Joshua Marvel

"Rule 4. That, recognizing the full extent of our dread peril, and knowing that death stares us in the face, we resolve to die like men, if it be God's will; and thus resolving, we solemnly declare that, supposing all our food to be gone, we will not eat human flesh" -

A shudder ran round the attentive group, and Mrs. Pigeon fainted; but Captain Liddle proceeded firmly, -

"Nor draw lots as to who shall be killed to feed the rest. This we solemnly resolve, in fear of the Lord, out of common humanity, and out of respect for ourselves as Christian men."

Assented to in silence; not one of them could realize the horrible craving, born of raging thirst and hunger, that had come upon men in such a strait as theirs.

"That is all," concluded the captain after a long pause. "You approve, then, of the council and these rules?"

"Yes."

"Now to breakfast. Water, for the first week, will be served out twice a day-a quarter of a pint in the morning, and a quarter of a pint in the evening-half a pint a day to each person. Of food we have only preserved meat and sugar, and very little of either. One tablespoonful of preserved meat will be served out to each person at eleven o'clock every morning, and at five o'clock one ounce of sugar. Of rum we have about a gallon: a teaspoonful will be served out to each person once in every other day, in the morning or in the evening, as he may choose. The general stock of previsions will not be touched by any one on board, except in presence of all, and it will be guarded by two of the council; the penalty of tampering with the stock, or of attempting to steal any portion of it, will be death. And God give us strength, and send us happy deliverance!"

When breakfast was served, the men lay about the raft idly, watching the water for fish, which they were not successful in catching, and rising every now and then to scan the horizon for a sail. Some slept or tried to sleep; some talked over the chances of deliverance; some spoke in whispers of what they had heard from men who had been wrecked. While the provisions were being measured by the captain, the other three of the council stood by with cocked pistols, ready to fire should a rush be made. Most of the men took their spoonful of preserved meat, and ate it quickly and greedily, some of them at one gulp; but a few, wiser than their fellows, retired with their portion, and sitting down, ate it very slowly. These last were the best satisfied. The council were busy enough all the day; assisted by Mr. Pigeon and the two friends, Wall and Heartsease, they were employed in re-arranging every thing on the raft, and in making things more comfortable for the women. A kind of low tent was built, under cover of which the women could lie down and rest, screened from the men; but it was only used at night; for at first the women mixed with the men during the day, and made themselves useful. Mrs. Pigeon, of her own accord, crept to where the sailors were lying about, and asked if they wanted any thing mended. At first they were too surprised to reply; but presently a dozen voices answered her. One wanted a pair of socks darned; another had half a dozen rents in his shirt; and in a very little while Mrs. Pigeon's hands were full. She made her way back to her female companions, and throwing a heap of clothes in the midst of them, proposed that they should set to work at once. Soon all of them, with the exception of Rachel Homebush, were busily and cheerfully at work; and while their fingers were plying, Mrs. Pigeon sang snatches of songs. It was as little like a picture of shipwrecked persons as one could imagine. But it was a picture that did an immense amount of good. The men looked at the women admiringly, and Rough-and-Ready's eyes glistened every time they wandered that way.

"A pretty bunch!" he observed to Joshua.

Joshua nodded hopefully, for the sight cheered him.

"That's a good little woman of yours," said Rough-and-Ready, turning to Mr. Pigeon. Rough-and-Ready held a very different position now from what he did when he first stepped aboard the "Merry Andrew;" he was a general favorite with men and women. Even Rachel Homebush cast glances of approval at him.

"I tell you what," answered Mr. Pigeon in a confidential tone; "I've not seen much of women-you know out there in the bush they're rather scarce-and we had some hope of getting home" -

"Had some hope!" interrupted Rough-and-Ready. "Say have some hope. If there's one thing in the world that makes me certain of it, it is that picture there," pointing to the women.

"I am heartily glad to hear you say so. Have some hope, then, of getting home, where the streets are crowded with women they say. But there isn't one among 'em to come up to her. Although there were not half a dozen lasses to choose from when I first made up to her, I'd choose her now out of a million."

Having delivered himself of these, his articles of faith in his wife, he sat down by her side, and held her cotton for her as she stitched and sewed.

Meantime the current and their one sail carried them along at the rate of about two miles an hour. No land was in sight, and there was no sign of a ship, although during the day many a false alarm was given. The weather remained fine. The light wind died away in the evening, when the thin crescent of a new moon came out in the sky. It was welcomed as a good omen; and the women looked at it, and smiled at one another, the foolish things! as if the silver crescent were a messenger of good tidings. Then the stars came out brightly-another good omen. Many a one on the raft thought, "This is better than being jammed on the rocks, in the 'Merry Andrew;' we are moving towards safety. If we do not see a ship, we may see land, and may manage to get ashore." References were made to Robinson Crusoe and the Swiss Family Robinson; not in a gloomy, but in a cheerful spirit. It was the admirable bearing of the men in command, no less than the virtues of the women, that contributed to this state of hopeful feeling. The sailors were also comparatively contented; most of them had a little stock of tobacco-some more, some less-the chewing of which gave them comfort. Each man hoarded his store more jealously than a miser hoards his gold; but some were greedier than others, or craved for it more, and could not withstand the temptation of chewing it almost wastefully, certainly not prudently. But then sailors are not a prudent class of men.

To Joshua, who was sitting musing of home, came Rough-and-Ready, and sat beside him.

"You don't smoke?" asked Rough-and-Ready.

"That's not sailor-like."

Joshua shrugged his shoulders, and smiled.

"Nor chew?"

"No."

"Here is a little piece of tobacco. Chew it."

Joshua put it in his mouth and chewed it, because he thought it was, after all a certain kind of food, and might make him less hungry. But it made him sick.

Rough-and-Ready laughed a little when he saw the effect of it, and presently said, so that no one else should hear, "You must learn to chew."

"Why?"

"It will help to keep you alive when the provisions run out. I have a dozen pounds of tobacco strapped round me; it was my own, so I thought I had a right to it. By and by it will come in handy. I wish I could teach the women to chew."

"If the men knew you had so much," said Joshua, "your life would not be safe."

"I know that. I had an idea at first of handing it to the skipper for general use; but I thought better of it. There are a few on board to whom I don't think I'd give an ounce to save their lives. What is that in your handkerchief?"

"My accordion."

"Do you play? Of course, though, or you wouldn't have it. I should like to hear some music."

Joshua untied his handkerchief and took out his accordion. The night was very still, and the soft tones floated in the air, and seemed to linger about the raft as it glided through the sea. The quiet bubbling of the water as it stole through the openings between the spars, as if in sport, was in consonance with the melody and the still night and the beautiful peaceful heavens. Men who were lying at full length sat up when the music commenced, and were the better for it. The women crept from out their shelter, and listened and shed tears, not entirely unhappy. Surely it was a night of good omens. As Joshua played, his thoughts wandered back to his boyish life, and to the tender conversations that had taken place between him and Dan. Often he stopped as he mused and thought; but presently his fingers would be on the keys again, playing a few bars of "Poor Tom Bowling," and other more cheerful songs of Dibdin, which the Old Sailor loved so well. They came back to him, the memories of that happy time. Their anxiety about their birds, when they first commenced to train them; the death of Golden Cloud, and the after conversation which he had never forgotten, in the course of which they had read together of the wreck of Robinson Crusoe. Why, it seemed all to have come true! Here he was, wrecked, certainly not alone, and therefore better off than Crusoe was, but wrecked for all that. But under what circumstances, and with what a dreadful web of suspicion surrounding him! Oh, if he could see the end of it! It was horrible to think that he might die-he and all of them on the raft; and that Dan might believe him false because of Minnie. It would not bear thinking of. He ceased playing, and bathed his fevered head and face. Often and often had he said to himself, in former storms and former scenes, the words that Dan had impressed upon him; and now he tried to fancy that Dan could see him, and knew that he was true.

Rough-and-Ready, seeing that Joshua was engrossed in thought, did not disturb him, and presently dozed off. How long he had been asleep he did not know; but he woke up with a curious impression upon him. He must have slept long, for the night was far advanced, and no sound was heard but the plashing of the water against and through the spars. The impression was this: that he and Joshua were lying side by side (as, in fact they were) asleep, and that a woman suddenly came between them. Her back was to him, her face turned to Joshua; that she sat down so, and so remained, for an hour and more, making no movement, uttering no sound; but he could tell that all the while she was watching Joshua's sleeping form. That then she inclined herself gently to Joshua, and pressed her lips to his hand: and that rising to go, she turned her face to Rough-and-Ready, and he saw that it was Mrs. Liddle's gypsy-maid. So far his fancies went. Starting into a sitting position, he saw Minnie a few paces from him, making her way to where the women were lying.

Now this set Rough-and-Ready thinking-for more reasons than one. Had he been dreaming, or had it really occurred? If it had occurred, it must have been love that prompted her. He had observed her the previous night sitting near Joshua; but then it had not been so noticeable, for there was no kind of order on the raft. How long had she known Joshua? He was the more perplexed because he had never seen the two in conversation, and because of the mystery surrounding the acquaintance. He was troubled, too; for, rough as he was, and old enough to be Minnie's father, he had taken a tender interest in her, and the discovery he had just made came upon him like a shock.

Every person on the raft was asleep with the exception of the men in the watch and himself. He did not feel inclined to lie down again, so he sat and thought of things. In such a solemn scene, and at such solemn moments the spirit of nature works wonders in the minds of the roughest men-quickens the sympathies, and stirs into life the tenderest memories. It was so with Rough-and-Ready at the present time. Incidents in his life which had been so long unremembered that he wondered how he thought of them now, came vividly before him. His home-his mother-small domestic joys and griefs-a brother who died when they were both children, with whom he used to play and pelt with daisies-Good God! what kind of a bridge was that in his life that spanned that time and this? By what strange step had he walked from then to now? The stars grew less bright and paled out of the skies; the water grew grayer in the brief space before the morning's dawn. Soon in the east a thin line of water at the edge of the horizon quickened into life, and Nature's grandest wonder began to work in the dawning of a new day. The waterline, a mere thread at first, but broadening with every second that marked the flight of gray shadows, was rosy with blushing light. Purple clouds, fringed with wondrous colors, surrounded the clear space, in which presently the glorious sun rose grandly from the golden bed of waters; and as it rose, sky and sea rejoiced. At one time, for a few moments, the sea was like a field of golden corn waving in the sun's eye; but soon it deepened, till it and the heavens, that looked down into its mighty depths, were filled with flaming restless light, which in their turn gave way to softer shadows. Many a sunrise had Rough-and-Ready seen, but never one that he had watched so steadily as this; but it seemed as if his thoughts were in harmony with it.

Late in the day, Rough-and-Ready asked Joshua how long he had known Mrs. Liddle's maid. Joshua looked at him curiously, but did not reply. He had not spoken to Minnie since they had been on the raft, and had, indeed, taken pains to avoid her. She did not intrude herself upon him; she submitted in patience to the silence he imposed upon her by his manner. But a strange phenomenon took place in her. While the others grew weaker and paler and more unhappy, she seemed to gather fresh strength, and actually grew rosier and more hardy. The dark color, too, was dying out of her face.

"I have a reason for asking," said Rough-and-Ready, as an excuse for his question.

Joshua nodded, not unkindly, but with a troubled face.

"There is a strange story connected with your question," he said; "so strange and so gainful, that I cannot give you an answer."

"I thought there was some mystery in the affair," observed Rough-and-Ready; "but I will not press upon your confidence. Do you know that the night before last she watched by you the whole time you were asleep?"

"Watched by me?"

"Ay. And last night, too, for some time-I don't know for how long."

Joshua gave Rough-and-Ready an amazed look, and turned away to where Minnie was sitting. She saw him coming towards her, and her heart beat fast.

"Why have you watched near me for two nights?" he asked, without looking at her.

"You have enemies on the raft," was the answer, very quietly given.

"I know; Scadbolt and the Lascar. But I can take care of myself."

"Not when you are asleep," she said, almost in a whisper.

What could he do? What could he say? Together on the raft in the presence of Death, from which only something very like a miracle could save them, could he be stern and harsh to her? And his great misery was, that he knew and felt his power. He knew that an unkind word from him to this young girl was as bitter as death could be.

"You are like the rest of us, I suppose," he said, gently; "growing very weak."

"I do not think so," she answered, trembling at the gentleness of his voice; "I feel strong as yet. Shall we be saved?"

"We are in God's hands," he said. "I think there is but little chance of being picked up, or even of making friendly land."

Neither addressed the other by name.

"If the end comes, and you know it, and I am not near you, will you try and find me, and say a kind word to me before I die?"

He gave her the promise, and hurried suddenly from her, for his heart was fit to break, and he dared not trust himself to say more.

The third day passed, and the fourth. No sign of succor near. Hope began to die.

On the sixth morning, when the roll was called, one of the passengers did not answer to his name. It was Mr. Bracegirdle.

"He is asleep," said one.

They shook him, but he did not move. He was dead. This was the first death, and it affected them deeply. Before he was sewn in the canvas, he was searched, in the anticipation of finding something useful. A surprising discovery was then made. He had in his pocket-book and round his waist bank-notes and bills for more than ten thousand pounds. But nobody knew any thing about him; he died, as he had lived among them a mystery. After his body was slipped into the sea, a whisper went about that the money found on him had not been honestly come by.

That same night two sailors were washed into the sea. When it became known, there were some among them who secretly rejoiced in the thought that there would not be so many mouths to feed. Nearly a third of the provisions was eaten, and the women were very weak. Little Emma Pigeon held out the best; but that was because her mother, from even her small portion, gave some to her child between the times of serving out the provisions; the child also was petted and nourished by the other women. Rough-and-Ready as especially considerate to the females. Joshua saw him chewing something, and wondered what it was. Noticing the look of inquiry on Joshua's face, Rough-and-Ready enlightened him.

"I am eating leather," he said.

Joshua stared at him. Then Rough-and-Ready took from his pocket a dozen very thin strips of leather which he had cut out of his boot, and told Joshua that he had found a new food. He gave Joshua a couple of strips-very thin they were, almost like a wafer-and Joshua set to work on them, and after some difficulty, chewed them to a pulp and swallowed them.

"There's nothing like leather," said Rough-and-Ready with a quiet laugh. "It wants strong teeth, but it fills up an empty place in the stomach."

The next day Joshua noticed that Rough-and-Ready received his tablespoonful of preserved meat in his handkerchief, and later on he saw Rough-and-Ready slyly feeding little Emma with a portion of the meat, and then go to her mother and slip what remained into her hand.

Now and then a few small fish were caught. There being no means of cooking them, the women refused their share with horror, but the men ate them raw. They also snared some birds, and ate them in the same manner.

On the twelfth night Scadbolt and the Lascar lay side by side awake. Nearer than they to the edge of the raft lay a shipmate, chewing tobacco.

"All mine is gone," said Scadbolt enviously.

"And mine," said the Lascar, with a horrible look at the man who was chewing.

"I think he must have a good lot left. I heard him boast of it last week."

"Two men are better than one."

"Wait till that black cloud touches the moon; then stop his mouth; I'll do the rest!"

The black cloud travelled on and on, crept before the moon, and soon shut out its light. When the moon shone again upon the waters there was one man less on the raft, and Scadbolt and the Lascar were chewing tobacco greedily!

These two men had a line out in the water, with a small hook at the end of it. The Lascar felt it jerk. He pulled in the line; there was a fish at the end of it, weighing more than a pound. He took from his pocket a six-bladed knife, opened the largest blade, and cut the fish in two equal parts. He gave one to Scadbolt, and ate the other himself. So that they should not be observed, they lay down on their faces while they ate.

"That was a good bit of luck," said Scadbolt; "I feel stronger."

"If the skipper caught us, he would throw us overboard, whispered the Lascar.

"He'd try to; but one man is as good as another now. Let us do this and take care of ourselves; we shall outlast the others. I wish they were all dead-all but two."

"Ay, Joshua's Marvel's one. I know what you mean. You'd like to have the doing of him. So would I. Who's the other?"

"The gypsy-maid. She's a rare beauty."

The Lascar did not say any thing to this. He had seen enough since they had been on the raft to convince him that his first suspicions were right, and that the gypsy-looking girl really was Minnie. Notwithstanding their desperate condition, he had cast many admiring glances at her.

"How fine," he thought, "to strike at Joshua Marvel through her!"

CHAPTER XXXII

SAVED FROM THE SEA

The first among the passengers to completely give way was Stephen Homebush. He had observed no manner of discretion in eating his food, and had always swallowed it hastily, so that it did him but little good. Contrary to what might have been expected of him as a man of pious parts, he was the most selfish of all the passengers. Instead of praying for mercy, he rebelled in thought and speech against the misfortune which had overtaken him. He did not think of the others. It was his fate that was so hard. The prayers that he had so liberally offered up for other lost men were not for him now that he was lost. All other men were sinners, so he had preached. There was no grace in any of them. He came to impart it to them. Let them open their rebellious hearts, and receive it, while there was yet time. To all kinds of men had he preached this, striking at them hard, trying to frighten them with threatened penalties if they refused to believe as he believed. He came to give them grace; did he himself require none?

What kind of faith is that which believes all other faiths wrong and sinful? What is the test of faith? Sincerity? Ay, for me; but not for you. I am sincere; I am born in the grace of God. But you! Fall down and repent!

Such had been the preaching of Stephen Homebush. But now that the earth was crumbling from beneath his feet, and the New Life was before him, he prayed neither for others nor for himself. He maintained a sullen rebellious silence, faithful to his nature for the first time in his life. His mood, no less than the scanty supply of food and his manner of eating it, drove him mad; and within a fortnight of his sojourn on the raft, he was crawling and staggering about, uttering a dreadful jumble of prayers and blasphemies. His sister Rachel attended to him as well as her strength allowed her; but he struck at her often, and often cursed her and himself. It was terrible to see and hear. He did not suffer long. One day he ran from one part of the raft to another, raving that a sail was in sight. At first they thought that he might be right, but they soon discovered that he was raving. But he saw the ship coming nearer and nearer. His sister was the only one who had patience to bear with him. He described the ship to her, and described the men and women that were on the deck; and she shuddered as she recognized in his descriptions acquaintances and relatives every one of whom was dead.

"Here it comes," he said, standing up in his eagerness, "nearer-nearer! I shall be able to jump on board presently."

She strove to restrain him; but he broke from her wildly, and gave a leap on to the imaginary ship. He sank at once, and was seen no more.

The forlorn woman sat stupefied, and never moved. Hours afterwards, Rough-and-Ready, taking pity upon her condition, spoke to her, and bade her take comfort, The sense of what he said was lost to her, but she understood the sympathy that was expressed in his voice, and she looked at him gratefully while the tears rolled down her face. He placed his hand upon her shoulder, and said gently; "Poor woman! poor woman!" She took his hand in hers, and clung to it, as if her only hope of life was there. He could not disengage his hand except by force; so he sat by her for an hour and more, until she released him. Then he crept to where the women were lying; there was comfort in being close to them.

One of their most frightful experiences was the sight of the sharks snapping at the bodies as they were thrown into the sea. A great number of these creatures followed the raft day and night, scenting their prey. Each of the unfortunates thought, as he saw the sharks tearing at the body of his fellow creature, "Perhaps it is my turn next." About the twentieth day they caught at least a dozen rock cod, but after that they caught no fish for many days. Soon their fresh water was nearly gone; for some time past they had only half a pint a day; now the quantity was reduced to a quarter of a pint. Some tins of the preserved meat were also found to be putrid: the women could not touch it; but a few of the sailors Scadbolt and the Lascar among them, devoured it greedily. When another new moon rose, the courage of nearly every one of them was gone; hope had fled too. They looked upon themselves as doomed.