Читать книгу The Young Marooners on the Florida Coast - Goulding Francis Robert - Страница 7

RILEY-A THUNDERSTORM-ASCERTAINING THE DISTANCE OF OBJECTS BY SOUND-SECURITY AGAINST LIGHTNING-MEANS OF RECOVERING LIFE FROM APPARENT DEATH BY LIGHTNING

A few days after this incident another visitor was seen coming from Fort Brooke. This person was not a horseman, but some one in a boat, who seemed even from a distance to possess singular dexterity in the use of the paddle. His boat glided over the smooth surface of the bay as if propelled less by his exertions than by his will. Dr. Gordon viewed him through the spy glass, and soon decided him to be an Indian, who was probably bringing something to sell.

It so turned out. He was a half-breed, by the name of Riley, who frequently visited the fort with venison and turkeys to sell, and who on the present occasion brought with him in addition a fine green turtle. Major Burke, conceiving that his friends at Bellevue would prize these delicacies more than they at the fort, to whom they were no longer rarities, had directed the Indian to bring them, with his compliments, to Dr. Gordon.

Riley was a fine looking fellow, of about thirty years of age-tall, keen-eyed, straight as an arrow, and with a pleasing open countenance. He brought a note from the fort, recommending him for honesty and faithfulness.

Dr. Gordon was so much pleased with his general appearance, that he engaged him to return the following week with another supply of game, and prepared to remain several days, in case he should be needed in raising the timbers of the new house.

Toward the close of the week, the weather gave indications of a change. A heavy looking cloud rose slowly from the west, and came towards them, muttering and growling in great anger. It was a tropical thunderstorm. The distant growls were soon converted into peals. The flashes increased rapidly in number and intensity, and became terrific. Mary and Frank nestled close to their father; and even stout-hearted Harold looked grave, as though he did not feel quite so comfortable as usual.

"That flash was uncommonly keen," Robert remarked, with an unsteady voice. "Do you not think, father, it was very near?"

Instead of replying, his father appeared to be busy counting; and when the crash of thunder was heard, jarring their ears, and making the earth quiver, he replied,

"Not very. Certainly not within a mile."

"But, uncle, can you calculate the distance of the lightning?" Harold asked.

"Unquestionably, or I should not have spoken with so much confidence. Robert imagined, as most people do, that a flash is near in proportion to its brightness; but that is no criterion. You must calculate its distance by the time which elapses between the flash and the report. Sound travels at the rate of about a mile in five seconds. Should any of you like to calculate the distance of the next flash, put your finger on your pulse, and count the number of beats before you hear the thunder."

An opportunity soon occurred. A vivid flash was followed after a few seconds by a roll, and then by a peal of thunder. All were busy counting their pulses. Mary ceased when she heard the first roll, exclaiming "Five!" The others held on until they heard the loud report, and said "Seven." Dr. Gordon reported only six beats of his own pulse, remarking,

"That flash discharged itself just one mile distant. Our pulses are quicker than seconds; and yours quicker than mine. Sound will travel a mile during six beats of a person of my age, and during seven of persons of yours."

"But, father," argued Mary, "I surely heard the thunder rolling when I said five."

"So did I," he answered; "and that proves that although the lightning discharged itself upon the earth at the distance of a mile, it commenced to flow from a point nearer overhead."

The young people were so deeply interested in these calculations, that they felt less keenly than they could have imagined possible the discomfort of the storm. This was Dr. Gordon's intention. But at last Mary and Frank winced so uneasily, when flashes of unusual brightness appeared, that their father remarked, "It is a weakness, my children, to be afraid of lightning that is seen and of thunder that is heard-they are spent and gone. Persons never see the flash that kills them-it does its work before they can see, hear, or feel."

At this instant came a flash so keen, that it seemed to blaze into their very eyes, and almost simultaneously came a report like the discharge of a cannon. Dr. Gordon's lecture was in vain; all except him and Harold started to their feet. Frank ran screaming to his father. Mary rushed to a pile of bedding, and covered herself with the bed-clothing. Robert looked at Mary's refuge, with a manifest desire to seek a place beside her. Harold fixed his eye upon his uncle, with a glance of keen inquiry.

"This is becoming serious," said the Doctor anxiously. "Something on the premises has been struck. Stay here, children, while I look after the servants. Your safest place is in the middle of the room, as far as possible from the chimney and walls, along which the lightning passes."

While giving these directions, at the same time that he seized his hat, cloak, and umbrella, William rushed in to say that the horses had been struck down and killed. They were stabled under a shelter erected near a tall palmetto-a tree so seldom struck by lightning, as to be regarded by the Indians as exempt from danger. The fluid had descended the trunk, tearing a great hole in the ground, and jarring down a part of the loose enclosure.

"Call all hands!" said the Doctor. "Throw off the shelter instantly, to let the rain pour upon them; and bring also your buckets and pails."

On his going out, the children crowded to the door, to see, if possible, the damage that was done; but he waved them all back, with the information that during a thunder storm an open door or window is one of the most dangerous places about a house. They quickly retired; Mary and Frank going to the bed, Robert taking a chair to the middle of the room, and drawing up his feet from the floor. Harold's remark was characteristic. "I wish uncle would let me help with the horses. I am sure that that is the safest place in this neighbourhood; for I never saw lightning strike twice on the same spot."

One of the horses was speedily revived by the falling rain. He staggered to his feet, then moved painfully away, smelling at his hoofs, to ascertain what ailed them. The other continued for an hour or more, to all appearance, dead. The servants dipped buckets and pails full of water from pools made by the rain, and poured them upon the lifeless body, until it was perfectly drenched. They had given up all hope of a restoration. William's eyes looked watery (for he was the coachman) and he heaved a sorrowful sigh over his brute companion. "Poor Tom!" he said, "what will Jerry do now for a mate?" Another half hour passed without any sign of returning life; and even William would have ceased his efforts, had it not been for his master's decided "Pour on water! Keep pouring!"

At last there appeared a slight twitching in one of the legs. Poor Tom was not dead after all. William gave a "Hurra boys! he's coming to," in which the others joined with unfeigned delight. "Now, William," said his master, "do you and Sam take the strips of blanket that you rub with, and see if you cannot start his blood to flowing more rapidly. Tom will soon open his eyes."

Two of the servants continued to pour on water, the others to rub violently the head, neck, legs and body. The reviving brute moved first one foreleg, then the other, while the hinder legs were yet paralysed. Then he opened his eyes, raised his head, and made an effort to turn himself. As soon as he was able to swallow, Dr. Gordon ordered a drench of camphorated spirit, and left him with directions to the servants. "Listen all of you. I have shown you how to treat a horse struck down by lightning. Do you treat a person in the same way. Pour on water by the bucket full, until he gives some signs of life; then rub him hard, and give him some heating drink. Don't give up trying for half a day."

The storm passed over. Tom and Jerry were once more united under the skilful management of William, who frequently boasted that "they were the toughest creatures in creation, even lightning could not kill them."