CHAPTER VIII.
THE SIGNAL OF FIRE.
The wreck broke in upon the monotony of Brandon's island life andchanged the current of his thoughts. The revelations contained inDespard's manuscript came with perfect novelty to his mind. Potts, hisenemy, now stood before him in darker colors, the foulest of miscreants,one who had descended to an association with Thuggee, one who bore onhis arm the dread mark of Bowhani. Against such an enemy as this hewould have to be wary. If this enemy suspected his existence could henot readily find means to effect his destruction forever? Who couldtell what mysterious allies this man might have? Cigole had trackedand followed him with the patience and vindictiveness of a blood-hound.There might be many such as he. He saw plainly that if he ever escapedhis first and highest necessity would be to work in secret, to concealhis true name, and to let it be supposed that Louis Brandon had beendrowned, while another name would enable him to do what he wished.
The message of Despard was now a sacred legacy to himself. The dutywhich the murdered man had imposed upon his father must now be inheritedby him. Even this could scarcely add to the obligations to vengeanceunder which he already lay; yet it freshened his passion and quickenedhis resolve.
The brig was a novelty to him here, and as day succeeded to day he foundoccupation in searching her. During the hotter part of the day he busiedhimself in shoveling out the sand from the cavern with a board. In thecool of the morning or evening he worked at the hatchway. Here he soonreached the cargo.
This cargo consisted of staves and short boards. All were blackened, andshowed traces of fire. The fire seemed to have burned down to a depth offour feet, and two or three feet under the sides; then the water comingin had quenched it.
He drew out hundreds of these staves and boards, which were packed inbundles, six boards being nailed together as box-shooks, and thirty orforty staves. These he threw out upon the deck and on the sand. Whatremained he drew about and scattered loosely in the hold of the vessel.He did this with a purpose, for he looked forward to the time whensome ship might pass, and it would then be necessary to attract herattention. There was no way of doing so. He had no pole, and if hehad it might not be noticed. A fire would be the surest way of drawingattention, and all this wood gave him the means of building one. Hescattered it about on the sand, so that it might dry in the hot sun.
Yet it was also necessary to have some sort of a signal to elevatein case of need. He had nothing but a knife to work with; yet patienteffort will do much, and after about a week he had cut away the railthat ran along the quarter-deck, which gave him a pole some twenty feetin length. The nails that fastened the boards were all rusted so thatthey could not be used in attaching any thing to this. He decidedwhen the time came to tie his coat to it, and use that as a flag. Itcertainly ought to be able to attract attention.
Occupied with such plans and labors and purposes as these, the dayspassed quickly for two weeks. By that time the fierce rays of the sunhad dried every board and stave so that it became like tinder. The shipitself felt the heat; the seams gaped more widely, the boards warped andfell away from their rusty nails, the timbers were exposed all over it,and the hot, dry wind penetrated every cranny. The interior of the holdand the cabin became free from damp, and hot and dry.
Then Brandon flung back many of the boards and staves loosely; and afterenough had been thrown there he worked laboriously for days cutting uplarge numbers of the boards into fine splints, until at last a huge pileof these shavings were accumulated. With these and his pistol he wouldbe able to obtain light and fire in the time of need.
The post which he had cut off was then sharpened at one end, so that hecould fix it in the sand when the time came, should it ever come. Here,then, these preparations were completed.
After all his labor in the cabin nothing was found. The bedding, themattresses, the chests, the nautical instruments had all been ruined.The tables and chairs fell to pieces when the sand was removed; thedoors and wood-work sank away; the cabin when cleared remained a wreck.
The weather continued hot and dry. At night Brandon flung himself downwherever he happened to be, either at the brig or at the rock. Every dayhe had to go to the rock for water, and also to look out toward the seafrom that side. At first, while intent upon his work at the ship, thesight of the barren horizon every day did not materially affect him; herose superior to despondency and cheered himself with his task. Butat length, at the end of about three weeks, all this work was done andnothing more remained. His only idea was to labor to effect his escape,and not to insure his comfort during his stay.
Now as day succeeded to day all his old gloom returned. The excitementof the last few weeks had acted favorably upon his bodily health, butwhen this was removed he began to feel more than his old weakness. Suchdiet as his might sustain nature, but it could not preserve health. Hegrew at length to loathe the food which he had to take, and it was onlyby a stern resolve that he forced himself to swallow it.
At length a new evil was superadded to those which had already afflictedhim. During the first part of his stay the hollow or pool of water onthe rock had always been kept filled by the frequent rains. But now forthree weeks, in fact ever since the uncovering of the _Vishnu_, not asingle drop of rain had fallen. The sun shone with intense heat, and theevaporation was great. The wind at first tempered this heat somewhat,but at last this ceased to blow by day, and often for hours there was adead calm, in which the water of the sea lay unruffled and all the airwas motionless.
If there could only have been something which he could stretch over thatprecious pool of water he might then have arrested its flight. But hehad nothing, and could contrive nothing. Every day saw a perceptibledecrease in its volume, and at last it went down so low that he thoughthe could count the number of days that were left him to live. But hisdespair could not stay the operation of the laws of nature, and hewatched the decrease of that water as one watches the failing breath ofa dying child.
Many weeks passed, and the water of the pool still diminished. At lastit had sunk so low that Brandon could not hope to live more than anotherweek unless rain came, and that now he could scarcely expect. Thelook-out became more hopeless, and at length his thoughts, instead ofturning toward escape, were occupied with deliberating whether he wouldprobably die of starvation or simple physical exhaustion. He began toenter into that state of mind which he had read in Despard's MSS., inwhich life ceases to be a matter of desire, and the only wish left is todie as quickly and as painlessly as possible.
At length one day as his eyes swept the waters mechanically out of purehabit, and not expecting any thing, he saw far away to the northeastsomething which looked like a sail. He watched it for an hour beforehe fairly decided that it was not some mocking cloud. But at the endof that time it had grown larger, and had assumed a form which no cloudcould keep so long.
Now his heart beat fast, and all the old longing for escape, and theold love of life returned with fresh vehemence. This new emotionover-powered him, and he did not try to struggle with it.
Now had come the day and the hour when all life was in suspense. Thiswas his first hope, and he felt that it must be his last. Experience hadshown that the island must lie outside the common track of vessels, and,in the ordinary course of things, if this passed by he could not hope tosee another.
Now he had to decide how to attract her notice. She was still far away,yet she was evidently drawing nearer. The rock was higher than the moundand more conspicuous. He determined to carry his signal there, and erectit somewhere on that place. So he took up the heavy staff, and bore itlaboriously over the sand till he reached the rock.
By the time that he arrived there the vessel had come nearer. Hertop-sails were visible above the horizon. Her progress was very slow,for there was only very little wind. Her studding-sails were all setto catch the breeze, and her course was such that she came graduallynearer. Whether she would come near enough to see the island was anotherquestion. Yet if they thought of keeping a look-ou
t, if the men in thetops had glasses, this rock and the signal could easily be seen. Hefeared, however, that this would not be thought of. The existence ofCoffin Island was not generally known, and if they supposed that therewas only open water here they would not be on the look-out at all.
"STILL HE STOOD THERE, HOLDING ALOFT HIS SIGNAL."]
Nevertheless Brandon erected his signal, and as there was no place onthe solid rock where he could insert it he held it up in his own hands.Hours passed. The ship had come very much nearer, but her hull was notyet visible. Still he stood there under the burning sun, holding alofthis signal. Fearing that it might not be sufficiently conspicuous hefastened his coat to the top, and then waved it slowly backward andforward.
The ship moved more slowly than ever; but still it was coming nearer;for after some time, which seemed to that lonely watcher like entiredays, her hull became visible, and her course still lay nearer.
Now Brandon felt that he must be noticed. He waved his signalincessantly. He even leaped in the air, so that he might be seen. Hethought that the rock would surely be perceived from the ship, and ifthey looked at that they would see the figure upon it.
Then despondency came over him. The hull of the ship was visible, but itwas only the uppermost line of the hull. He was standing on the very topof the rock, on its highest point. From the deck they could not see therock itself. He stooped down, and perceived that the hull of the shipsank out of sight. Then he knew that the rock would not be visible tothem at all. Only the upper half of his body could by any possibilitybe visible, and he knew enough of the sea to understand that thiswould have the dark sea for a back-ground to observers in the ship, andtherefore could not be seen.
Still he would not yield to the dejection that was rapidly coming overhim, and deepening into despair every minute. Never before had he soclung to hope--never before had his soul been more indomitable in itsresolution, more vigorous in its strong self-assertion.
He stood there still waving his staff as though his life now dependedupon that dumb yet eloquent signal--as though, like Moses, as longas his arms were erect, so long would he be able to triumph over theassault of despair. Hours passed. Still no notice was taken of him.Still the ship held on her course slowly, yet steadily, and no changeof direction, no movement of any kind whatever, showed that he had beenseen. What troubled him now was the idea that the ship did not comeany nearer. This at first he refused to believe, but at last he saw itbeyond doubt, for at length the hull was no longer visible above thehorizon.
The ship was now due north from the rock, sailing on a line directlyparallel with the island. It came no nearer. It was only passing by it.And now Brandon saw that his last hope of attracting attention by thesignal was gone. The ship was moving onward to the west, and everyminute would make it less likely that those on board could see the rock.
During the hours in which he had watched the ship he had been busyconjecturing what she might be, and from what port she might have come.The direction indicated China almost undoubtedly. He depicted in hismind a large, commodious, and swift ship, with many passengers ontheir way back to England. He imagined pleasant society, and generalintercourse. His fancy created a thousand scenes of delightfulassociation with "the kindly race of men." All earthly happiness seemedto him at that time to find its centre on board that ship which passedbefore his eyes.
The seas were bright and sparkling, the skies calm and deeply blue, thewinds breathed softly, the white swelling sails puffed out like cloudsagainst the blue sky beyond. That ship seemed to the lonely watcher likeHeaven itself. Oh! to pass beyond the limits of this narrow sandy waste!to cross the waters and enter there! Oh! to reach that ship which movedon so majestically, to enter there and be at rest!
It was not given him to enter there. Brandon soon saw this. The shipmoved farther away. Already the sun was sinking, and the sudden night ofthe tropics was coming swiftly on. There was no longer any hope.
He flung the staff down till it broke asunder on the hard rock, andstood for a few moments looking out at sea in mute despair.
Yet could he have known what was shortly to be the fate of thatship--shortly, only in a few days--he would not have despaired, he wouldhave rejoiced, since if death were to be his lot it were better to diewhere he was than to be rescued and gain the sweet hope of life afresh,and then have that hope extinguished in blood.
But Brandon did not remain long in idleness. There was yet oneresource--one which he had already thought of through that long day, buthesitated to try, since he would have to forsake his signal-station; andto remain there with his staff seemed to him then the only purpose ofhis life. Now since the signal-staff had failed, he had broken it,as some magician might break the wand which had failed to work itsappropriate spell, and other things were before him. He took his coatand descended from the rock to make a last effort for life. He walkedback through the gathering gloom toward the wreck. He did not run, nordid he in any way exhibit any excitement whatever. He walked with a firmstep over the sand, neither hastening on nor lagging back, but advancingcalmly.
Before he had gone half-way it was dark. The sun had gone down in a seaof fire, and the western sky, after flaming for a time, had sunk intodarkness. There was no moon. The stars shone dimly from behind a kindof haze that overspread the sky. The wind came up more freshly fromthe east, and Brandon knew that this wind would carry the ship which hewished to attract further and further away. That ship had now died outin the dark of the ebon sea; the chances that he could catch its noticewere all against him, yet he never faltered.
He had come to a fixed resolution, which was at all hazards to kindlehis signal-fire, whatever the chances against him might be. He thoughtthat the flames flaring up would of necessity attract attention, andthat the vessel might turn, or lie-to, and try to discover what thismight be. If this last hope failed, he was ready to die. Death had nowbecome to him rather a thing to be desired than avoided. For he knewthat it was only a change of life; and how much better would life be ina spiritual world than life on this lonely isle.
This decision to die took away despair. Despair is only possible tothose who value this earthly life exclusively. To the soul that looksforward to endless life despair can never come.
It was with this solemn purpose that Brandon went to the wreck, seekingby a last chance after life, yet now prepared to relinquish it. He hadstruggled for life all these weeks; he had fought and wrestled for lifewith unutterable spiritual agony, all day long, on the summit of thatrock, and now the bitterness of death was past.
An hour and a half was occupied in the walk over the sand to the wreck.Fresh waves of dark had come over all things, and now, though there wereno clouds, yet the gloom was intense, and faint points of light in thesky above showed where the stars might be. Where now was the shipfor which Brandon sought? He cared not. He was going to kindle hissignal-fire. The wind was blowing freshly by the time that he reachedthe place. Such a wind had not blown for weeks. It would take the shipaway farther. What mattered it? He would seize his last chance, if itwere only to put that last chance away forever, and thus make an end ofsuspense.
All his preparations had long since been made; the dry wood lay looselythrown about the hold; the pile of shavings and fine thread-likesplinters was there awaiting him. He had only to apply the fire.
He took his linen handkerchief and tore it up into fine threads, thesehe tore apart again and rubbed in his hand till they were almost asloose as lint. He then took these loose fibres, and descending into thehold, put them underneath the pile which he had prepared. Then he lookhis pistol, and holding it close to the lint fired it.
The explosion rang out with startling force in the narrow hull of theship, the lint received the fire and glowed with the sparks into spotsof red heat. Brandon blew with his breath, and the wind streaming downlent its assistance.
In a few moments the work was done.
It blazed!
But scarcely had the first flame appeared than a puff of wind came downan
d extinguished it. The sparks, however, were there yet. It was asthough the fickle wind were tantalizing him--at one time helping, atanother baffling him. Once more Brandon blew. Once more the blazearose. Brandon flung his coat skirts in front of it till it might gatherstrength. The blaze ran rapidly through the fine splints, it extendeditself toward the shavings, it threw its arms upward to the largersticks.
The dry wood kindled. A million sparks flew out as it cracked under theassault of the devouring fire. The flame spread itself out to a largervolume; it widened, expanded, and clasped the kindling all around in itsfervid embrace. The flame had been baffled at first; but now, as if toassert its own supremacy, it rushed out in all directions with somethingthat seemed almost like exultation. That flame had once been conqueredby the waters in this very ship. The wood had saved the ship from thewaters. It was as though the WOOD had once invited the FIRE to union,but the WATER had stepped in and prevented the union by force; as thoughthe WOOD, resenting the interference, had baffled the assaults of theWATER, and saved itself intact through the long years for the embraceof its first love. Now the FIRE sought the WOOD once more after so manyyears, and in ardor unspeakable embraced its bride.
Such fantastic notions passed through Brandon's fancy as he looked atthe triumph of the flame. But he could not stay there long, and as hehad not made up his mind to give himself to the flames he clambered upquickly out of the hatchway and stood upon the sand without.
The smoke was pouring through the hatchway, the black voluminous foldsbeing rendered visible by the glow of the flames beneath, which now hadgained the ascendency, and set all the winds at defiance. Indeed it wasso now that whatever wind came only assisted the flames, and Brandon, ashe looked on, amused himself with the thought that the wind was like theworld of man, which, when any one is first struggling, has a tendency tocrush him, but when he has once gained a foothold exerts all its effortsto help him along. In this mood, half cynical, half imaginative, hewatched the progress of the flames.
Soon all the fine kindling had crumbled away at the touch of the fire,and communicating its own heat to the wood around, it sank down, aglowing mass, the foundation of the rising fires.
Here, from this central heart of fire, the flames rushed on upon thewood which lay loosely on all sides, filling the hull. Through that woodthe dry hot wind had streamed for many weeks, till every stave and everyboard had become dry to its utmost possibility. Now at the first breathof the flame the wood yielded; at the first touch it flared up, andprepared to receive the embrace of the fire in every fibre of its being.
The flame rolled on. It threw its long arms through the millioninterstices of the loose piles of wood, it penetrated every where withits subtle, far-reaching power, till within the ship the glow broadenedand widened, the central heart of fire enlarged its borders, and thefloods of flame that flowed from it rushed with consuming fury throughthe whole body of the ship.
Glowing with bright lustre, increasing in that brightness every moment,leaping up as it consumed and flashing vividly as it leaped up. Athousand tongues of flame streamed upward through the crannies of thegaping deck, and between the wide orifices of the planks and timbersthe dazzling flames gleamed; a thousand resistless arms seemed extendedforward to grasp the fabric now completely at its mercy, and the hotbreath of the fire shriveled up all in its path before yet its handswere laid upon it.
And fast and furious, with eager advance, the flames rushed on devouringeverything. Through the hatchway, around which the fiercest firesgathered, the stream of flame rose impetuously on high, in a straightupward torrent, hurling up a vast pyramid of fire to the ebon skies, a[Greek: phlogos migan pogona] which, like that which once illumed theSlavonic strait with the signal-fire first caught from burning Troy,here threw its radiance far over the deep.
While the lighter wood lasted the flame was in the ascendant, andnobly it did its work. Whatever could be done by bright radiance andfar-penetrating lustre was done here. If that ship which had passedheld any men on board capable of feeling a human interest in the visiblesigns of calamity at sea, they would be able to read in this flame thatthere was disaster somewhere upon these waters, and if they had humanhearts they would turn to see if there was not some suffering which theymight relieve.
But the lighter and the dryer wood was at last consumed, and now thereremained that which Brandon had never touched, the dense masses whichstill lay piled where they had been placed eighteen years before. Uponthese the fire now marched. But already the long days and weeks ofscorching sun and fierce wind had not been without their effects, andthe dampness had been subdued. Besides, the fire that advanced upon themhad already gained immense advantage; for one half of the brig wasone glowing mass of heat, which sent forth its consuming forces, andwithered up, and blighted, and annihilated all around. The close-boundand close-packed masses of staves and boards received the resistlessembrace of the fire, and where they did not flame they still gave forthnone the less a blazeless glow.
Now from the burning vessel the flame arose no more; but in itsplace there appeared that which sent forth as vivid a gleam, and asfar-flashing a light. The fire had full sway, though it gave forth noblaze, and, while it gleamed but little, still it devoured. From thesides of the ship the planks, blasted by the intense heat and by theoutburst of the flames, had sprung away, and now for nearly all thelength of the vessel the timbers were exposed without any covering.Between these flashed forth the gleam of the fire inside, which now inone pure mass glowed with dazzling brightness and intense heat.
But the wood inside, damp as it was, and solid in its fibre, did notallow a very swift progress to the fire. It burned, but it burnedslowly. It glowed like the charcoal of a furnace from behind its woodenbars.
The massive timbers of mahogany wood yielded slowly and stubbornlyto the conflagration. They stood up like iron bars long after all theinterior was one glowing mass. But, though they yielded slowly, stillthey had to yield with the passage of hours to the progress of the fire.And so it came to pass that at length the strong sides, sapped bythe steady and resistless assault, surrendered. One by one the stouttimbers, now wasted and weakened, gave way and sank down into the fervidmass beneath. At last the whole centre was one accumulation of glowingashes, and all that remained were the bow, covered with sand, and thestern, with the quarter-deck.
The fire spread in both directions. The stern yielded first. Here thestrong deck sustained for a time the onset of the fire that had consumedevery thing beneath, but at last it sunk in; the timbers of the sidesfollowed next, and all had gone. With the bow there was a longer anda harder struggle. The fire had penetrated far into that part of thevessel; the flames smouldered there, but the conflagration went on, andsmoke and blue flames issued from every part of that sandy mound, which,fiercely assailed by the heat, gave way in every direction, broke intoa million crevices, and in places melted and ran together in a glowingmolten heap. Here the fires burned longer, and here they lived andgleamed until morning.
Long before morning Brandon had fallen asleep. He had stood first nearthe burning wreck. Then the heat forced him to move away, and he hadgone to a ridge of sand, where this peninsula joined the island. Therehe sat down, watching the conflagration for a long time. There the lightflashed, and if that ship for whom he was signaling had noticed thissign, and had examined the island, his figure could be seen to any onethat chose to examine.
But hours passed on. He strained his eyes through the gloom in thedirection in which the ship had vanished to see if there were any signthere. None appeared. The progress of the fire was slow. It went onburning and glowing with wonderful energy all through the night, till atlast, not long before dawn, the stern fell in, and nothing now was leftbut the sand-mound that covered the bows, which, burning beneath, gaveforth smoke and fire.
Then, exhausted by fatigue, he sank down on the sand and fell into asound sleep.
In the midst of thronging dreams, from the depths of that imaginary landwhere his weary spirit wandered in sleep
, he was suddenly roused. A handwas laid on his shoulder, which shook him roughly, and a hoarse voiceshouted in his ear, "Mess-mate! Halloo, mess-mate! Wake up!"
Brandon started up and gazed with wild, astonished eyes around. It wasday. The sun was two or three hours above the horizon. He was surroundedby half a dozen seamen, who were regarding him with wondering but kindlyeyes. The one who spoke appeared to be their leader. He held a spy-glassin his hand. He was a sturdy, thick-set man of about fifty, whosegrizzled hair, weather-beaten face, groggy nose, and whiskers, comingall round under his chin, gave him the air of old Benbow as he appearson the stage--"a reg'lar old salt," "sea-dog," or whatever other namethe popular taste loves to apply to the British tar.
"Hard luck here, mess-mate," said this man, with a smile. "But you'reall right now. Come! Cheer up! Won't you take a drink?" And he held outa brandy-flask.
Brandon rose mechanically in a kind of maze, not yet understanding hisgood fortune, not yet knowing whether he was alive or dead. He took theflask and raised it to his lips. The inspiriting draught gave him newlife. He looked earnestly at the Captain as he handed it back, and thenseized both his hands.
"God Almighty bless you for this, noble friend, whoever you are! But howand when did you get here? Who are you? Did you not see my signal on therock yesterday--?"
"One question at a time, mess-mate," said the other, laughingly. "I'mCaptain Corbet, of the ship _Falcon_, bound from Sydney to London, andthese are some of my men. We saw this light last night about midnight,right on our weather-bow, and came up to see what it was. We found shoalwater, and kept off till morning. There's the _Falcon_, Sir."
The Captain waved his hand proudly to where a large, handsome ship lay,about seven miles away to the south.
"On your bow? Did you see the fire _ahead_ of you?" asked Brandon, whonow began to comprehend the situation.
"Yes."
"Then you didn't pass me toward the north yesterday?"
"No; never was near this place before this morning."
"It must have been some other ship, then," said Brandon, musingly.
"But how did you get here, and how long have you been here?"
Brandon had long since decided on the part he was to play. His story wasall ready.
"My name is Edward Wheeler. I came out supercargo in the brig _Argo_,with a cargo of hogshead staves and box shooks from London to Manilla.On the 16th of September last we encountered a tremendous storm andstruck on this sand-bank. It is not down on any of the charts. Thevessel stuck hard and fast, and the sea made a clean breach over us.The captain and crew put out the boat, and tried to get away, but wereswamped and drowned. I staid by the wreck till morning. The vessel stoodthe storm well, for she had a solid cargo, was strongly built, and thesand formed rapidly all about her. The storm lasted for several days,and by the end of that time a shoal had formed. Several storms haveoccurred since, and have heaped the sand all over her. I have lived hereever since in great misery. Yesterday a vessel passed, and I put up asignal on the rock over there, which she did not notice. In despair Iset fire to the brig, which was loaded with wood and burned easily. Iwatched till morning, and then fell asleep. You found me so. That's allI have to say."
On hearing this story nothing could exceed the kindness and sympathy ofthese honest-hearted seamen. The Captain insisted on his taking anotherdrink, apologized for having to carry him back to England, and finallyhurried him off to the boat. Before two hours Brandon stood on the deckof the _Falcon_.
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