with extreme reluctance, even for a few moments; and when he returned with water, tried to carry him on his back to the hut; by slow degrees, at length, accomplishing his purpose.

When Charles was sheltered from the rays of the sun, he experienced a little relief, but Sambo continued to complain bitterly of the heat, and the oppression of the air, which, he said—"lie on him head, and him shoulder, like blanket."

Charles concluded that it was this unusual heat which had affected him so severely; but yet he well remembered that some of his symptoms exactly resembled those of which Captain Gordon used to complain; and he began to think, with great justice, that he had caught the fever of which he died. Under this impression, whenever Sambo suggested the idea of going for his master, or firing the gun as a signal of distress, Charles told him not to do so, for it would only alarm his father, and cause him to come, and catch the complaint also; and when he desired Sambo to give him a little water, or squeeze the juice of an orange for him, he always said "Don't come too near me, Sambo, or you will take my complaint."—"And Sambo, if I die, remember to be very, very attentive to poor papa; you can swim as well as him, and I hope you will both get away when I am gone."—"You will be better without me, Sambo."

This was a kind of comfort the poor boy could not accept; his grief broke out into violent exclamations, during which Charles thought he heard his papa's gun fired; but as his head was laid on the pillow, he could not be certain, for Sambo had made a considerable noise at the same moment. As, however, it was now beginning to grow rather dusk, and they were both aware that Mr. Crusoe would deem it right that he should know Charles was ill, since he was in possession of some medicines which might be useful, after lighting a lamp (which was amongst their most valuable treasures), and placing water and fruit within his reach, Sambo set out to urge his master to return.

Some time after he was gone, Charles dropped into a kind of troubled slumber; and when he awakened from it, his recollection was confused. Various images flitted before his eyes; sometimes he thought himself on shipboard during the storm; at others, that he was in his late happy dwelling at Bombay. He called aloud to Sambo and his father many times, but no voice answered him, except that of the parrot. Then he recollected Captain Gordon, and thought he was conversing with him; and again he believed himself in the sinking ship, for the thunder rolled with tremendous violence, the trees bent down to the ground beneath the wind, and sounded like the waves of the sea; and again he expected to be swallowed up every moment, as he had done a week before.

At length the sense of his more lonely situation, as being unsupported by the tender sympathy of his father, struck him forcibly, and rising from his bed, he crept forward to the mouth of the cave, but the wind and the rain drove him in again; and fearing that both his father and Sambo were lost, and expecting every moment the same fate, he knelt upon the floor, and earnestly besought the Almighty to receive his soul, and permit him, for his Redeemer's sake, to rejoin the beloved parent now taken from him. This pious exercise of his mind, though he was doubtless in a delirious state, brought back to his aching heart the memory of his father's tenderness, and he wept long and bitterly. At length being worn out with sorrow, terror, and disease, he sunk into a profound sleep upon the grass, on which he had been kneeling.

When poor Charles raised his head from the ground, a sweet breeze was playing in the cave, and a delicious smell from the trees and flowers revived him; he arose, and looked around, and saw the sun shining as at noonday; but the heat was by no means intense, and every thing around looked exceedingly beautiful, as if it had been refreshed by recent showers. He now thought that he had been harassed by troubled dreams, and began by degrees to recollect all that had occurred to him.—"It is plain," said he, "that I have slept very late, and my father, knowing I was ill yesterday, has left me to repose. Well, I am much better; my head does not throb now: it is time I went out to do my share in watching; besides, I think I am hungry."

When poor Charles looked round, he saw water, of which he eagerly drank, also dates upon one leaf, and oranges upon another, which, recollecting something of Sambo having arranged for him, excited his surprise. He found himself so weak, that he could scarcely crawl out of the hut, when the first thing he beheld was the tree in which his parrot had been hung, laid prostrate on the ground, and the poor bird, though not otherwise injured, as completely wetted as when he was dipped in the sea. Little thinking how much greater misfortunes had arisen to him, Charles rescued and fed his favourite, assisting him to dry his feathers; and afterwards, he helped himself to some of the provisions he found in the hut, wishing at the same time that Sambo had been with him, to have lighted a fire, and made him a cup of coffee, of which they had fortunately preserved a large canister; and for some time he could not help feeling that it was unkind in them to leave him when he was so ill.

As soon as he felt himself able, he proceeded to that place on the shore which he considered it his duty to attend, and there found, to his great vexation, that the tree on which their flag had waved was laid prostrate, though the sheet was still upon it; and that his gun was sunk, and in a manner buried under the sand. Terrible proofs of the severity of the late storm were seen on every side; and he began to doubt whether all the devastation he witnessed had occurred in the night. A strong idea rose on his mind, that it had been partial daylight at the time when he witnessed the storm; and from the state of extreme weakness he experienced, he thought that he had slept at least twenty-four hours, and of course been without food of any kind two days and a night.—"Then where can my papa be?"

When this terrible question had passed the mind of the poor boy, he felt as if he must run that moment all over the island, to look for him. Alas! he was able to proceed only a very short way, for the high wet grass was to him, for the present, an invincible barrier. He was sadly grieved to think that he could not fire his gun, and bring them to his assistance; and his mind was full of fears, lest his father should have been injured by the storm. Finding it impossible to proceed to the end of the island, he returned to the hut, and began, as well as his weak state permitted, to get the materials for a fire, saying, "When poor papa comes in, I will have something warm for him."

Grinding the coffee and boiling it, scraping the biscuit, which was very mouldy, setting the place to rights, as well as he was able, and rejoicing that the rain had been driven over, and not into the hut, and that there were a pair of pistols in it, which were uninjured by the weather, employed the mind of Charles till it was quite late at night, when all his anxiety returned. Many a time did he go forth, and shout with all the strength he had; but, alas! that was little; and he had a kind of comfort in thinking, that if he could have made more noise, they would have heard him. He then returned, took a little of the coffee, and ate the dates, reserving the biscuit for his father, saying—"Surely I shall be better to-morrow;" and often did he repeat to himself his dear father's advice, never to despair. Having lately slept such an unusual time, he now watched the live-long night; but towards morning, his harassed mind happily gave way to that refreshment which was now the only restorative of his enfeebled frame.

On awaking, he was sensible of a considerable accession of health; and having earnestly intreated help from Heaven, he cut himself a staff from the nearest tree, and set out to seek his father, taking with him a portion of biscuit, and a bottle of cordial, under the idea that wherever he might be, he was in a state of anxiety and exhaustion.