gave his share to another.
The main-brace _was_ spliced that night, and that, too, twice over. Ithappened to be Saturday night.
It could not be called Saturday-night-at-sea, but it was Saturday nighton board a ship; and despite the fact that the vessel was but a wreckand a hulk, it was spent in the good old fashion.
An awning was always kept spread over the fore part of the ship, and itwas under this that the crew smoked and yarned in the evenings.
To-night the officers had gone forward to hear Tom Wilson play.
He did make them laugh. I do not know that his pathetic pieces causedmany tears to flow, beautifully executed though they were, but late inthe evening--and ten o'clock was considered late on board the hulk--whenHalcott asked for a favourite air of his, Tom hesitated for a moment,then took up the violin.
There was a beauty of expression and sadness about Tom's interpretationof this beautiful melody that held everybody spell-bound; but when atlast the poor fellow laid his instrument on the table, and with benthead burst into tears, the astonishment of every one there was greatindeed.
Jack, however, is ever in sympathy with sorrow, and Chips, rough oldChips, got up and went round behind Tom Wilson.
"Come, matie," he said, patting him gently on the shoulder. "What isit, old heart? Music been too much for you? Eh? Come, come, don'tgive way."
Tom Wilson threw back his head and lifted his face now.
"Thank you, Chips; thank you, lad, and bless you. Nay, nay, I will nottell you to-night the reason of my stupid tears. I'm not the man tosadden a Saturday night. Come, lads, clear the decks. I'll play youthe grandest hornpipe you ever listened to."
And play he did. Every note, every tone was thrilling. A dance wassoon got up, and never before, not even in a man-of-war, did men footthe deck more merrily than those shipwrecked Crusoes did now.
But the queerest group there was just amidships, where Janeira herselfand Fitz--all white eyes and flashing teeth--were madly tripping it onthe light fantastic toe; while little Nelda and that droll old cranedanced a fandango, that caused all hands, including even Tom himself, toshout with laughter when they beheld it.
The very solemnity of the crane as he curved his neck, hopped, andpirouetted, was the funniest part of the performance.
But next day all hands knew Tom's pathetic story.
"That air I played," he told them, "was my little daughter Fanny'sfavourite. Fanny is dead. Georgie too. He was my boy. I was richonce, but drink ruined me, and--oh, may God forgive me!--led indirectlyto the graveyard gate, where wife and children all lie buried!"
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Two long months more had gone by, during which the exploring party hadbeen busy enough almost every day at the distant hill, prospecting,excavating here and there, and searching in every likely nook for thecave of gold.
But all in vain.
During all the time they had now been on the island--more than sixmonths--never a ship had been seen, nor had any boat or canoe venturednear the place.
"Surely, surely," they thought, "some day some ship will find us out andrescue us."
One day as they were returning earlier in the afternoon than usual, forit was very hot, and they were all somewhat weary and disheartened, theywent suddenly almost delirious with joy to see, on looking towards thehill-top, that the ensign was hoisted upside down on the pole, andlittle Fitz dancing wildly round it, and pointing seaward.
Tired though they all were, there was no talk now of returning to thewreck. But straight to the hill they went instead.
To their infinite joy, when they reached the top at last, they could seea brig, with all available sail set, standing in for the island.
I say all available sail, for her fore-topmast was gone, she was cruellypunished about the bulwarks, and had evidently been blown out of hercourse during the gale that had raged with considerable violence a fewdays before.
Every heart beat high now with hope and joy, and as the vessel drewnearer and nearer, they shook hands with each other, and with tears intheir eyes some even talked of their far-off cottage homes in England.
Nearer and nearer!
A flag was flying at her stern, but to what country she belonged couldnot yet be made out. But they could now, by aid of the glass, see thehands moving about the deck, and some leaning over the bows pointingtowards the island.
But, "Oh, cruel! cruel!" cried the poor men, and grief took the place ofjoy, when the vessel altered its course and went slowly away on theother tack.
So great was the revulsion of feeling now that some of the Crusoes threwthemselves on the ground in an agony of grief and disappointment.
They watched the ship sail away and away, hoping against hope that shemight even yet return.
They watched until the stars shone out and darkness brooded over thedeep, and then a strange thing happened: a great gleam of light was seenon the distant horizon, and above it clouds of rolling smoke throughwhich tongues and jets of flame were flashing.
The brig was on fire and burning fiercely!
Her very masts and rigging were seen for a time, darkling through theblaze.
No one thought of leaving the hill now; they would see the last of thatmysterious ship.
Yes, and the last came within an hour.
An immense fountain of fire rose high into the air, lighting the sea upin one broad crimson bar from horizon to shore--then darkness.
Nothing more.
Nor were any signs of that unfortunate brig seen next day. No boatfloated towards the island, nor was a single spar ever picked up alongthe beach.
It would be impossible to describe the feelings of the Crusoes as theywent slowly homeward through the jungle, guided by Fitz and Bob.
"The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away." That was all the remarkthat James Malone made.
And the mystery of that unhappy brig none can ever unravel.
To the end of time it must remain one of the awful secrets of the sea.
Book 3--CHAPTER SEVEN.
STRANGE ADVENTURES IN A CRYSTALLINE CAVE.
Ten months more, and not another ship was seen.
It was now two years and over since the beautiful barque _Sea Flower_had sailed away from Southampton. Not a very long time, it may be said.No; and yet it seemed a century to look back upon, so many strangeevents and adventures had been crowded into those four-and-twentymonths, and so much sorrow and suffering too.
"Hope deferred maketh the heart sick."
Ah! the hearts of all were sad and sick enough by this time.
"Some day, some day a ship will come!"
Every one fore and aft was weary with repeating these words.
They went not now so often to the foot of Fire Hill, as the volcano hadcome to be called, in search of the buried cave.
A buried cave it doubtless was, covered entirely by the flow of lavafrom the crater, and lost, it would seem, for ever.
But whole days would be spent in rambling about in search of the onlykind of game the lonely island afforded, those small black pigs and therock-rabbits, or in fishing by stream or at sea.
When I say "at sea," it must not be imagined that they fished inTreachery Bay. No; for to have done so would doubtless have invited theattention of the savages, and they might have paid the island a visitthat would have been very little relished. Natives of those SouthPacific islands have keen eyesight.
But the dinghy boat had been hauled right across the island and launchedin a little bay there. A cave was found, and this formed a capitalboat-house, for it rose so high behind that the tide could not reach it.
The time had come when fishing was very necessary indeed, for well"found" though the _Sea Flower_ had been, especially with all kinds oftinned provisions and biscuits, these had been nearly all consumed, andfor some months back the Crusoes had depended for their support almostentirely on rod and gun. I say _almost_ advisedly; for many kinds ofvegetables
and roots grew wild in this lonely island, not to mentionfruits, the most wholesome and delicious that any one could desire.
Ah, reader, do not imagine that because you have eaten bananas, or evenguavas, which you have purchased in this country, that you can form aperfect idea of the flavour and lusciousness of those fruits whengathered from the trees in their native wilds. Moreover, there arefruits in the woods of the Pacific islands so tender that they could notbe carried by sea, nor kept for even a day in the tropics; and these arethe best of all. So that on Misfortune Island there was no danger ofstarvation, unless indeed the Crusoes should have the misfortune to besurrounded by the savages and placed in a state of siege.
It was against such an eventuality that the last of the tinned meats wasso carefully reserved: and the last of the coals too, because theselatter would be needed for the donkey engine, to make steam to becondensed and used as drinking water.
Three times a week, at least in good weather, did a little band set outfor the fishing cove, and this consisted of Ransey Tansey himself,Nelda, and