The Island of Gold Part 42

B. Thirty-five spear-heads, solid and very heavy.

C. Fifteen gold daggers, similar to that brought away from the island by Doris herself.

D. Fifteen larger and curiously shaped knives.

E. One hundred or more fish-hooks.

F. Nineteen nuggets of gold of various sizes--one immense nugget weighed 149 pounds!

[The largest nugget ever found weighed over 180 pounds. It was dug up, I believe, at Ballarat.--G.S.]

No wonder these two men were excited.

"I say, sir," said Chips, "I guess you'll splice the main-brace to-night."

"That we will with pleasure," replied Halcott.

"And," cried Tom Wilson, "I'll fiddle as I've never fiddled before.

I'll make all hands laugh one minute, and I'll have them all crying the next."

Poor Wilson! It was noted that this man never touched rum himself, but invariably gave his share to another.

The main-brace _was_ spliced that night, and that, too, twice over. It happened to be Sat.u.r.day night.

It could not be called Sat.u.r.day-night-at-sea, but it was Sat.u.r.day night on board a ship; and despite the fact that the vessel was but a wreck and a hulk, it was spent in the good old fashion.

An awning was always kept spread over the fore part of the ship, and it was 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 caused many tears to flow, beautifully executed though they were, but late in the evening--and ten o'clock was considered late on board the hulk--when Halcott 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 interpretation of this beautiful melody that held everybody spell-bound; but when at last the poor fellow laid his instrument on the table, and with bent head burst into tears, the astonishment of every one there was great indeed.

Jack, however, is ever in sympathy with sorrow, and Chips, rough old Chips, got up and went round behind Tom Wilson.

"Come, matie," he said, patting him gently on the shoulder. "What is it, old heart? Music been too much for you? Eh? Come, come, don't give 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 not tell you to-night the reason of my stupid tears. I'm not the man to sadden a Sat.u.r.day night. Come, lads, clear the decks. I'll play you the grandest hornpipe you ever listened to."

And play he did. Every note, every tone was thrilling. A dance was soon got up, and never before, not even in a man-of-war, did men foot the deck more merrily than those shipwrecked Crusoes did now.

But the queerest group there was just amidships, where Janeira herself and Fitz--all white eyes and flashing teeth--were madly tripping it on the light fantastic toe; while little Nelda and that droll old crane danced a fandango, that caused all hands, including even Tom himself, to shout with laughter when they beheld it.

The very solemnity of the crane as he curved his neck, hopped, and pirouetted, 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 f.a.n.n.y's favourite. f.a.n.n.y is dead. Georgie too. He was my boy. I was rich once, but drink ruined me, and--oh, may G.o.d forgive me!--led indirectly to the graveyard gate, where wife and children all lie buried!"

Two long months more had gone by, during which the exploring party had been busy enough almost every day at the distant hill, prospecting, excavating here and there, and searching in every likely nook for the cave of gold.

But all in vain.

During all the time they had now been on the island--more than six months--never a ship had been seen, nor had any boat or canoe ventured near the place.

"Surely, surely," they thought, "some day some ship will find us out and rescue us."

One day as they were returning earlier in the afternoon than usual, for it was very hot, and they were all somewhat weary and disheartened, they went suddenly almost delirious with joy to see, on looking towards the hill-top, that the ensign was hoisted upside down on the pole, and little Fitz dancing wildly round it, and pointing seaward.

Tired though they all were, there was no talk now of returning to the wreck. But straight to the hill they went instead.

To their infinite joy, when they reached the top at last, they could see a brig, with all available sail set, standing in for the island.

I say all available sail, for her fore-topmast was gone, she was cruelly punished about the bulwarks, and had evidently been blown out of her course during the gale that had raged with considerable violence a few days before.

Every heart beat high now with hope and joy, and as the vessel drew nearer and nearer, they shook hands with each other, and with tears in their 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 could not yet be made out. But they could now, by aid of the gla.s.s, see the hands moving about the deck, and some leaning over the bows pointing towards the island.

But, "Oh, cruel! cruel!" cried the poor men, and grief took the place of joy, when the vessel altered its course and went slowly away on the other tack.

So great was the revulsion of feeling now that some of the Crusoes threw themselves on the ground in an agony of grief and disappointment.

They watched the ship sail away and away, hoping against hope that she might even yet return.

They watched until the stars shone out and darkness brooded over the deep, and then a strange thing happened: a great gleam of light was seen on the distant horizon, and above it clouds of rolling smoke through which 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 the blaze.

No one thought of leaving the hill now; they would see the last of that mysterious ship.

Yes, and the last came within an hour.

An immense fountain of fire rose high into the air, lighting the sea up in one broad crimson bar from horizon to sh.o.r.e--then darkness.

Nothing more.

Nor were any signs of that unfortunate brig seen next day. No boat floated towards the island, nor was a single spar ever picked up along the beach.

It would be impossible to describe the feelings of the Crusoes as they went slowly homeward through the jungle, guided by Fitz and Bob.