The Young Marooners on the Florida Coast

The other rooms were furnished with the usual appendages of warlike men, and beside these there was little else to tell who or what they were. Their papers and valuables were probably locked up in the iron chest, or left behind where they had concealed their treasures.

Passing from the cabin, their attention was arrested at the door by a small closet under the companion-way. Harold stood upon a stool and examined it. There were silver cups, of various figures, a basket of champagne wine, and many bottles and decanters, or rather their fragments, which appeared to have held different kinds of liquors.

"Bah!" said Harold, "liquor in the hold-liquor in the rooms-liquor in the closets-there is more liquor than anything else aboard, except guns and pistols."

"They naturally go together," responded Robert. "I suspect the poor fellows needed the liquor to fit them for their wicked works."

From the cabin they went to the carpenter's room. Sam decided in a moment that he must have the grindstone, and the rest of the tools-they were too good to be lost. He also looked wistfully at the work-bench, with the iron vice attached, and said he thought they could force it from the wall, and float it behind the rafts. But the boys mistrusted his partiality for tools, and decided that it was not so important as some other things.

Next to the carpenter's room was another, into which they forced an entrance with the ax. This was the gunner's. Here they found cartridges in abundance, of all sorts and sizes, bomb-shells, clusters of grape-shot, canisters of balls, a profusion of cannon shot of several sizes, and two small cannons of brass, with balls to suit. There were also several large kegs of powder, but the powder appeared to be spoilt, for the kegs were damp.

When the time came to prepare for loading, the boys united with Sam to enlarge the scuttle. They put upon one raft a keg of rice, and another of flour, the firkin of butter, two cheeses, six loaves of sugar, the grindstone, the chest of tools, Sam's box of tobacco, and more of the hams and beef. On the other, they put the extension-table and leaves, six chairs, the sofa, the trunks of the De Rosas, five mattresses, with their clothing, the looking-glass, &c.

The return voyage was made in all safety until they reached the landing; but there occurred one of those misadventures that appear to come oftenest in seasons of greatest security.

As the rafts neared the shore, Sam hobbled to the hindmost end, to look after his darling tobacco, and having for some reason stooped as one raft struck the other in stopping, he lost his balance, and fell headlong into the water. No one knew of the accident, until hearing a great splutter, they looked around, and saw him blowing the water from his nose and mouth, and wearing a most comical expression of surprise and fear. They ran, of course, to his assistance, but knowing him to be a good swimmer, they apprehended no serious consequences, and were rather disposed to jest than to be alarmed. But Sam, who had been already strangling for a quarter of a minute, so as to be unable to utter a word, and who discerned at a glance that they did not apprehend his situation, stretched out his hand imploringly, and gasped.

"He is drowning!" exclaimed Harold. "Here, Robert, help me!" then ran to obtain something buoyant, to which Sam might cling. When he returned, bringing with him a pair of oars (the nearest thing within reach), he saw his cousin, heedless of danger, and moved only by sympathy, swimming just over the place where Sam had sunk.

"Robert! Robert! COME AWAY!" he called in a voice of thunder; "he is too strong for you, and will drown you!"

Robert turned at this earnest and even imperative call, and began to swim back; but it was too late. Sam rose within reach, grasped his arm, drew him up close, pinioned him firmly, and again sunk out of sight. Mary and Frank shrieked as they saw their brother go down, and Harold stood a moment, with clasped hands, exclaiming, "My God! What shall I do?"

At this moment an idea occurred to him. Calling to Mary, "Bring me that hat" (it was De Rosa's, and water-proof), he threw off his coat and vest, then spreading his handkerchief over the mouth of the hat, so that he could grasp the corners under the crown, he plunged into the water, swimming with one hand, and holding the hat as a temporary life preserver with the other. As he expected, Robert rose to the surface and grasped him. Harold did nothing at first but hold firmly to the hat to prevent his own sinking, and in that short interval Robert recovered sufficiently to know what he was about.

"Thank God for you, Robert!" said Harold. "I was afraid you were gone; here, take the hat and swim to the raft, while I dive after Sam. Has he ceased struggling?" Robert replied, "Yes."

Joining his hands high over his head, Harold rose as far as he could from the water, and sank perpendicularly with his feet close together. He succeeded in finding the body, but not in time to seize it, before he was compelled to rise for the want of breath. He came to the surface, panted for a quarter of a minute, then descended a second time, and rose with the body. Robert reached him one of the oars, dragged him to the raft, and then to the shore.

And now what was to be done? Robert knew well that when a person has been under water four minutes and more it is exceedingly difficult to restore life, and that whosoever would render aid must do it quickly. His preparations were few and simple.

Begging Mary and Frank to make a fire as soon as possible, and to heat one of the blankets, he laid the body with the head lowest, to allow the water to run from the mouth and throat, while he hastily unloosed the clothing. Then laying the body with the head highest, as in sleep, he and Harold rubbed the skin with all their might, for the double purpose of removing the moisture and restoring the heat.

This friction was continued for several minutes, when Robert, requesting Harold to keep on, tried another means. He inserted a reed into one of Sam's nostrils, which he pressed tightly around it, and closing also the other nostril and the mouth to prevent the egress of the air, he blew forcibly until he felt the chest rise, when, by a gentle pressure, he expelled the air as in natural respiration.

By this time Mary and Frank had warmed one of the blankets brought from the vessel. This Robert wrapped closely around the body, and while Mary and Frank were engaged in warming still another, Harold greatly increased the effectiveness of his friction by tearing a third blanket into strips, and using the hot pieces as rubbers.

Persisting for an hour in these simple means, the anxious company were at last rewarded by the signs of returning life. Sam's heart began to beat softly, and shortly after he gave a sigh. The boys were nearly exhausted by their protracted efforts, but still they kept on; and it was well they did, for many a person has been lost by neglect after life seemed to have been restored. When the patient was sufficiently recovered to swallow, Robert poured down his throat some warm water and sugar, remarking it was a pity they had brought none of the wines or spirits which were so abundant on shipboard.

"There is some in the box of tobacco," observed Frank. "I saw Sam put a bottle there; and when I asked him what it was, he said it was rum to rub on his weak leg."

Robert and Harold exchanged a significant smile; for though Sam might have intended only what he professed, they knew that he loved rum as well as tobacco. It was fortunate, however, that the spirits were there, for it was the best stimulant they could administer. Sam soon opened his eyes, and began to speak. His first words, after looking around, were, "Bless de Lord! Poor Sam here again!"

Leaving him now to recover slowly, the boys brought each a chair from the raft, and sat down to rest.

"Why, Robert," said Harold, "you seem to know by heart the whole rule for restoring a drowned person."

"And why not? There is nothing mysterious in it?"

"So it seems, and I wish you would teach it to me."

"I can do that in half a breath," replied Robert. "In father's words, all that you have to do, is to restore the warmth and excite the respiration."

"That, certainly, is simple."

"Father always said," continued Robert, "that he did not see why boys should not all be taught how to help one another on such occasions. 'Send for a doctor,' he said to me, 'but don't wait for him. Go to work at once before life is gone. If you can do nothing else strip off the wet clothes, and rub, rub, RUB, and blow into the lungs. Start the breath, and you will start the blood, or start the blood, and that will start the breath, for each comes with the other. Apply heat inwardly-outwardly by friction, by clothing, by fire, by hot bottles, by sand-bags, by any means, and keep trying for hours.' That is the rule."

"A good one it is," said Harold. "But it is a pity your father did not give you some rule also about keeping out of the way of drowning people so that you might put your knowledge to some use, instead of getting drowned yourself."

"He did," replied Robert, laughing, "but I forgot it. It was exceedingly thoughtless in me to do as I did. However, I tried to make up for it in another way; for after Sam had pinioned my arms, I made no effort whatever, except to take a long breath, and retain my presence of mind. When we were going down, I learned exactly what kind of a grip he had taken, and by the time we reached bottom, I had drawn up my knees, and put my feet against the pit of his stomach. When that was done I felt safe, for I knew that my legs were stronger than his arms, and that I could break his hold. But what did you intend to do when you called me to help you?"

"I had no exact plan," Harold answered, "except to keep you from putting yourself in danger, and then to throw or reach Sam something by which to help himself. I had seen drowning people before, and knew very well that unless you had something to prevent your own sinking, as I had when you seized me, or unless you were strong enough (as in this case you were not) to hold him at arm's length, he would be almost sure to drown you."

This untoward accident delayed the work of transportation until near dark, and then it was only the lighter and more necessary articles that they carried. Sam gradually recovered, and about dusk, supported by the boys, he staggered slowly to the tent.

CHAPTER XXXV

HOUSEHOLD ARRANGEMENTS-THIRD VISIT TO THE WRECK-RAINY WEATHER-AGREEMENT ABOUT WORK-MARY IN GREAT DANGER-EXTINGUISHING FIRE ON ONE'S DRESS-RELIEF TO A BURN-CONVERSATION

They did not return to the vessel the next day. The work of transporting the many heavy articles brought, and of giving them accommodation, occupied the whole day. Indeed, the work of arranging was by no means easy, for their possessions were now too large for their dwelling. They were therefore compelled to make a new room for Sam and his tools, by means of some spare sails brought from the wreck; and this led them to think of erecting still another wing to the tent, as a place of deposit for their stores of provision.

By Thursday the return tide came at so late an hour in the afternoon, that the boys were loth to go upon the third trip; but there were several other articles of importance that they needed, and intending to make a short visit, they did not start until near mid-day. On entering the vessel their first work was to remove the stove; which being quite new and recently put up, they had no difficulty in taking to pieces, and lowering, with its appurtenances, into the raft. The work-bench they detached, with great labour, from the wall, and tumbled it over the vessel's side. From the carpenter's room they carried several sails, two coils of small rope, and a hank of twine. The magazine they did not care to enter. Most of the powder in the gunner's room was wet, but there were two large kegs of cannon powder, the outside of which was caked and ruined, while the central part was perfectly good, and also a five pound canister of superfine rifle powder, which was so tightly sealed that not a particle of damp had entered. These they took. And dragging out one of the small cannon they managed, after hard work, to lower it, with its appropriate carriage, into the raft, and deposited along with it several dozen balls, and as many canisters to fit the bore. These, together with the trunks and clothing of the officers, the iron vice, a small kit of mackerel, and the box of cocoanuts, constituted their load. The voyage back was made without accident.

On landing, their first business was to shelter their powder, for the sky was clouding fast, with long blue belts, that promised rain before morning, and the night was rapidly coming on. Unwilling to keep so dangerous a quantity of powder in the tent, they divided it into several parcels, and concealed them in hollow trees, which they closed and marked.

The cannon carriage proved a great convenience in transporting the trunks, the disjointed parts of the stove, and other heavy articles to the tent. But even with this assistance they did not complete their work before the night set in.

The next day was wet-wet-wet. The young people continued within doors, made a particular examination of the trunks, and divided among themselves the articles that were serviceable. With these employments, and the fitting up of their stove, they spent all that day, and part of the next.

It was during that evening, as they sat listening to the incessant patter of the rain upon the canvas roof, that the boys conceived and resolved upon a species of competition, that gave a steady progression to their work from that time forward.

"Tomorrow is New Year's Day," observed Harold. "We have been two months and a half upon the island. Our first boat is not a quarter finished. Why, Robert, it will be six months before we get away by our own exertions; and then your father will have left Bellevue."

"But you forget how many interruptions we have had," replied Robert. "First, there was Sam's misfortune, then yours; after that, our removal to the prairie, and securing the tent; then this discovery of the wreck, which has furnished us with food and tools for continuing our work without interruption. If I am not mistaken, the end of January will see us at Bellevue, or on our way there. What do you think, Sam-can we finish our two boats in a month?"

"May be so, massa, if we work mighty hard; but it will take a heap o' work."

"I doubt if we finish them in two months, work as we may," remarked Harold.

Robert was not pleased with this discouraging assertion, though he was startled to find that the usual prudent Harold entertained such an opinion.

"Now, cousin," said he, "I will put this matter to the test. As we boys used to say, I'll make a bargain with you. We shall all work on the second boat, until it is as far advanced as the present one. Then we shall each take a boat and work. Sam shall divide his time between us. And if at the end of a month we are not ready to return home, I'll give up that I am mistaken."

"Give me your hand to that bargain," said Harold. "You shall not beat me working, if I can help it; but if, with all our efforts, we leave this island before the last day of February, I will give up that I am mistaken."

Faithful to this agreement, the boys went next morning to the landing, and brought the various parts of the work-bench, which they aided Sam in fitting up. The grindstone also they set upon its necessary fixtures; and collecting the various tools that were in need of grinding, they persisted in relieving each other at the crank, until they had sharpened two very dull axes, two adzes, three chisels, a broad ax, and a drawing knife, and stowed them safely under Sam's shelter.

The history of the day, however, was not concluded without an incident of a very serious character, in which Mary was the principal, though unwilling actress; and in which, but for her presence of mind, she would have met with a painful and terrible death.

About ten o'clock that night she retired to her room, undressed, and was laying aside the articles of dress necessary for the next morning, when, turning around, her night clothes touched the flame of the candle, which, for the want of a table, she had set upon the floor. The next instant she extinguished the candle, and was about stepping into bed, when her attention was excited by a dim light shining behind her, and a slight roar, that increased as the flame ran up her back. Giving a scream of terror, she was on the point of rushing into the next room for help, when recollecting the repeated and earnest injunctions of her father, she threw herself flat upon the blanket of the bed, and wrapping it tightly round her, rolled over and over upon the floor, calling for help. The flame was almost instantly quenched, as it probably would have been, even without a blanket, had she only sat down instantly on the floor, and folded the other part of her dress tightly over the flame.16

But though the flame was extinguished, the charred ends of the dress were not; they kept on burning, and coming into contact with the naked skin, made her scream with pain. The agony was so great, that again she was almost tempted to throw off the blanket and rush into the open air, but knowing that this would certainly increase the fire, and perhaps renew the blaze, she drew the blanket more tightly around her, and rolled over, calling to Robert, who had by this time come to her assistance. "Pour on water-water-WATER!" Robert did his best-he fumbled about for the pitcher, then finding it, asked where the water was to be poured; but now that the water was ready to be thrown upon her, Mary felt secure; she cast off the blanket, and the remaining fire was put out by the application of Robert's wet hand.

The time occupied by this terrifying scene was scarcely a minute and a half, yet Mary's night dress was consumed nearly to her shoulders, and her lower limbs were badly scorched. So rapid an agent is fire. Whoever would escape destruction from a burning dress, must work fast, with good judgment and a strong resolution.

Mary's burns were slight in comparison with what they might have been. The skin was reddened for a foot or more along each limb; but it was broken only in two places, about as wide and long as her two fingers. Still the pain was excessive, and she wept and groaned a great deal. Robert applied cold water for a number of minutes, and would have continued it longer, but Mary at last said:

"Bring me a cup full of flour. I have tried it on a burnt finger, and you can scarcely imagine how cooling it is."

The flour was brought, and applied by means of handkerchiefs tied over the raw and blistered parts. Its effect was to form a sort of artificial cuticle over those spots where the skin had been removed; and the soft and cool sensation it produced in the other parts was delightful. Still Mary appeared to suffer so much, that Robert administered an opiate, as he did in the case of Sam, and after that he heard no more from her until next morning.

"What a quick, brave girl she is!" said Harold, after Robert had described the scene. "Most girls would have rushed into the open air, and been burned to death."

"She showed great presence of mind," Robert assented.

"More than that," said Harold, "she showed great resolution. I knew a beautiful girl at school, who had presence of mind enough to wrap herself in the hearth rug, but who could not stand the pain of the fire; she threw off the rug, rushed into the open air, screaming for help, and was burnt to death in less than two minutes."

When Mary came from her room next morning her eyes were dull and glassy, from the effects of the medicine, and she had no appetite for more than a cup of coffee. The others met her with more than their usual affection. Her accident had revealed to them how much they loved her; and her coolness in danger, and fortitude in suffering, had given them a greater respect for her character.

"We do sincerely thank God, on your account, cousin," said Harold, as soon as they were left alone that Sabbath morning. "It is so seldom a person meets with such an accident, without being seriously injured."

"I hope I feel thankful, too," returned Mary. "I could not help thinking last night, before going to sleep, how uncertain life is. O, I do wish I were a Christian, as I believe you to be, cousin."

"Indeed, if I am a Christian at all, I wish you were a far better one," he replied. "I have neither felt nor acted as I desired, or supposed I should."

"But still you feel and act very differently from us."

"My feelings are certainly very different from what they used to be, and I thank God that they are. Yet the only particular thing which I recollect of myself, at the time that I began to feel differently, is that I was troubled on account of my past life, and wished heartily to serve God. To judge from myself, then, I should say that to desire to serve God, is to be a Christian."

"O, I do desire," said Mary, weeping. "I do, with all my heart. But I know I am not what I ought to be. I do not love God; I do not trust him; I do not feel troubled for sin, as I ought to be; and I have no reason to think that my sins are forgiven."

"I am a poor preacher, Mary," Harold said, with strong emotion; "for I never knew anything of these feelings myself, until lately. But this I can say, that if you will heartily give yourself to God, to be his servant for ever, and put your trust in his promises, you will be accepted. Did not Jesus Christ come into this world to save sinners, even the chief? Does he not say, 'Him that cometh to me, I will in nowise cast out'? Now what does the Bible mean, but to encourage all who feel as you do?"

Mary did not reply; the tears burst through her fingers, and dropped into her lap. Harold continued,

"Ever since we came to the island I felt as you feel, until the Sabbath when I knelt down in the woods, and gave myself to the Lord. My heart was very heavy; I knew that I was a sinner needing forgiveness, and that I had nothing that I could offer as pay; but I read where God offers salvation 'without money and without price,' and again where he says we must 'believe on him.' Well, after all that, I could not help believing; it was sweet to pray-sweet to think of God-sweet to read the Bible-sweet to do whatever was pleasing to Him. I hope it will be so always; and I long for the time when I can return to Bellevue to talk with your father about these things. Now, cousin, I advise you to try the same plan."

He marked several passages of Scripture for her to read; then walked into the woods, where he prayed that the Lord would direct her, so as to find peace by believing in Jesus Christ.

CHAPTER XXXVI

SUCCESSFUL WORK-EXCURSION-THE FISH-EAGLE-DIFFERENT METHODS OF PROCURING FIRE-WOODSMAN'S SHELTER AGAINST RAIN AND HAIL-NOVEL REFUGE FROM FALLING TREES

Monday morning found the labourers moving at the dawn of day. Sam was cook, and fulfilled his office with unexpected ability. His corn-bread was delightful; no one but a negro knows how to make it.

The tools were in excellent order, and the boys commenced work in fine spirits. At Harold's suggestion they resolved to work very leisurely that day and the next, as being the surest way to attain expedition in the end. Said he,

"My father was a great manager of horses, and sometimes made tremendous journeys. But his rule was always to begin a long journey very moderately. He used to say, 'If you strain a horse at the first, he will move heavily all the way through, but if you spare him at first, he will become gradually accustomed to the strain, and be able to push on faster at the end than at the beginning of the journey!' Now, as we are the horses, I think we had better make very moderate journeys today and tomorrow."

Robert was much pleased with the rule. Notwithstanding his boast, he had shuddered at the idea of blistered hands and weary limbs; but this plan enabled him to anticipate fresh feelings, and even increasing labour, so long as they chose to work.

In the course of four days the second tree was cut, hewed, and excavated to the exact shape and size of the first. They then drew for choices, and separated, each working on his own boat, within hearing of the other's ax and mallet. One reason, perhaps, of the increased rapidity of their work, was a lesson which they learned of employing every moment to advantage, and of resting themselves by a mere change of work. For instance, when weary of the adze they would resort to the mallet and chisel, the auger, ax, or drawing-knife, and this was to some extent a real rest, for fresh muscles were brought into play while the wearied ones were relieved.