The Girl Crusoes: A Story of the South Seas

by Oliver Optic

  "Supposing there _are_ people?" said Mary.

  "As I said before, I think we ought to try and make friends with them,and if they seem inclined to be unfriendly, perhaps we could make themafraid of us. Tommy's match-lighter would startle them, wouldn't it?"

  "It might, but I don't like to think of having to rely on that sort ofthing for our safety. They would soon find out our real weakness, andthen---- Oh! I do hope we shall not see anybody. We should be somuch more uncomfortable."

  "Tommy's birthday is somewhere about now. We can't be quite sure ofthe date, because we didn't begin to cut notches at once; but we shouldbe right within a day or two. The present she would like best would besome oranges from beyond the ridge, and certain news that the island isuninhabited."

  "How strange it seems to hope that there are no human beings near us!Do you know, Bess, I think the people of these islands must be verymelancholy."

  "Why should you think that? I have always supposed them to be a happy,light-hearted folk, with not a care in the world."

  "But they have nothing to do. Their food grows for them without work,and they don't need many clothes. They've no books to read, noamusements----"

  "How do you know that?"

  "Well, what amusements can they have? Isn't it only civilized peoplewho play games?"

  "I don't know. I seem to remember that even savages gamble, if that isamusement; it wouldn't be to me if I lost."

  "Then you're no sport, Bess," said Tommy, who had awakened and caughtthe last few words. "It's the excitement they like, whether they winor lose. I should be a dreadful gambler, I know, if I had the chance."

  "Then I hope you will never have it, dear," said Elizabeth. "It is anunhealthy excitement, I am sure. We were talking about your birthday,Tommy. It might be yesterday, to-day, or to-morrow, but you arefourteen. We'll wish you many happy returns now."

  "Oh, I wish you hadn't reminded me," cried Tommy. "Think of beingfifteen and sixteen, and twenty, and getting old on this island! Idon't want to grow old at all, and it would be dreadful here. I'd be ascullery maid, or a beggar girl--anything in England, rather than stayhere. Shall we ever get away?"

  And Tommy nestled to Elizabeth's side, and as she lay encompassed byher elder sister's arms she prayed with all her heart that God wouldsend help to them soon.

  When dawn broke and they got up, it was a dreary world upon which theylooked. Sea and earth were covered with a clinging mist. A drizzlewas falling. Everything was sodden and forlorn. The fire was out, andthere were no dry sticks for re-lighting it. They had to contentthemselves with a breakfast of cocoanuts, and then they sat inside thehut, too much depressed in spirit to go out, or do anything but watchthe rain.

  Presently the drizzle became a downpour, which, went on for an hour ortwo, then suddenly ceased, the sun bursting through the leaden sky.They took advantage of this to gather a quantity of twigs, which theycarried into the hut to dry there. Elizabeth had just suggested thatMary and she should start on their expedition to the ridge, when asharp shower drove them again to shelter. So it went on all day--heavyshowers that lasted for a few minutes alternating with brief, brightintervals.

  There was no doubt that the rainy season had begun. The girls werepractically confined to the hut for many days in succession, onlysallying forth to catch fish, which they cooked at a new stove builtnearer the hut. The showers were sometimes light, sometimes veryheavy, and at last the rain began to drip through the thatched roof,and the girls had to sit in their macintoshes. Though the sun appearedevery now and then, it did not shine long enough to dry the groundbefore another downpour soaked it. They all became very low-spirited,and could not find any occupation to pass away the time, for evenweaving was impossible with the sodden grass.

  Their troubles came to a climax one day when Mary complained of aracking headache. Feeling her hot brow, Elizabeth feared she had takena fever, no doubt owing to the exhalation from the damp earth workingon a lowered system. She and Tommy felt much concern, which becamereal alarm when they found Mary rapidly becoming worse. She could noteat, and lay on her mat bed covered with the macintoshes and wraps ofthe other girls, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright and glassy.Towards evening, when Elizabeth had left the hut to fetch water for thenight, and Tommy sat by the invalid, she was startled to hear Marytalking in a very strange way.

  "No milk to-day--there's something wrong with Dapple--Jane, Uncle Ben'scoming to-morrow. Don't forget the----" Then her voice died away intoan indistinguishable muttering. Presently Tommy caught more phrases:"Oh, no, no! They'll eat us: don't let Tommy go. Bess! Bess! they'recoming after me!--Dan will carry the luggage, Uncle!"

  So she raved on, in her delirium babbling about the farm, the ship, herfriends, a word every now and again showing how much the fear ofcannibals had occupied the background of her mind. Tommy wasterrified. She had never seen any one delirious except her father justbefore he died, and she was smitten with an agonizing fear that Marywould not recover.

  "Oh, Bess, she's out of her mind!" she cried piteously, as Elizabethreturned. "What shall we do?"

  Elizabeth went quickly to the bed, dipped a handkerchief in the watershe had brought, and laid it on Mary's fevered head.

  "We must sit up with her to-night," she said. "Don't give way, Tommydear. She will soon be better. The fever came on so suddenly that Iam sure it is one of those sharp attacks that don't last long. But itwill leave her very weak, and we must be very careful of her. I do sowish we had some oranges; the juice is so cooling."

  But it was too late to think of looking for oranges, and they had to besatisfied with water and cocoanut milk, which they gave Mary in sips.All night long they remained at her side, watching her with distress asher teeth chattered as if with cold, and then next moment she tossedabout on her little mat bed, and flung the macintoshes off as if shecould not bear the heat. Elizabeth tried to induce Tommy to lie downfor a little, but the young girl refused, saying that she could notrest until she knew that Mary was better.

  "I will get some oranges to-morrow," said Elizabeth. "I am sure theywill do her good."

  Towards morning Mary dropped off to sleep, and then Tommy was persuadedto lie down. The sun had risen when she awoke to find Elizabeth stillwatching over her sleeping sister.

  "I'll just run down to the stream and bathe my face," said Elizabeth."She is still asleep. Give her a little water if she wakes; I shan'tbe long. Luckily, it's a fine morning."

  She returned in a few minutes.

  "Now you run down and wash, Tommy," she said; "it'll freshen you. I'veput in some fish to bake for breakfast."

  Tommy rose and left the hut. During Elizabeth's absence she had strungherself up to a great resolution. Mary must have oranges, but the oneto fetch them should not be Elizabeth. She was so calm and steady andcapable that she would do far better to stay and look after Mary. "Ican be best spared," thought Tommy, "but I know Bess won't let me go ifI propose it. I shall just do it without telling her. It won't takelong to scamper to the orange grove and back again."

  She had not forgotten her former fright; but she told herself thatperhaps she might get to the oranges without being observed, and shewas ready to do anything for Mary, of whom she was very fond, thoughthey sparred sometimes. So, after bathing her face in the stream, shewent to the stove and scratched on the sand in front of it with herknife the words, "Gone to the orange grove." Then, without waiting,for fear her courage failed, she ran swiftly along the bank of thestream, munching a piece of cocoanut as she went.

  In the hut Mary had awakened perfectly sensible, and wondering why shefelt so weak. Elizabeth bathed her face and hands, smoothed her hair,and having tried to make her a little more comfortable, gave her adrink of cocoanut milk.

  "What's the matter with me, Bess?" she asked.

  "You've had a touch of fever. You'll soon be all right again. I'mgoing to get you some oranges presently. You will enjoy them."

  "Yes, I shall
. Have I been ill long? I feel as weak as anything."

  "Only one night, dear. We shall have to feed you up. You ought tohave beef tea or chicken broth, of course; but we shall have to do thebest we can. I think we must try to snare a bird of some sort."

  "Where's Tommy?"

  "Just run down to wash. I dare say she'll bring back the fish withher. I put some to bake. You could eat a little, couldn't you?"

  "I'll try, but I don't feel much like eating. I want to go to sleepagain."

  And, indeed, in a few minutes she was sleeping. "The very best thingshe could do," said Elizabeth to herself.

  A quarter of an hour passed and Tommy had not returned. "I wonder whyshe is lagging," thought Elizabeth. She went to the entrance of thehut and looked down towards the shore. The trees hid the stove fromher, and she did not call out for fear of waking Mary. She went backinto the hut and sat down; but after five minutes, when there was stillno Tommy, her vague wonder grew into a slight feeling of alarm. Seeingthat Mary was still asleep, she went out again, and ran swiftly downtowards the stove, glancing to the left with a half expectation ofdiscovering Tommy fishing on the rocks. But Tommy was not in sight,and Elizabeth soon learnt why, as her eye caught the scribble on thesand.

  "How plucky!" she thought. "But the child will be terrified before shegets there; I had better fetch her back."

  But with a moment's reflection she saw that she could not expect tocatch Tommy before she reached the top of the ridge. If there was anydanger Tommy would have run into it by the time she could be overtaken.Mary was so weak that Elizabeth did not care to leave her for long; butshe ran some distance up the stream, as far as the broad, bare avenuemade by the storm, and then was on the point of giving a shrill callwhen she checked herself. The sound might cause the very harm shewished to avoid. Perturbed, and somewhat vexed as well, she hastenedback, feeling that at present Mary must be her chief care. Shereflected that, after all, though they had been now more than twomonths on the island, they had never met any other person, and had noreal reason to think it was inhabited. Surely if the object Tommy hadseen was actually a human being, they would by this time have had otherevidence of his existence. Thus reassuring herself, she hurried back,took out of the oven the fish that was already over-baked, and regainedthe hut. To her great relief Mary was still fast asleep. Elizabethdreaded the effect upon her if she suspected that anything had happenedto Tommy.

  As she ate her breakfast, reserving some of the fish for Tommy, shefelt decidedly annoyed at the young girl's escapade. Tommy ought tohave mentioned what she intended, thought Elizabeth. But Tommy hadbeen from her earliest years impulsive and heedless, so that herpresent disobedience--for so Elizabeth had come to regard it,forgetting that no instructions had been given--was quite apiece withformer instances. Then Elizabeth made amends to Tommy in her heart."She has been very good all this time," she thought. "I do wish shewould come back."

  But the hours dragged by, and still Tommy had not appeared. Maryawoke, and looking round the hut, inquired again for Tommy.

  "She has run up to get some oranges," said Elizabeth, as calmly as shecould, though she felt very troubled.

  "Tommy has?" said Mary, in surprise. "Gone alone to where she saw theface? Oh, you shouldn't have let her, Bess."

  "I wouldn't have, only I did not know. She scrawled on the sand to saythat she had gone. I suppose she thought I would make a better nursethan she."

  "She's a dear, brave girl," said Mary, "and I shall like the orangesall the better."

  Elizabeth got her to eat a little fish, cold as it now was, andpresently she dropped off to sleep again. It was past dinner-time; thesun was very hot, and Elizabeth, thoroughly alarmed at Tommy'sprotracted absence, wondered if, after her trying night, she had beenovercome by the heat, and was, perhaps, lying helpless somewhere. Shefelt that she must try to find her; so, slipping out of the hut, sheran as fast as her feet would carry her up through the woods, neverpausing until she had crossed the ridge and come to the orange grove.She had looked about her as she ran, and, now regardless ofconsequences, had called Tommy several times, but she saw neither hernor any living person, and there was no answer to her calls.

  At the grove there were oranges and bananas scattered here and there onthe ground, so that Tommy's absence could not be due to any difficultyin obtaining what she came for. And then Elizabeth's heart stood stillas she noticed at one spot, a strange collection of objects. Therewere four or five oranges on the ground close together, and with themTommy's knife, the little stick she had fed her parrot with, a piece ofhair-ribbon, and a wedge of cocoanut. What had happened? Theseobjects were obviously the contents of Tommy's pocket; why had sheplaced them there, and where was she? Had she been startled? Had somenatives come stealthily upon her, and seized her? Would they not atleast have taken the knife at the same time?

  Elizabeth felt a shiver of fear, along with utter bewilderment. Butshe crushed down her uneasy imaginings and, placing Tommy's belongingsin her pocket, began to search among the trees, shouting from time totime, no matter who might hear her. Suddenly her eye was caught by theflutter of a small coloured object at some distance among the bushes.With a thrill of hope she hastened towards it, but long before shereached it, she realized that her hope was vain; the object was only abit of tattered cloth attached to one of the line of poles they hadseen on their former visit. Retracing her steps to the orange grove,she went in and out among the trees, shouting Tommy's name again andagain. Her distress at Tommy's disappearance was coupled with anxietyabout Mary. It was now a considerable time since she had left the hut,and she felt that, with Mary so weak and helpless, she could not stayto search any longer. Thrusting a few oranges into her pocket for theinvalid, she hastened back, conscious that she herself was weak andshaky. The long, anxious search in the fierce sunlight, following asleepless night, had been almost too much for her strength.

  She tried to enter the hut unconcernedly, with a dim hope that Tommymight have returned before her. Mary was awake.

  "Why did you leave me?" she said, in the querulous tone of an invalid,her eyes filling with tears. "I've called and called for you andTommy, but you wouldn't come. I am so miserable."

  "Here are some oranges, dear," said Elizabeth gently. "I will squeezethe juice into a cup for you. It will do you good."

  "Thank you so much. I'm a wretched bad patient, Bess dear, but I gotit into my silly head that you had deserted me. Ridiculous, wasn't it?This is delicious. It was kind of Tommy to get them for me. Where isshe?"

  Elizabeth was in a quandary. Mary seemed a little better; herquerulousness was a good sign; but it would not further her recovery totell her that Tommy was missing. On the other hand, Elizabeth herselfwas so much distressed that she would have liked to pour out hertroubles to a sympathetic ear. But she thought it best to keep the badnews to herself for the present, and said---

  "She must have quite recovered her courage, and gone roaming. You aregetting on, aren't you, dear?"

  "Yes, only rather weak still. But these oranges are delicious. I feelmuch refreshed. Don't sit up with me to-night, Bess; I am sure I shallbe all right, and you mustn't wear yourself out. Put some oranges nearme, so that I can get one in the night without disturbing you."

  She soon fell asleep again, and did not awaken until it was quite dark.She was careful not to disturb her sister, and so did not become awareuntil the morning that Tommy had not returned. Elizabeth had spent asleepless night, and felt quite worn out when day broke. Mary wasquick to notice her distress, of which she knew she could not be thecause, since she was so much better.

  "You are hiding something, Bess. Tell me; has something happened toTommy?"

  Elizabeth, on the verge of a breakdown, was glad to pour out the wholestory.

  "Oh, why didn't you tell me before!" cried Mary. "You must go at onceand look for her again. There is really nothing the matter with menow. Do, please, go, Bess. It is awful to think of what
may havehappened."

  Hastily getting Mary a little food, Elizabeth set out for the orangegrove, and searched it and the neighbourhood through and through,calling Tommy's name until she was hoarse. Once in response to hershouts, she thought she heard a faint cry, and hurried in the directionfrom which she supposed it to have come.

  At that moment she felt that she would have welcomed the appearance ofa native; the sight of any human face would have been a comfort. Buther search was still fruitless; neither Tommy nor any one elseappeared; and Elizabeth thought she must have been mistaken. The birdswere trilling and chattering in the woods, and among so many sounds itwas easy to deceive oneself.

  At length, when she had been several hours absent, she felt that shemust return in case Mary should be wondering whether she too haddisappeared. She could hardly drag herself home. At the entrance ofthe hut she found Mary looking anxiously towards the ridge.

  "You shouldn't have got up," she said. "Oh, Mary, I can't find her,and I am so tired."

  For a moment it looked as if she would break down utterly, but shecontrolled herself, and in response to Mary's entreaty, lay down torest. Fatigue even overcame her distress of mind, and for an hour ortwo she slept heavily. Then she awoke with a start, and declared thatshe must go and search again. Swallowing a little food, she set off,and thoroughly hunted over a wider area than before, not returninguntil the evening.

  "It's no good," she said, despairing. "Poor Tommy's gone."

  "Don't say so," said Mary. "You haven't seen any one, have you?"

  "Nobody."

  "Then she may only be lost. You know how venturesome she is, andhaving found no one to be afraid of perhaps she has gone right over theisland, and sprained her ankle or something. Have a good sleep, Bess.To-morrow we'll both go. I'm sure I shall be strong enough."