In Strange Company: A Story of Chili and the Southern Seas

by Guy Boothby

  CHAPTER IV

  RESCUED.

  Long after Veneda's speech I remained kneeling by his side in earnestprayer, but when his laboured breathing ceased altogether, and I lookedup to find his jaw dropped and his great eyes fixed in a horrible stare,I knew that all was over, and prepared to perform the last sad offices.

  These accomplished, his expression changed completely. Up to the momentof his death a haggard, weary look had possessed his features, but nowhis face was like that of a little child for innocence and peace. Istood looking down on him for some minutes, my mind surging with avariety of thoughts. Then, picking up my cap, I strode hastily from theplateau towards the interior of the island, in the hope of diverting mythoughts from the scene I had just witnessed, and from the contemplationof my own awful loneliness.

  Swiftly I marched along; the bright sunshine straggled amid the treesand lit up the glades through which I passed, but beyond being aware ofthese things I had little attention for them. I could not divest myselfof the horror of my position. Here was I, I told myself, the sole livingbeing upon this island; my companion a dead and unburied man; myprospect of rescue as remote as ever, and my food supply limited to afew more meals. Indeed, so horrible was my condition that considerationof it inclined me even to wish myself back in prison in Batavia.

  In this state I passed out from the woods on to the shore. The tide wasfar out, and an expanse of sand stretched before me. Thinking briskexercise might raise my spirits I set off to walk as quickly as I couldround the island. But it was only putting off the unpleasant work, for Icould not allow day to depart and leave me with the body still unburied.

  My prison, I discovered, was not as large as I had thought it, beingconsiderably less than a mile long. My first view had evidently been adeceptive one, and I must have allowed more for the fall of the hillthan was justifiable, considering that I had not seen the end of it.

  In the hope that I might discover some sort of shell-fish with which tosustain life when my meagre supply of rice should be exhausted, I walkedclose to the water's edge, but not a trace of anything fit to eat couldI find. This knowledge added considerably to my uneasiness.

  While engaged in my search, I espied, bobbing up and down in the waternot far from the shore, something that looked suspiciously like a bottlewith the cork in. My curiosity was instantly aroused. Who knew but thatit might contain the last message of a shipwrecked crew, thrownoverboard in the hope of carrying to the world information of theirunhappy fate. If this were so, into what weak hands had it fallen!

  My mind made up to gain possession of it, it was the work of a moment towade towards it. I found it to be a Bass' beer-bottle, and on holding itup to the light, I could see that it contained a sheet of paper. Themouth was firmly corked, and to render it additionally secure, thelatter was not only tied down but carefully sealed. Bearing it ashore, Ithrew myself on the warm sands and prepared to broach its contents.

  I discovered the cork to be fastened with copper wire, while the waxused was of a quality more generally employed by ladies on their_billets-doux_ than by men before the mast. Cracking the bottle with astone I extracted the paper and spread it carefully out.

  It was a full sheet of cream-laid, folded longways into a narrow stripto go through the bottle's neck. Owing to this precaution it was quitedry. The following is an exact transcript of what I read--

  _S.S. Cambermine,_ "_Three days' steam from Nagasaki._

  "To all whom it may concern,

  "This is to certify that we, the undersigned, being on our honeymoon, are the two happiest people on the face of this globe, and don't you forget it!

  "REGINALD AND MAY."

  A sillier and, under the circumstances, crueller hoax it would have beenimpossible to conceive. And yet to my mind there was something terriblypathetic about that tiny message, tossed about by many seas, buffeted bystorms, carried hither and thither by various currents, its ultimatefate to fall into the hands of perhaps the most miserable being on thewhole face of that world so flippantly referred to by the writers.Shutting my eyes I could conjure up the scene--the promenade deck of thesteamer--the happy couple busily engaged upon the preparation of themessage--the toss overboard, and finally, the bottle bobbing up and downa mute farewell among the waves. Big man as I was, when I pictured thehappiness to which the note referred, and compared it with my ownposition, the tears rose into my eyes, and surely if it served no otherpurpose, the message had done one good work in diverting for a time thecurrent of my miserable thoughts.

  For some vague reason, I could not tell what,--perhaps that I might havein my possession something which was the outcome of a fellow-creature'shappiness, or, maybe, because it was a last feeble link with the outsideworld,--I resolved not to tear up the paper, but to keep it as atalisman about me. When I had put it carefully away I resumed my walk,and half-an-hour later had completed my circuit of the island, and wasback again on the sands opposite the plateau.

  By this time my mind was made up, and I had resolved to carry out asexpeditiously as possible the horrible task which lay before me. Buthow I was to dig a grave of sufficient depth, seeing that I had notools, save my knife and hands, with which to do it, I could notunderstand. Fearing, however, that if I delayed matters any longer Ishould never undertake it at all, I chose a suitable spot a little tothe right of the plateau, and fell to work.

  I found it a longer business than I expected, for though I commenced itearly enough, it was nearly dusk before I had completed it.Unfortunately I had only accomplished the least horrible part. What Imost dreaded was conveying the body to the grave, and this I had now todo.

  Returning to the camp on the plateau, the very remembrance of which hadgrown indescribably repulsive to me, I approached the spot. A feeling ofsurprise took possession of me when I saw that the body lay just as Ihad left it, and perhaps for the same reason I found myself creepingtowards it on tip-toe, as if it were wrapped in a slumber which might beeasily disturbed.

  Stooping down, I placed my arms round it, then lifting it on to myshoulder, hurried back to the grave with all possible speed. Laying itdown, I returned for the cloth stretcher on which we had borne Venedathe previous night, and having procured this I wrapped the body in itand laid it in the grave. Then endeavouring to bring my mind to bear onthe awful solemnity of what I was doing, I repeated as much as I couldremember of the service for the burial of the dead. It was an impressivescene. The dead man in his shallow grave, the evening breeze juststirring the trees, the light and shadow effects of the sunset, thesmooth sea, and the awful silence of the island. Such an impression didit make on me, that it seemed if I did not get away from the spot Ishould go raving mad. So soon therefore as I had committed his body tothe ground, "earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust," I began tofill in the soil with feverish haste. The instant that was finished, Ipicked up my remaining supply of rice and the cooking-pot, and ran fordear life. Strange shapes peered at me from every tree, and unearthlyvoices whispered in the faint rustling of the leaves. The truth was mynerves were utterly unstrung,--and was this indeed to be wondered at,considering the nature of my experiences within the last twenty-fourhours?

  So great was my horror of an Unknown Something--what, I could notexplain--that I had run to the end of the island farthest from the gravebefore I came to myself. Then I threw myself down upon the sands quiteexhausted. But I was too hungry to remain inactive long. Lighting a firewith my one remaining match, I set to work to cook some rice, obtainingwater from a spring I had discovered in my morning's ramble. By the timeI had finished my meal it was quite dark, so I laid myself down, andafter a while fell asleep.

  With prudence born of the knowledge that if my fire once went out Ishould have no means of relighting it, I had heaped plenty of fuel on itbefore I turned in, so that when I woke next morning it was stillburning brightly. Having cooked and eaten a small portion of my rice,for I was now compelled to rigidly allowance myself, I replenished myfire, and started o
ff to climb to my usual look-out spot on the top ofthe hill.

  Though I searched in every direction, not a sign of a sail was visible.Only the same expanse of blue water stretching away to the sky-line, thesame wheeling gulls, and the same eternal thunder of the surf upon therearward reef.

  Anything more awful than the feeling of desolation that encompassed me Iwould defy any one to imagine. My sensations were those of a man cut offfor ever from his fellow-creatures, a hapless outcast, destined toperish by slow starvation on that barren spot. A few more meals Idiscovered would find me at the end of my supplies. And what wouldhappen then?

  While I was occupied with these miserable reflections, the locket Venedahad given me chafed my skin, and the bitter irony of my position figuredbefore me in a new light. Here was I, I told myself, having about me thekey to enormous wealth, unable to procure the commonest necessaries oflife. A Croesus and a beggar! Indeed, at that moment, had it been inmy power to do so, I would willingly have exchanged all my chances ofobtaining the money for another small bag of rice like the one I wasjust at the end of. I returned to my fire to spend the remainder of theday tramping up and down the hill watching for the sail that never came.

  That night I ate my last mouthful of food. Hence forward I must gowithout, unless I could find some sort of fruit or shell-fish with whichto keep body and soul together. Having this object in view, off I setnext morning on another expedition round the island. But I might havespared myself the labour. Trees there were in abundance, but not onehaving any pretence to fruit. Fish I knew teemed in the bay, but I hadneither line nor hooks wherewith to catch them, nor anything of which tomanufacture such tackle. Thus when I reviewed my position I began to seethe hopelessness of it, and to think it would be better for me to liedown and die without struggling any further against my overwhelmingfate.

  All that day and the next I was without a morsel of food; my agony wasindescribable. How many times I climbed that hill I could not say, butit was always with the same result--no sail--no sail! My one remainingthought was to keep up the fire, for I knew that if that went out Ishould have no means left of communicating with passing ships. Then aperiod of abject despair supervened, in which I cared not a rap whatbecame of me. How I spent my time after that I could not tell you. Ibelieve, however, that I must have been delirious, for I have a faintrecollection of running along the beach screaming to Veneda that theAlbino was pursuing me. Certainly this fit lasted a long time, for thenext thing I remember is finding myself lying more dead than alive onthe sand beside my _burnt-out fire_.

  My last hope was gone. My chance of attracting attention had been takenaway from me. Thereupon I asked myself, Why should I wait for death torelease me? why should I not take the direction of affairs into my ownhands, and anticipate what could only be a matter of another day, by thevery longest calculation?

  Strange though it may seem, my troubled brain found something peculiarlysoothing in this idea. I brooded over it unceasingly, deriving amelancholy satisfaction from the knowledge that, though my agony wasmore than human, it was in my power to end it when I pleased. Somehow orother I developed the idea that the evening would be the most fittingtime for me to accomplish the awful deed, perhaps just at sundown. Threewords, "the evening sacrifice," part of a half-forgotten hymn, faintrelic of my boyhood, haunted me continually--

  "The sun is sinking fast, The daylight dies; Let love awake, and pay Her evening sacrifice."

  Then suddenly a grisly notion seized me, and all the afternoon Ioccupied myself procuring from a tree a slab of wood, upon which tocarve my name and age. With what care I chose the inscription! With whatlabour I worked upon it! When it was completed to my satisfaction, itread as follows--

  THE MORTAL REMAINS OF JOHN RAMSAY, MARINER, _Who, dying by his own hand, Bluffed Starvation, and became the Victim of Despair!_

  The sun was now only half a hand above the horizon, staring me in theface, a great globe of mocking fire. I had long since chosen the spotfor my death, and thither I proceeded, sticking my tombstone in theground beside the place where in all probability my corpse would fall.

  When all my arrangements were made, I fell to sharpening my knife upon astone, pausing now and again to watch the sun. His lower edge was hardlyan eighth of an inch above the sea-line, and as he sank beneath it, Idetermined to have done with this weary world, and to endeavour to findin another the peace which was denied me here.

  For the second time since my arrival on the island, my whole life passedin review before my eyes;--I saw the dame's school at Plymouth, SirBenjamin, and the East India Avenue, Maud, and my dear dead mother. Thebright side of my life seemed suddenly to end here, and a darkerprocession commenced to stalk across the stage. My early sea life, myquarrel with Maud, the gold-fields, my illness, Broken Hill, and,lastly, Veneda's death. The beach seemed peopled with phantoms, and itwas as if they were all imploring me with outstretched arms to stay mywicked hand. But I would not heed them. The sun was now more than halfsunk beneath the sea, and I drew back my arm to point the sacrificialknife.

  At that instant a tiny object moving on the beach, fifty yards or sofrom where I stood, caught my eye. I paused to wonder what it might be,and that little act of curiosity saved my life. In that moment Iabandoned the idea of self-destruction, and the next I was staggeringtowards the thing, whatever it might be.

  _It was a turtle making for the sea!_

  Before he could escape me I had turned him on his back, and plunged theknife into his breast; then working it round, in less time almost thanit takes to tell, I had portions of the flesh cut out, and wasravenously devouring them. Oh, the delight of that meal!

  When I had eaten as much as I wanted, I carried what remained to a placeof safety, and afterwards knelt upon the beach to thank God earnestlyfor sparing my life to me. But for that tiny beast's intervention Ishould have been a dead man. Then with a heart considerably lighter Irose to my feet, and determined to see if by any chance I could discoveranother of the animals.

  My luck had turned, for on the other side of the island I was fortunateenough to obtain another and even larger one. Carrying him back to mycamp, I despatched him at once to make sure, and then hid his flesh. Ican assure you that it was with a happier and more contented heart thatI fell asleep that night.

  Next morning I breakfasted on the turtle, and when I had finished,started up the hill to look for ships. As usual, none were to be seen.Having convinced myself of this melancholy fact, I returned to theshore, and, for something to do, set myself to destroy the head-board Ihad manufactured the day before, and to begin another to perpetuateVeneda's memory. In this manner I occupied myself all that day. When itwas finished, I set off to view the grave for the first time since I hadlaid him in it.

  It had already begun to look unkempt and straggling, so quickly dothings grow in these latitudes. When I had tidied it as well as I could,I dug a hole at the head and erected the board. It is not much to lookat, but at least it will serve its purpose, so that whosoever visits thespot in the future will be able to read the name of the man who liesbeneath it.

  This work accomplished, I started back along the shore to my camp fordinner. Turning the point, I happened to look out to sea. I stoppedsuddenly in my walk. I almost dropped under the shock! _A sail was insight, and heading towards the island!_

  For a moment I remained rooted where I stood; my excitement chained mehand and foot. Would she see me, or would she pass me by? The latterthought was agony. How could I attract her attention? I had no means toraise a flare, so I must hit upon some other scheme. Rushing swiftlyacross the sands into the thicket, I cut a long pole, and to thisfastened my jacket. Then running with all my speed along the beachtowards a piece of elevated ground, I ascended it, and wildly began towave my signal.

  Closer and closer she approached the island, and, as she came, I madeout that she was not one of the small trading bo
ats I had at firstimagined her, but a steam-yacht, and a large one at that. When she wasabout two miles distant she ran a flag up to her peak. I could not ofcourse at that distance make out what it was, but I understood that itwas an answer to my signal, and waved my flag the more frantically,running down to the water's edge to do so. Then I saw that a boat wasbeing lowered.

  As soon as she was clear she started for the shore, and when I saw hercoming I fell upon my knees, and sobbed as if my heart would break.After what seemed an eternity they grounded her, and I waded out to meetthem. A gentlemanly-looking young fellow sat in the stern-sheets. Hestared at me rather hard (and well he might, for I must have cut astrange figure), and said--

  "I've been sent to see what's the matter. Can we help you?"

  "Take me away," I cried, "take me away. I'm dying!"

  I really thought I was. My senses were leaving me. I tottered, clutchedat the gunwale of the boat, and remember no more!