Chapter VIII.
When Charles arrived at the hut, he found that the embers had now ceased to smoulder, that the smoke was dispersed, and, of course, the mouth of the hut was all open, as it had been three months before. On entering, he observed no other harm than that which had been done by the wet blanket, which had preserved his mattress and his box from the fire, most probably. The gun was placed in the most distant part of the cave, and the powder buried in a hole in the earth, so that it would have been some time before either were injured; but if the mattress had taken fire, it would have reached them, and the brandy-cask also, in which case the hut would probably have been blown up; as it was, all might be recovered, by contrivance and industry.
The first thing to be done, was drying the blanket; and as the sun was now up, and it was very hot on the sands, he immediately carried it thither, wringing the water out as well as he could. On returning, the first things he saw were his lamp and oil, which were so placed as to awaken new cause for gratitude, as they were within a few inches of that piece of the wreck which he had used for a door. He then looked up the remains of his clothing, and found them still damp; therefore they too were placed in the sun, for he determined never again to make a fire near the hut, considering that he had already run a great many risks, in having had a fire so near to the trees.
"But," said he, with a sigh, "I need not think about fires, for all my famous stock of firewood is gone; and at the same time, the shelter it gave my hut is gone also, and there has been rain for two nights, so that I can hardly get a bit of dry stick to roast a fish with: however, it will grow warmer every day, and perhaps I can make a curtain of the shawls and the jacket, that will keep out a little of the night air." Charles had always been a boy of neat habits, and it had (happily for him) been a leading point with his father, to render him willing to help himself; so that even in the East Indies, where persons keep so many servants, and do so little for themselves, he had been, in a great degree, an active, independent little fellow, capable of waiting on himself. This disposition had increased when he read Robinson Crusoe; for he conceived it a proof of a manly disposition (and so it certainly is,) for a person to be thus independent. To this disposition he had, in the last two years, added good principles and great qualities, under the tuition of a wise tutor, and a truly virtuous and religious father; so that he had now a considerable portion of courage, much steady resolution and fortitude, and, as we have all along seen, a deep sense of religion. Owing to this improvement in his mind, he determined to improve his hut as much as he could, and not sit down in idleness, because the time had come when he hoped to leave it, as many boys of his age would have done.—"No," said he, "though I may be gone before another day is past, yet I may also have to stay as long again; so if I can do nothing else, I will clear away all the ashes and rubbish: though I live in a hut, I will not live in the dirt like a hog." Charles therefore proceeded to gather a large bunch of light twigs, which he tied firmly on a good bamboo stick, and made an excellent broom, with which he proceeded to brush away the embers and remains of the sticks, taking them by the action as far as possible from the hut. In doing this, he saw, as he thought, something move two or three times, which startled him; so he threw a basin of water to clear away the ashes, that he might see what it was. To his astonishment, he perceived parts of several small green serpents: and he had no doubt but the violent noise and hissing he had heard on awaking, had proceeded from these creatures, which were providentially destroyed by the fire which had threatened his life so nearly. He knew not how long they might have been under the stack of wood, which was a very likely shelter for such creatures, or whether the extraordinary fire he had made, the night before, had been their attraction; but it was evident that he had had a remarkable escape; for even allowing that they had not entered his hut, which was perfectly open to them, yet he would inevitably soon have disturbed them, by putting his hand, as usual, upon the stack, which was now getting very low; in which case, he would have received a death more slow and agonizing than that which had so lately threatened him from the fire.
He remembered that in India, country houses were considered defended from snakes, by being surrounded with gravel, as these creatures do not like to injure their skins by coming upon this rough substance; and he therefore concluded, it would be advisable for him to cover the ground for a considerable distance with sand and pebbles. Unfortunately, there were no stones on the island, with which he could form a wall; but for this mode of defence he was well provided, as a bed of sand lay behind the hut, which was itself much of the same substance; so that it was very possible to cover it, as well as surround it by the sand. Charles lost no time, therefore, in adopting the only method that promised security; and as he could not (with all the pains he took) perceive one living snake amongst the grass or trees, he hoped that it might answer, especially, as by making the fire always at a considerable distance, and only on the sand, they would not be drawn thither by warmth. It was a great labour for the poor boy, to carry load after load in his tin case (for he had no other method) of pebbles, to cast about the place; and he worked so hard to accomplish it, that at night he slept very soundly, forgetting his fears in his fatigue. At the end of three days, he had not only effected his intention, but greatly improved the appearance of his hut, which he also in some measure enclosed, by placing before it a hedge of prickly furze, which stuck so close together, that he could easily push it away when he wanted light, or draw it near to exclude the air; and over it he threw the silk shawl, which he had previously designated his veil.
It may be readily supposed, that notwithstanding his great accumulation of business lately, there were two things which our young exile never forgot, viz.—that of marking every returning morning in the almanack, near his hut, and climbing into the higher trees to make observations. When he had finished that task, without which he durst not lie down in the hut, he gave more time to watching; and as he could almost be certain of gaining fish for a dinner at this season, he nearly divided his time between looking out from the promontory (which perhaps he ought rather to have called a peninsula, seeing there was no high land), and from the tree he named his observatory. Day after day, however, passed on, without varying the scene; for the ocean continued bright and smooth, for nearly a fortnight after he had ventured upon it (with so little encouragement for a second trial), and yet he perceived nothing to vary its wide expanse.
At length (as he was about to descend, and was taking one more farewell look through his glass), he thought he perceived something like a sail in the extreme distance, towards the west, with an emotion that rendered him almost incapable of seeing at all; he yet determined not to lose sight of his object, and in a short time became sensible that he had not deceived himself. A noble ship was pursuing her way with steady magnificence, neither accelerated by rapid breezes, nor distressed by the failure of customary wind. Might they not, in this state, be most likely to look round on the islands, and discern the flag from this desert spot? would they not know it to be the signal of distress? the cry of the shipwrecked mariner for assistance to his fellow-creatures? they could not—surely they could not, like the cold-hearted Levite in the gospel, pass by on the other side? From whatever European country they might come, still they professed the same faith, they were bound by the same general laws of humanity, and they would surely seek and rescue those that were lost.
Charles remembered that his father, when giving him an account of the loss of the Grosvenor East Indiaman, which was shipwrecked on the southern coast of Africa, had said—"And to the honour of the Dutch governor, then resident at the Cape of Good Hope, be it remembered, that although his country, and therefore himself, was at war with us, he lost not a day in sending a body of soldiers and servants, to seek and succour the wretched persons cast on this inhospitable coast; for which purpose, they travelled more than four hundred miles, and succeeded in saving the lives of the few which survived the hardships and famine they had encountered." With these thoughts passing in his mind, no wonder Charles hoped every moment to see the vessel approach somewhat nearer, or give signal: but, alas! she passed, and gave no sign; for hours she was in sight, but never near enough to hear his gun, or perhaps to see his flag: he descended with the shades of evening, worn out with hunger and sorrow, and slowly retraced his steps to that home, which now seemed more melancholy than ever. Such was the sinking of his heart on this memorable evening, that, weak as he was, with extreme anxiety and long fasting, he would not have roused himself, even to get the food he so much needed, if Poll had not been clamorous for his own share, and said, over and over, "Don't despair, my dear boy," and every other word to which he could apply his tongue. He felt as if he had lost a certain good hold in possession; and as he ground the few grains of coffee which he allowed himself, he looked at the remains of his canister, and observed, "that it was so nearly finished he had nothing but famine to expect." All the evils of his situation at once rushed to his mind; his stores were exhausted, or nearly so; the season for fruits was not arrived; the green carpet of the island yielded no roots that he knew to be fit for food, and the birds did not now frequent the island, being employed in hatching their young at Amsterdam; and what was worse, far worse than all the rest, his dear papa must have died, or by this time he would have found means of rescuing him. Bitter tears rolled down poor Charles's cheeks, as these sad thoughts came over him; and the only prayer he could offer, under this depression of his heart, was a few words from that book which was always on his mind, "Save, Lord, or I perish."
