Jethou; or, Crusoe Life in the Channel Isles
by Ernest R. Suffling · English · Gutenberg #17618 · 396,409 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: Jethou; or, Crusoe Life in the Channel Isles
Author: Ernest R. Suffling
Release date: January 28, 2006 [eBook #17618]
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Language: English
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JETHOU
Or
Crusoe Life in the Channel Isles
Illustrated by Drawings Prepared from Author's Own Sketches
by
E. R. SUFFLING
Author of "History and Legends of the Broad District,"
"How to Organize a Cruise on the Broads,"
"Afloat in a Gipsy Van," etc.
Third Edition
[Illustration: Publisher's logo]
London
Jarrold & Sons, 10 & 11, Warwick Lane, E.C.
[All Rights Reserved]
1898
PREFACE.
As the writer does not pretend to possess what is termed literary style,
he would ask the indulgence of the reader in any little slip of the pen
which may occur in these pages, as it is not every Crusoe who can
command the facile quill, the pure style, or the lively imagination of a
Daniel Defoe, to narrate his adventures.
It must be borne in mind that the island of Juan Fernandez possessed
many natural features, and a far greater area than Jethou can boast of,
and therefore more scope for the development of incidents and
descriptive embellishment.
Doubtless many of the adventures here placed before the public will
appear puny beside the exploits of the original Crusoe; but it must be
taken into consideration that the author does not, like Defoe's hero,
revel in the impossible. At the same time it may be noted that the
adventures detailed are of a sufficiently exciting kind as to be above
any suspicion of dulness.
Juan Fernandez lies about four hundred miles from the nearest land, and
it is therefore very difficult to imagine from whence the savages came
who were about to convert Friday into a _fricassee_. The Friday of our
story, y'clept Monday, came to Jethou in a natural if in an exciting
manner, and it will be found that everything else in the narrative, if
not an _exact_ account of what really did happen, is at least feasible.
It is in fact a practicable narrative, served up in a plain, ungarnished
form, except that to make it more palatable to the general reader a
little love-story has been introduced towards the conclusion, which, it
is hoped, sustains the interest right to the last, and makes the volume
end as all good books should, by allowing the principal actors to "live
happily ever after."
E. R. SUFFLING (HARRY NILFORD).
_Blomfield Lodge_,
_Portsdown Road_,
_London, W._
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I. PAGE
My birth and home--My pretty cousin--Accident to the
"Kittywich"--Journey to Guernsey--Pleading to become
a Crusoe--My wish granted--Outfit secured--Sail
to Jethou 9
CHAPTER II.
I take possession of the Island--Landing stores--A grand
carousal--Farewell--Alone 24
CHAPTER III.
First thoughts and impressions--A tour of the Island and
description 32
CHAPTER IV.
Farming operations--I make a plough and a cart--A
donkey hunt--Dumb helpers--My live stock 44
CHAPTER V.
Canoeing--Fish of the place--The ormer and limpet--A
curious fishing adventure--Queer captures from the
sea--Rock fish--Construct a fish pond and water-mill 55
CHAPTER VI.
"Flapp," the gull--Surgical operation--The gull who refused
to die--Taxidermy extraordinary--Feathered friends--Snakes 69
CHAPTER VII.
I build a curious "box-boat"--An unpleasant night at sea--My
Sunday service--The poem, "Alexander Selkirk"--Its
applicability to my lot 79
CHAPTER VIII.
A trip to St. Sampson's harbour--A horrid porcine murder--A
voyage round Sark--Nearly capsized--Trip round
Guernsey--The pepper-box--Curiosity of tourists 93
CHAPTER IX.
Harvest operations--Explore La Creux Derrible, and nearly lose my
life--Crusoe on crutches--An extraordinary discovery--Kill a
grampus--Oil on troubled waters--Make an overflow pump 112
CHAPTER X.
A storm and a wreck--The castaway--Dead--A night of
horror--The boathouse destroyed--A burial at sea 126
CHAPTER XI.
Climate in Winter--Vision of my father--A warning voice--Supernatural
manifestations--The falling rock--My life saved by my dog 139
CHAPTER XII.
A fairy pool--Wonders of the deep--Portrait of a poet--The cave of
Fauconnaire--A letter from home and my answer to it 148
CHAPTER XIII.
Another terrible storm--Loss of the "Yellow Boy"--A ketch
wrecked--I rescue a man from the sea, badly injured--He recovers 159
CHAPTER XIV.
Work and song--Sunday service--Build a larger boat, the
"Anglo-Franc"--Collecting wreckage--Commence a
jetty--Our cookery--Blasting operations--The opening banquet 172
CHAPTER XV.
Trawling for fish and dredging for curios--Some remarkable
finds--A ghastly resurrection--The mysterious paper--The
hieroglyphic--A dangerous fall--_Hors de combat_--Attempts
to unravel the paper 181
CHAPTER XVI.
Yarns: The cabbages which hung their heads--The raft of
spruce--Voyage of the "Dewdrop"--A lucky family--A
deep, deep draught--The maire's cat 193
CHAPTER XVII.
The Will again--Searching for a clue to the paper--Barbe Rouge's
Will--A probable clue--Hopes and doubts--Perplexed--A memorable
trawl by moonlight--A real clue at last--The place of
the skull found 207
CHAPTER XVIII.
Digging for the treasure--A noonday rest--The ghastly tenant of
the treasure house--We find the treasure--An account of what
we discovered 217
CHAPTER XIX.
Preparing to leave--A letter home--We lengthen and enlarge the
"Anglo-Franc"--Re-christen her "Happy Return"--Love at first
sight--Victualling and stowing cargo--Pretty Jeannette--The long
voyage--Incidents en route--Vegetarians, and their diet--Yarmouth
reached--Fresh-water navigation--My native heath 231
CHAPTER XX.
I surprise the old folks at home--All well--Is Priscilla false--We
meet--The missing letters--A snake in the grass--Dreams
of vengeance 250
CHAPTER XXI.
The "Happy Return" inspected--More of my father's ghost--Unpacking
the treasure--Seek an interview with Walter Johnson--Two letters 257
CHAPTER XXII.
M. Oudin arrives--The Wedding Day--Division of the
spoil--Alec returns to Jethou--Wedding gifts--The end 265
APPENDIX.
A few words about the Channel Isles 271
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
THE ISLAND OF JETHOU _Frontispiece_ 1
THE OLD HOME AT BARTON 10
MAP OF THE ISLAND OF JETHOU 35
PLAN OF HOMESTEAD 43
MY PLOUGH 47
AN ANTEDILUVIAN CHARIOT 48
"I WAS SWAMPED IN A MOMENT" 61
THE "YELLOW BOY," PLANS, ETC. 81
A PORCINE MURDER 99
ROCKS AT SOUTH END OF SARK 101
THE MAIN PATH OF THE ISLAND 113
LA CREUX DERRIBLE 119
TOO LATE! 131
A GHOSTLY VISITANT 141
"ALONG THE RUGGED CLIFF PATH" 161
RESCUE OF ALEC DUCAS 167
THE PUZZLING DOCUMENT 186, 209
A TERRIBLE FALL 187
THE TENANT OF THE TREASURE HOUSE 223
LENGTHENING THE "ANGLO-FRANC" 235
[Illustration: Frontispiece--THE ISLAND OF JETHOU]
[Illustration: Decorative chapter heading]
JETHOU;
OR,
Crusoe Life in the Channel Isles.
CHAPTER I.
MY BIRTH AND HOME--MY PRETTY COUSIN--ACCIDENT TO THE
"KITTYWICH"--JOURNEY TO GUERNSEY--PLEADING TO BECOME A CRUSOE--MY
WISH GRANTED--OUTFIT SECURED--SAIL TO JETHOU.
That Crusoe of Crusoes, Alexander Selkirk, as I am aware, commences his
entertaining history with his birth and parentage, and as I am also a
Crusoe, although a very minor adventurer, I may as well follow the
precedent and declare my nativity.
I was born at the little village of Barton in Norfolk, at the time the
guns at Balaclava were mowing down our red coats and tars, where my
father had a small house facing the Broad. It was a comfortable old
two-storied building, with a thatched roof, through which a couple of
dormer windows peered out, like two eyes, over the beautiful green lawn
which sloped to the reed-fringed water. My father was in very
comfortable circumstances, as he was owner of six large fishing vessels
hailing from the port of Great Yarmouth, some ten or twelve miles
distant as the crow flies.
[Illustration: THE OLD HOME AT BARTON.]
Being born, as it were, on the water (for a distance of a hundred yards
matters but little), I was naturally from my birth a young water dog,
although they tell me that for some months after I made my bow to the
world, milk also played a prominent part in my career.
As I grew into boyhood, of course I had my rowing punt and my rod, and
thus gained my first taste for a solitary life, as it frequently
happened that I would be away from sunrise to sunset on some little
expedition to one or other of the neighbouring Broads. By and bye came
the time when I arrived at that rare age for enjoyment, fourteen years.
This birthday, the fourteenth, was a red-letter day in my life, as I
received two presents, which were in my eyes very valuable ones; my
uncle presented me with a beautiful little light gun, and my father
handed me over his small sailing boat. Now I was a man! I felt it, and I
knew it, and so did my schoolmates, for there was not one of them, who
at some time or other, had not felt the effects of my prowess in a
striking manner. Still, the drubbings I gave were not always to my
credit, for I was a very big and strong lad for my age, and my
self-imposed tasks of long rowing trips and other athletic exercises,
naturally made me powerful in the arms and chest. Of my brain power I
shall say little, as my mind was ever bent on sporting topics when it
should have been diving into English history or vulgar fractions. Some
new device in fishing gear was always of more consequence to me than any
inquiry as to the name of the executioner who gave Charles the I. "chops
for breakfast," as we youngsters used to say, when we irreverently spoke
of the decollation of his Majesty.
Still, somehow I stumbled through my schooling till I was sixteen, when
I was sent off to my father's office on the Quay at Yarmouth to take
charge of the books, which were an everlasting humdrum record of
herrings and the various trawl fish which came in so frequently in our
vessels.
Between whiles I had plenty of spare time, and whenever a few hours were
allowed me, I could not keep out of my boat, so that if the sea happened
to be fairly calm, I was sure to be found bobbing about on it, and was
as well known by the fishermen along the coast ten miles north and south
of Yarmouth, as I was by the folks in my own village. When the sea was
rough I turned my attention to Breydon Water, or the Bure, or other of
the rivers flowing into it, so that at an early age I could command my
little boat as easily as one manages a horse in driving. On Saturdays,
when the wind and weather were at all favourable, I used frequently to
hurry away from business as early as possible, and sail home along the
Bure and Ant, a distance of about twenty miles, rather more than less,
and became so accustomed to the route that I knew every tree and post,
aye, and almost every reed and bulrush on the river's bank on my
homeward way.
Sometimes night would close in rather quickly upon me, but as I only had
two turnings to look out for, Thurne Mouth and Ant Mouth, I seldom made
a mistake, however dark it might be, especially when the venerable old
ruined gateway of St. Benet's Abbey was once passed.
Almost always these trips were solitary ones, if I except the
companionship of my retriever "Begum," who was a present from my cousin
on his return from India. Begum, he informed me, was a ruler in India,
but whether male or female I never discovered.
My dog was a gentleman, but to this day it has remained a matter of
conjecture with me, as to whether we inadvertantly gave him a lady's
name, or no. Anyway, "Begum" sounded well; he was a ruler, and being
black coincided with our school rulers, which were always black with
ink. Unfortunately, everyone persisted (possibly to annoy me if they
could), in calling him By Gum! strongly accentuating the second word,
and till the poor old dog died, the name stuck to him like a postage
stamp to a letter.
In my holiday trips I had a companion, my cousin Priscilla, who was, if
the term be permissible; as great a water dog as myself. I am not going
to attempt a description of her, but I _must_ let the reader know that
she was bigger, stronger, and a vast deal prettier than any girl within
a radius of many miles of our village; not that I wish to disparage the
looks or figures of our Norfolk girls, for they can hold their own with
the rest of England, as Bad King Harry knew when he wooed and won
Norfolk's Queen, Mistress Anne Boleyn of Blickling.
'Cilla, as I called my cousin for brevity, could row, sail a boat,
skate, and shoot; yes, she was a very fair shot, and never a winter
passed but she gave a good account of duck, teal, mallard, pewit, and
geese, as the result of her prowess.
But I will say no more of pretty cousin 'Cilla at present, as this
narrative is to be a record of what more nearly concerns myself, so I
must not "_mardle_," as we say in Norfolk, but proceed with my story.
I was twenty-one and some months more, for the rejoicings consequent
upon the event had become matter of past history, when my father one day
received intelligence of one of his fishing vessels having been towed in
a disabled state into the harbour of St. Peter Port, Guernsey. She was
so badly damaged that his presence was imperative, to decide as to her
ultimate fate.
She had been to a Spanish port for cork and hemp, as the fishing season
was not a very good one, and on her return voyage had run upon an island
called Jethou, during a dense fog, luckily in a calm sea, or she would
never have come off whole again. Nothing ever does when it once plays at
ramming these granite islands. Like the Syrens, who lured or tried to
lure Ulysses, these islands are very fair to behold; but woe to the ship
that comes into contact with them, for they rarely escape from their
deadly embrace.
The very next day (my father having allowed me to accompany him) we
started for Plymouth, a long journey, _via_ London, at which city, being
my first visit to the metropolis, I could fain have broken our journey,
but our business being urgent we steamed away to Plymouth by the night
train. After a substantial meal next morning we sallied out to find the
first vessel sailing to Guernsey, and were lucky in discovering one
called the "Fawn," which was preparing to sail the same day. Although
only a cargo ketch the skipper bargained to take us, and about two p.m.
we unmoored and were soon off. Our passage was a quick one, a strong
N.W. wind bowling us over to St. Peter Port in time for early breakfast
next morning.
It is needless for me to go through the whole story of the running
ashore of our smack, as beyond the important fact that it was her mishap
which caused me ever to visit the Channel Islands, she has little else
to do with my narrative.
She was damaged very seriously amidships, but my father, who had a happy
knack of turning almost everything to a good account, unless
irredeemably hopeless, was struck with a capital idea in this instance.
Instead of selling her as a worthless hulk, he had her cut in two, the
damaged timbers removed, a new length of keel laid down, and had her
lengthened about ten feet; after which operation she was as sound as
ever, and as my father had prophesied, no one recognized her again for
the same vessel.
While we were waiting for the "Kittywitch" (for that was her name) to be
run off the slips, we had plenty of time to look about us; in fact, we
spent nearly seven weeks among these lovely islands.
We explored Guernsey and Sark thoroughly, also Herm as far as we were
allowed, that island being more of a proprietary place than the others.
We also spent about ten days in Jersey, which is quite a large place in
comparison with the other islands. But of all the islands, I think Sark
carries off the palm, not that it has beauties of its own, or is grander
or more prolific, but it is an _epitome_ of all the other islands; in
fact it contains in a small space every salient feature of the Channel
Isles; the people, the granite cliffs, the bays, the caves, the hills,
the woods, the shady lanes, the sandy beaches, are all there, and the
surrounding sea is not a tone the less blue in its intensity, nor the
air a whit less balmy than that with which the other islands are
favoured.
Now it happened, while we were staying at St. Peter Port, awaiting the
re-launching of our vessel, that we made friends with the proprietor of
the island of Jethou, upon which the "Kittywich" struck, and although it
was a good three miles from St. Peter's harbour, yet we made occasional
trips to the islet when the wind was fair and the sea smooth. With this
little island of Jethou I was charmed, and fancied I could make it my
Paradise, if only I could be allowed to live there for a twelvemonth, _a
la_ Robinson Crusoe.
At this idea my father, who was a thoroughly business-like,
matter-of-fact man, set up his eyes and called me a name not at all
polite; but as he was my parent, and viewed life through older optics
than mine, I daresay he was right in the main, when he called me, to put
it mildly, a "stupid fool." But although he pooh-poohed the idea, and
bade me dismiss it from my mind, I could not help the thought entering
my brain, and I wished something might possibly happen by which I might
be left alone on the island, to try, at all events, what Crusoe life was
really like.
Sure enough something did happen which ultimately gave me the
opportunity of carrying out my idea in its entirety. M. Oudin, the
proprietor of the island, had two events to chronicle in one day,
events which quite altered his after life, and took him at an hour's
notice from his Jethou home to Gardner's Hotel, Guernsey.
A letter arrived at St. Peter Port for him, from Paris, which, according
to custom, was placed in the guernsey breast of a fisherman, who sailed
with it straightway to M. Oudin. The latter gentleman having adjusted
his glasses, after instructing his man to give the messenger spirituous
refreshment (which is so very cheap in these islands), proceeded to scan
the contents of the letter. It was from a lawyer in Paris, informing him
of the decease of his brother, a leather merchant, who, dying wifeless
and childless, had bequeathed him both his business and fortune. This
intelligence of both joy and sorrow so bewildered and unstrung the
nerves of M. Oudin that, in accordance with his custom, he took a
dram--in fact the circumstances were so very warrantable that he took
two--and probably even more; or else they were like Mynheer Van Dunk's,
"deep, _deep_ draughts." Anyway, upon giving the fisherman orders to
sail him back to Guernsey, and attempting to follow him with his serving
man, they somehow found themselves at the bottom of the gulch which led
down to the shore (upon which the boat was careened), so much mixed as
to arms and legs, that an observer would have wondered what curious
animal he was gazing upon. Two of them scrambled to their feet, and as
well as they could, shook themselves together; but the third, M. Oudin,
had unfortunately broken his right thigh-bone completely in two. Then
the maudlin men, despite his groans, placed him awkwardly in the boat,
and hoisted sail for Guernsey.
As luck would have it, my father and I were standing upon the deck of
the now nearly finished "Kittywich," when the boat came in, and M. Oudin
having communicated to my father the nature of his hurt, my dad
immediately gave orders for him to be taken to Gardner's Hotel, where we
were staying, and hurrying for a doctor soon joined him there. The leg
was set, and I spent the greater part of each day by the side of M.
Oudin's bed, chatting and reading to him, and attending to his wants.
During our conversation I happened to mention what a great treat I
should consider it to be allowed to live on his island for a few months.
Presently we went more fully into the "whys and wherefores" of the case,
so that I quite began to imagine it might all come to pass as I wished,
but the arrival of my father in the midst of our very pleasant
conversation quite put a damper on the scheme.
"Bah! he would hear nothing of it; it was a mad fool's idea. No, no,
think no more of such rubbish, my boy. Crusoe is all very well to
_read_, but it's a poor look out to have to _live_ Crusoe."
M. Oudin, seeing how my mind was bent upon the scheme, gave my father a
day or two to simmer down, and then took him in hand quietly and
practically.
"Now look here, Nilford," said M. Oudin, motioning my respected father
to draw his chair nearer to the bed-side, "as you know, I must for the
present, at all events, leave Jethou, for by my brother's death my
presence is necessary in Paris. By his decease I become possessed of a
fortune of upwards of 700,000 francs and a large business to boot. Now a
business employing upwards of forty men will require my constant
supervision, and it is therefore very unlikely that I shall ever return
to Jethou, except perhaps for a very brief holiday.
"Now, during my enforced sojourn in this town, your son has shewn me
every attention and kindness, and with your permission I will give him
the whole of my interest in Jethou as a reward for his attention to me
during my recovery. The island is Crown property, which I rent for a
nominal sum, and as to the furniture, fixtures, and live stock they
shall be his (by your permission) to do as he likes with."
My father made a wry face at this, while I, who sat speechless, could
feel my heart bounding against my ribs for very joy. Alas! my father
negatived the whole thing. "It was not to be thought of; it could not be
carried out by a youngster like me; I should perhaps die without
assistance reaching me; I might starve," and a score more obstacles were
mentioned. By and bye, however, with my earnest persuasion, backed up by
M. Oudin's quiet but forcible manner, my dad melted so far as to ask for
a couple of days for consideration.
Oh! those two days, would they never pass? Yes, they rolled by at last,
and once more we were seated in M. Oudin's room.
"Well, Nilford, what is your decision? I trust it is a favourable one
for the lad, for I am sure he would thoroughly enjoy the life; but if
not, why in case he grew 'mammy sick,' he could return home. But the lad
is of the right metal, and I'll warrant would see twelve months out
without getting weary of the life. Come now, Nilford, give me your
hand, and boy let go."
By the way, my name is Harry Nilford, which I do not think I have
mentioned before.
Then came a long verbal tug of war between these two good men, in which
I could discern that my father's refusal was solely based upon his love
for me and his apprehension for my safety. The tug of words, like a tug
of war at an athletic meeting, was a long one, first one gained an
advantage only to lose it to his opponent directly after; then the
opponent would get in a strong verbal tug, and nearly draw his man over
the line; but at length my father, with great reluctance, conceded a
point, a great point in fact, one which virtually settled the contest.
"M. Oudin," said my parent, "I'll consent on one condition, which is,
that I may be allowed to draw up an agreement as to the boy's tenancy of
the island, and if Harry agrees to abide by it, well and good."
"Very well, father," I quickly put in, "here are writing implements;
draw up your Code and I will soon tell you my decision."
This was said with great emphasis on the "_my_," and delivered with an
air of--"see what a decided person _I_ am."
In an hour my father had drawn up the following document:--
TERMS OF AGREEMENT FOR MY SON'S RESIDENCE UPON JETHOU FOR 12
MONTHS.
My son Harry wishes to live the life of a Crusoe or Hermit, on the
Island of Jethou for twelve months, and to this I agree only on
his signifying his willingness to abide by the terms stated in this
agreement.
1. He shall allow no one to land on the island.
2. Shall not himself land upon any of the surrounding islands
(rocks which are uninhabited excepted).
3. Shall not speak to a living soul during the course of his
self-exilement.
4. Shall obtain no stores nor goods of any kind from any other
island, nor from any passing vessel.
5. Shall hold no communication with anyone, in any way:--
(_a_) Either ashore or afloat.
(_b_) Except in case of sickness, accident, detrimental to limb or
life, or
(_c_) In other case of dire necessity.
Should my son choose to abide by the above regulations, I will
agree to his holding the island for a period of one year.
Signed, THOMAS J. NILFORD.
"There!" said my father, laying down his pen, "that is my ultimatum, my
son; and mark me, I will agree to _nothing_ else."
This was said in a manner which shewed plainly that he considered he had
drawn up a code so stringent that he did not deem it at all likely I
should accept his plan; but to his great chagrin, and I may almost say
his consternation, I reached out my hand, after reading the document,
and taking the goose quill, wrote under the last clause,
"Accepted--Harry Nilford."
That being done, my father could not go back upon his word, and
accordingly the whole thing was settled.
M. Oudin was pleased, and I was supremely delighted, but my good old
father was quite dejected, and frankly avowed that it was like
sentencing me to twelve months' imprisonment. So it was, but what a
delightful imprisonment I anticipated it would be!
However, in a day or two he came round, and as he could not well alter
the turn circumstances had taken, he endeavoured to ameliorate them. He
made me write down a list of what I thought I should require, and to
this list he added a long supplement; and after mature consultation with
M. Oudin, another list was added as addendum; in fact, the articles were
so numerous that they filled four huge packing cases.
These cases were zinc-lined to keep the goods dry, as some of them were
perishable, and no one can tell with what pride I gazed at these boxes,
and thought of the glorious life I was about to lead. No thought of any
accident, or other drawback, even entered my head; in fact, as I sat on
the top of a case, swinging my legs and counting the hours which had to
pass before the day arrived when I was to take possession of my island
home, I was most consummately happy, being naturally ignorant of what
was to befall me.
At length came the day for launching the "Kittywich," at which I
assisted to my utmost; for I knew that any hitch with her meant further
detention in Guernsey for me. All went well, and as she slid off the
stocks (like a duck entering the water) without a splash or jar of any
kind, a ringing cheer went up, and then I knew that I should soon bid
farewell to picturesque St. Peter Port, one of the finest harbour towns
of Great Britain.
A few more days and the "Kittywich" had received her cargo for home,
and with it a new name, for in consideration of her additional carrying
capacity, we rechristened her the "Cormorant." Then came the day on
which the Blue Peter was seen at her masthead, but what was even better
in my eyes, was my own outfit packed in the four huge cases which stood
so prominently on her hatchway amidships.
M. Oudin hobbled down to the harbour to see us off, and in doing so
handed me a long heavy case as a parting gift, with instructions not to
open it for a week, by which time he hoped to be far away in Paris.
We unmoored, left the harbour, and in an hour were laying at anchor off
the north end of Jethou.
[Illustration: Decorative scroll]
[Illustration: Decorative chapter heading]
CHAPTER II.
I TAKE POSSESSION OF THE ISLAND--LANDING STORES--A GRAND
CAROUSAL--FAREWELL--ALONE.
The 2nd March, 187--, was a bright mild day, with but little wind and a
quiet sea: just the day for landing my stores. The goods I had selected,
and those added by my father and M. Oudin, were of a very miscellaneous
kind, and included provisions, farm and garden seeds (and a few
implements), a canoe, a gun, clothing, fishing gear, oil and coal,
cooking apparatus, and a score other things. As I knew the island was
devoid of animals except rabbits, I asked for, and obtained some live
stock--in fact, quite a farmyard. There were a goat, a dog, a cat, six
pigeons, two pigs, six fowls, and last, though by no means least, a
young donkey.
The large cases of goods were landed in a boat, not without a slight
mishap, however, as one of them, in being lowered over the bulwarks, was
carelessly unhitched by the men in the boat and tumbled overboard; it
fell in three fathoms of water, but the water was so translucent that it
was clearly discernible on the bottom.
This took quite an hour to get up, as it was an awkward thing to
grapple, but there were plenty of hands willing to help in landing the
goods, as several of the Guernsey men had come over to have a parting
spree.
The pigs and donkey were pushed overboard and quickly reached the shore;
the former, in spite of popular belief, proving themselves excellent
swimmers when once they struck out shorewards, especially as the
distance was short. On landing they went up over the island, and for the
time disappeared among the rocks and wild bushes.
By dusk the cry was, "All ashore," as everything had been landed, and
the "Cormorant" brought to a safe mooring under the lee of the rocky
island of Creviçon.
Altogether there were nearly twenty of us, that is, my father and self,
the skipper and crew of the "Kitty," and several of the workmen who had
been employed in altering and repairing the vessel; also the master
shipwright, in whose charge the vessel had been.
First came a grand spread in the principal room of the house, the
provisions for which had been brought over from St. Peter Port. It was a
great success, and after the improvised table had been cleared away
(boxes, surmounted by planks covered with a sail, formed the table) the
fun commenced. Joke followed joke, and song followed song. Then came
toasts and sentiments, which were of quite an international character,
as songs and sentiments in English, French, and Spanish were
continuously fired off, most of them being of a seafaring character.
The skipper of the "Cormorant" led off with a regular old North Sea
song, called, "The Dark-eyed Sailor." It is probably known by nearly
every seaman in the North Sea Fishery, and is a great favourite at all
carousals. It commences:
"It's of a comely young maiden fair,
Who walked on the quay to take the air,
She met a young sailor on the way,
So I paid attention, so I paid attention to what they did say."
This song, sung by a Norfolk man, always seems to me a great curiosity,
as the last line is lengthened out and twisted about in a most grotesque
manner, apparently to suit the whim or fancy of the singer, for no two
of them seem to conjure vocally with it in the same way. Everyone
present is supposed to join in the last line as a kind of chorus, and
not only join in, but "give it lungs," as they say. Some of them pay
such attention to these points, that they appear in danger of lockjaw,
or the starting of a blood-vessel, so heartily do they sing.
Then came a French song, with a chorus something about "Houp, houp, houp
à tra-la-la-la!" the singer standing on the top of an empty barrel to
warble, and as he set the fashion, so every succeeding singer followed
suit, and mounted the "pulpit," as they dubbed the cask.
Old Roscoe, our wooden-legged mate (the right leg of flesh having been
lost in my father's service), gave a funny jaw-breaking Scotch song,
with a chorus which no one could repeat, so when the chorus came he sang
it alone, while we contented ourselves with howling "Rule Britannia"--at
least all those who knew it, while the others who did not, laughed and
smoked.
Then a Spaniard (who was a shipwright) sang one of his national songs to
an accompaniment of thumb-snapping (to imitate castanets), at which he
was very expert. He had a fine baritone voice, and his song was full of
fire, being a famous bull-fighting ditty, in which El Toro came in for a
dashing chorus.
By and bye the fun became still faster and more furious, till old Ross,
of the timber-toe, took exception and would insist on order being kept.
Ross always constituted himself Master of the Ceremonies when anything
festive was on foot, and our men, as a matter of course, left everything
in his hands; but the men of St. Peter Port knew him not, and would have
no authority from him, and as a kind of good-natured revenge for his
interference, some of them played a practical joke upon him; but they
did not know their man, for no sooner had the joke been carried into
effect (gunpowder in his pipe) than Ross seized his stick and knocked
two of his tormentors down, the rest quickly fleeing out of doors. His
wooden leg greatly handicapped him, but he at length got one of the men
in a corner, who, on finding there was no means of escape, struck out
right and left at Ross's somewhat prominent nose, causing the claret to
flow like the cataract of Lodore. Now his Scotch blood was up, and he
certainly would have done his assailant an injury, as he was a very
powerful man, had not some of his comrades rescued him. But this did not
appease his fury, for he went at them all with a glass bottle in one
hand and a heavy stick in the other; but luckily his career was cut
short by a man who ran behind him, and with a well-directed blow with
an iron rod broke his leg clean in two just below the knee--the wooden
one, of course. Down came the hero, who in his rage tore up the earth
around him to fling at the circle of grinning faces. By this time my
father and the skipper came upon the scene, and after a time cooled down
the gallant Scot, and persuaded him to "gang awa" to bed, which he did,
going in state, borne at the _four_ corners by four of his shipmates.
This incident put a stop to the singing, but commenced fun in another
way. Some of the fellows cut up the remains of Ross's leg and stick and
set them on fire, the barrel which had done duty for a rostrum being
also broken up and added; other wooden articles were quickly flung on,
till at length quite a large bonfire was formed, round which these
excited men danced hand-in-hand like children round a Maypole. Their
manners, however, were hardly childlike, for they jumped, and yelled,
and sang with the ruddy firelight glowing on their countenances, till
they looked like a lot of demons performing some diabolical incantation.
All around was the dark night, and rocks, and trees, which gave a most
weird aspect to the scene when viewed from a short distance.
And thus they were enjoying their pandemonium when my father, the
skipper, and I left them in the "wee sma' hours" and retired to rest.
How long they kept it up I know not, but when I awoke and dressed at
daylight all was quiet. At six all hands were called, and a sorry sight
they presented. Ross had mounted a jury-leg, while among the other men
no less than three black eyes appeared, beside bruised cheeks, and red
swollen noses. However, all were friendly again, and agreed that they
had hardly ever before spent such a jolly night. Such was a sailor's
idea of a jolly time or "high old spree!"
Breakfast over, my goods were hauled from the beach and placed in the
different rooms and sheds according to their kind, while by noon the
"Cormorant," with her Blue Peter flying, was ready for a start northward
to dear old England. The Guernseaise had departed amid give and take
cheering directly after breakfast, so that only the crew of the vessel
remained. My father bade me an affectionate farewell on the deck of the
vessel, but at the last embrace I felt too full of emotion to speak, for
a lump was in my throat, and a tear started from my father's eye and
rolled down his bronzed cheek, so that I knew that he, too, was greatly
moved at losing me for such a long period. A firm grip of the hand told
without words how we, father and son, loved each other, and to hide my
emotion I tumbled over the bulwarks into the dingy, and was pulled
ashore by a couple of hands, amid the hearty cheers of the men who stood
on deck. They gave me a salute of twelve _guns_ (fired from two
revolvers).
I stood on the rocky shore and waved a tablecloth tied to a boat-hook
till the vessel was hull down on the horizon, and then turned my face to
my island home, not feeling nearly so happy as I had anticipated a month
before. Alone! I felt as if the whole world had departed from me, and
that I was the sole survivor of the human race.
[Illustration: Decorative chapter heading]
CHAPTER III.
FIRST THOUGHTS AND IMPRESSIONS--A TOUR OF THE ISLAND AND
DESCRIPTION.
As I walked up the rocky path leading to the house, I must confess I
felt anything but sprightly. I felt that Crusoe life, after all, was not
all _caviare_. I was very depressed, and must admit a few tears, as the
whole force of what I had undertaken presented itself vividly to my
mind. What if I met with an accident? What if I were taken ill? Suppose
someone put in at night and cut my throat for the sake of plunder? Who
would help me? Who would know of my position? Might I not die any one of
a hundred deaths without the fact being known for weeks, perhaps months?
What did this idiotic idea of mine amount to after all? Where was the
pleasure? Would it not be better to be home in dear old Barton with my
skiff and pretty Priscilla?
Such were some of my thoughts, but my depression I cannot so readily
sprinkle on paper, and will not try to describe it. Let it suffice that
_I was_ depressed, and deeply too.
I felt thirsty, so wandered to the house and sat down and poured myself
out a bottle of Bass, and as I drank it, became aware of the presence of
my dog, who placed his muzzle in my hand and looked into my face with
positively tears in his dear old eyes. Why, after all, I was not alone.
No, here was a friend indeed (teste Byron), who would be ever by my side
in weal and woe. "Poor dog, are you hungry then?" Yes he was, and by the
bye, why should I not try something? We ate; and in half an hour--such
is the changeableness of the human mind--I was as happy as a sand-boy
(whatever that may be), as I wandered by the sunny shore.
I would make a tour of inspection of my estate; and, reader, if you will
kindly accompany me, I will show you the different sights of my little
island.
Jethou, I must premise, is about half a mile long by a quarter wide. It
rises steeply from the sea all round, except at the North end, where the
slope is somewhat gentle. It is a dome-shaped mass, rising at the summit
to a height of nearly three hundred feet. It may serve to give a good
idea of its form if I liken it to a huge dish cover (a Britannia metal
one, if you will, for it is crown property), as it is very symmetrical
when viewed from a distance. It is, in fact, a huge bosom-like hill,
around which three paths are cut; the first varying from fifty to a
hundred feet above the sea, the second averages one hundred and fifty
feet above high water, and another runs round perhaps fifty feet higher
still. These paths at certain points are connected by other paths, so
that one may readily get from one elevation to another, except where
the island is unusually steep, when zig-zag paths have to be negotiated.
In one part seven or eight zig-zags have to be walked to rise to an
elevation of about sixty or seventy feet, so steep is the south end of
the island. At the north-west rises a curious pyramidal mass of granite,
about one hundred and twenty feet above high water, called Creviçon,
which may be reached on foot at low tide or even quarter flood; but
after the tide once gets above the boulders it comes in like a mill
race, rising at times during certain winds as much as seven feet within
the hour; so that one may be cut off from the main island in a very few
minutes, as it would be madness to try and cross during a heavy sea,
whatever excellent swimming powers one might possess, as the rush of the
tide would sweep one away like a straw.
Strange to say, there is another of these vast piles of granite, but of
greater altitude and bulk, at the south end of the island, with just
such a race of water running between it and the mainland after the tide
turns. It is called La Fauconnaire, or the Falconry, and approaches two
hundred feet in height, and very difficult of ascent. Each of these
rock-islands is surmounted by a stone beacon in form of a miniature
lighthouse tower (without the lantern story), about fifteen feet high.
These beacons serve seamen as landmarks, from which to take bearings,
and to warn them of the danger of a too near approach to this dreadful
coast--or rather coasts--for all these islands are terrible places in
rough weather.
[Illustration: ISLAND of JETHOU By E. R. Suffling]
Now I will ask the reader to accompany me on a brief tour round the
island. Starting from the house, past the pigeon-tower, we pass under
some large walnut trees so thickly planted as to make the part very
shady, even on a bright day, and on dull days quite gloomy. We take the
middle path, which is about four feet wide, and flanked on each side by
braken and boulders. Indeed, nearly half the island consists of brakes
and granite blocks. I will mention the various items of interest as we
pass along, if the reader will supply his own imaginings of whirling
seagulls, frisking rabbits, sea breezes, bellowing surge as it bumps and
breaks against the granite sides of the island, flowers and bloom,
singing birds and sweet-smelling shrubs, etc. These things a mere pen,
however facile and graceful, cannot adequately describe without the help
of the reader's brain; so I will ask him to imagine the above for
himself, but I must warn him not to take cold with his lively
imagination, as occasionally the March winds are very keen here, and in
the present age of hypnotism, and thought-reading, and like gymnastics
of the brain, it is very easy to make the imagination play pranks of an
undesirable nature.
Now to resume our walk. Taking the middle path we quickly ascend to a
height of nearly two hundred feet above the boiling surge dashing
against the impregnable rocks below, and get a splendid view of
Guernsey, a good three miles distant, stretching far away to the north,
where it lies so low that it seems to melt gradually away into the sea.
Presently we come to some huge rocks which lie so much in our path that
the footway has to wind round them. They are huge masses of granite so
poised that apparently a good push would send them rolling into the sea
below, but their very size makes them secure, as some of the larger ones
must certainly weigh forty or fifty tons, and the wind would have to
blow a hurricane indeed which would dislodge them.
Here is one weighing perhaps three or four hundredweight which I will
try and push over. I tug, and push, and presently it nods, and nods, and
rolls over and over, till gathering impetus down the steep side of the
island, it crashes with irresistible force through the furze, and
heather, and shrubs, clearing a path as it goes till it reaches the
granite rocks, upon which it crashes and bounds, breaking off great
splinters, till finally with a boom it buries itself in the foam, never
more to be seen by mortal eyes.
Following the path we come to some curious terraces, one above the
other, which form a hanging garden facing due south. Now covered with
turf, it was many years ago a famous potato garden. This spot is known
as the Cotils.
Almost opposite this end of the island and at a short distance, rises
the huge pyramidal mass of granite called La Fauconnaire (The Falconry).
It is nearly two hundred feet high, and surmounted, as already
mentioned, by a white stone beacon, which from Jethou looks the shape
and size of a loaf of white sugar; but a scramble to the top of the
rocks for those who have nerve to climb the steep sides of La
Fauconnaire, will show that the sugar loaf is fifteen feet high. La
Fauconnaire is, I believe, unclimbable except at one place, at least for
those who are not experienced cragsmen or Alpine experts. At low water
a causeway of rocks joins it to the mainland, but at half-tide even it
is impassable, except in a boat on a calm day. On a windy day such a
strong tide rushes through the strait that a boat would be swept away in
the attempt to cross, although the distance is only four or five hundred
feet. The narrowness of the channel makes the rush greater.
Still keeping the middle path we come to an awful yawning chasm in the
earth, called La Creux Terrible. Its sides are so sheer that one
shudders to approach its crumbling brink for fear a slip should mean a
step into eternity. No man could fall here and live to tell the
sensation. Standing near the brink one can just discern the bottom, and
hear the sea surging and rolling along the floor as the tide gradually
rises. The chasm is funnel-shaped, and about two hundred feet deep by
about one hundred feet across. The bottom is connected with the beach by
a cavern, which may be entered at low tide, and the view taken from
below upward; but woe to the individual caught in this cave, for he
would have but a poor chance for his life if the tide once hemmed him
in.
Leaving this dreadful place, which I never approached but twice in the
dark, we shortly come to a very noticeable rock rising from the sea; it
is called Le Rocher Rouge, but as the apex takes the form of a gigantic
arm-chair, I have taken the liberty (as I have done with many other
places and things) of rechristening it Trône de Neptune (Neptune's
Throne), and it has so fixed itself in my mind, that I have often during
a stormy night wondered if he might not be sitting there ruling the
elements, but never had the temerity to go and see. I may here tell the
reader that although not naturally superstitious, I have a way of
peopling my island with beings during the solitary walks I take in the
day, that at night I almost fancy these spirit-forms hover round
me--perhaps watching me. It may be that I have mistaken the flight of a
sea-gull or night-bird for something superhuman, but on several
occasions I have been warned of approaching danger by something outside
myself; not tangible to the touch, nor definable to the eye, but still
noticeable to the ear and to the mind. Put it down a bird, as your
opinion, reader, and enjoy that opinion, and let me enjoy my warning
watchers, whether fowl or spirit. Perhaps during my narrative I may have
more to say of my "hovering ones."
From the island, at the point opposite Neptune's Throne, a good view of
Sark is obtained; on one day it will be seen standing clearly above the
sea, with Brechou or Merchant's Island clearly discernible, and La
Coupée (the isthmus which holds the two parts of the island together)
plainly in view in the sunlight; while on another day but a misty view
of it may be obtained; on yet another day it will be quite invisible,
although the distance is only about six miles.
Resuming our path, Herm is close on our right, the swift channel, La
Percée, running between us and it, and as it lies in the sun looks a
very beautiful picture, especially as the prettiest end, the south, is
presented to our view. A little further we turn up the hill and come to
a grove of rather stunted trees, standing like a double row of soldiers
up to their knees in braken. It is a lovely spot, as the pretty
fern-like brakes grow in great luxuriance beneath the spreading arms of
the walnut and other trees. These brakes grow so tall and thick that it
is quite difficult to force a passage through them, except where I have
cut a narrow path leading to a clearing, across which, on hot days, I
frequently swing my hammock, so as to obtain the full benefit of the
cool sea breeze as I sway beneath the welcome shadow of the biggest
walnut.
Beyond the grove, at the summit of the island, is my arable land, my
farm, lying in a fence of wire-netting, without which I should not be
able to preserve a blade of anything eatable from the hordes of rabbits
which make the island a perfect warren.
We descend again to the pathway with care, as the island's side is so
steep here that a trip over a stone or root might result in fatal
consequences.
As we approach the north-east corner of the island we find the pathway
gradually descending, till we are not more than twenty or thirty feet
above sea level, and notice that a spur of land hooks out into the sea,
forming quite a little bay, very rugged, and very rocky, but still very
convenient as a haven in light weather. Here I keep my crab and lobster
pots, as it is easily accessible from the house. I call it Baie de
Homard (Lobster Bay).
Keeping along the shore, to the north end of the island, we arrive at a
two-storied stone building which stands on the beach. This is my
store-house (for fishing gear, etc.) and workshop, and is situated only
a short distance from the house--perhaps three hundred yards. In the
days of the old privateers this house played an important part, for it
was fitted as a blacksmith's and carpenter's shop, and was probably a
very handy place for slight repairs to be carried out at very short
notice.
Leaving the Store, a beautiful velvety path, broad enough for a cart
road, leads up a slight ascent skirting the beach to the house and
cottage, which I naturally call by a word very dear to me in my
solitude--_home_.
I will ask the reader to glance at the accompanying plan to aid him in
getting a clearer idea of this homestead than my pen, unaided by
pictorial effort, would convey.
A, then, is a comfortable and picturesque four-roomed cottage. B is the
stable for my noble steed, Edward. C is the store-house, with loft over
for straw, etc., for said noble quadruped. In the store I keep my
utensils and implements for farm work, potatoes, flour, coals, and other
heavy goods. D, sheltered garden for winter crops; F, the vegetable and
fruit garden, in the midst of which stands an immense and very prolific
mulberry tree; it spreads its branches fifty-four feet from north to
south, and fifty-one feet from east to west. The garden contains fruit
trees of all kinds. E, the Seignieurie or Government House--my
palace--or, in plain words, a solid stone-built four-roomed house that
might stand a siege. The front windows look out over the lawn, G, to the
sea beyond, and those at the back command the well-walled-in fruit
garden, F. H is devoted to shrubs and medicinal herbs. J is the
flower-garden with a summer-house in the corner. K, the well of
excellent water. L, flight of stone steps to the lower path leading
round the island. M, pigeon-tower and fowl-house amidst walnut trees. N,
Plantation and forest trees. O, watch house, once used as a strong room
or prison. P, an old iron gun (mounted on a stone platform, which would
probably fall to pieces at the first discharge) for summoning aid in
case of sickness or distress. Q, road to fishing-store and boathouse. R,
path up the hill to the piggery.
I think the reader may, from the foregoing, form some idea of the island
and homestead, as I have taken him all round the former, and pointed
out, although very briefly, the various portions of the latter. I have
wasted no time nor ink in so doing, as he like myself, will doubtless
find more pleasure in the narrative which commences in the succeeding
chapter. A fair idea of the island is necessary, so as clearly to
understand some of the incidents which are placed before the reader, and
I trust I have said sufficient to enable him to follow me in what I have
to tell of my sojourn on the pretty, though solitary island of Jethou.
A glance at the accompanying map will give a good idea of the various
places in Jethou mentioned in this story.
[Illustration: Decorative scroll]
[Illustration: PLAN OF HOMESTEAD 1890]
[Illustration: Decorative chapter heading]
CHAPTER IV.
FARMING OPERATIONS--I MAKE A PLOUGH AND A CART--A DONKEY HUNT--DUMB
HELPERS--MY LIVE STOCK.
My first few days were spent pleasantly enough, but as soon as the sun
had set my spirits would droop, and I felt anything but jolly, but like
Mark Tapley, I firmly made up my mind to be happy under all
circumstances.
I had a deal of unpacking to do, and determined, as my stay was to be a
lengthy one, "to find a place for everything, and keep everything in its
place." My initial motto was a good one, and I worked for quite a week
scheming and contriving all kinds of receptacles and appliances for my
heterogeneous goods and chattels.
My goat and donkey I turned loose, and as for my pigs, I had not seen
them since I landed; but I trusted that they were not like the
evil-tempered swine of the Bible, who cast themselves headlong into the
sea, for if that were the case they could commence their suicide at any
moment by rolling down any of the steep sides of the island into the
sea. I trusted that my pigs were sweet-tempered beasts, and of a
non-suicidal variety, and so they afterwards proved, and toothsome into
the bargain.
The boathouse received my canoe, fishing gear, carpenter's tools, and
gunpowder, for I was afraid to keep the latter near the house, as I had
a large quantity, nearly half a hundredweight. I had this large quantity
for several reasons, the principal being that I wished to shoot a large
collection of sea fowl, and still have plenty for the big cannon which
was to summon aid from Herm or Guernsey, should it be required. My good
father had made arrangements for me to signal as follows:
If I fired a single gun, the coastguard from Herm would put off to my
aid; if two guns were fired, help was to be considered very urgent, and
either the coastguard or one of the peasants of Herm would put over, if
the weather were calm enough to allow of a boat being launched. If I
fired minute guns, either by night or day, they would be reported to the
harbour master of St. Peter Port, who had my father's instructions to
send out a doctor immediately. Thus I felt comparatively easy in my mind
as to help in case of great need, either by accident or sickness. My
gunpowder was therefore kept in the lower floor of the boathouse, as I
thought it the safest place. I took only a pound at a time to the house
for shooting purposes.
Having got everything stowed away to my satisfaction, my next step was
to look over the island and see how I could employ my time in
cultivating the soil. Near the top I found a large patch of arable land
fenced in with wire netting, but it was greatly overgrown, having
apparently been some time out of cultivation. I stepped it out in as
correct yards as I could command by striding, and to my dismay found
there were just two acres, which discovery somewhat nonplussed me for a
time; for to dig over two acres with a spade was no light task, and I
took time to reflect and see if I could not concoct some easier means of
turning the soil than by digging.
Down I sat upon a stone and lighted my pipe--the solitary man's
comforter--and with my gun across my knees ready for a stray shot, I
made out my plan of campaign, after much cogitation. Why not make a
plough? Nothing is made of nothing! What had I to turn into a plough?
Then the idea of a real Saxon plough came into my head, and there the
idea took tangible form, as I saw close by me a tree which would answer
my purpose. Down went my gun, and away I trotted down the rocky path to
the house, and quickly returned with an axe. I was quite out of breath
when I regained the tree, having made as much haste as if the tree were
provided with means of locomotion, or as if I had to cut down the tree
in a given time; but that is just my way, I am much too impulsive.
A few strokes laid the tree low, and I soon had it trimmed ready for my
purpose. My next care was to make a pair of wheels, and this took me
much longer. I had noticed during one of my walks a large tree that had
been felled for some purpose, but never used, and to it I repaired with
a saw and worked away for several hours, cutting two slices from the
fairly symmetrical bole, about four inches wide. These gave me a pair
of solid wheels about twenty inches in diameter, which were large enough
for my purpose. These I attached to a short axle and bolted to the tree
which I felled, and by horizontally thrusting an iron rod, two feet
long, through the nose of my plough, about eighteen inches from the end,
I had my implement complete. The iron rod was to keep the pointed end of
my oak tree from burying itself too deeply in the ground. It was not a
beautiful object, but its usefulness condoned its ugliness.
[Illustration: MY PLOUGH.--UTILITY, NOT BEAUTY.]
I placed my handiwork aside for a season, and the next two days made
myself a curious sideless cart, which I could not help thinking bore a
great resemblance to a ladder on wheels. Two more sections from the big
tree formed the wheels, while a square piece of quartering thrust
through formed an axletree. The shafts and body of my vehicle were two
thick ash saplings twelve feet long, joined together with barrel staves
two and a half feet long, with the convex sides downward; then fore and
aft of the wheels I erected a species of gibbet to prevent my load from
shifting, which having done, my antediluvian chariot was complete.
[Illustration: AN ANTEDILUVIAN CHARIOT.]
Having provided my implements I now proceeded to till my land. I took a
whole back-aching day to pluck all the large weeds and stones off my
farm, and retired weary at night to dream of my flourishing crops of the
future.
Up with the lark next morning, I set out to find my noble long-eared
steed, Edward; but although I roamed about for an hour and a half I
could not discover him anywhere, so breakfasted and searched again, but
to no purpose. I gave him up as having been drowned whilst browsing on
the toothsome but truculent thistle or gorse. I looked at my plough and
cart in dismay, saying, "Man proposes, and an ass disposes." But shortly
after this dismal reflection, judge of my joy when I heard his musical
voice lifted up in sweet song, and borne to my enraptured ears on the
balmy noontide breeze. Laugh not, reader, for the poor brute's voice
_was_ sweeter to me in my loneliness than that of the greatest operatic
singer who ever trilled her wondrous notes.
Even after hearing the ass's braying I was a long time before I came
upon him quite down upon the stony shore, with not a blade of grass nor
even a thistle for him to nibble at. How he got there is to me a problem
to this day; but how I laboured to get him up again will ever remain in
my mind, for it makes me feel sore all over to think of it.
Where I found him was at the south end of the island, facing rocky
Fauconnaire. How I wandered up and down seeking a place for him to
regain the lower path of the island. But all in vain. No place could I
find; and all the afternoon I worked like a Titan, getting him up to the
pathway again. Poor fellow! he was very docile, and I had thoughts of
trying to carry him up; but although I got under him and lifted him, I
could not climb with him, so at last had recourse to a block and fall,
and after bruising and battering the poor creature somewhat, I got him
to a safe ledge of rock, from whence by pushing, and tugging, and
lifting, I got him up, foot after foot, till the perspiration streamed
down my face. The real Robinson Crusoe never had anything half so
difficult as this to contend with, and yet here was I at the outset
working harder than a galley slave! I envied Robinson Crusoe number one,
and went at my donkey again, till towards evening I got him to the lower
path, and after a rest rode him home in triumph, lecturing him severely
all the way "not to be such an ass again."
Next day I was _not_ up with the lark--in fact it was past nine before
I opened my eyes, so much had the previous day's exertions tired me. I
felt tired and stiff all over, but my morning tub and breakfast quickly
restored me nearly to par.
Edward was now domiciled in the stable, so putting on his collar and a
pair of home-made traces I harnessed him, with the help of various
contrivances of cord and staples, to my mediæval cart, and _bumped_ (for
my cart was springless) down to the beach to gather seaweed. All day
long we worked, "Eddy" and I, taking load after load to the top of the
island; and the next day too was occupied in carting up seaweed or
"vraic," as the natives call it, except that we also took up two or
three loads of withered bracken, leaves, and other rubbish, which I
burned and spread over the land.
After the ash and seaweed were spread I ploughed it in after a fashion,
streaking long shallow trenches with my pointed wooden plough, till I
had gone over the whole of the land. I looked at the tumbled ground with
no great satisfaction, for as much of the manure-seaweed was upon the
surface as under, so I turned to and ploughed crossways, which gave it a
little better appearance. Then I allowed it a week to rest, taking my
spade in the meantime and breaking the lumps and digging in the straying
"vraic." At length I had my land in tolerable order, although the
seaweed refused to rot as quickly as I desired. I reckoned, however,
that it would rot in time, and thus nourish the seed I put in, and so it
did.
I will not weary the readers with too much of my farming cares, but have
written a little about it to show what obstacles a Crusoe has to
overcome, and how hard he has to work to gain his ends. He has no one to
pat his back when he is triumphant, nor anyone to sympathise with him
over a failure. He is his own critic and censor. Suffice it to say that
in due course I had patches of barley, clover, lucerne, mangold,
carrots, etc., sown, and when once the seeds were in I had plenty of
leisure for other pursuits.
Although early spring, the weather was very mild to what I had been used
to on the Norfolk coast; in fact the temperature was as warm in April as
it is in the East of England at the end of May.
The garden by the house also had my care, for I planted enough edibles
in it to have maintained a large family, instead of a solitary being
like myself. Still, I counted my animals as my family, and got to love
them all, even to the little pigs. I named them all. There was my dog
"Begum," the donkey "Eddy," the goat "Unicorn," which I contracted to
"Corny." This name was derived from the fact that she had broken off one
horn close to her head. The pigs being twins were "Romulus" and "Remus,"
and, like the first Romans of that name, had frequent family quarrels,
which were, however, soon ended, the brothers rolling over each other in
delight in their pig stye.
"Corny" gave me about a pint to a pint and a half of milk a day, which I
found quite sufficient for my wants, as I only used it for breakfast and
tea, water forming my invariable drink for dinner. Breakfast and
tea-supper I usually took with some show of punctuality, but my dinner
was eaten in all sorts of places--on the Creviçon, in my canoe, on the
beach, or in the grove--in fact, just where I happened to be when I felt
hungry and had my wallet with me.
"Begum" always took his meals with me, except when I was on the sea,
when the poor fellow would follow my canoe round the island, and watch
till I came back again. Then his joy knew no bounds. He would go fairly
mad with delight, and I must confess I used to look for my comrade as
fondly as if he were a brother awaiting my landing. He would carry quite
a big load for me up the rocky cliff path, and esteem it quite a
pleasure; but when I had anything extra heavy to take up I made him
fetch "Eddy" to my aid. Strange as it may seem, this was a very simple
proceeding, for I taught him in a couple of days, thus:
On the stable door I fastened a piece of wood to act as a fall-latch,
which worked so easily that "Begum" could lift it with his nose and
allow the door to swing open. Then "Eddy" would march out, and wherever
I happened to be, would trot to me at the sound of my voice. Indeed, at
length he used to follow "Begum," directly he was released, to any part
of the island. Therefore, if I required "Eddy's" services when I was
quite at the south end of the island, I had only to send "Begum" to
fetch him, and away they would come together. This proceeding had only
one drawback, and that was, that "Eddy" would always help himself to a
mouthful of anything in the way of green food, which happened to be
growing within his reach, if he had to come near my little farm. I
verily believe that "Begum" used to take his friend past my crops on
purpose, although it was by no means the easiest way to get to the
Cotils, where my potato crop grew, and where I often used to go to get a
shot at the sea fowl on the Fauconnaire. As the crops were principally
for his own winter maintenance, I could not grudge him a bite of his
food in advance.
Many a time when I have landed from my boat very tired, after a long
cruise or fishing expedition, I have always found "Begum" waiting for
me, ready to fetch "Eddy," at my word, to help to beach the boat and
carry my gear up the cliff. This used to be of such frequent occurrence
that upon the end of the boat's painter I worked a kind of collar for
"Eddy" to pull upon in comfort. This collar I made of old sacking sewed
over with sennet, and I must say it was quite a success, for he would
hold his head out as naturally to receive the collar as a beggar would
hold out his hat for the reception of an alms.
The pigeons I brought with me and placed in the cote or tower soon
departed or died; possibly they were killed by hawks or other birds, but
that I never could discover. Anyway, the tower was not long tenantless,
for a pair of owls took up their abode there, and soon had a family of
six fluffy little fellows. Instead of destroying these birds as many
persons do in England, I allowed them to haunt the tower, in return for
which they kept the mice down, and I could not find that they did me any
kind of damage. I got quite to like their "to-whitting" and "to-wooing"
more than the monotonous "cooing" of the pigeons which never did sound
like music to my ears.
My six hens and a cockerel were located in the watch-house, from whence
they had the run of a large piece of wild ground overhanging the cliff.
Eggs I had in abundance, and even to spare, and before I left the island
had over thirty fowls. Beside the fowls' eggs I could, in the spring,
gather the eggs of the wild fowl inhabiting the islands by the score.
Enough of animals and birds; let us open another chapter on another
topic.
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CHAPTER V.
CANOEING--FISH OF THE PLACE--THE ORMER AND LIMPET--A CURIOUS
FISHING ADVENTURE--QUEER CAPTURES FROM THE SEA--ROCK
FISH--CONSTRUCT A FISH-POND AND WATER-MILL.
When the warm days and calm seas of May came I turned my thoughts to the
sea, of which I am passionately fond, and of which one never seemed to
tire, as one does of tame river water. Unfortunately my only vessel was
a canoe about fourteen feet long by three feet beam, and for sea work,
such as one gets round the shores of these islands, quite unfitted; but
there it was, and I had simply Hobson's choice--that or none.
On a calm sea, with a tide running only one way, such as one gets on the
English coast, the canoe was all very well and fairly safe; but here,
through the Percée, as the channel is called between Herm and Jethou,
the tide at times runs with great speed, and meeting with the resistance
of the Ferriers and other huge rocks, whirls, and turns, and foams in
all directions, so that a frail craft like a canoe would be a death-trap
to anyone foolhardy enough to venture out in it. That being the case, I
could only follow my canoeing hobby when the sea was calm, but even then
did not venture far from land.
I had several narrow escapes from upsetting, and at last, whilst lying
sleeplessly in bed (where, by-the-bye, most of my thinking and scheming
is done), the idea of making alterations in my canoe came under my
consideration, and before I went to sleep that night I had made up my
mind to improve her stability in several ways. I would make her fore and
aft compartments air-tight, so that if she turned turtle she would act
as a life preserver, and moreover, why not add an outrigger, such as the
natives of the Pacific have to theirs, making them almost impossible to
upset?
The second day saw my plans an accomplished fact. I put in bulkheads
fore and aft, and pitched the canoe inside and out, making her heavier,
but thoroughly water-tight--the end compartments being even air-tight. I
raised the combing of the well to six inches in height, put on a deeper
keel, shortened my mast, and added an outrigger. What more _could_ I do?
The outrigger I made of a bundle of bamboos lashed firmly together, like
the pictures one sees of the old Roman Fascines, or Rods of Authority,
and this I fastened about five feet from the side by means of a couple
of stout ash saplings. I found these improvements so admirable, that I
was not afraid in light winds (having gained a knowledge of the tides
and currents) of venturing anywhere either around Jethou or Herm.
Immense quantities of fish are found all round Jethou, the principal
being lobsters, crabs, crayfish, spider crabs, plaice, John Dorey,
soles, ormers, pollock, bass, gurnard, skate, cod, long-nose, rock fish,
turbot, brill, whiting, and conger.
Several of the fish I had never seen before, as they are rarely if ever
caught off the Norfolk coast; thus John Dorey, spiders, ormers, rock
fish, and pollock were all new to me, and gave me great enjoyment in
their capture, beside which I was greatly taken with the flavour of both
the Dorey and pollock, scores of which I caught in the Percée.
The ormer, rarely seen in England, is, I believe, sometimes called the
Sea Ear. It is somewhat the shape and size of a half cocoa nut (divided
lengthwise). The outside of the shell is of a rough texture, and of a
dull red colour, while the inside is beautifully coloured with an
iridescent mother o' pearl coating. (Why do we never hear anything of
the father o' pearl?) The ormer adheres to the rocks like the limpet
tribe, but is seldom seen above _low_ water-mark, like the limpet, who
loves to be exposed to the sun and air twice a day.
The flesh of the ormer, when grilled, is something like a veal cutlet
cooked in a fishy frying-pan, and I cannot say I was greatly enraptured
with the uncommon univalve.
My first meeting with the ormer was by accident. I was having an _al
fresco_ lunch of bread and raw limpets which I was detaching from the
rocks, eating them with a seasoning of vinegar and pepper which I had
brought with me when, being close down to the water among some outlying
rocks (as it was a very low neap tide), I saw something just under the
surface of a pool, of a dull red colour, which I perceived to be a
shell-fish of some kind. Stooping down, with a rapid blow of my knife I
detached it, and ere it sank into the unknown depths of the pool,
plunged in my left hand and secured it. It was an ormer--at least, so I
supposed, and on this supposition took it home and compared it with a
book on shells I had, and being satisfied with my researches, cooked and
ate the mollusc, although in some doubt. Next day, feeling much as the
first man who ever swallowed an oyster did--alive and hearty--I went at
dead low tide and gathered some more and ate also, but finally came to
the conclusion that one good sole was worth a sack of ormers. Still,
there is no accounting for taste. Some of the islanders are very fond of
ormers; but what is one man's meat is another's "_poisson_."
Although at neap tide on many occasions I gathered many more, it was
more for the beauty of the shells than the flavour of the fish inside
them.
For one with artistic tastes and love of colour like myself, the
interior of an ormer shell is a veritable fairy grotto. One discovery I
made regarding them and that is, that they form a dainty dish for the
huge conger eels which abound among the rocks, and about this bait I
must presently tell a little more.
The granite rocks below high water-mark are simply spotted all over with
myriads of limpets, some of them of enormous size. Many of the shells in
my collection are over three inches across, and the fish when cooked
make two ample mouthfuls. My manner of dressing them was to place them
in a tub of sea water for a night, and then to lay them on a gridiron,
point downward, over a bright fire, and grill them. When cooked they
would drop out of their shells when turned upside down over a plate
containing vinegar and pepper, and I considered them very nice. A friend
of mine who has tasted them in Cornwall says they would make any
well-bred dog sick. Thus, I say again, tastes vary!
I must allow, however, that the leathery limpet is as far behind the
delicious sole or turbot in flavour, as a turnip is inferior to an
apple; but still a change is desirable, and for the matter of change I
think I had a turn at everything eatable on the island or in the sea
surrounding it, and still live to tell the tale.
Well, now, let me tell an adventure that befell me while conger fishing
off the Creviçhon one calm evening just after dark. First let me point
out a device I had to adopt because my canoe had not sufficient space to
hold or carry all the fish I sometimes caught. I had to have recourse to
a floating fish carrier, and this I contrived out of an old dry goods
box, which I bored full of holes, so as to allow a current of water to
flow through and keep my fish alive. To give floating power to this
_fish-pound_, I fastened large bungs all round the outside, and to each
of the four corners I attached an inflated bladder, so that I could
easily store in it from thirty to forty pounds of fish, as it must be
observed, that whilst _in_ the water the fish will swim, and thus add
but little weight to their floating prison. This box I attached to the
outrigger by a stout lanyard, and fended it off with the paddle, if the
eddy brought it in too close proximity to my craft.
Well, to my fish story. I had been anchored for about two hours near
Rocher Rouge fishing for conger, of which I had caught three small ones,
beside several rock fish and whiting, when I thought I would try another
kind of bait, so I armed my hook with a small ormer, which being of a
gristly texture, held on the barb well. Over the side went the gear,
attached to a strong line of thick water-cord, and although it was down
a considerable time no warning tug gave hope of sport to follow, so I
busied myself with the other two lines I had down, with a fair amount of
success. At length getting tired of taking nothing on my big line, I
thought I would coil it up and examine the bait, but when I had got the
line straight up and down it refused to leave the bottom, tug as I
would. I pulled till my canoe danced and bobbed about in an alarming
manner, in fact, till the coaming was in danger of going under the
gently heaving sea, but to no purpose; it would not budge, so tripping
anchor I paid out line and paddled fifty yards, thinking that if my hook
had fouled a rock I might by a side pull clear it. I hauled in gently,
and to my surprise found the line come in with a curious vibrating
motion, in little jerks, till it got straight up and down again, and
then I had a hard pull to get it from the bottom; but still I did get it
up little by little, and was now positive that it was a fish of some
kind, and of great weight. Foot after foot of line came in very
spasmodically, and with great reluctance, till at last a great, ugly,
slimy head, with yellow-green eyes, came above the surface, and so large
did it appear, that it quite took me aback. In my surprise I let go
several coils of the line before I knew what I was about. The head was
enormous and _ex pede Hercules_. I knew the body must be of gigantic
proportions too. That I had hooked one of Neptune's fiends seemed
certain, and I was some time before I hauled up again to see really what
I had captured. In came the line again, foot by foot, with great
difficulty, till at length up came the terrible head again. But this
time I was prepared, and setting my teeth, held on. It was a huge
conger, such as I had never seen before, and which came very near being
the last I might gaze upon, for suddenly it brought its tail up over the
outrigger, and before I could counterbalance my craft, seemed to swamp
the canoe by its dead weight and the power of its fins. I was in the
water in a second, but never loosened my hold of the line. Letting go
the loose coils I struck out for Rocher Rouge, only some fifty yards
away, and, landing at the foot of the great granite throne, commenced to
haul in my line. To my joy the canoe, which still floated with its
coamings out of water, although the well was full, followed my line. I
afterwards ascertained that in falling overboard I had dropped between
the canoe and outrigger, and had thus drawn the line through the
intervening space after me. To this fact I owed the recovery of my
craft, which would otherwise have floated away, as I should have been
afraid to follow it, although an excellent swimmer, as the currents are
here so strong that I should probably never have got back again.
[Illustration: "I WAS SWAMPED IN A MOMENT."]
The canoe came slowly in till it was within reach, when I seized it, and
with a mighty effort dragged it ashore undamaged. The lines I also drew
in and coiled tidily away, leaving the long one till the last, which, to
my great surprise, when I hauled in, still had the monstrous eel in tow.
I quite thought he had freed himself when he swamped me, but such was
evidently not the case. Having a firm footing I hauled in my line with
more confidence, and at length got my lord close to the rocks, and in
the clear water could see his huge length and thickness. He was a
terrible fellow, and if he had got my legs in his embrace might have
easily drowned me; but I did not give him a chance to use either his
tail or teeth, but getting his head close to the rocks I took a turn of
the line round a projecting crag, and proceeded to slaughter the monster
with my only weapon, the paddle. He took a lot of assassinating, but
gave up the ghost at last, after I had nearly pounded his head to a
jelly.
Old "Begum," I must mention, witnessed my sudden departure from my
canoe, and the dear old fellow arrived at Rocher Rouge at the same
moment that I landed, so that we faced each other dripping wet in a most
comical manner. I sent "Begum" to fetch "Eddy," and in the meantime
emptied the canoe and put all straight, so that when the two animals
appeared on the cliff, standing out in bold relief against the clear
sky, I was in my canoe and on the way to the Cotills. They followed me
till I landed, and came and stood by me like two old comrades. I had
dragged the conger after me through the sea with a cord through his
gills, and this cord I attached to "Eddy," who dragged him home in
triumph, while I sat on his back, _à la conqueror_, as I rode into my
domain, tired and wet, and as hungry as the proverbial hunter.
A cheerful blaze of wood soon caused the kettle to boil, and over my
tea-supper I congratulated myself over my lucky adventure, for to lose
neither fish, canoe, nor self, was indeed a large slice of luck.
Next day I improvised a pair of scales with the help of a half
hundredweight and a seven-pound weight which I possessed, and found to
my surprise that the monster weighed one hundred and three pounds. This
was not only the largest eel I ever caught, but the largest I ever saw.
In Guernsey market the heaviest conger I saw was one of sixty-seven
pounds--a baby in comparison to mine!
The weights I used in weighing the monster were stones adjusted to the
proper iron weights, which I used as standards, and then by selecting
various sized stones obtained after great toil a whole set, from one
pound up to ten pounds, and thus could weigh anything.
I had many other fishing adventures, but I think the above was about the
most exciting. I had many good takes of whiting and pollock, but was not
so fortunate among the soles, and plaice, and such-like ground game, as
my net was a very ramshackle affair of my own construction.
I had also some remarkable miscellaneous captures at different times.
Once in the winter I had laid a long line for codling, and brought up,
firmly hooked, a very nice red tablecloth, beautifully worked round the
edge by some skilled hand in an Oriental pattern. I used it on gala
days as a flag, and I dare say passers by in the various vessels
wondered to what nationality it belonged, as the centre was ornamented
with a golden elephant with very curly tusks worked in white beads.
Another day I fished up a copper oil can, such as engineers use to oil
machinery with; and yet another time a bag of gravel which had
apparently once formed part of a yacht's ballast.
When I found time heavy on my hands I would often take my canoe about
fifty yards south of La Fauconnaire, and with two or three lines fish
for rock fish, and never, on a single occasion, returned empty-handed.
The worst part of this performance was digging the bait of lugworms on
the little beach of Creviçhon. It was terribly hard work lifting the
rocks and boulders aside to find a place to dig, and then it was harder
work in digging the nasty worms from the granite grit in which they
resided, dwelt, or had their horrid being. Probably these hairy, oozy
creatures have their joys and pleasures, and their woes, just as every
other of God's creatures, but of what their happiness consists who can
tell? Anyway they are good for bait, and so have use if not beauty to
commend them.
Crabs and lobsters I could trap at any time by putting down "pots"
anywhere round the island; but after a few weeks I got quite tired of
them for the table, but would occasionally put down a couple of "pots"
to see what of a curious nature I could catch. The crayfish,
spider-crabs, and hermit crabs, gave me infinite amusement, as they are
so different in their manners and customs to the ordinary crabs, and are
very bellicose, going for each other tooth and nail, or rather legs and
claws, in a most terrible manner. The way these little crustaceans
maimed each other put me in mind of the scene in Scott's "Fair Maid of
Perth," where the rival clans hew each others' limbs off with
double-handed swords, so that a truce has to be called for the purpose
of clearing the battle-ground of human _debris_. The crabs have the
advantage over the human species, insomuch that they can reproduce a
lost limb.
Finding I could catch a large quantity of fish of all kinds, especially
rock fish, which, being new to me, I greatly admired, I set about
constructing a fish pond near the house.
These rock fish are a curiosity in the way of fish. They run from about
six inches to two feet in length; weigh from a few ounces to a dozen
pounds, and no two that I have ever caught are alike, either in colour
or disposition of spots. They are spotty and speckly all over. Some have
copper-coloured spots, some yellow, some brown, some green, some red,
and some an assortment of colours, so that one never knows what colour
is coming up next. Persons who are fond, when playing cards, of betting
upon the colour of the trump to be turned up--black or red--would find
the pastime of "backing their colour" infinitely varied, if they tried
to guess the colour of the fish which would next appear.
My first fish pond, ten feet by five feet, was a failure, as it was
leaky; but not to be beaten I commenced another and much larger one,
sixteen feet by ten feet. I selected a site close above high water-mark,
and commenced digging, and in fact worked a whole day at it, intending
to line it with a mixture of sand and lime, of which I had several tubs
for making mortar for repairing the brickwork of my homestead; but that
very evening I discovered a natural fish pond, or rather a pool, that
could be turned into one by a little outlay of labour.
A cleft between two large rocks, separating them by about six feet,
allowed the sea at high tide to flow into a pool at the foot of an
amphitheatre of rocks, which gave a basin of water, at high tide, about
twenty feet across. Here was a grand, natural fish pool, and I soon
turned it into a comfortable home for my finny captures.
First at low tide I cleared the bottom of this pool, and made it deeper.
Then, having previously made a huge batch of mortar, I set to work and
built a wall of rock across the cleft, until I had raised it six feet
high, taking great care to make it perfectly water-tight. This I
strengthened by laboriously placing blocks of stone on each side, so as
to prevent the sea from toppling my mortar-built wall over. As a pond it
was a perfect success, except in one particular, and that was that the
water in time would evaporate, or become stale; so I put my wits
together and constructed a curious kind of mill pump, which worked with
four wooden buckets upon an endless rope. It was jerky, but effective;
that is it was effective at high water, when the tide came up to my
sea-wall. At this time the mill, being placed right for the wind, would
commence to work, and the buckets to ascend and descend, and each shoot
its gallon of water into the pond, till sometimes it was full to the
brim, and even running over. Thus I could change the water at will. I
was simply delighted, and fished from morning till night to stock my
pool, and in a fortnight had specimens of all kinds, colours, and sizes.
Eels, soles, whiting, dorey, pollock, long-nose, crabs, lobsters were
all there, but to my mind the big blubber-lipped rock fish were the
peacocks of my pool.
I was so fond of lingering by this pool to read, and smoke, and watch
the fish, that I built myself a rock summer-house, and roofed it in with
wood, upon which I placed a layer of mortar, and then thatched it with
pine branches and braken. It was a picturesque little house, in a
picturesque spot, and if I tell the truth, I believe I made a
picturesque Crusoe.
My dress consisted, in summer, of white duck trousers, canvas shoes,
coloured flannel shirt, a blue jean jacket, and broad-brimmed hat. Round
my waist I always wore a long red sash; it was four yards long,
consequently, would encircle my waist three times and still leave some
of the two ends to hang down at my side. This sash I found very useful,
for I used it as a wallet or hold-all. Nothing came amiss to
it--tobacco, pipes, cartridges, biscuits, fruit, fishing tackle, all
were tucked away in it at different or the same time, as they were so
easy to get at, and left the hands free.
Now let us leave fish and fishing, and see in what other ways I enjoyed
my solitary life.
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CHAPTER VI.
"FLAP" THE GULL--SURGICAL OPERATION--THE GULL WHO REFUSED TO
DIE--TAXIDERMY EXTRAORDINARY--FEATHERED FRIENDS--SNAKES.
Every part of the island swarmed with rabbits, in fact, it was a perfect
warren, and must have contained thousands of them. I had therefore to
devise some means of keeping them down, or they would so have multiplied
as to eat up everything that to a rodent was toothsome, and that is
_nearly_ everything green, even to the furze bushes. I had only four
tooth-traps with me, and these were not nearly adequate for the number I
wanted to kill, so I had recourse to wire gins. These I soon became an
adept in setting, and discovered that by placing the thin wire noose
close to the ground I could catch the wee rabbits, while by keeping the
lower part of the noose about four inches above the turf I could secure
the large ones. By practice and observation I soon learned not only the
best "runs," but could tell just where they would place their feet, as
they bounded up or down the steep acclivities.
At times I had seventy or eighty gins set, and caught perhaps a hundred
a week in the season, which I regret to say were nearly all thrown into
the sea. This destruction of good food I was very sorry to cause, as it
would have fed a dozen poor families; but it was a case of kill the
rabbits, or starve my own animals. I chose the latter alternative, and
thus had plump animals and plump rabbits too. Those I retained formed
food for myself, dog, pigs, and a gull I kept.
The gull I must say a little about, as he became a constant companion to
me when I was within the wall which surrounded the homestead. "Flap,"
for so I christened him, was a large grey and white gull which I secured
soon after coming to the island, by breaking his wing at a long shot. He
tried, poor fellow, to scramble down to the sea, and swim away, but
"Begum" was too quick for him, and pounced upon him before he could get
over the rocks. I examined the bird and found the wing bone to be
broken, but otherwise the bird was not at all hurt. It then came into my
mind to perform a surgical operation, and this I quickly carried out. I
trimmed away all the feathers from about the wound, and then with one
draw of my sharp knife cut through the flesh between the smashed bone,
and quickly amputated the wing.
"Flap" was so fierce, and had such a formidable bill, that I had to
fasten him to a post to do all this, or he might have given me a deep
wound. I then bathed the stump of the wing with warm water, and bound it
up in a lump of lard, and the operation was complete.
I placed him in the stable and fed him with bits of fish, rabbit, and
vegetable for about a week, by which time he was fairly tame; so then I
took him out and fastened a leather strap round his leg, and tethered
him on the grass plot in front of my house, as one would a cow, feeding
him several times daily on animal food or fish. After a week of this he
was so tame that he would try to get away from his peg to meet me in the
morning. Seeing this, I decided to release him from his stake. I did so,
and the poor bird followed me about like a dog; in fact, I believe
"Begum" was jealous of him, for when I petted the gull he would come and
thrust his great black nose into my hand, and look up to my eyes, as
much as to say,
"Don't forget me, master!"
At the end of about three weeks I ventured to take the bandage off
"Flap's" wing-stump, when I found, to my surprise, that it was so nearly
healed as not to require further treatment from me, Harry Nilford, M.D.
"Flap's" domain was the homestead, about which he would hop and flap
with his one wing in a most comical manner. If I threw down half a
rabbit and called him, he would dash across the lawn at a gait that
would defy description, while his voracity was wonderful to behold. He
would take down half a rabbit in two or three fierce gulps, skin, bones,
and flesh; and I have known him, when very hungry, to eat a whole one at
a meal, which would only take a couple of minutes for him to discuss. It
was simply a matter of Hey Presto! and his meal was consumed. If a man
could eat in the same proportion, half a sheep would make a meal, while
a goose or turkey would only be a snack. Thank goodness, our appetites
are less keen, or a fat bullock would only serve a large family for
dinner, with the odds and ends left for supper.
"Begum" and "Flap" were fast friends, and the dog would allow the bird
to take many liberties with him, such as taking quietly some pretty
sharp pecks if he attempted to eat a bit of "Flap's" food; but on the
other hand, "Flap" would take "Begum's" food from under his very nose
without a protest of any kind from the dog, except a look out of the
corner of his eye, as if he thought "What impudence!"
I found sea fowl of all kinds to be very tenacious of life, especially
the common large gull. One case of this occurs to me as I write. I fired
at a gull and brought it down on the rocks; but it was only winged, and
picking it up, I wrung its neck, and flung it down, thinking it was
dead, but in a couple of minutes it gave such signs of returning
animation that I put the butt of my gun on its neck, which was upon the
hard pathway, and pressed with all my might. But the thing would _not_
die, so I got cross with both it and myself, with the bird for not dying
and myself for causing it so much unnecessary pain. Thinking to kill the
bird instantaneously, I took out my penknife, and ran it (or supposed I
was in the right spot) quite through the brain, so that the blade
projected half an inch on the other side. Just then some more gulls came
within shot, and I threw the bird on the ground, and made an onslaught
on the others. I dropped one, and scrambled down the cliffs for it, and
at length having secured it, climbed laboriously up the steep rocks
again. Judge of my surprise when, purring and blowing from my exertions,
just as my head rose above the ledge of the pathway where I had left the
transfixed bird, I saw it rise to its feet, give a loud Quah! and before
I could prevent it, away it went, half flying and flopping, half running
and scrambling, with my knife still in its skull, and was quickly out of
sight.
The different kinds of gulls visiting Jethou are very numerous, and some
of them very pretty. One of the finest being the swift sea swallow, with
its lovely grey feathers, forked tail, and long graceful wings. Another
is the sea-pie, a very shapely black and white gull, which makes a noise
quite peculiar to itself when hunting among the rocky inlets for its
food, thus betraying its presence.
Whenever I killed a bird of which I did not know the name, I would
fasten it up to some sticks in as life-like manner as possible, and make
a water colour drawing of it, taking great care to shew every detail, so
that in time I had over thirty drawings, each of which took me half a
day to execute. These are now in the writer's possession, and form a
pretty memento of his Crusoe days.
I took to making these drawings, because my attempts at taxidermy were
grotesquely ludicrous; to put it plainly, they were unmitigated
failures. These remarks apply to my very early attempts, for I would not
have the readers think me incapable after long practice of turning out a
shapely bird or a fish fair to behold. I must own that my early
struggles at skinning and stuffing were certainly funny, as except from
the colour of the feathers one could not tell a tern from a Kentish crow
after I had mangled it about for a few hours. They were wonders of
natural history these specimens of mine, not altogether from my
unskilfulness in handling them, but from the fact that I lacked
materials to work with. During the long nights of autumn, I, to a
certain extent, perfected myself in setting up specimens, but found they
would not keep, as I had no arsenic to work with, using in its place a
disinfectant which was not a preservative, consequently my specimens
began to get mouldy and to smell high, and this prevailing mustiness
brought them to an untimely end, or at least the greater portion of
them. Thinking a day in the sunshine and fresh air might improve them, I
took them all out of the house, and carried them a few at a time down to
the small lawn, as it was nice and open, placing them promiscuously down
on the green sward; and a funny lot they looked. Fish of all kinds,
condition, and colors, and birds in all positions, natural and
unnatural; the Chamber of Horrors at Madame Tussaud's Waxworks was a
pleasant sight in comparison to my collection, at least that was the
impression I gleaned from "Begum" and "Flap," both of whom seemed
perfectly mad at seeing such an array of scarecrows on their favourite
playground.
It was a lovely mild day, and I spent best part of it at La Fauconnaire,
rabbit and gull shooting, bringing home for my day's sport as many as I
could fairly carry. Leaving them in the storehouse I fed "Eddy," and
proceeded to perform the same office for the goat and pigs, but they
were nowhere to be seen. After a fair amount of searching I gave them up
for the time, and proceeded to take in my stuffed wonders, but alas, the
pigs and goat had been before me, for in the morning I had not properly
latched the lawn gate, and they had got in and created awful havoc. Many
of my specimens the pigs had actually eaten, others they had disjointed
and mangled in such a manner as to be perfectly useless, while what they
had not fallen foul of my Quixotic goat had, by spiking them with her
single horn, till she had had the satisfaction of knocking the stuffing
out of them. What was left of my most magnificent collection now looked
as if a charge of dynamite had played havoc with it. Thus my friends and
the world in general were prevented from gazing upon one of the most
curious collections of birds, beasts, and fishes that have ever been
stuffed (with whatever was handiest) since the art of taxidermy was
introduced.
The stormy petrel during rough weather used to be a frequent visitor to
the Perchée Channel, skimming just above the dark waves so close to the
surface, as to appear to walk up a wave, rise above its crest, and then
walk down into the valley of water on the opposite side. I shot several
specimens, two of which I stuffed, but they were both eaten by those
horrid pigs.
Oyster-pickers were quite plentiful, and I quickly discovered that they
might also aptly be termed limpet-pickers, for they seemed to take these
shell fish as their staple food. The _modus operandi_ of feeding is to
pounce down upon a rock which the receding tide has left bare, and with
a single sharp blow with its beak, detach a limpet, and turning it mouth
upward, pick out the fish at its leisure. If it failed to detach the
limpet at once it would go on to another, knowing that when once
disturbed the limpet requires great force to detach it. Oysters lie in
deep waters where they are inaccessible to these birds, so whence is
their name derived?
Then there were various kinds of divers, the principal of which class
was the cormorant, greatly resembling a half-starved black swan, that
is, it had a longer and thinner and less graceful body; but in many
points it was superior to the swan, especially in its flying and diving
powers, and in its quickness of action. Its head appears never to be
still, but constantly bobbing and turning from side to side, as if
saying, "Did you ever catch a cormorant asleep?" Knowing that the
Chinese train these birds to catch fish, I endeavoured to induce one to
come to me, and serve his apprenticeship as a fisherman, but to no
purpose. It was just as well I could not catch one, for I find they must
be trained from their young days to the art, as they are intractable in
their grown-up wildness, and I was thus spared a great deal of
unnecessary trouble and irritability of temper.
Although I had a store of simple medicines with me, I scarcely ever
required to open the case. Once and once only, I felt poorly for a whole
week, but that I fancy was attributable to fruit and the heat. Although
not well, I thoroughly enjoyed a whole lazy week, most of which I spent
by the side of my fish pool, studying the habits of my finny comrades
in captivity. Some of the rock fish became so tame that they would rise
to the surface when I dropped crumbs of biscuits on the water, and I
verily believe if I had had the patience, I might have taught them to
feed from my fingers. Sometimes for a treat I would bring "Flap" and
place him near the water, and he seemed to enjoy looking at the
denizens; but they were all too big for him to gobble, or he would have
made an Aldermanic dinner of some of them.
I occasionally saw a snake, but always of the harmless, blindworm
variety. Of this species I caught two and admired them, but I did not
make pets of them as I did of nearly everything else I could lay hands
on.
One big fellow nearly two feet long I threw into the sea, thinking to
rid the island of at least one snake; but to my surprise he swam ashore
on the surface of the water as quickly as he could have progressed on
dry land. He was a veritable sea-serpent, although a small specimen.
There were also two kinds of lizards of which I do not know the name,
but they were only small fellows, and may be what are called "efts."
They would sun themselves on the warm rocks, and on being disturbed dart
into some cranny till danger was past. They ran up and down rocks which
were nearly perpendicular, and were very amusing in their rapid
movements.
I often thought as I lay in my hammock how I should have liked a
squirrel or two to be climbing about the branches above me; but one is
never contented with what is allotted them. Probably had I possessed a
squirrel or two, I should have longed for a few monkeys, and having
them, should have wished for something else.
Altogether I was perfectly contented with my lot, especially after the
melancholy of the first week had worn off, except just now and again a
particularly dismal feeling would assert itself, which I could not shake
off; but I simply attributed this to dull weather or over exertion. It
was nothing worth mentioning.
My spirits are like a barometer; when the sun shines and the weather is
warm I am up; when it is wet and dull I am down, and I think this is the
case with many persons; in fact, I believe weather has a greater
influence on our lives than we are aware of. Statistics go to prove
this; for instance, more marriages take place during the five months,
June to September, than in the other seven colder months. From gaiety to
despair,--more suicides take place at the fall of the year than at any
other period. Rodent slaughter commenced this chapter and suicide ends
it; this puts me in mind of the Marriage Service, which commences
"Dearly" and ends with "amazement."
[Illustration: Decorative scroll]
[Illustration: Decorative chapter heading]
CHAPTER VII.
I BUILD A CURIOUS "BOX" BOAT--AN UNPLEASANT NIGHT AT SEA--MY SUNDAY
SERVICE--THE POEM, "ALEXANDER SELKIRK"--ITS APPLICABILITY TO MY
LOT.
During the summer my roving propensities began to assert themselves, and
I longed to go farther _afield_ over the sea. I bethought me how I might
contrive myself a boat in which to venture into the offing with, as my
canoe was too frail to go far from shore.
I looked around to see what I could utilize, and found I had a few inch
boards and plenty of rivets, nails, and screws; but after overhauling my
stock I came to the conclusion that my materials would not warrant my
commencing a craft of any size, so for several days I gave up the
project, till one day visiting the boathouse I cast my eyes on the large
tin-lined packing cases in which my goods had been packed. Why not
utilize these? There were four of them. Three were of the same
dimensions, namely, four feet long, three feet wide, and two and a half
feet deep; while the fourth was three feet and a half long, two feet
wide, and two and a half feet deep.
That night I went to bed early, so as to have a good "think" as to how I
could make a boat of these boxes, with the help of my deal boards and
tools.
I soon hit on a plan, and could scarcely get a wink of sleep for
thinking and maturing my plans; in fact, at two a.m. I got up, dressed,
and went and re-measured the cases and re-inspected them, to see if they
were really eligible for my purpose. They were, and I retired to bed
again perfectly overjoyed, so that I only dozed and woke continually
till five a.m., when I finally arose and commenced operations in the
boathouse.
"Begum" knew there was something in the wind, for I had little to say to
him, so full was I of my scheme.
I found my cases with their tin linings were quite water-tight, which
was a necessary condition for keeping my craft afloat, and having
prepared my tools and got my timber ready for a start, went homeward to
breakfast, shooting a very fine pigeon on the way, which had probably
strayed over from Guernsey. Here was a dinner provided for me which only
required cooking. Indeed, it frequently happened that at breakfast time
my dinner would be flying about round the island.
To help me in the description of the building of my craft I here give
sketches of her construction. First I took my cases 2, 3, and 4, and
firmly screwed them together, and afterwards added number 5, which was
not so wide by six inches, but still served admirably for a stern. Then
came my first difficulty. How should I form the bows? This I got over by
making another case, No. 1, of a triangular form with a bulkhead
running across, to which I nailed my side timbers, so as to give them an
outward curve. These streaks I put on clinker-wise--that is,
overlapping, and thoroughly caulked them with oakum soaked in grease.
[Illustration: The Yellow-Boy]
Next, to strengthen the hull and hold everything firmly in position, I
nailed a top streak along from stem to stern, so as to form a gunwale,
and another at the lower edges of the cases, tarring everything as I
proceeded, including myself; but as the weather was hot a pair of old
pants cut off at the knee, and a ragged shirt, were my only encumbrance
in the way of clothing. Now I proceeded to cut down the partitions
between the various sections for a depth of six inches. I then carefully
caulked the tiny crack between each of these bulkheads, and turning the
surplus tin over, nailed it to the wood. Over these bulkheads I placed
thwarts six inches wide, and then proceeded to make a keel. This I did
by bolting two thicknesses of board together and cutting them down, so
that it measured three inches deep at the stem and six at the stern. The
fastening on of this keel gave me more trouble than anything else
connected with the boat, for I had no bolts long enough to go through
six inches of timber, and then through the bottom of the boat. There was
only one way, and that was to make some bolts eight inches long, and
this I did from some pieces of three-eight iron rod I found. Nine bolts
took me a whole day to make--from six in the morning till six in the
evening. My anvil was a granite rock, which I had to carry on my
shoulders from the beach; but it served its purpose capitally.
My labours at the anvil were considerably lightened by the singing of
all the appropriate songs I could think of, especially the "Village
Blacksmith," which I think I must have worn out while making my bolts
and other fastenings.
I made heads to my bolts, and thrusting them through the keel, fastened
them off on the inside with iron collars or burrs. To make the keel more
secure I ran a strap of iron up the stern, from the heel of the keel,
and screwed it in place.
For the mast I made a step by crossing two pieces of board, and where
they crossed cut a hole through sufficiently large to take my mast,
which was a short one, being only about ten feet long. These cross
pieces not only held the mast, but also greatly strengthened the bows,
which felt the first and full force of the waves.
Then the rudder had to be made and attached, thole pins provided, and
the whole concern tarred inside and out, tin and all.
Oars had to be made, and with these I had some little difficulty; but by
steadily pegging away I at length turned out three very serviceable, if
not elegant, ones. The third was in case of a breakage, for it would
never do to go to sea without a spare oar, as in case of accident I
might have drifted helplessly goodness knows where.[1]
The Bay of Avranches is a large place, and as the Channel Islands do not
lie in the direct course of ocean-going vessels, it would be extremely
awkward, even on a calm day, to be alone in a boat with but one oar.
I found a large roll of old sails in the loft of the boathouse, all much
too large for my boat; but I selected a jib, and cut it down to form a
lug-sail. This sail being discoloured, I gave it a coat of yellow ochre
and boiled oil on each side, which gave it a very curious appearance.
The upper strake of my boat I also painted yellow, and to finish off
christened my craft the "Yellow Boy."
The launch was a Herculean task, as I had built her too high above high
water-mark, and it took me nearly a day to get her down and afloat.
Finding I could not move her with my own bodily strength, I had to carry
an anchor out and attach a block-tackle and thus, with the help of my
faithful old comrade, "Eddy," haul the boat gradually down below high
water-mark, where I left her for the tide to rise and float her. She
seemed large while I was at work upon her, but the huge bulk of
Creviçhon towering up in the background dwarfed her to a cockle shell.
While the tide was rising I busied myself in selecting large flat pieces
of granite for ballast, and fastening them down to the floor with
battens, which operation was scarcely finished when the tide came into
the little cove, and in half an hour the "Yellow Boy" was afloat.
"Hurrah!" I shouted, while "Begum" barked with joy. I could not refrain
from taking the good fellow with me for the trial trip, for I must have
someone to talk to, as I felt in such a joyful mood.
It was late in the afternoon when we started off, and I had not broken
my fast since dinner, so letting the boat drift on the now sluggish
tide, I opened my tin provision box, and with capital appetites my dog
and I fell to.
The water found its way in in two or three places, but these I quickly
caulked, and soon had everything water-tight. Then the sail did not sit
to my liking, so down it came, and having my palm and needles I soon
altered it. Then I shifted the ballast somewhat, and got everything
square and snug.
After about a couple of hours, as the tide was quite spent, I thought it
was about time to turn towards home, but on looking back the islands had
disappeared in the evening haze which was springing up, so turning the
boat's head I guessed at the position of Jethou, and hauled up the sail.
There was but a breath of wind, and before half an hour of our homeward
voyage was accomplished it was (with the sea fog and the approach of
night) quite dark. Still I kept on, not sure where I was going, as I
could not see a light anywhere, till presently a steady rain set in, and
then I knew we were in for a night of it. The weather was warmish, but I
was so lightly clothed that I was quickly drenched to the skin. I looked
eagerly for a ship's light, but not one could I see, or I would have
borne down upon her and got the bearings of Jethou from her skipper. I
did what best I could under the circumstances, resolving never again to
be led away by any new fad, so as to be oblivious to everything else, as
I had been in getting my new boat into trim. It was a dreadful time for
me, as I knew Jethou to be surrounded by rocks on all sides, so that I
had to keep a very sharp look out, for fear of running on them and
getting stove in, which would probably have resulted in my death, if the
rocks were submerged at high water.
About what I should judge to be the middle of the night, as I sat
shaking with cold with my hand on the tiller, I suddenly became aware of
the presence of huge rocks right in front of me. I lowered the sail
instantly and got out the oars, pulling gently to the lee side of these
rocks, and with some difficulty landed and made fast my boat between two
lofty pillars of granite, which rose sheer from the sea. I was
dreadfully cold and could find no shelter from the rain, which had
completely saturated my paltry clothing. I therefore had a dip in the
sea, which appeared to me warmer than the cold rain and night air, and
less likely to have bad after effects upon my constitution. Oh, poor
Robinson Crusoe! here was a pretty kettle of fish at the very first
trip. How gladly would I have changed places with my donkey, who was
safely under shelter, listening to the rain beating down, and saying to
himself, "No work for me to-morrow!"
The longest night must have an end, although I began to fear this
particular one would not do so, till I was past caring whether the sun
ever rose again or not. But by-and-bye the dawn began to break, and
quickly spread itself over the sky, and with the light the fog dispersed
slowly, and showed me a barrel upon the top of a pole perched on the
highest rock of the group I was a prisoner upon, by which I knew I was
on the Ferriers, which lie about a short mile south-west of Jethou. I
climbed to the pole and took a survey, and could just make out Jethou's
back above the haze which still rolled silently above the still waters.
Down I scrambled to my boat, eager to push off and reach home, but alas,
my craft was high and dry four feet above the sea, on a ledge which
just held her comfortably cradled, in derision to my anxiety. "Begum"
lay calmly sleeping in the stern sheets. How I envied him his power of
passing the dull hours away, oblivious to wet or cold.
Half an hour--an hour--two hours passed, and then the kindly sea had
compassion on my lonely, forlorn condition, and rose and toyed with my
boat, and finally lifted her and bore her safely back to my home.
Home! what a word after such a night! I almost fell ashore, so great was
my anxiety, and so desperately hungry did I feel.
My surroundings had now changed from what they were three hours since;
for now I was on my island home, with the birds singing and the sun
shining brightly and warmly upon me, so that I threw off my wet clothes
and worked in a state of nature to get my tackle ashore, while "Begum"
fetched "Eddy" to help me to get my craft above tide mark.
Good old "Eddy." I felt he was indeed a friend as he came trotting down
the rocky path with a regular royal salute of braying. He tugged, and I
tugged, till when the boat was safely beached I felt as nearly exhausted
as ever I have been in my life. I scarcely had strength to get up the
path which usually I took at a run. However, I _did_ get up, and took a
good nip of brandy, following it with some solid refreshment, eating as
I lit the copper fire and filled the copper with water. While I waited
for the water to become hot, I became so drowsy that I could scarcely
keep awake, and yawned till an observer might have seen the roots of my
hair, such an open countenance did I present. The water (although I
watched it) boiled at last, and this I poured into a big tub partly
filled with cold water, and had a bath for ten minutes as hot as I could
bear it, after which I hopped into bed and slept, and slept, and slept.
It was eight a.m. when I went to bed, and I did not wake for fourteen
hours--that is till ten p.m.; and knowing that I had slept the entire
day away without a thought for my poor live stock, I turned over,
resolving to be up and feed the said live stock at dawn. But when I
again woke the sun was high above the horizon, and up I jumped, or tried
to, but found that I was very stiff and sore all over from my night
adventure. As I walked about and worked, feeding my animals, I gradually
felt better, especially after a hearty breakfast, of which I stood much
in need, after twenty-four hours' fast.
After this adventure I was very careful not to go out again without
protection from the weather in the shape of a good thick coat and
sou'wester, beside which I always put a tin of biscuits and a two-pound
tin of preserved meat in the lockers near the stern, in case of
emergency, and more than once I had to break bulk when a trip
unexpectedly kept me out longer than I anticipated.
I now had all I could desire in the way of comforts and engagements, and
not an idle day did I spend, except Sundays, upon which day I never did
a stroke of work nor fired a shot. Even my rabbit gins were neglected
that day. All I did was to feed my animals, walk or doze in my hammock
and meditate, and this to me was a great enjoyment. When the wind was
westerly I could hear the Guernsey church bells ringing for service, and
when they ceased I knew it was eleven o'clock, and regulated my watch
accordingly; that being done I always spent the time between that hour
and twelve in going through the church service for the day, and the
regulation three hymns, with one or two added, and a chapter or two from
the Bible in place of a sermon. Then I felt comfortable, and contented,
and without fear.
One Sunday afternoon, swinging in my hammock in the grove reading a book
of poetry, I came across those beautiful verses by Cowper, entitled,
"Alexander Selkirk," and could not but think how true they were to my
own lot in many points; in fact, few persons reading the poem _could_
appreciate it as I did in my solitude, with nought but the sea and sky
with their teeming creatures around me. The first half of the first
verse fitted me capitally, and I could not get it out of my head all
day; it tickled my fancy:
"I am monarch of all I survey,
To my right there is none to dispute;
From the centre all round to the sea,
I am lord of both fowl and of brute."
In the second verse occur the lines:
"I am out of humanity's reach,
I must finish my journey alone;
Never hear the sweet music of speech--
I start at the sound of my own."
Certainly it was very seldom I heard a human voice, even in the
distance, sometimes not for weeks together; but as to starting at the
sound of my own, well, that is not at all correct. Probably if my
friends could have heard the voice of either "Eddy" or myself, when in
full song, _they_ would have had a _start_, if not a severe shock to the
system.
Again:
"Society, friendship, and love,
Divinely bestowed upon men;
Oh, had I the wings of a dove,
How soon would I taste you again!"
Dove's wings would not have borne my thirteen stone weight. Perchance
the giant wings of the Albatross would have been more practicable, if
less poetical, and with these appendages I might have been tempted to
have a peep at my friends in England, despite the supremely ridiculous
figure I should have cut in the air, and the chance I should have stood
of being shot as a very _rara avis_. Fancy me lighting down on our old
thatched-roof house, and frightening everyone out of their seven senses,
including my darling Priscilla, who, if she were not too frightened,
would certainly bring me down with a charge of No. 4 (chilled) shot.
The next verse is nearly true of my state in its entirety:
"Religion! what treasure untold
Resides in that heavenly word!
More precious than silver and gold,
Or all that this earth can afford;
But the sound of the church-going bell
These valleys and rocks never heard;
Never sighed at the sound of a knell,
Or smiled when a Sabbath appeared."
It is scarcely true to say that the rocks _never_ hear the sound of the
church-going bell, for with a westerly breeze the bells can be heard
quite plainly, and I have even heard a dog bark at that distance, which
shows how distinctly, and to what a great distance sound will travel
over water.
If rocks have ears they must occasionally have been ravished by my
rendering of Sankey and Moody's hymns. If they have a memory they must
have learnt several of them by heart; in fact, have been so familiar
with them as to desire a change for something secular. They never
applauded me, but when the Heavens spoke with thunder they clapped their
granite hands till they cracked again.
The last verse hits me again--quite a bull's eye:
"But the sea fowl is gone to her nest,
The beast is laid down in his lair;
Even here is a season of rest,
And I to my cabin repair.
There's mercy in every place,
And mercy, encouraging thought!
Gives even affliction a grace,
And reconciles man to his lot."
Yes, I nightly had to repair to my cabin, and in the wet season had my
cabin to repair; but I made it so cosy, that like the last line, "it
reconciled me to my lot."
Oh, Crusoe! how I would have loved to have shared Juan Fernandez with
thee! What a Friday I would have been, and what enjoyment I should have
discovered in everything--except black man killing! But even that I
should have taken my part in it if it came to the question "kill or be
killed."
[Illustration: Decorative scroll]
FOOTNOTE:
1: It so happened that only a few years since, a young lady,
taking a row after church one Sunday evening, lost an oar overboard and
drifted out to sea. In the morning she was picked up (being then quite
out of sight of land) by a vessel bound for Canada, and actually taken
to Newfoundland, from whence in about a month she arrived home safely,
much to the joy of her sorrowing friends, who had given her up as
drowned.
[Illustration: Decorative scroll]
[Illustration: Decorative chapter heading]
CHAPTER VIII.
A TRIP TO ST. SAMPSON'S HARBOUR--A HORRID PORCINE MURDER--A VOYAGE
ROUND SARK--NEARLY CAPSIZED--TRIP ROUND GUERNSEY--THE
PEPPER-BOX--CURIOSITY OF TOURISTS.
From time to time I made many improvements in the "Yellow Boy," and
learnt her capabilities, so that in time I took quite long cruises as
far as Guernsey, and even to Sark.
It will be remembered that two of the conditions my father imposed upon
me, were that I should not land on any other island nor speak to anyone
under any pretence whatever, and these rules I rigorously carried out.
Many a time passing boatmen hailed me, but a wave of the hand and my
finger pointed to my output tongue was the only answer they received,
consequently I was called the "Dumb Man of Jethou," or the "Yellow Boy,"
and as such and by no other name many of the fishermen knew me. Those
who did not know my history pitied me as a kind of voiceless castaway or
semi-sane being.
My long trips were sometimes undertaken on calm moonlight nights: one, I
remember, was to St. Sampson's Harbour, Guernsey. I started about three
a.m., and reached the harbour before four o'clock, so that I had a good
look around the little haven, and at the shipping before anyone was
astir. I moored to the cable of a big brigantine which was lying
alongside the wharf ready for her cargo of granite for London. Curb
stones, blocks for paving, and broken metal for macadam roads are all
shipped here to the amount of several thousand tons weekly, so that the
granite quarrying and dressing give occupation to about 2,000 men,
women, and children. Granite working and fruit growing are the two great
industries of the island, which seems to me to be composed principally
of two extremely different materials--granite and glass; at any rate it
is not the place for stone throwing.
As I swung on the cable of the big ship, I made myself a cup of coffee;
for I always carried a small lamp stove with me, so that I could cook
the fish I caught fresh from the sea, or make myself a cup of tea or
coffee to wash my meal down with.
I have since found, that within the memory of persons still alive,
Guernsey was nearly cut off from Vale Parish by an arm of the sea, which
flowed over the salt marshes at high tide, so that all communication was
cut off between the two parts of the island except by one little bridge
and the ferry boat. The bridge was about 380 yards west of St. Sampson's
Church; but at the present day pleasant meadows, houses, and roads take
the place of the broad stream of salt water and marshes, which formerly
made Guernsey and Vale separate islands twice a day, at the time of high
tide.
Just before five o'clock when heads began to peep over bulwarks, and men
to appear on the quay, passing to their work, I thought it time to be
off, as my strange craft would be sure to attract attention, which I did
not court, so I packed up and made snug for sailing. I was only just in
time, for a bearded face looked over the bulwarks of the brigantine, and
hailed me with a "Good morning, mate!" but I only pointed to my mouth
and ears as I unmoored. When I looked up again as I pushed off there
were half a dozen merry faces peering over the side at me, and I could
see they were surprised at the "Yellow Boy" and her dumb skipper. As I
sculled out of the harbour I could hear their remarks and laughter,
despite my deaf-mutism, and would gladly have had a chat with them if it
had not been for my "rules," for these were the first human voices I had
heard close by me for nearly four months.
Away I scudded, taking my way across the Little Russel, past the stone
fort, with its one pop-gun on top, which is supposed to dominate the
channel, standing as it does on a rocky islet midway between Guernsey
and Herm. If a modern warship meant business, the bellicose gunners of
this little inkpot-looking fort would have what the French call a
_mauvais quart d'heure_. Arrived home about seven I had all the day
before me. One of our poets says,
"The only way to lengthen our days,
Is to take a piece off of the night, my boys!"
This I used frequently to do, but always took care to take _my_ piece
off the night, so as to _prefix_ the day instead of making it a kind of
baccanalian _appendix_. I have sometimes had my day twenty hours long,
from two in the morning till ten at night; but with this I used
afterwards to take an antidote in the shape of ten or eleven hours'
sleep. On such occasions I always gave my animals a double allowance of
food, and if they were improvident enough to consume it, as if it were
carnival time, or a period of some great feast, that was their look out,
and after their feast came a fast, which at worst only gave them an
increased appetite, and did them no real harm.
Speaking of appetite and eating, I must describe my first pig-killing. I
felt that I required pork, and the more I thought of it the more I was
convinced that I _must_ have it, although a murder had to be committed
before I could have it either roast, boiled, or fried. Very well, what
easier! There were the two pigs, each about one hundred and forty pounds
weight; all I had to do was to kill one. Of course I would set about it
at once; but upon reflection I became aware that some courage was
required, and that I was totally ignorant of the work before me.
However, I sharpened a long knife and went and had a look at the pigs,
and the more I looked the less I liked my task; so much so, that after
half an hour I decided that I would have tinned mutton for dinner--the
pork would be too fresh, and perhaps it might be a dull day to-morrow,
and I should want something to do! So the pig received a respite. Next
morning when I awoke and considered how and when I should kill the pig,
I made the resolve that come what might "that day the pig should die."
After breakfast I again sharpened the knife, as if it had become blunt
again in the night, and got up a razor edge on the weapon, and once more
proceeded to the stye. I selected my victim, and got one of my legs over
the wall of the enclosure; but then my heart failed me, it seemed as if
I was about to slay an old friend; indeed, they _were_ old friends,
those two piggies, and I had had many a chat with them, in fact, could
almost understand their language of grunts.
How was I going to secure my victim before giving the _coup de grace_?
Should he not be offered up on a stool? if so, I had not one to use; but
an idea struck me, and that idea I adopted. Over the stye, about ten
feet from the ground, the limb of a walnut tree stretched across, and my
idea was to drop a line over the bough and make it fast round the
porker's snout, haul him up on his hind legs, and bury my knife up to
the hilt in his throat about where I thought his heart was situated.
Away I went and procured my cord, threw the end over the limb, made a
noose, and got it in the pig's mouth and over his nose; then I hauled
away amid the most blood-curdling shrieks imaginable. I got him on his
hind legs, and then for the first time, as I took the knife from my
belt, I knew the full meaning of the word "coward." But the deed had to
be done, it would never do to let the animal die of old age while I
wanted meat; so, setting my teeth, plunge went the knife, and at the
same time in my eagerness to step back, down I fell backward over the
other pig, who turned and bit me in the thigh, and then as he rushed
away went full butt into his comrade, which broke the rope, and down
came the bleeding animal on top of me. I was in an awful state of filth,
and as I rose they both came at me again; in fact I might have been
seriously hurt had I not used my knife freely on the already-wounded
pig. Luckily the other ran away, or it might have been serious for me.
In falling a second time I went down with my leg under me, and could not
rise; but I drove the knife into the animal's breast with all my might,
and then, seizing him round the body with my arms, forced the hilt
further in with my chest, but instead of killing the beast, to my horror
the point came out of his back as he freed himself and walked away. I
rose and got out of the stye as nimbly as I possibly could, and sat down
to try and find my face through the accumulation of blood and filth,
which having done, I peeped over the stye wall, and found the pig still
alive; so, to end the poor thing's misery and my own, I took up my gun
and shot him dead. What a relief it was to see him lie stone still in an
instant. I vowed never to attempt a porcine murder again, and while I
was on the island the other pig had a good time of it, for as governor
of Jethou I abolished capital punishment, and if a pig's years were as
many as Methuselah's, he might enjoy them all before I should again
attempt to put a period to them.
From assassination to boat sailing is a long stride but at least a
change.
I performed two long voyages in my little craft; at least they seemed
long ones to me at the time, considering the dangers of navigation in
these rocky, swift seas.
[Illustration: A PORCINE MURDER.]
One trip was to Sark, which lies about six miles south-east of Jethou. I
selected a beautiful day in August for this trip, and started at
daylight, about four a.m., well provisioned, and with "Begum" to
accompany me, for somehow I always felt safer with him beside me. A
light south-west wind was blowing, so we reached Sark by six a.m., and
mooring the boat at the foot of the Coupée, in a bay called Grand Gréve,
I prepared coffee, and had a very leisurely breakfast, wondering at
man's capacity for stowage; but that is due to the salt breeze which
never yet put a man's liver wrong.
After enjoying the rocking in the bright warm sunshine, and watching the
tiny people crossing the Coupée (like the little men crossing a bridge
on a willow-patterned plate), three hundred feet overhead, off I started
again. I kept about two hundred yards from the precipitous sides of the
island, steering so close to the rock Moie de la Bretagne, which rises
ninety feet above the sea, that I touched it as we (my boat, dog, and I)
glided by.
Next, into the romantic little bay of Port Gorey (just a lovers'
paradise), where I let "Begum" have a run ashore while I sketched. Here
are situate the mines which were abandoned many years ago as a dismal
failure, leaving as a legacy to those fond of sketching some ruinous
cottages and huge chimney shafts, which look down on the little Bay of
Gorey, as Gog and Magog look down on the visitors to the London
Guildhall.
Leaving Gorey we had a good look at the rock called L'Etac de Sark with
its satellites, and gave them a wide berth, for their tooth-like
appearance is not at all pleasant when but an inch of wood lies between
one and a watery grave. L'Etac is the highest isolated rock round the
island, rising nearly two hundred feet above low water.
[Illustration: ROCKS AT SOUTH END OF SARK.]
To save time, instead of sweeping the bays we made a straight line, so
as to pass between Point Derrible and La Couchée, and quickly arrived
off what one may suppose the most picturesque spot in the Channel
Isles--Creux Harbour, with its stumpy little breakwater pier and cave
cutting which gives entrance to the island. The half-dozen fishermen on
the quay gave us a cheer as we passed, in answer to a wave from my
yellow cap.
On our right were the rocky islets, rising about one hundred feet above
the sea, called La Burons, and I passed just in time to see a sheep fall
with a plunge and splash into the sea, shot by a man in a boat. This
appeared to be the local way of slaughtering the sheep which are put on
the rocks to crop the sparse herbage which grows above high-water mark.
After a fortnight among the rocks sheep will get so agile and
surefooted, that a man has no chance with them in running or climbing,
hence the rifle has to be employed to obtain mutton.
After passing Grand Moie (one hundred and seventeen feet)--there are no
other rocks of any magnitude--so keeping well out I stripped and tumbled
overboard, hanging now to the stern, and then swimming alongside, but
never more than a yard away, for fear a current might part my boat and
me. "Begum," of course, swam with me, and seemed to keep an eye on his
master, for he seldom went far away from me. Whenever I looked round his
dear old brown eyes were upon me, as if he would say, "How are you
getting on, master?"
We rounded the northernmost point of Sark, a rock called Bec du Nez,
about twelve a.m., and with a fair wind ran into Port Jument, where we
hove to for dinner; then creeping round Point Moie de Mouton, anchored
off the famous Gouilot caves, and took a sketch, but could not by reason
of my compact enter them. This was very annoying, for I had heard so
much about them and their wonderful pools and anemonæ. Disappointedly
hauling in my anchor I steered for the Gouilot Pass, and like a fool
nearly lost myself and craft. The distance between Moie de Gouilot and
the island of Brechou is only about seventy yards, and as it was now
past three o'clock, a swift tide was pouring pell-mell through the
channel; this in my indolence I did not think of, and had like an ass
taken a turn of the sheet round a cleat, and somehow got it jammed. Away
went the "Yellow Boy," like a shot out of a gun, and as we passed
through, a big puff of wind came round the end of Brechou, and nearly
took the mast out before I could let go the sheet. Another two or three
inches more and we must have capsized, and it was only due to the boat
being rather heavily laden with cooking apparatus, gun, and cartridges,
extra provisions, and the weight of "Begum" (eighty pounds), who was
fortunately lying to windward, that we did not heel right over. As it
was we were all afloat in each compartment, so I ran into the beautiful
bay of Havre Gosselin and anchored. It took an hour to bale out and
sponge dry and put everything in order for the run home. After
rightsiding, and when over my tea, I cast my eyes upon the beautiful
precipitous vale which comes down from a height of about one hundred and
fifty feet to the sandy shore. It was an exquisite sight in the full
glow of the western sun, and would make a lovely theme for a canvas. It
was an emerald valley, through the trees of which the sun glinted and
made splendid contrasts of light and shade so beloved by the artist,
while at the top of the vale, hung, or appeared to hang, half a dozen
fishermen's cottages, such as the aforesaid artist frequently looks for
in vain; but here they are, and perhaps my artistic friends may thank me
for pointing out these delightful "bits" to them.
I lingered as long as prudence would allow at this enchanting spot, and
crept along the lee of Brechou Island to get a peep at its harbour or
port, and soon found it, facing due west, a snug little haven enough in
calm weather; but the very thought of trying to get into it in a heavy
sea was enough to make one shudder. A steep path leads up from the beach
to a farmhouse, which stands high upon the island; it is the _only_
habitation in the place.
This island is probably larger than Jethou, but being so near Havre
Gosselin is not so lonely, as help may very quickly be summoned in case
of accident or illness.
How I should have loved to pay the old farmer and his family a visit to
compare notes with him; but it could not be, and even if I had seen him
it is doubtful if I could have understood him, as doubtless he spoke
Sarkoise French, and with that language I was totally unacquainted.
Still, we might have had what the Indians call a "pow-wow," and
fraternised to some extent if only by signs.
At a little past six away we steered for home, but with a head wind and
rather choppy sea, so there was no help for it but to tack, which made a
long trip of it; but to make it short to the reader we reached home
about nine p.m., tired, wet, and hungry, for it began to drizzle at
sundown. Still, I never enjoyed a trip better than this memorable one of
about twenty-five miles, although I was glad after supper to lay my head
down on my pillow (and dream it all over again).
At the risk of wearying my readers I must tell them of a trip I took
round Guernsey about a month later.
"Begum" went with me, that was now a matter of course, for directly the
boat was shoved off, he would jump in and take his seat as if he were
pilot: there was no getting him out again.
Well provisioned and provided for casualties, we started at the somewhat
late hour of six a.m., and in an hour made the land opposite St.
Sampson's harbour, and peeped in on passing, so as to see the busy scene
of granite trimming, breaking, and loading, which goes on here from
sunrise to sunset all the year round. I could plainly hear the
detonations as shots were fired in the quarries, and the dull rumble of
the stone, as great masses of granite, which have been unmoved since the
creation, were rent asunder and toppled into the quarry below. Vale
Castle and Bordeaux harbour, where I anchored, look picturesque from
whatever points they are seen, whether from land or sea, and two hours
quickly glided by as I sketched the lovely little bits of scenery around
me. My plan was to take about half an hour for each sketch, to get the
general outline and feeling of color, so that on my return I had plenty
to occupy me on a rainy day.
The next point of interest was a little rocky island just past Bordeaux,
called Hommet Paradis, which is the scene of the death of Victor Hugo's
hero, Gilliatt, as related in "The Toilers of the Sea." He creates a
splendid hero, and in the last chapter makes him commit suicide in an
impossible manner. He causes his hero to stand in the sea, so that the
tide rises up to his feet, his knees, his waist, his shoulders, till,
still watching the vessel which bears his love from him through his own
stupid act, nothing but his head remains. Then the tide continues to
rise, and as the vessel vanishes on the horizon, "the head of Gilliatt
disappears. Nothing was visible now but the sea." Surely he might have
left a lock of hair or a sigh to mark the spot where he disappeared. I
have tried on even a very calm day to stand as Hugo's hero did, and let
the tide rise around me, but find the thing an impossibility. The motion
of the rising tide would lift one off their feet long before the water
rose above their shoulders, and as to making the man stand _still_ and
drown, why the idea is ludicrous. But as Hugo created his hero, why
should he not be allowed to destroy him as he likes? The book (except
the last chapter) is an exquisite piece of word painting, but I always
wish he had made a happy end of his hero. I felt this so much when I
read it on Jethou (for the third or fourth time) that I actually
re-wrote the last chapter for my own edification, and made Gilliatt
marry Dérnchette willy-nilly, so that everything ended properly, and the
lovers "lived happily ever after."
North Guernsey (called Parish) is very uninteresting, in fact, from the
sea it looks a perfectly flat wilderness or desert, and I was glad when
the "Yellow Boy" glided into the deep clear blue water of Grand Havre,
where we moored for lunch.
Here an incident occurred which might have caused me to go ashore
against my wish. While peppering some fish I was eating, the lid came
off my little tin box, and the contents were strewn thickly on my food.
Some of the condiment I scooped back into the box, and then gave a
mighty puff to blow the rest off my plate, when, unluckily blowing
against the wind, some of it blew into my eyes, causing me exquisite
pain for some time, necessitating my rubbing them.
Had I remembered the Spanish proverb, "Never rub your eyes but with your
elbows," I should have saved myself a lot of needless pain, for they
became quite inflamed. I bathed them first in tepid water and afterwards
in cold, and then sat down in the bottom of the boat with a wet
handkerchief over them for an hour. This did them much good, but still
they felt very hot and inflamed. I could only just see to pick my way
among the shoals of rocks along this west coast, and consequently made
very slow progress. Saline, Cobo, and Vazon Bays were all sailed slowly
through, and very pretty they were; but it now dawned upon me that I
should not see Jethou to-night, as it was already approaching the
gloaming of the day. Lowering the sail I put out the sculls, and paddled
back to a little inlet I had noticed near Cobo Bay, called Albecq Cove,
a rocky little inlet, but nicely sheltered from the south-west wind,
then gently blowing. Here I made all snug for the night; put on my
kettle to boil water for tea, while with the sail I made a kind of
awning to roof in the boat should it come on to rain, and made myself
generally comfortable.
At nine p.m. I went to sleep, and at four a.m. was up again getting
ready for a start. My eyes felt nearly well again, but still rather
weak, so, stripping, I jumped overboard, and had a swim and dive, then
dressed, and after a cup of coffee felt no more of the eye soreness.
Between Lihou Island and the shore I moored in shallow water to make a
sketch of the remains of what are said to have once been a Priory,
standing on the island, and which have since been used as a manufactory
of iodine, although it is now discontinued. When my sketch was nearly
completed, I became suddenly aware, by reason of the cessation of
motion, that my craft was aground. Sure enough so it was, for the tide
had left me on the causeway (laid bare at low tide), which serves as a
means of communication with the shore for the family who occupy the only
house on the eighteen-acre island. I jumped up and seized the oars, and
pushed with main and utmost might, but the "Yellow Boy" refused to
budge, and I was in a quandary. The tide would not float me for another
three or four hours, so to wait would spoil my whole morning, and if I
stepped overboard and pushed off, should I not be breaking my contract
by landing? I sat down a few minutes and held council with myself, and
came to the conclusion that to stand in a foot of water was not
_landing_, so over I jumped, and by dint of a great deal of pushing,
hauling, perspiring, and the use of interjections (not profane, for I
never use a bad word), I got her off into deep water, and jumped in,
resolving never to anchor again in fleet water with a falling tide.
From Lihou I made a bee-line to the Hanois lighthouse, which stands
about a mile from the shore, and forcibly reminds one of the Longship
Light off Land's End, Cornwall. I passed so close that the two men who
were standing on the rocks with a tub between them doing their week's
washing, asked me ashore; but I made a gurgling noise in my throat, and
pointed to my ears and mouth as I passed on. I meant them to understand
by this that I was a deaf mute, but they evidently took me for a
lunatic, as I could hear by their remarks.
Rounding Pleinmont Point, upon which stands the dreary, solitary stone
house mentioned so frequently in Hugo's "Toilers of the Sea," I caught
the south breeze which was now blowing very fresh, and having a lea
shore on my left, I had to give it rather a wide berth till I came to La
Moye Point, where I turned into Petit Bo Bay for my mid-day meal, that
being somewhat sheltered from the wind. It is a lovely little haven, and
so I found Icart, Moulin-Huet, and Fermain Bays, with their Titanic
surroundings.
While moored in Fermain Bay admiring the beautiful scene, the wooded
slopes of the environing hills, the grand rocks, the pretty little
semicircular stretch of yellow sandy beach, the puny little martello
tower, and other items of interest, I discovered that while my
surroundings were interesting _me_, that I was also interesting my
surroundings, for I found I was gradually being surrounded by boats.
These contained pleasure parties, to whom the fishermen had evidently
told the story of my Crusoe life, and they were therefore anxious to get
a near view of me and my curious craft, while "Begum" came in for his
share of attention also.
Some of the people wished to speak to me, but I up anchor, and with my
usual dumb appeal to my ears and mouth tried to get away, but there was
so little wind under the great cliffs that my progress was very slow, so
I had to sit, tiller and sheet in hand, while my tormentors said their
say, to me and about me, in French, German, and English. One young lady,
when she found I was dumb to her enquiries, made a confidant of "Begum,"
and told him how she would like to see over Crusoe's island, as she
called Jethou, but all to no purpose, for, like his master, the dog was
dumb also, though not deaf.
I should have bubbled over with pleasure to show the damsel my island
and resources; but all I could do was to raise my yellow cap, and expand
my mouth horizontally across my face, to signify my approval of her
attention to _my dog_!
As the boat crept out from the headland of Fermain Bay my yellow sail
began to draw, and very soon I left my pursuers behind. I had become so
used to my queer yellow boat and its yellow sail and flag, that I had
long ceased to see anything peculiar in it; but of course to other eyes
my craft and its crew were a source of speculation and surprise. After
this I never went near Guernsey again during the day-time.
I made a straight run for home now, but somehow felt rather melancholy,
and could not get the young lady's face out of my mind. I felt somewhat
depressed to think I was fleeing from my fellow-men, as if I had
committed some grave offence and could not face them; but when once my
foot touched Jethou's shore (about seven p.m.) my thoughts and
melancholia vanished. There I was, home again, patting "Eddy's" back,
and pulling his long ears, and feeding the pig, and milking the goat,
getting ready my tea, and finally stretching my weary legs to take out
the kinks, which a couple of days in an open boat will put into any
man's limbs.
[Illustration: Decorative scroll]
[Illustration: Decorative chapter heading]
CHAPTER IX.
HARVEST OPERATIONS--EXPLORE LA CREUX DERRIBLE, AND NEARLY LOSE MY
LIFE--CRUSOE ON CRUTCHES--AN EXTRAORDINARY DISCOVERY--KILL A
GRAMPUS--OIL ON TROUBLED WATERS--MAKE AN OVERFLOW PUMP.
After my boating adventures I began to think it was high time I should
spend a week or two ashore, looking after my crops and the estate
generally.
It was now September, and my apples and pears were ripe, and so were the
lovely mulberries. The giant tree was a sight to behold, with its
bushels of red, purple, and blackish-ruby fruit. I might have gathered
enough fruit and vegetables to have supplied a small community
throughout the season, so prolific is the soil, and encouraging to
vegetation the air.
My potatoes turned out remarkably well--free from blemish, and of good
flavour. I must have had two or three tons, and went through the labour
of digging them and picking up all the tiny ones, as if I expected or
feared a famine. The pig's winter food was assured, at all events.
[Illustration: THE MAIN PATH OF THE ISLAND.]
Long previous to this I had cut and gathered my hay crop, which was to
form the chief sustenance for "Eddy," and the goat, "Corny," for the
next five or six months. This I made into a neat stack close to the
house, and thatched thickly with brakes, beside which I covered it with
tarpaulin, and girded it about with old chain-cable to prevent its being
blown away: also I guarded the base with a surrounding of wire-netting
to preserve it from the rabbits.
The crop I took most pleasure in was the barley, which I looked upon as
my legitimate harvest; the other crops seeming to be more like gardening
than real harvest work. I cut every handful with a reaping hook, which
took a long time; but as I had not a scythe this was my only way of
cutting it down. True, the Channel Islands mode of harvesting the barley
is to pull it up by the roots, a handful at a time, knocking the soil
off the roots upon the toe of the boot; but this seemed to me such an
un-English method that I would have nothing to do with it.
After it had lain to dry for three or four days I called "Eddy" and my
solid-wheeled cart into requisition, and took it, load by load, down the
rocky path to the store-house, where I placed it all safely away in the
upper chamber. The pathway was so narrow in places that the deviation of
a few inches would have caused donkey, load, and cart, to be
precipitated scores of feet down the abrupt slope into the sea beneath.
To avoid this catastrophe I had to take a pick-axe and shovel, and
devote a whole day to widening it in parts, making this, the main path
to the top of the island, nowhere less than four feet wide.
I rode home atop of the last load, and at my own door drank my own
health, with three cheers for everything and everybody, to which "Flap,"
the gull gave a kind of croak, by way of approval to my sentiments.
While my harvest was in progress I met with an adventure which might
have terminated the harvesting and my existence at the same time.
It was a boisterous day. I was tired of digging potatoes, for my back
ached, and I wanted a rest. The Cotills being near the awful crater-like
mouth of La Creux Derrible, I thought I would go and explore it, and
find out in my own way, all about it; so, dropping my occupation, I
wandered slowly down the zig-zag, bracken-hemmed path, lit my pipe, and
prepared myself for laziness for an hour.
When I am lazy I like to be _thorough_. I cannot bear to be half at work
and half at play; it is neither one thing nor another. So on this
occasion I strolled quietly down the pathway, which zig-zags seven or
eight times before it ends abruptly on the brow of a little cliff facing
La Fauconnaire. I scrambled down the cliff, across the beach, and over
the rocks which form a barrier to the entrance of the cavern leading to
the Creux. I noticed that the tide allowed an entrance to be effected,
so I climbed in over the gigantic boulders with which the floor of the
black cavern is covered, and soon found myself standing on the pebbly
floor of the chasm, looking up at its perpendicular sides, and admiring
the various ferns, weeds, and flowers which grew in beauty from its many
clefts and fissures. Then I saw something move in a hole near my feet,
and found it to be a wounded rabbit, which had apparently fallen down
the shaft from one of the little ledges a hundred and fifty feet above.
The timid little fellow did not attempt to run away, so, picking him up,
I examined him and discovered that both his fore legs were broken, and
it quite hurt me to see the pitiful look he gave with his bright,
prominent, gazelle-like eyes. I fondled the wounded animal, and looking
upward intently, presently saw other little rodents hopping round little
ledges near the top, which did not appear, from where I stood, to be so
wide as their bodies; but there they were, and although I waited
expectantly for a long time for a prospective dinner, no others fell
upon me. I should have been afraid to shoot at them had I had my gun,
for fear of detaching pieces of rock, which, falling from such a height,
might have crushed my skull in.
Seeing it was hopeless to think of saving the poor little bunny's life,
I gave him the "regulation stretch," and quieted him for ever. It seemed
strange that I should have cared for this one's life, and would have
saved it if I could, when I was daily trapping and shooting them in all
directions.
I think it was his plaintive look that did it, or the consciousness that
I was a superior being, and had his little life (to a certain extent) at
my command, just as our Father above has mine; but anyway, in his
wounded state I knew that death was his best friend. Looking round I at
once realized what death meant--death in a terrible form--not to a
rabbit, but _death to myself_--and for a moment I felt paralyzed; for
there was the sea creeping in upon me, not ten yards away. The roof of
the cavern through which I had to pass, did not appear far above the
water at the outer mouth. As I gazed along the tunnel-like aperture the
waves continually broke, sending spray to the roof, shutting out much of
the daylight seaward, though from the opening above me the sunlit sky
shed its light upon me.
Could I find a means of climbing up the perpendicular sides of my
prison, if only a few feet? No, I could not see a spot where even a
squirrel could ascend. What was to be done? The outlet was now filled to
the roof with the incoming tide, which here has a rise of from
twenty-five to thirty feet from low to high tide.
The sea reached my feet, and to my excited imagination felt like the
fingers of death trying to clutch me. But I am not one to give up
without a big struggle, and I made up my mind to attempt to swim round
and round the opening, _like a rat in a pail_, if it came to the worst;
but although I am a good swimmer, I doubted my ability to keep afloat
for three or four hours, with a heavy sea pouring into the circular
cavity, which would presently be filled with a whirlpool of seething,
foaming water. I should be knocked and buffeted from side to side
against the adamantine rocks till I was dead, then tossed and played
with till the tide ran out and carried my body into the vast ocean
beyond, as food for fishes. My friends would never hear of me again, and
my animals on the island would starve till--yes, why not try?
My soliloquy was cut short by noticing a crag project beyond the others
about ten or twelve feet from the ground. Why could I not throw my
doubled silk sash over it, and haul myself up? I would try.
The sea was now up to my knees, and was beginning to exert a rotary
motion, which, as the tide rose, would increase in velocity. So off came
my waist-sash, and after a few attempts it lodged over the boss of rock;
then to strengthen it I twisted it like a double rope, and carefully
hauled myself up it, hand over hand, till I grasped the protruding rock;
but as it only jutted out a few inches there was no possibility of
sitting upon it, so I gradually worked my way up by clutching at any
inequalities in the surrounding rock till I got one knee upon it, and
there I hung, with my fingers bent over a fissure like fish-hooks. How I
envied the rabbits overhead, who occasionally dislodged the _detritus_
of rock, which fell upon me. What would I not have given to be back on
the ledges of the Cotills, digging potatoes! But there I was, like a rat
in a trap, with no means of egress.
In a short time my fingers became cramped, and the sharp rock cut my
knee to such an extent that the perspiration broke out clammily on my
forehead, as I realised that in a few minutes I must loose my hold and
drop into the whirling water beneath, unless I could find some other
means of supporting myself. I looked about, and presently found a small
hole for my right hand--one deep enough to get a fairly good hold
upon--and putting my fingers into this, I gently let my left hand glide
down the rock and bring up the sash on that side. This I placed in my
mouth, gently changed hands and hauled up the right end of the sash,
then, after many attempts, with my mouth and right hand I managed to tie
a knot in it so as to form the sash into a short endless band. This I
dropped down, and putting my foot in the loop, had a somewhat secure
support.
[Illustration: LA CREUX DERRIBLE.]
There I hung for about three hours, till the tide only left about two
feet of water on the upper part of the floor of the cavern. When I
attempted to descend I found I could not straighten my right leg because
of the constant pressure for such a long time upon the knee-joint, so I
waited till the cave floor was almost bare, and then let myself _fall_
down as gently as possible. I was not hurt by the fall, but could not
stand, as my knee would not allow itself to be straightened. I sat down
for an hour till the tide allowed me to hop out in great pain. Oh, how
glad I was to be out of that dreadful place; and even in my crippled
state I rejoiced at my liberty! Upon getting to the foot of the Cotills
cliff, I whistled for my faithful "Begum," but no "Begum" came, so I sat
down and rested, and whistled, and whistled again, till presently away
he came tumbling down the breech in the cliffs, to my great delight.
After a bit I despatched him to fetch "Eddy," and while that worthy was
on his way to my help, managed, with great exertion and risk, to scale
the cliff. "Eddy" bore me up the zig-zag, and home by the lower path,
and thankful indeed was I to get there.
I bathed my knee, and did all I could for it, but it was many days
before I fully recovered the use of the limb; in fact, for three days I
used a crutch, which helped me along famously. Fancy a Crusoe on
crutches! After this adventure I made up my mind that I was not born to
be drowned.
Now, a week after my Creux adventure another incident occurred which
greatly influenced my career both as regards my stay on the island and
my after life. This was a curious discovery I made quite by accident.
It happened to be a very wet morning when I rose, and looked as if it
would continue all day, so I thought I would stay indoors and tidy up my
dwelling. I soon prepared my breakfast, and sat down to enjoy it, and as
I and my dog were discussing it, I could not help noticing the
dilapidated state of the stained and ragged wall-paper. It had probably
been on many years, and I recollected that somewhere among my stores I
had about a dozen rolls of new paper, so I said to myself, "Why not
strip the walls and re-paper the room?"
Good! I soon cleared the room, and with a pail of water and a brush
began to soak the old paper and strip it off, when I found, to my
surprise, that it was several layers thick--five at least--while
underneath all was a kind of netting of some sort of linen-looking
fabric. I surmised that this was to give a better adhesive power to the
paste, as probably the walls might be damp, although they did not appear
to be so. So I tore the various papers off the wall, till I clumsily
dragged off a piece of the netting also. The netting came quite off in
my hand; a circular piece, about eighteen inches across. I examined it
to see what it really was, and to my amazement discovered it was a
beautiful lace collar. What a curious way of putting a collar on I
thought, and returned to the wall to see if it wore any other finery,
and quickly discovered that the four walls were covered all over with
lace of beautiful design. There were pieces of all shapes and sizes, and
most of it of exquisite workmanship; so, packing it into a trunk with
plenty of tobacco among it to keep away insects, I sealed it up, and
stood it in a dry place for future consideration.
Even this curious find was not all I discovered, nor the most important,
although at the time I made my second discovery I did not attach any
value to it. It was this. When I came to the third side of the room,
opposite the door, I came upon a sort of niche or cupboard, close up to
the ceiling, which had no door, but simply a piece of lace tacked over
the aperture, and then thickly papered over some seven or eight times.
The opening was about ten inches high, eight inches wide, by six inches
deep, and in it stood two leathern drinking cups, capable of containing
about a pint each. In the first I took down was a tiny vial and three
gem rings, and in the second a small roll of paper, which upon unrolling
I found to be about two feet long by four inches wide. Upon it, in very
faded ink, was a long list of something in French. It looked like a very
heavy washing bill, and I was about to throw it away when I reflected
that it might tell something about the lace and the rings, so I rolled
it up in a linen bandage, and put it and the other articles in my
clothes box, so that some day I might get it deciphered.
All this made me very excited, and I am afraid my thoughts were more on
my discoveries than upon my work, for the new paper was very badly put
on the walls; it was not hung perpendicularly, and had several gaping
joints, which annoyed me all the time I was on the island. But I had not
paper enough to recover the walls, as I used the rest for my
bed-chamber; therefore it remained, a lasting memorial of my
slovenliness and bad workmanship.
About this time I shot a curious specimen--too large for stuffing--a
grampus. I was in my boat one day fishing for whiting, when I heard a
peculiar noise behind me, and looking round, saw a huge monster rise
from the sea about a hundred yards off, and make straight for me. Before
getting to the boat he dived again and again, when I saw that it was
apparently a young whale. Instinctively I clutched my gun, and as the
monster dived within a dozen yards of my boat I watched its rising; up
he came, not twenty feet away, whereupon I let him have both barrels at
the back of his head, and to my surprise he immediately turned over,
belly upward, gave a shudder, and was dead. I took my prize in tow, and
found on landing that it was upwards of ten feet long, and must have
weighed several hundredweight, for out of the water it was perfectly
unmanageable. I had to yoke "Eddy" and myself together, and drag the
monster above high water-mark, till I decided what to do with it.
In the morning I took off the skin, which would have made excellent
leather, but I had no means of tanning it, so was jettisoned. Beneath
the skin was a thick layer of blubber, and this I flayed off, making
myself in a pretty pickle, and soon had a large pile of this reeking
adipose deposit. Then I brought my copper on the beach, as it was a
portable one, and lighting a fire I "tryed," or boiled my blubber down
and had several gallons to bottle by the end of the day.
The flesh, I believe, is eatable, but it looked so dark and rich that I
was afraid to cook a piece and try it. Grampus is, no doubt, all very
well for shipwrecked mariners, but as I had plenty of other food the
carcase followed the skin into the sea. As it glided into the rough
water the oil exuded, and made a large patch of calm water as smooth as
a mill-pond.
This gave me a splendid idea for using the oil. For the future I would
always take some with me on my boating expeditions! I did, and put it in
a bottle which I kept near the bows, and whenever I got into
difficulties near rocks or in a rough sea I could command a calm. This
power I used on many occasions, and with invariable success. For
instance, if my lines got foul in a choppy sea, I could make the sea
calm, and get my gear out of tangle capitally, which, with the pitching
of my craft and the "send" of the following waves, would have otherwise
been a nearly hopeless task. Another use I put the oil to was to pour
some on my fish pond and bring the surface to a perfect calm; then I
could study my fish as well as if they were simply under a sheet of
glass, while by lying flat down on the margin of the pool, with my face
near the water, I could see even the most minute object on the bottom.
Looking into this pool was to me like looking into another world. Once
when very intent upon the doings of some spider-crabs, the rock upon
which I leaned my chest and hands gave way beneath my weight, and I was
immediately transformed into a fish, or at any rate, for some moments I
was an occupant of the same element and abode as the fish; but I soon
scrambled out without even a crab or lobster taking the opportunity of
tweaking my nose.
To keep up my supply of oil I was continually on the look out for
grampuses or porpoises; but I did not see another of the former,
although plenty of the latter were to be seen at times--generally out of
range. Two I shot, but I believe when hit they sink. Anyway I did not
see either of them again, although the water was coloured with blood,
shewing that my aim had been true. I doubly wished to get a porpoise,
for the sake of its oil, and also to cut a steak and try its flavour, as
I have heard that in some of the ports on the eastern seaboard of the
United States, boats are fitted out to capture young porpoises for the
hotels, as porpoise calf is considered a delicacy. If cod liver oil is
good for consumptives, why not porpoise cutlets?
How I would have liked to place a porpoise in my fish pond! What a
rumpus he would have caused? I might have seen him then in his habit as
he lived.
My bucket pump frequently took it into its head to go on strike; that
is, it would work when it pleased, and be idle if it wished; so I had to
supplement it with another kind of apparatus. This contrivance was by
using a nine-foot length of four-inch iron piping, which I found in the
boat-store, and which had probably belonged to some vessel as the barrel
of a pump, or something of the kind. To this I fitted a long wooden
piston, having a wooden disk on the end, through which I cut a circular
hole, and fitted over it a leathern valve. When I pushed this piston
down into the water the valve would open and the water would enter the
barrel, and when I drew the piston up the valve would close and draw the
water to the mouth of the pipe, where it poured out of a hole a few
inches from the top into a wooden trough, which conveyed it into the
pool. This meant hard manual labour; but as I only had to use it about
once a week it was exercise for me, and I enjoyed it. So did the fish,
for they would come to the new water in numbers, either because of the
food contained in the water, or because of its coolness in the hot
weather, or some other reason that I am not scientist enough to fathom.
My pond was my place of meditation, and often I would dream a couple of
hours away, thinking of home and those dear to me. I was like Adam, and
sometimes sadly sighed for my Eve; but Eve, otherwise Priscilla, was
hundreds of miles away; so I sighed and yawned, and made myself very
content with my dog and gun, and other belongings.
[Illustration: Decorative chapter heading]
CHAPTER X.
A STORM AND A WRECK--THE CASTAWAY--DEAD--A NIGHT OF HORROR--THE
BOATHOUSE DESTROYED--A BURIAL AT SEA.
Winter was now rapidly approaching, but before its advent something of a
very grave nature happened.
It had been a very blustering day, with occasional showers of sleet,
when about four p.m. I found myself standing by the watch-house, holding
my hat on; the sun fast setting in a very angry-looking sky.
Evidently a storm was brewing, so I hauled my saucy little "Yellow Boy"
high above high-water line, and made everything snug before I went
indoors just after darkness had fallen all around. I felt uncomfortable
somehow, but could not tell why; but when the time for bed came, and the
wind was howling round the house as if it meant to cast it bodily into
the sea, I did not for some reason care to turn in; so replenishing my
lamp I sat down to read, but the wind shook the casements so roughly
that I had to give it up. About midnight, although it was late in the
autumn, a flash of lightning lit up the room and startled me; in a few
seconds the thunder began to roll, but a long way off.
I sat waiting for another flash, and presently it came, this time with
the thunder much nearer. A little while and another more vivid flash,
with the thunder close to its heels, upon which I started up on the
impulse of the moment and donned my oilskin suit and sou'wester and
sallied out into the night; why I knew not. At first the night was pitch
dark, but a flash of brilliant lightning seemed to light up the whole
island, while at the same time came a crash of thunder, such as I hope
never to hear the like of again. It was as if the whole of the granite
island had been shivered to atoms by some awful volcanic crash; in fact,
I thought it was an earthquake. It only lasted a few seconds, but it
seemed to literally paralyze me; so much so, that I thought I should
have fallen. Other flashes succeeded, one of them striking a granite
block, which it shivered to pieces, although it weighed many tons, and
in the shock appeared itself to be broken; that is, it seemed like the
first stroke of a smith's hammer upon a red hot piece of iron, when the
sparks fly off in every direction. I dare not go along that path,
although it was now probably the safest; but as I went towards the beach
I could see the lightning run among the wet rocks like phosphorus.
As I stood by the watch-house I fancied I could detect human voices
crying for aid, but put it down to my imagination, till I saw, to my
horror, not a hundred yards from the shore, a French Chasse-maré, or
fishing boat, driving straight for the rocks. I shouted, but the noise
of the breaking sea rendered it inaudible five yards off against such a
wind. Two of her three masts were gone, and by the next flash I could
distinguish several men crouching by the bulwarks, and one at the
tiller. Then came a sudden lurch and a dead stop, a tremendous sea
crashed on deck, and I knew she had struck the rocks on the beach not
fifty yards from where I stood.
Heaven help them, for no earthly power could. I was helpless to render
the slightest assistance. I could only pray, and that I did fervently.
Doubtless the men would jump into the sea, with the very remote chance
of being thrown ashore alive, but that was very improbable.
Still, there _was_ a chance, and I went along the beach, as far as the
nature of the rocky shore would allow me, up and down, up and down, like
a dog on a race course, till at last, among a lot of cordage and fishing
gear, I thought I espied a man cast ashore, and so it was. He was
entangled in the mass of wreckage, and appeared dead. As I thought a
spark of life might still remain, I tried to disengage him, but try as I
would I could not disentangle his legs, so had recourse to my knife to
cut away the ropes which held him so fast. This I found a long process,
but at length I freed the poor fellow, and carried, or rather half
dragged him to the shelter of some rocks, and tried to revive him. His
heart still beat, so I ran to the house and got a bundle of straw and
some brandy. With the straw I made him a kind of bed, as he was a big
man, and the pathway too steep for me to carry him up, and pouring some
brandy into his mouth as he lay back I succeeded in causing him to open
his eyes, after about twenty minutes. I chafed his hands and did all I
could for him, and then ran back to procure more comforts. When I
returned he appeared much better; but although he looked at me he
appeared unable to speak, although he made a curious unintelligible
noise, such as one hears a dumb man make when he wishes to call a
person's attention. I noticed that blood was oozing from the corners of
his mouth, and signed to him to open it, when, to my horror, I perceived
that he had bitten his tongue completely off; hence his inability to
articulate. I then proceeded to examine him all over, but when I touched
his body he gave great groans, so that I would fain have left him alone,
had I not considered it my duty to act the Good Samaritan to him.
I tried to persuade him by signs to rise, that I might support him to
the house, but he shook his head and groaned again, when it occurred to
me that his legs might be injured, and this I found to be but too true;
both his thighs were broken. Then an idea came happily to my mind, I
would fetch my donkey and cart, and so endeavour to get him by a
circuitous route to the house and put him to bed.
Away I went and harnessed my faithful servant to his wonderful cart, and
was back again in about twenty minutes; but that short period had bereft
me of my patient, for when I bent over him to see if he were better, I
found he was again senseless. Taking up the lantern so that it shed its
full light on his face, I at once saw, to my consternation, that he was
dead. His eyes were wide open, and his teeth clenched in such a ghastly
manner as to make me, for a brief time, tremble with horror to think I
was thus left alone with a corpse.
I threw a handful of straw over the awful countenance, and went home in
an unutterable frame of mind, as to me death has a most unnerving
effect. I laid down on my bed, after taking off my wet oil skins; but
sleep would not give me the oblivion I so craved till dawn. Sometimes I
dozed off, but only to dream horribly, so that I would awake in a great
perspiration, and with my nerves thoroughly unstrung, I would start to
my feet and gaze round the room, as if I expected some dread visitor. It
was an awful night for me.
About four o'clock in the morning I had just dozed off again, when a
loud gust of wind gave my window an extra hard rattle, which woke me. I
laid quite still, but presently heard a curious shuffling outside my
door, which made me sit upright upon my bed, with my eyes starting from
my head, and riveted upon the door, which gradually opened with a
peculiar sliding noise, little by little, in jerks, and as it did so I
could feel my hair move on my head, as if trying to stand on end with
horror, but as it was very long it could only move in locks like
writhing eels. Little by little the door opened, and I expected to see
my black-bearded dead giant, with the awful face enter. I looked
instinctively near the top of the door for the face to show itself; but
such an awful visitant I was not doomed to see, though in his place, and
much nearer the floor, appeared a black head surmounted by a pair of
pointed horns. My eyes seemed as if they would fly from their sockets
at this sight, but only for a minute, for a body followed the head,
which was perfectly familiar to me--_it was my goat_.
[Illustration: TOO LATE!]
I dropped upon my bed, overcome by the sudden change from horror to joy,
and laid there for some minutes, till the faithful Nanny came and licked
my ear and brought me back to consciousness again.
I afterward accounted for her unexpected visit by surmising that the
wind must have blown open the outer door and let her into the passage,
as I had never fastened the doors, although the outer ones were provided
with bolts. Then Miss Nanny must have pushed open the door of my room
with a series of prods with her nose, and as she did so the old rug,
which I always threw at the bottom of the door to keep out the draught,
was gradually forced back till she had made sufficient space for the
admission of her body.
Oh, the horrors of that night! Shall I ever forget them? No, not if I
live to the age of Noah, who ran his grandfather, Methuselah, very close
in the race of years.
Day _did_ dawn at last, and putting out my lamp I slept soundly for
several hours; in fact, when I awoke it was mid-day, and the sun shining
down pleasantly from a blue and cloudless sky.
I breakfasted, fed my animals, and then--then! _What of the dead man
lying on the beach?_ I shuddered at the mere idea of going near the poor
fellow. I dreaded gazing upon that face again--it _must_ be done, still
it need not be done _just_ yet. I would take a walk round the island and
see if the storm had thrown up anything else upon the shore, and give
myself time to think what I should do with the dead Frenchman. I would
walk the reverse way round to that which I usually did; that is to go
round past the boathouse, and thus along the east shore. This I did so
that I might make the tour of the island before seeing the dreadful man
again.
Gun on shoulder, and dog at heel, I started slowly along, but had not
gone more than two hundred yards--in fact, had only just got in sight of
the boathouse--when I was startled by its changed appearance. The roof
was completely gone, and so were huge masses of the walls, the stones of
which were scattered thickly about the pathway along which I was
walking. I was so excited by the curious appearance that I actually ran
towards the building, as if the remaining portion had made up its mind
to take its flight after the part which was missing.
When I arrived at the ruins I soon discerned what had taken place. The
lightning had struck it last night, and what felt to me like an
earthquake was the explosion of my large cask of gunpowder. The
boathouse was a complete ruin, and the ruin involved the loss of many
things of great value to me, among them being my canoe, most of my lamp
oil, paints, and above all, tools.
I was like the prophet Jeremiah weeping over Jerusalem, for I sat down
on a rock, and viewing the desolation around me, wept also. Then I dried
my wet cheeks, and there and then set about clearing the ruin. But it
was a great task, and would take several days before I could clear the
debris and recover such goods and chattels as were not totally
destroyed. I dug, I heaved over great masses of granite wall which had
been tumbled inward and outward by the explosion, I sawed through beams
and hacked through rafters with an axe, but my thoughts were not
altogether with my work.
Every man has a skeleton in his cupboard, but I had more; I had a whole
carcase lying near my house, and this occupied my mind as much as my
labour. As I thought of it, so the harder I worked, but to no purpose,
and presently, for a spell of breathing, I sat down, axe in hand, upon a
beam, and resolved to decide there and then what to do.
During the daylight I did not so much mind my dread visitor, but it was
the approaching night I did not like. Why are we so much more in fear of
unseen things at night than during the day? Whence comes the spell of
dread that night brings beneath its black wing? Does darkness affect the
nerves of a blind man as it does that of one with his full visual
powers? I think not. Probably day and night are but as one to the blind.
Then why does darkness bring a certain awe to ordinary mortals?
But to resume the thread of my narrative.
It appeared to me that there were three courses open to me. I could fire
the cannon (I had a few pounds of powder in the store near the house)
and summon aid; I could dig a grave and bury the body; or I could hitch
on my donkey and drag it down to the water at low tide, and let it be
washed whithersoever the sea should take it.
I did not like either of these plans. If I fired the cannon it would
bring a possé of curious, prying people to the island, and probably I
should be taken away to St. Peter Port upon a coroner's quest. If I
buried the man I should always shun that part of the island, and should
have a constant memorial of my "night of horror" to depress me; while if
I committed the body to the waves I should for ever have it on my
conscience that I refused burial to a christian.
Then I thought, why not at dawn in the morning tow the body to Herm, and
drag it ashore on the rocks opposite the labourers' cottages, as if it
had been flung there by the waves; but a high sea was running, and to my
craft the passage of the Percée was impossible, for the current running
through it would have swept me away, so that with a weight towing astern
I should never have reached Herm, not even if I had taken the corpse as
a passenger inside my boat. I lit my pipe to conjure up fresh
inspiration, and the charm worked, for I got an idea which seemed to me
to fulfil all my requirements from a religious point of view, and it
also appeared practicable.
Being a sailor, my idea was to give the poor fellow a sailor's funeral,
and _bury him myself at sea_; and if the sea were not too rough it
should take place this very night. It wanted yet an hour of dusk, and I
would commence my preparations at once. Having formed my plan, and
looked calmly upon my undertaking as one that was a _duty_ for a
christian man to perform, the fear in a great measure seemed to leave
me.
I hauled down my boat, with "Eddy's" help, to high-water mark, and then
went, with as bold a mien as I could muster, to the poor man's side;
nerving myself with a prayer I lifted the straw from his face, and was
pleased to find that the features had assumed their normal aspect, in
fact but for the eyes being partly opened, he looked as if he were
asleep. This was a great relief to me, and I now felt firm for the task
I had undertaken. I got the body on the cart by great exertion, and
transported it to the boat, where I laid it across amidships on two
planks and tied a huge rock to each ankle; then, having prepared
everything by the time night set in, I left the boat, as I found the
tide would not float her away, and went home.
I thought if I waited another four or five hours the swell of the sea
would run down with the tide and become calm enough for me to venture
out upon my mission. I therefore had a substantial meal, and lay down on
my bed to rest, as I was very tired with my day's work and my previous
sleepless night.
When I awoke I found that it was past eleven p.m., but on looking out
discovered that it was a fine night, though very dark. The sea had
greatly quieted down, so taking my lantern and dog, I blundered along
down the rocky path with "Eddy" at my heels, till I came to the boat of
which I was presently to become the Charon.
With "Eddy's" help the boat was safely, though riskily launched, as my
passenger made it very top heavy. Seeing this, I caught "Begum" up and
tossed him overboard, so that he might swim ashore again, which I
daresay he thought a great liberty and very unkind, but it was a
necessity.
Away into the darkness of the night I steered my little bark, among the
big hills and vales of the pathless deep. When I had gone as far as I
judged it prudent to venture, I thought I would drop anchor and down
sail, and accordingly hove the anchor overboard; but somehow the sail
would not descend. I had therefore to climb over my passenger and go to
the foot of the mast with the lantern to see what was amiss. I found the
halyard had jammed in the sheave, and in trying to release it, as the
boat slid down the side of a great black wave, she gave a tremendous
lurch, and I thought was about to capsize, but she righted quickly as
the yard came down on my head by the run. I gathered in the canvas and
turned round to see how I could make room for the yard to lie safely
when, presto, the dead man was gone! It certainly made my heart give a
big thump, but a moment's reflection shewed me that the rolling of my
boat had caused the body to shoot off the boards, feet downward, thus
saving me the trouble of having to tip it off the planks.
The boat was now in good trim, and I had no fear for her safety nor my
own, so placing the lantern on the floor, I sat down and read by its
uncertain light the stirring service for the "Burial of those who die at
Sea." Fervently I said those prayers as the salt spray, mingling with my
tears, ran down my face, and when I pronounced the words, "I therefore
commit his body to the deep," I looked around fearfully, as if the man
might still be near me, but I saw him no more.
The bell of St. Peter's struck twelve o'clock just as the service was
finished, sounding as I had never heard it sound before--so solemn and
full of meaning as it tolled out in the still midnight air.
I pulled back with great effort, by reason of the heavy roll of the sea,
and landed by the ruined boathouse, with great risk of losing both
myself and boat. When safely ashore at last I was thankful to have
accomplished my dread mission without accident. As I hauled my boat up I
felt as if a tremendous weight had been lifted from my shoulders, and
was quite happy again; probably at having acted the Good Samaritan to a
man who, like the one in the Bible, was not of the same country or creed
as myself.
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CHAPTER XI.
CLIMATE IN WINTER--VISION OF MY FATHER--A WARNING
VOICE--SUPERNATURAL MANIFESTATIONS--THE FALLING ROCK--MY LIFE SAVED
BY MY DOG.
Winter was now come, but a very different atmosphere prevailed to what I
had been used to in my Norfolk home. There I was accustomed to see the
broads and rivers frozen over, and the means of communication by boat
between the various rivers completely stopped. There we dreaded the
marrow-piercing north-east wind which, coming straight across the cold
North Sea from icebound Norway and the frozen Baltic, caused everything,
animal and vegetable, to be cut and chilled, so that frequently both man
and plant succumbed to its penetrating rigour; but here the north or
east wind is not nearly such a dreaded visitor, and it is only on
exceptional days that its biting power is felt.
There nothing seemed to grow during the winter, all vegetation
slumbered, sometimes never to awaken; here in mid winter the primrose
and violet were in full bloom, and on New Year's Day I gathered quite a
posy of garden flowers, including roses and other fragrant flowers.
Snow fell on two or three occasions, but the bright sun dissipated it
very quickly, and the frosts were not at all severe; in fact, were only
of occasional occurrence. These frosts are only severe enough to hurt
one class of persons, and that is the gardeners, who dread a frost
coming after the blossoms are set on the trees. The climate being so
mild the blossom buds burst at a very early period, so that a late frost
coming nips them, then good-bye to the fruit.
Frequently potatoes are here being eaten before the green tops are above
ground in England, which is another proof of the mildness of the
climate. No doubt this mildness and equability of temperature is due in
a great measure to the influence of the Gulf Stream, which keeps the
surrounding sea at an even temperature; the sea in turn tempering the
wind, keeps the thermometer very level.
There is usually a very mild fortnight towards the end of October, which
the natives call "La petite été;" it appears like a return of summer,
and is greatly enjoyed by everyone as the last of the really warm
weather.
In the matter of sunshine England cannot be compared with these islands,
for taking our much-favoured Devonshire, and comparing the hours of
sunshine for December, January, and February, I find that in the Channel
Islands the sun shews its face just double the number of hours that it
does in fertile Devon.
In my garden on January 25th I had peas a foot above ground. How I
should have liked to shew my father these, he would scarcely have
believed his eyes, for April 25th in Norfolk, would not have produced
anything much more forward.
Now, having mentioned my father, I must tell a curious incident which
happened concerning him upon the last day of January. About eight
o'clock in the evening I was sitting finishing a sketch of Creviçhon,
with my dog lying asleep near the fire, when he suddenly half raised
himself, and looking towards the other end of the room commenced to
whine.
I followed his eyes, and there to my astonishment sat my father. He sat
on a stool facing me, with his leg, which was enveloped in a huge
covering, upon another stool. His right hand rested upon the covered
leg, while his left was placed upon his heart. As the dog whined he
looked straight at me, and in his well-known voice said,
"It's all right, Harry, my boy, but it _was_ a shake!"
I stood up to rush to him, but as I rose he melted away, leaving nothing
but the two empty seats. I was staggered, but calm immediately, for I
had read of things of this kind before, and concluded that my father had
met with some accident, and had thus by some unknown means communicated
with me in spirit.
[Illustration: A GHOSTLY VISITANT.]
I knew nothing of the why or wherefore of this wonderful means of
communication between two persons, but judged that in this case it
happened in this wise. My father had met with a severe accident, which
he was probably afraid might have had a fatal termination, that his
thoughts were intent upon me, his absent son. As he intently thought of
me, and how he should like to speak to me, he may have actually spoken
the words to himself, which by some unknown means I heard apparently
fall from his own lips, and in his very voice.
The words assured me of his safety, and therefore beyond taking a note
of the day and the hour, I did not trouble myself much more about the
curious incident.
While on this subject of the apparently supernatural, I will mention one
or two other inexplicable things which occurred to me during my
residence on Jethou.
One night in autumn I could not sleep, so towards dawn got up and
dressed myself, as I had frequently done before, and took a walk round
the island, a distance of over a mile. This proceeding always had the
effect of giving me the desired sleep upon my again wooing Morpheus. On
this particular night my mind was filled with the question, "How can I
keep my fish pond always replenished with sea water?" and as I wandered
on in the dark, knowing the path so well, I was concocting a new pumping
device, when my steps were suddenly arrested by the word "Harry!"
pronounced gently but plainly just behind me. This woke me abruptly from
my reverie, and I turned round quickly, but could see nothing but my
faithful dog at my heels. "Strange, very strange indeed," I thought, and
was about to resume my walk, but there, not four steps away, was the
yawning abyss of La Creux Derrible, into which I should have walked in
another second, and been dashed to pieces on the rocks below. My life
was saved, but by what? Was it a spirit voice or some night bird that in
my abstraction I fancied pronounced my name?[2] Some will say the
latter, but I must maintain that it was a curious thing that this should
happen at precisely the correct instant, just in time to save me from a
violent death. It _was_ a voice, for I recognized it as that of my own
love, Priscilla, who was at the moment two or three hundred miles away.
But how could _she_ know of my danger?
It may strike the reader as strange, and it is _strange_, I will allow;
but on another occasion my life was saved in a remarkable manner. One
afternoon late in the winter, after a heavy fall of rain, I was sitting
near the brink of the granite cliff on the west side of the island,
making a sketch of some rock masses in the glow of the ruddy setting
sun, when "Begum" became suddenly restive, and rubbed several times with
his head against my leg, looking up into my eyes at intervals. Then he
would walk away, looking round as if wanting me to follow and see
something (a proceeding he had often done before); but being busy I did
not give way to his solicitations, and went on working. This did not
please him, for he now took hold of my coat sleeve, and gave me a tug,
with his eyes at the same time fixed on mine; so, to oblige him, I rose,
and went after him to see what wonder he had to shew me. Contrary to his
usual custom he appeared to have nothing for me to see, but seemed
pleased to have me follow him, shewing his joy by wagging his tail, as
if he would wriggle his body in two, and looking up into my face over
his shoulder to shew his pleasure. As I had nearly finished my sketch I
thought I would humour him, and avoid taking cold by sitting too long in
the cool atmosphere among the damp rocks. With this thought in my mind I
turned round to fetch my colours and sketch, when suddenly near the top
of the island a large block of granite, about the size of a thirty-six
gallon barrel became detached, and commenced a downward career, crashing
all before it in its course. I paused and watched it, waiting to see it
bury itself with a mighty splash in the sea.
It descended in leaps and bounds with increasing velocity, till, with a
final rise it launched itself upon the very stone on which I was sitting
a minute before, and with a sharp crash broke it completely in two,
hurling the pieces and itself the next instant into the sea!
My sketch went with the rocky seat, and but for the intervention of my
dog I should have been _killed_ first and drowned _afterwards_. My
colours, lying on the ground a foot away, were uninjured.
What is the interpretation of this? It might be said that the previous
heavy rains had loosened the rock, and the warm sunshine having swelled
the mass of the earth beneath, had overbalanced it, and thus nearly
brought about a catastrophe. But what of the dog's warning? It was
_strange_, that is all the solution I can give. As a Norfolk labourer
once said to me when I was pumping him upon the subject of superstition,
"Master, there's more things about than we knows of about both by day
and night."
Perhaps there are, and if they are _things_ of _good_, so much the
better. We know of hypnotism, psychic force, spiritualism, thought
reading, and other occult sciences which appear to produce nothing very
grand as results for _good_, but who shall say there is not some
"Guiding Good" which can (even against our wills) warn us, or sway our
minds in a given direction or in some way influence our movements, by
means _outside ourselves_?
Sometimes after dark, with a half gale blowing, I have fancied all kinds
of things were about, of which the eye or ear might get indistinct
glimpses, and with the wind sighing and moaning among the trees and
rocks and my solitary life also taken into consideration, was this to be
wondered at.
Solitude gives latitude for an imaginative mind to expand itself, and
for one shut up by himself as I was, trifles are frequently made
prominent, simply because there is nothing greater to attract one's
attention and thought.
The wind sweeping among the rocks in a gale, will at times, form at it
were, notes or peculiar noises, which will, with other sounds of
rustling branches, the cry of wild fowl and the beat of the sea on the
shore, all taking place concurrently, cause the listener to imagine he
hears voices. Again, who has not, when walking by a noisy babbling
brook, where it falls among rocks and other impediments in a quiet
place, heard as he has thought voices as of persons conversing at a
distance? Many trout-fishers will have heard these sounds, and know the
reason of their being heard; they can fully explain the cause, but I
doubt if they could explain the curious experiences related in this
chapter.
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FOOTNOTE:
2: I am aware that these things are but trifles to the
Theosophists and Esoteric Buddhists, who profess to project their astral
bodies, and play many other hocus pocus tricks of transmitting voices
and articles to immense distances. They may therefore be able to explain
these phenomena, I cannot; still I have the belief that there is some
spirit-force which can and does act as a medium between distant persons
who are in sympathy with each other.
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CHAPTER XII.
A FAIRY POOL--WONDERS OF THE DEEP--PORTRAIT OF A POET--THE CAVE OF
FAUCONNAIRE--A LETTER FROM HOME AND MY ANSWER TO IT.
As the weather towards the end of winter was very uncertain, I did but
little boat-fishing, except on very fine days, when the sea was fairly
calm, and I had a longing for a certain kind of fish. At such times I
would embark for an hour or two, and rarely came home empty-handed.
Crabs and lobsters I soon got tired of, and I think most people who
could eat their fill of them for the mere catching would do the same;
but a nice sole or slice of turbot takes a long time to satiate one's
appetite.
Although little could be done in the garden or field during the winter
days I was never idle; that is, I never indulged in lying in bed or
letting the time slip dreamily by, so as to induce the belief that I was
enjoying myself. No, that would not suit me at all, for my disposition
was to be ever on the go--seeing, hearing, or trying to learn something.
Thus I knew almost every rock and cranny round the island, as I was
always poking and ogling into odd crannies and pools to see what I could
discover. Among my favourite places was the Fauconnaire, which being
surrounded at every tide, was always having fresh life and vegetation
brought to it by the ever-moving sea.
There were many pools and wonderful little caves round this curious,
conical island, of which I knew, and into whose recesses I loved to pry;
and although I visited them frequently they seemed ever new to me.
There was, facing due east, a large mass of rock near the foot of the
Fauconnaire, upon which I often sat on a calm day, looking down into the
mysteries of the sea. The water w
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