The Island of Gold: A Sailor's Yarn

“Fortuna favet fortibus,” (fortune favours the brave), you know, reader; and it is wrong to expect God to help us to do that which He has given us the power to do for ourselves.

“And now, gentlemen,” said James, rising to his feet, “let us work.”

“The first thing to be considered, then,” said Halcott, “is, I think you will agree with me, James, our defence.”

“That is so,” said James quietly. “The savages will come sooner or later, I fear, and it is but little likely they will come prepared to shake us by the hand and make friends with us. Even if they did, I should be prepared to fight them, for you never know what might happen.”

“Right, James, right. We may be thankful anyhow that as yet we are all spared and well. Now, you just have the hands lay aft, and tell them, brother, in your convincing way, how matters stand. Speak to them as you spoke to us.”

James answered never a word, but went straight down the green declivity and boarded the vessel. He did not ask the men to come to the quarterdeck – James was non-demonstrative in all his methods. He would have no “laying aft” business. This was too much man-of-war fashion for him, so he simply went forward to the forecastle and beckoned the few hands around him.

A minute or two after this Halcott and Tandy, still lying at ease on the brow of the embankment, heard a lusty cheer. From their position they could command a view of the deck, and now, on looking down, behold! the brave little crew were taking off their jackets and tightening their waist-belts, and a mere tyro could have told that that meant business.

Halcott got up now; he plucked a pinch of moss, and after plugging his pipe therewith he placed it carefully away in his jacket pocket.

That meant business also.

“Come, Tandy,” he said, and both descended.

The position, it must be admitted, was one which it would be rather difficult for so small a garrison to defend successfully.

The vessel, as I have already said, had been dashed stern on to the rocks and into the gully, and the jibboom hung over a black, slippery precipice that descended sheer down into the sea. This cliff, however, was not so slippery but that it might afford foothold for naked savages. It must be included, therefore, in the plan of defence.

But from the cliffs that rose on each side of the ship an enemy could attack her, and the deck below would then be quite at the mercy of their poisoned spears and their clouds of arrows, while the bank astern which sloped upwards to the table-land could easily be rushed by a determined foe.

An outer line of defence was therefore imperative; in fact this would be of as much service to these Crusoes as the Channel Fleet is to the British Islands.

This part of the work was therefore the first to be commenced, and merrily indeed the men set to work. They began by clearing away the bush all round the gully where the Sea Flower lay, to the extent of forty yards, being determined to leave not a single shrub behind which a savage might conceal himself. Everything cut down was hauled to the top of the cliff and trundled into the sea. To have lit a fire and burned it would have invited the attention of the natives on that far-off island, and a visit of curiosity on their part would have ended disastrously for the shipwrecked party.

It took days to clear the bush away, and not only the men but the officers as well bore a hand and slaved away right cheerfully.

No one was left on board except Ransey Tansey himself, the nigger boy, and Janeira. Nelda insisted on going on shore with the working party, the marvellous crane flew down from the hulk, and Bob was always lowered gently over the side. These three were the superintendents, as Halcott called them; they had nothing to do but play about, it is true, but their very happiness inspired the men and made the work more easy. The other three – those left on board – had work to do, for on them devolved the duty of preparing the meals for all hands; and in this duty they never failed.

Well, the jungle was cleared at last, and this clearance, it was determined, should be extended and made double the width at least.

And now began the hard labour and toil of erecting the stockade, and in this strength was of very great importance. But it was not everything. The wooden wall must be built on scientific principles, so that a volley could be fired on an enemy attacking from any direction.

The building of this fortification, with its strong-barred gate, took our Crusoes quite a month. No one can marvel at this, if they bear in mind that the trees had to be cut down in the woods, and dragged all the way to the cliff before they could be fashioned and put into place; that the rain sometimes put a stop to work entirely, so heavy and incessant was it; and, moreover, that the men suffered a good deal from the bites of poisonous and loathsome insects, such as centipedes and scorpions. The wounds made by either of these had to be cauterised at once, else serious results would have followed.

At last the palisade and gate were finished, loopholed, and plentifully studded with sharp nails and spikes outside.

After this the little garrison breathed more freely. There was much to be done yet, however, before they could sleep in security.

Book Three – Chapter Six.

An Awful Secret of the Sea

Having finished the first line of defence, attention was turned to the inner works.

How best could the Crusoes repel boarders if the palisade were carried, and a rush made down the embankment with the view of attacking the ship?

It was some time before this question could be answered with any degree of satisfaction.

I think that the plan finally adopted was the best under the circumstances.

During such an attack, not only would the defenders have to do all they could to stop a rush down the sloping bank, but protect themselves also from the spears that would be hurled at them from the cliffs above.

An inner palisade was therefore erected, not so strong as the other; and right over the after part of the quarterdeck, and round a portion of its bulwarks, a shed was erected, under which the men could work their rifles and the great gun with comparative safety.

If the outer line should be broken through, the savages would no doubt attack in their fullest force, and a gun loaded with grape-shot would play awful havoc in their ranks; and boiling water from the donkey engine would in all probability suggest to the enemy the advisability of a quick retreat.

Nevertheless, the outlook, even should they be thus repelled, would be a black one, and a state of siege could only have one sad ending.

But let me not be “too previous,” as humourists say.

So quickly does time slip away when a person is busy that when, one morning at breakfast, James Malone said quietly, “Men, we have been here for just two months to-day,” Halcott could scarcely credit it.

But a reference to the log, which was still most carefully kept, revealed the truth of what James had said.

Two months! Yes; and as yet the weather and the work had prevented them from penetrating inland in search of nature’s hidden treasures.

But the rain ceased at last; and though clouds still hung around, and mists often obscured the sea for days at a time, the glorious spring time had come again, and the island was soon a veritable land of flowers.

The first visit inland was made to the Lake of the Lonely Isle, as it was called. But a bridge had to be built over the chasm, to replace that torn up by the hands of brave James Malone. This was easily formed of trees, with a rail at each side, and this bridge shortened the distance to the little lake by several miles.

The working party carried picks and spades and axes, for it was determined to thoroughly overhaul the island in search of the utensils used by the priests during their awful human sacrifices.

The isle was a very small one, but, nevertheless, it took three whole days to thoroughly search it. And every evening they returned to the ship unsuccessful, but certainly not disheartened.

Halcott told his brave fellows that if more gold were found than simply enough to pay the expenses of the voyage, not including the loss of the ship, for that was insured, they would have a good percentage thereof, and something handsome to take home to wives and sweethearts. So, although they knew in their hearts that they might never live to get home, they worked as willingly and as merrily as British sailors ever did “for England, home, and beauty,” as the dear old song has it.

I may as well mention here, and be done with it, that Lord Fitzmantle, the nigger boy, very much to his delight, was appointed signalman-in-chief to the forces. Observatory Hill was not a difficult climb for Fitz, and here a flag-staff had been erected. An ensign hoisted on this point could be seen not only over all the island but over a considerable portion of the sea as well. But Fitz received strict orders not to hoist it unless he saw a passing ship.

Bob was allowed to accompany the boy every day. Dinner was therefore carried for two, and Fitz, who could read well, never went without a book.

One day, while James and Halcott were wandering, somewhat aimlessly it must be confessed, in a wood not far from the lake, they came upon a clearing, in the midst of which stood a solitary, strange, weird-looking dead tree. It was a tree of considerable dimensions, and one side of it was much charred by fire.

“It was just here,” said James quietly, pointing to the spot, “where I should have been burned, had not Providence mercifully intervened to save my somewhat worthless life.”

Both walked slowly toward that tree, and acting like a man in deep thought, Halcott carelessly kicked it.

It may sound like a sentence read out of a fairy book when I say that a little door in that part of the tree suddenly flew open inwards; but it is nevertheless true.

“The treasure must be hidden here!” said Halcott. He was just about to plunge his hand into the hole when James restrained him.

“Stay, for Heaven’s sake, stay!” he cried excitedly. “The treasure, brother, may be there. I never thought of this before; but,” he added, “if the treasure is there, something else is there also, and we have that to deal with first.”

As he spoke, he took from his pocket a small piece of flint and some touch-paper. Then he gathered a handful of withered grass, struck fire with the back of his knife against the flint – James was very old-fashioned – placed the smoking paper in the grass, shook it, and soon had it in fire.

Then he thrust this into the hole, and ran quickly back a few yards.

“Keep well away,” he cried to his companion.

Next minute the head and neck of a huge crimson snake was protruded – hissing.

James fired at once.

It was an ugly sight to see that headless serpent wriggling and leaping on the clearing.

“That,” said James, as he seized it by the tail and flung it far into the bush, “was the chief medicine-man’s familiar. There are no snakes on the island, so where he procured it was always a mystery to me. But its possession gave the man great power over even the king himself, all believing it to be an evil spirit. And no wonder, for this ‘red devil,’ as the natives called it, although the medicine-man could handle it safely enough, was often permitted to bite a boy or a girl in the king’s presence, and the child invariably died in convulsions.”

“Horrible!” said Halcott. “Was there only one?”

“There was only one, and – it will never bite again.”

They walked back now towards the lake, and soon returned in company with Chips and Wilson armed with axes.

It was hard work, and an hour of it, too, cutting through that tree; but it fell with a crash at last – “carried away close by the board,” as Halcott phrased it.

“Now, men,” said James, “search among the débris in the hollow stump and see what you can find.”

James and Halcott stood quietly by leaning on their rifles.

But they laughed with very joy as the men pulled out bowl after bowl of beaten gold, to the number of seven in all. These were far from artistic, but they were large and heavy.

Inside they were black with blood.

Chips stood up and wiped the perspiration from his brow.

“My eye and Betty Martin! Captain Halcott, here’s a go. Why, we’ll be all as rich as water-cresses.”

And he joyfully tossed his hat in the air, and kicked it up again as it descended.

Chips was a queer chap.

But having now relieved his feelings, the search was proceeded with.

And when it was all over, and nothing further to be found, the inventory of the treasure now exposed to view, every article of purest gold, was as follows: —

A. Seven bowls, weighing about twelve pounds each.

B. Thirty-five spear-heads, solid and very heavy.

C. Fifteen gold daggers, similar to that brought away from the island by Doris herself.

D. Fifteen larger and curiously shaped knives.

E. One hundred or more fish-hooks.

F. Nineteen nuggets of gold of various sizes – one immense nugget weighed 149 pounds!

(The largest nugget ever found weighed over 180 pounds. It was dug up, I believe, at Ballarat. – G.S.)

No wonder these two men were excited.

“I say, sir,” said Chips, “I guess you’ll splice the main-brace to-night.”

“That we will with pleasure,” replied Halcott.

“And,” cried Tom Wilson, “I’ll fiddle as I’ve never fiddled before. I’ll make all hands laugh one minute, and I’ll have them all crying the next.”

Poor Wilson! It was noted that this man never touched rum himself, but invariably gave his share to another.

The main-brace was spliced that night, and that, too, twice over. It happened to be Saturday night.

It could not be called Saturday-night-at-sea, but it was Saturday night on board a ship; and despite the fact that the vessel was but a wreck and a hulk, it was spent in the good old fashion.

An awning was always kept spread over the fore part of the ship, and it was under this that the crew smoked and yarned in the evenings.

To-night the officers had gone forward to hear Tom Wilson play.

He did make them laugh. I do not know that his pathetic pieces caused many tears to flow, beautifully executed though they were, but late in the evening – and ten o’clock was considered late on board the hulk – when Halcott asked for a favourite air of his, Tom hesitated for a moment, then took up the violin.

There was a beauty of expression and sadness about Tom’s interpretation of this beautiful melody that held everybody spell-bound; but when at last the poor fellow laid his instrument on the table, and with bent head burst into tears, the astonishment of every one there was great indeed.

Jack, however, is ever in sympathy with sorrow, and Chips, rough old Chips, got up and went round behind Tom Wilson.

“Come, matie,” he said, patting him gently on the shoulder. “What is it, old heart? Music been too much for you? Eh? Come, come, don’t give way.”

Tom Wilson threw back his head and lifted his face now.

“Thank you, Chips; thank you, lad, and bless you. Nay, nay, I will not tell you to-night the reason of my stupid tears. I’m not the man to sadden a Saturday night. Come, lads, clear the decks. I’ll play you the grandest hornpipe you ever listened to.”

And play he did. Every note, every tone was thrilling. A dance was soon got up, and never before, not even in a man-of-war, did men foot the deck more merrily than those shipwrecked Crusoes did now.

But the queerest group there was just amidships, where Janeira herself and Fitz – all white eyes and flashing teeth – were madly tripping it on the light fantastic toe; while little Nelda and that droll old crane danced a fandango, that caused all hands, including even Tom himself, to shout with laughter when they beheld it.

The very solemnity of the crane as he curved his neck, hopped, and pirouetted, was the funniest part of the performance.

But next day all hands knew Tom’s pathetic story.

“That air I played,” he told them, “was my little daughter Fanny’s favourite. Fanny is dead. Georgie too. He was my boy. I was rich once, but drink ruined me, and – oh, may God forgive me! – led indirectly to the graveyard gate, where wife and children all lie buried!”

Two long months more had gone by, during which the exploring party had been busy enough almost every day at the distant hill, prospecting, excavating here and there, and searching in every likely nook for the cave of gold.

But all in vain.

During all the time they had now been on the island – more than six months – never a ship had been seen, nor had any boat or canoe ventured near the place.

“Surely, surely,” they thought, “some day some ship will find us out and rescue us.”

One day as they were returning earlier in the afternoon than usual, for it was very hot, and they were all somewhat weary and disheartened, they went suddenly almost delirious with joy to see, on looking towards the hill-top, that the ensign was hoisted upside down on the pole, and little Fitz dancing wildly round it, and pointing seaward.

Tired though they all were, there was no talk now of returning to the wreck. But straight to the hill they went instead.

To their infinite joy, when they reached the top at last, they could see a brig, with all available sail set, standing in for the island.

I say all available sail, for her fore-topmast was gone, she was cruelly punished about the bulwarks, and had evidently been blown out of her course during the gale that had raged with considerable violence a few days before.

Every heart beat high now with hope and joy, and as the vessel drew nearer and nearer, they shook hands with each other, and with tears in their eyes some even talked of their far-off cottage homes in England.

Nearer and nearer!

A flag was flying at her stern, but to what country she belonged could not yet be made out. But they could now, by aid of the glass, see the hands moving about the deck, and some leaning over the bows pointing towards the island.

But, “Oh, cruel! cruel!” cried the poor men, and grief took the place of joy, when the vessel altered its course and went slowly away on the other tack.

So great was the revulsion of feeling now that some of the Crusoes threw themselves on the ground in an agony of grief and disappointment.

They watched the ship sail away and away, hoping against hope that she might even yet return.

They watched until the stars shone out and darkness brooded over the deep, and then a strange thing happened: a great gleam of light was seen on the distant horizon, and above it clouds of rolling smoke through which tongues and jets of flame were flashing.

The brig was on fire and burning fiercely!

Her very masts and rigging were seen for a time, darkling through the blaze.

No one thought of leaving the hill now; they would see the last of that mysterious ship.

Yes, and the last came within an hour.

An immense fountain of fire rose high into the air, lighting the sea up in one broad crimson bar from horizon to shore – then darkness.

Nothing more.

Nor were any signs of that unfortunate brig seen next day. No boat floated towards the island, nor was a single spar ever picked up along the beach.

It would be impossible to describe the feelings of the Crusoes as they went slowly homeward through the jungle, guided by Fitz and Bob.

“The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away.” That was all the remark that James Malone made.

And the mystery of that unhappy brig none can ever unravel.

To the end of time it must remain one of the awful secrets of the sea.

Book Three – Chapter Seven.

Strange Adventures in a Crystalline Cave

Ten months more, and not another ship was seen.

It was now two years and over since the beautiful barque Sea Flower had sailed away from Southampton. Not a very long time, it may be said. No; and yet it seemed a century to look back upon, so many strange events and adventures had been crowded into those four-and-twenty months, and so much sorrow and suffering too.

“Hope deferred maketh the heart sick.”

Ah! the hearts of all were sad and sick enough by this time.

“Some day, some day a ship will come!”

Every one fore and aft was weary with repeating these words.

They went not now so often to the foot of Fire Hill, as the volcano had come to be called, in search of the buried cave.

A buried cave it doubtless was, covered entirely by the flow of lava from the crater, and lost, it would seem, for ever.

But whole days would be spent in rambling about in search of the only kind of game the lonely island afforded, those small black pigs and the rock-rabbits, or in fishing by stream or at sea.

When I say “at sea,” it must not be imagined that they fished in Treachery Bay. No; for to have done so would doubtless have invited the attention of the savages, and they might have paid the island a visit that would have been very little relished. Natives of those South Pacific islands have keen eyesight.

But the dinghy boat had been hauled right across the island and launched in a little bay there. A cave was found, and this formed a capital boat-house, for it rose so high behind that the tide could not reach it.

The time had come when fishing was very necessary indeed, for well “found” though the Sea Flower had been, especially with all kinds of tinned provisions and biscuits, these had been nearly all consumed, and for some months back the Crusoes had depended for their support almost entirely on rod and gun. I say almost advisedly; for many kinds of vegetables and roots grew wild in this lonely island, not to mention fruits, the most wholesome and delicious that any one could desire.

Ah, reader, do not imagine that because you have eaten bananas, or even guavas, which you have purchased in this country, that you can form a perfect idea of the flavour and lusciousness of those fruits when gathered from the trees in their native wilds. Moreover, there are fruits in the woods of the Pacific islands so tender that they could not be carried by sea, nor kept for even a day in the tropics; and these are the best of all. So that on Misfortune Island there was no danger of starvation, unless indeed the Crusoes should have the misfortune to be surrounded by the savages and placed in a state of siege.

It was against such an eventuality that the last of the tinned meats was so carefully reserved: and the last of the coals too, because these latter would be needed for the donkey engine, to make steam to be condensed and used as drinking water.

Three times a week, at least in good weather, did a little band set out for the fishing cove, and this consisted of Ransey Tansey himself, Nelda, and little Fitz, to say nothing of Bob.

Now the cove was quite six miles away. Six miles going and six coming back would have been too long a journey for Nelda; but as the child liked to accompany the boys, and they were delighted to have her company, the two lads consulted together and concluded they must carry her at least half the way.

This was a capital plan for Nelda, and quite romantic, for the modus portandi was a grass hammock suspended from a long bamboo pole, one end resting on Ransey’s shoulder, the other on Fitz’s.

Nelda would be talking or singing all the way. But on the return journey she got down more often, because she never went back without a basket well filled with fruit and flowers.

Bob used to trot on in front always. This he deemed it his duty to do. Was he not a guard?

On rare occasions the Admiral also formed part of the expedition, but he preferred not going to sea in that wobbly boat.

When invited to embark, he would simply look at Babs or Ransey with one wise red eye, and say, “No, thank you, dear. A sea life doesn’t quite suit my constitution; and if it is all the same to you, I’ll just hop about the beach here until you all return.”

It did not take a very long time for the children, as I may still call them, to find all the fish they could conveniently carry. Then they returned to the beach, entered the cave, and cooked their dinner.

They invariably started to go back two or three hours before sunset.

About this cave there was a kind of mystery to the imaginative mind of little Nelda, and she peopled the gloom and darkness far beyond with all sorts of strange beings.