Jethou or Crusoe Life in the Channel Isles / Suffling, Ernest R. (Ernest Richard), 1855-1911Jethou or Crusoe Life in the Channel Isles / Suffling, Ernest R. (Ernest Richard), 1855-1911| Author: | Suffling, Ernest R. (Ernest Richard), 1855-1911 |
| Title: | Jethou or Crusoe Life in the Channel Isles |
| Date: | 2006-01-28 |
| Contributor(s): | Braakensiek, Johan, 1858-1940 [Illustrator] |
| Size: | 396190 |
| Identifier: | etext17618 |
| Language: | en |
| Publisher: | Project Gutenberg |
| Rights: | GNU General Public License |
| Tag(s): | time sea island day water suffling ebook cost restrictions whatsoever ernest richard jethou crusoe life channel isles project gutenberg braakensiek johan illustrator |
| Versions: | original; local mirror; plain HTML (this file); concordance (most frequent 100 words, etc.) |
| Related: | Alex Catalogue of Electronic Texts |
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Title: Jethou
or Crusoe Life in the Channel Isles
Author: E. R. Suffling
Release Date: January 28, 2006 [eBook #17618]
Language: English
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JETHOU
Or
Crusoe Life in the Channel Isles
Illustrated by Drawings Prepared from Author's Own Sketches
by
E. R. SUFFLING
Author of "History and Legends of the Broad District,"
"How to Organize a Cruise on the Broads,"
"Afloat in a Gipsy Van," etc.
Third Edition
[Illustration: Publisher's logo]
London
Jarrold & Sons, 10 & 11, Warwick Lane, E.C.
[All Rights Reserved]
1898
PREFACE.
As the writer does not pretend to possess what is termed literary style,
he would ask the indulgence of the reader in any little slip of the pen
which may occur in these pages, as it is not every Crusoe who can
command the facile quill, the pure style, or the lively imagination of a
Daniel Defoe, to narrate his adventures.
It must be borne in mind that the island of Juan Fernandez possessed
many natural features, and a far greater area than Jethou can boast of,
and therefore more scope for the development of incidents and
descriptive embellishment.
Doubtless many of the adventures here placed before the public will
appear puny beside the exploits of the original Crusoe; but it must be
taken into consideration that the author does not, like Defoe's hero,
revel in the impossible. At the same time it may be noted that the
adventures detailed are of a sufficiently exciting kind as to be above
any suspicion of dulness.
Juan Fernandez lies about four hundred miles from the nearest land, and
it is therefore very difficult to imagine from whence the savages came
who were about to convert Friday into a _fricassee_. The Friday of our
story, y'clept Monday, came to Jethou in a natural if in an exciting
manner, and it will be found that everything else in the narrative, if
not an _exact_ account of what really did happen, is at least feasible.
It is in fact a practicable narrative, served up in a plain, ungarnished
form, except that to make it more palatable to the general reader a
little love-story has been introduced towards the conclusion, which, it
is hoped, sustains the interest right to the last, and makes the volume
end as all good books should, by allowing the principal actors to "live
happily ever after."
E. R. SUFFLING (HARRY NILFORD).
_Blomfield Lodge_,
_Portsdown Road_,
_London, W._
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I. PAGE
My birth and home--My pretty cousin--Accident to the
"Kittywich"--Journey to Guernsey--Pleading to become
a Crusoe--My wish granted--Outfit secured--Sail
to Jethou 9
CHAPTER II.
I take possession of the Island--Landing stores--A grand
carousal--Farewell--Alone 24
CHAPTER III.
First thoughts and impressions--A tour of the Island and
description 32
CHAPTER IV.
Farming operations--I make a plough and a cart--A
donkey hunt--Dumb helpers--My live stock 44
CHAPTER V.
Canoeing--Fish of the place--The ormer and limpet--A
curious fishing adventure--Queer captures from the
sea--Rock fish--Construct a fish pond and water-mill 55
CHAPTER VI.
"Flapp," the gull--Surgical operation--The gull who refused
to die--Taxidermy extraordinary--Feathered friends--Snakes 69
CHAPTER VII.
I build a curious "box-boat"--An unpleasant night at sea--My
Sunday service--The poem, "Alexander Selkirk"--Its
applicability to my lot 79
CHAPTER VIII.
A trip to St. Sampson's harbour--A horrid porcine murder--A
voyage round Sark--Nearly capsized--Trip round
Guernsey--The pepper-box--Curiosity of tourists 93
CHAPTER IX.
Harvest operations--Explore La Creux Derrible, and nearly lose my
life--Crusoe on crutches--An extraordinary discovery--Kill a
grampus--Oil on troubled waters--Make an overflow pump 112
CHAPTER X.
A storm and a wreck--The castaway--Dead--A night of
horror--The boathouse destroyed--A burial at sea 126
CHAPTER XI.
Climate in Winter--Vision of my father--A warning voice--Supernatural
manifestations--The falling rock--My life saved by my dog 139
CHAPTER XII.
A fairy pool--Wonders of the deep--Portrait of a poet--The cave of
Fauconnaire--A letter from home and my answer to it 148
CHAPTER XIII.
Another terrible storm--Loss of the "Yellow Boy"--A ketch
wrecked--I rescue a man from the sea, badly injured--He recovers 159
CHAPTER XIV.
Work and song--Sunday service--Build a larger boat, the
"Anglo-Franc"--Collecting wreckage--Commence a
jetty--Our cookery--Blasting operations--The opening banquet 172
CHAPTER XV.
Trawling for fish and dredging for curios--Some remarkable
finds--A ghastly resurrection--The mysterious paper--The
hieroglyphic--A dangerous fall--_Hors de combat_--Attempts
to unravel the paper 181
CHAPTER XVI.
Yarns: The cabbages which hung their heads--The raft of
spruce--Voyage of the "Dewdrop"--A lucky family--A
deep, deep draught--The maire's cat 193
CHAPTER XVII.
The Will again--Searching for a clue to the paper--Barbe Rouge's
Will--A probable clue--Hopes and doubts--Perplexed--A memorable
trawl by moonlight--A real clue at last--The place of
the skull found 207
CHAPTER XVIII.
Digging for the treasure--A noonday rest--The ghastly tenant of
the treasure house--We find the treasure--An account of what
we discovered 217
CHAPTER XIX.
Preparing to leave--A letter home--We lengthen and enlarge the
"Anglo-Franc"--Re-christen her "Happy Return"--Love at first
sight--Victualling and stowing cargo--Pretty Jeannette--The long
voyage--Incidents en route--Vegetarians, and their diet--Yarmouth
reached--Fresh-water navigation--My native heath 231
CHAPTER XX.
I surprise the old folks at home--All well--Is Priscilla false--We
meet--The missing letters--A snake in the grass--Dreams
of vengeance 250
CHAPTER XXI.
The "Happy Return" inspected--More of my father's ghost--Unpacking
the treasure--Seek an interview with Walter Johnson--Two letters 257
CHAPTER XXII.
M. Oudin arrives--The Wedding Day--Division of the
spoil--Alec returns to Jethou--Wedding gifts--The end 265
APPENDIX.
A few words about the Channel Isles 271
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
THE ISLAND OF JETHOU _Frontispiece_ 1
THE OLD HOME AT BARTON 10
MAP OF THE ISLAND OF JETHOU 35
PLAN OF HOMESTEAD 43
MY PLOUGH 47
AN ANTEDILUVIAN CHARIOT 48
"I WAS SWAMPED IN A MOMENT" 61
THE "YELLOW BOY," PLANS, ETC. 81
A PORCINE MURDER 99
ROCKS AT SOUTH END OF SARK 101
THE MAIN PATH OF THE ISLAND 113
LA CREUX DERRIBLE 119
TOO LATE! 131
A GHOSTLY VISITANT 141
"ALONG THE RUGGED CLIFF PATH" 161
RESCUE OF ALEC DUCAS 167
THE PUZZLING DOCUMENT 186, 209
A TERRIBLE FALL 187
THE TENANT OF THE TREASURE HOUSE 223
LENGTHENING THE "ANGLO-FRANC" 235
[Illustration: Frontispiece--THE ISLAND OF JETHOU]
[Illustration: Decorative chapter heading]
JETHOU;
OR,
Crusoe Life in the Channel Isles.
CHAPTER I.
MY BIRTH AND HOME--MY PRETTY COUSIN--ACCIDENT TO THE
"KITTYWICH"--JOURNEY TO GUERNSEY--PLEADING TO BECOME A CRUSOE--MY
WISH GRANTED--OUTFIT SECURED--SAIL TO JETHOU.
That Crusoe of Crusoes, Alexander Selkirk, as I am aware, commences his
entertaining history with his birth and parentage, and as I am also a
Crusoe, although a very minor adventurer, I may as well follow the
precedent and declare my nativity.
I was born at the little village of Barton in Norfolk, at the time the
guns at Balaclava were mowing down our red coats and tars, where my
father had a small house facing the Broad. It was a comfortable old
two-storied building, with a thatched roof, through which a couple of
dormer windows peered out, like two eyes, over the beautiful green lawn
which sloped to the reed-fringed water. My father was in very
comfortable circumstances, as he was owner of six large fishing vessels
hailing from the port of Great Yarmouth, some ten or twelve miles
distant as the crow flies.
[Illustration: THE OLD HOME AT BARTON.]
Being born, as it were, on the water (for a distance of a hundred yards
matters but little), I was naturally from my birth a young water dog,
although they tell me that for some months after I made my bow to the
world, milk also played a prominent part in my career.
As I grew into boyhood, of course I had my rowing punt and my rod, and
thus gained my first taste for a solitary life, as it frequently
happened that I would be away from sunrise to sunset on some little
expedition to one or other of the neighbouring Broads. By and bye came
the time when I arrived at that rare age for enjoyment, fourteen years.
This birthday, the fourteenth, was a red-letter day in my life, as I
received two presents, which were in my eyes very valuable ones; my
uncle presented me with a beautiful little light gun, and my father
handed me over his small sailing boat. Now I was a man! I felt it, and I
knew it, and so did my schoolmates, for there was not one of them, who
at some time or other, had not felt the effects of my prowess in a
striking manner. Still, the drubbings I gave were not always to my
credit, for I was a very big and strong lad for my age, and my
self-imposed tasks of long rowing trips and other athletic exercises,
naturally made me powerful in the arms and chest. Of my brain power I
shall say little, as my mind was ever bent on sporting topics when it
should have been diving into English history or vulgar fractions. Some
new device in fishing gear was always of more consequence to me than any
inquiry as to the name of the executioner who gave Charles the I. "chops
for breakfast," as we youngsters used to say, when we irreverently spoke
of the decollation of his Majesty.
Still, somehow I stumbled through my schooling till I was sixteen, when
I was sent off to my father's office on the Quay at Yarmouth to take
charge of the books, which were an everlasting humdrum record of
herrings and the various trawl fish which came in so frequently in our
vessels.
Between whiles I had plenty of spare time, and whenever a few hours were
allowed me, I could not keep out of my boat, so that if the sea happened
to be fairly calm, I was sure to be found bobbing about on it, and was
as well known by the fishermen along the coast ten miles north and south
of Yarmouth, as I was by the folks in my own village. When the sea was
rough I turned my attention to Breydon Water, or the Bure, or other of
the rivers flowing into it, so that at an early age I could command my
little boat as easily as one manages a horse in driving. On Saturdays,
when the wind and weather were at all favourable, I used frequently to
hurry away from business as early as possible, and sail home along the
Bure and Ant, a distance of about twenty miles, rather more than less,
and became so accustomed to the route that I knew every tree and post,
aye, and almost every reed and bulrush on the river's bank on my
homeward way.
Sometimes night would close in rather quickly upon me, but as I only had
two turnings to look out for, Thurne Mouth and Ant Mouth, I seldom made
a mistake, however dark it might be, especially when the venerable old
ruined gateway of St. Benet's Abbey was once passed.
Almost always these trips were solitary ones, if I except the
companionship of my retriever "Begum," who was a present from my cousin
on his return from India. Begum, he informed me, was a ruler in India,
but whether male or female I never discovered.
My dog was a gentleman, but to this day it has remained a matter of
conjecture with me, as to whether we inadvertantly gave him a lady's
name, or no. Anyway, "Begum" sounded well; he was a ruler, and being
black coincided with our school rulers, which were always black with
ink. Unfortunately, everyone persisted (possibly to annoy me if they
could), in calling him By Gum! strongly accentuating the second word,
and till the poor old dog died, the name stuck to him like a postage
stamp to a letter.
In my holiday trips I had a companion, my cousin Priscilla, who was, if
the term be permissible; as great a water dog as myself. I am not going
to attempt a description of her, but I _must_ let the reader know that
she was bigger, stronger, and a vast deal prettier than any girl within
a radius of many miles of our village; not that I wish to disparage the
looks or figures of our Norfolk girls, for they can hold their own with
the rest of England, as Bad King Harry knew when he wooed and won
Norfolk's Queen, Mistress Anne Boleyn of Blickling.
'Cilla, as I called my cousin for brevity, could row, sail a boat,
skate, and shoot; yes, she was a very fair shot, and never a winter
passed but she gave a good account of duck, teal, mallard, pewit, and
geese, as the result of her prowess.
But I will say no more of pretty cousin 'Cilla at present, as this
narrative is to be a record of what more nearly concerns myself, so I
must not "_mardle_," as we say in Norfolk, but proceed with my story.
I was twenty-one and some months more, for the rejoicings consequent
upon the event had become matter of past history, when my father one day
received intelligence of one of his fishing vessels having been towed in
a disabled state into the harbour of St. Peter Port, Guernsey. She was
so badly damaged that his presence was imperative, to decide as to her
ultimate fate.
She had been to a Spanish port for cork and hemp, as the fishing season
was not a very good one, and on her return voyage had run upon an island
called Jethou, during a dense fog, luckily in a calm sea, or she would
never have come off whole again. Nothing ever does when it once plays at
ramming these granite islands. Like the Syrens, who lured or tried to
lure Ulysses, these islands are very fair to behold; but woe to the ship
that comes into contact with them, for they rarely escape from their
deadly embrace.
The very next day (my father having allowed me to accompany him) we
started for Plymouth, a long journey, _via_ London, at which city, being
my first visit to the metropolis, I could fain have broken our journey,
but our business being urgent we steamed away to Plymouth by the night
train. After a substantial meal next morning we sallied out to find the
first vessel sailing to Guernsey, and were lucky in discovering one
called the "Fawn," which was preparing to sail the same day. Although
only a cargo ketch the skipper bargained to take us, and about two p.m.
we unmoored and were soon off. Our passage was a quick one, a strong
N.W. wind bowling us over to St. Peter Port in time for early breakfast
next morning.
It is needless for me to go through the whole story of the running
ashore of our smack, as beyond the important fact that it was her mishap
which caused me ever to visit the Channel Islands, she has little else
to do with my narrative.
She was damaged very seriously amidships, but my father, who had a happy
knack of turning almost everything to a good account, unless
irredeemably hopeless, was struck with a capital idea in this instance.
Instead of selling her as a worthless hulk, he had her cut in two, the
damaged timbers removed, a new length of keel laid down, and had her
lengthened about ten feet; after which operation she was as sound as
ever, and as my father had prophesied, no one recognized her again for
the same vessel.
While we were waiting for the "Kittywitch" (for that was her name) to be
run off the slips, we had plenty of time to look about us; in fact, we
spent nearly seven weeks among these lovely islands.
We explored Guernsey and Sark thoroughly, also Herm as far as we were
allowed, that island being more of a proprietary place than the others.
We also spent about ten days in Jersey, which is quite a large place in
comparison with the other islands. But of all the islands, I think Sark
carries off the palm, not that it has beauties of its own, or is grander
or more prolific, but it is an _epitome_ of all the other islands; in
fact it contains in a small space every salient feature of the Channel
Isles; the people, the granite cliffs, the bays, the caves, the hills,
the woods, the shady lanes, the sandy beaches, are all there, and the
surrounding sea is not a tone the less blue in its intensity, nor the
air a whit less balmy than that with which the other islands are
favoured.
Now it happened, while we were staying at St. Peter Port, awaiting the
re-launching of our vessel, that we made friends with the proprietor of
the island of Jethou, upon which the "Kittywich" struck, and although it
was a good three miles from St. Peter's harbour, yet we made occasional
trips to the islet when the wind was fair and the sea smooth. With this
little island of Jethou I was charmed, and fancied I could make it my
Paradise, if only I could be allowed to live there for a twelvemonth, _a
la_ Robinson Crusoe.
At this idea my father, who was a thoroughly business-like,
matter-of-fact man, set up his eyes and called me a name not at all
polite; but as he was my parent, and viewed life through older optics
than mine, I daresay he was right in the main, when he called me, to put
it mildly, a "stupid fool." But although he pooh-poohed the idea, and
bade me dismiss it from my mind, I could not help the thought entering
my brain, and I wished something might possibly happen by which I might
be left alone on the island, to try, at all events, what Crusoe life was
really like.
Sure enough something did happen which ultimately gave me the
opportunity of carrying out my idea in its entirety. M. Oudin, the
proprietor of the island, had two events to chronicle in one day,
events which quite altered his after life, and took him at an hour's
notice from his Jethou home to Gardner's Hotel, Guernsey.
A letter arrived at St. Peter Port for him, from Paris, which, according
to custom, was placed in the guernsey breast of a fisherman, who sailed
with it straightway to M. Oudin. The latter gentleman having adjusted
his glasses, after instructing his man to give the messenger spirituous
refreshment (which is so very cheap in these islands), proceeded to scan
the contents of the letter. It was from a lawyer in Paris, informing him
of the decease of his brother, a leather merchant, who, dying wifeless
and childless, had bequeathed him both his business and fortune. This
intelligence of both joy and sorrow so bewildered and unstrung the
nerves of M. Oudin that, in accordance with his custom, he took a
dram--in fact the circumstances were so very warrantable that he took
two--and probably even more; or else they were like Mynheer Van Dunk's,
"deep, _deep_ draughts." Anyway, upon giving the fisherman orders to
sail him back to Guernsey, and attempting to follow him with his serving
man, they somehow found themselves at the bottom of the gulch which led
down to the shore (upon which the boat was careened), so much mixed as
to arms and legs, that an observer would have wondered what curious
animal he was gazing upon. Two of them scrambled to their feet, and as
well as they could, shook themselves together; but the third, M. Oudin,
had unfortunately broken his right thigh-bone completely in two. Then
the maudlin men, despite his groans, placed him awkwardly in the boat,
and hoisted sail for Guernsey.
As luck would have it, my father and I were standing upon the deck of
the now nearly finished "Kittywich," when the boat came in, and M. Oudin
having communicated to my father the nature of his hurt, my dad
immediately gave orders for him to be taken to Gardner's Hotel, where we
were staying, and hurrying for a doctor soon joined him there. The leg
was set, and I spent the greater part of each day by the side of M.
Oudin's bed, chatting and reading to him, and attending to his wants.
During our conversation I happened to mention what a great treat I
should consider it to be allowed to live on his island for a few months.
Presently we went more fully into the "whys and wherefores" of the case,
so that I quite began to imagine it might all come to pass as I wished,
but the arrival of my father in the midst of our very pleasant
conversation quite put a damper on the scheme.
"Bah! he would hear nothing of it; it was a mad fool's idea. No, no,
think no more of such rubbish, my boy. Crusoe is all very well to
_read_, but it's a poor look out to have to _live_ Crusoe."
M. Oudin, seeing how my mind was bent upon the scheme, gave my father a
day or two to simmer down, and then took him in hand quietly and
practically.
"Now look here, Nilford," said M. Oudin, motioning my respected father
to draw his chair nearer to the bed-side, "as you know, I must for the
present, at all events, leave Jethou, for by my brother's death my
presence is necessary in Paris. By his decease I become possessed of a
fortune of upwards of 700,000 francs and a large business to boot. Now a
business employing upwards of forty men will require my constant
supervision, and it is therefore very unlikely that I shall ever return
to Jethou, except perhaps for a very brief holiday.
"Now, during my enforced sojourn in this town, your son has shewn me
every attention and kindness, and with your permission I will give him
the whole of my interest in Jethou as a reward for his attention to me
during my recovery. The island is Crown property, which I rent for a
nominal sum, and as to the furniture, fixtures, and live stock they
shall be his (by your permission) to do as he likes with."
My father made a wry face at this, while I, who sat speechless, could
feel my heart bounding against my ribs for very joy. Alas! my father
negatived the whole thing. "It was not to be thought of; it could not be
carried out by a youngster like me; I should perhaps die without
assistance reaching me; I might starve," and a score more obstacles were
mentioned. By and bye, however, with my earnest persuasion, backed up by
M. Oudin's quiet but forcible manner, my dad melted so far as to ask for
a couple of days for consideration.
Oh! those two days, would they never pass? Yes, they rolled by at last,
and once more we were seated in M. Oudin's room.
"Well, Nilford, what is your decision? I trust it is a favourable one
for the lad, for I am sure he would thoroughly enjoy the life; but if
not, why in case he grew 'mammy sick,' he could return home. But the lad
is of the right metal, and I'll warrant would see twelve months out
without getting weary of the life. Come now, Nilford, give me your
hand, and boy let go."
By the way, my name is Harry Nilford, which I do not think I have
mentioned before.
Then came a long verbal tug of war between these two good men, in which
I could discern that my father's refusal was solely based upon his love
for me and his apprehension for my safety. The tug of words, like a tug
of war at an athletic meeting, was a long one, first one gained an
advantage only to lose it to his opponent directly after; then the
opponent would get in a strong verbal tug, and nearly draw his man over
the line; but at length my father, with great reluctance, conceded a
point, a great point in fact, one which virtually settled the contest.
"M. Oudin," said my parent, "I'll consent on one condition, which is,
that I may be allowed to draw up an agreement as to the boy's tenancy of
the island, and if Harry agrees to abide by it, well and good."
"Very well, father," I quickly put in, "here are writing implements;
draw up your Code and I will soon tell you my decision."
This was said with great emphasis on the "_my_," and delivered with an
air of--"see what a decided person _I_ am."
In an hour my father had drawn up the following document:--
TERMS OF AGREEMENT FOR MY SON'S RESIDENCE UPON JETHOU FOR 12
MONTHS.
My son Harry wishes to live the life of a Crusoe or Hermit, on the
Island of Jethou for twelve months, and to this I agree only on
his signifying his willingness to abide by the terms stated in this
agreement.
1. He shall allow no one to land on the island.
2. Shall not himself land upon any of the surrounding islands
(rocks which are uninhabited excepted).
3. Shall not speak to a living soul during the course of his
self-exilement.
4. Shall obtain no stores nor goods of any kind from any other
island, nor from any passing vessel.
5. Shall hold no communication with anyone, in any way:--
(_a_) Either ashore or afloat.
(_b_) Except in case of sickness, accident, detrimental to limb or
life, or
(_c_) In other case of dire necessity.
Should my son choose to abide by the above regulations, I will
agree to his holding the island for a period of one year.
Signed, THOMAS J. NILFORD.
"There!" said my father, laying down his pen, "that is my ultimatum, my
son; and mark me, I will agree to _nothing_ else."
This was said in a manner which shewed plainly that he considered he had
drawn up a code so stringent that he did not deem it at all likely I
should accept his plan; but to his great chagrin, and I may almost say
his consternation, I reached out my hand, after reading the document,
and taking the goose quill, wrote under the last clause,
"Accepted--Harry Nilford."
That being done, my father could not go back upon his word, and
accordingly the whole thing was settled.
M. Oudin was pleased, and I was supremely delighted, but my good old
father was quite dejected, and frankly avowed that it was like
sentencing me to twelve months' imprisonment. So it was, but what a
delightful imprisonment I anticipated it would be!
However, in a day or two he came round, and as he could not well alter
the turn circumstances had taken, he endeavoured to ameliorate them. He
made me write down a list of what I thought I should require, and to
this list he added a long supplement; and after mature consultation with
M. Oudin, another list was added as addendum; in fact, the articles were
so numerous that they filled four huge packing cases.
These cases were zinc-lined to keep the goods dry, as some of them were
perishable, and no one can tell with what pride I gazed at these boxes,
and thought of the glorious life I was about to lead. No thought of any
accident, or other drawback, even entered my head; in fact, as I sat on
the top of a case, swinging my legs and counting the hours which had to
pass before the day arrived when I was to take possession of my island
home, I was most consummately happy, being naturally ignorant of what
was to befall me.
At length came the day for launching the "Kittywich," at which I
assisted to my utmost; for I knew that any hitch with her meant further
detention in Guernsey for me. All went well, and as she slid off the
stocks (like a duck entering the water) without a splash or jar of any
kind, a ringing cheer went up, and then I knew that I should soon bid
farewell to picturesque St. Peter Port, one of the finest harbour towns
of Great Britain.
A few more days and the "Kittywich" had received her cargo for home,
and with it a new name, for in consideration of her additional carrying
capacity, we rechristened her the "Cormorant." Then came the day on
which the Blue Peter was seen at her masthead, but what was even better
in my eyes, was my own outfit packed in the four huge cases which stood
so prominently on her hatchway amidships.
M. Oudin hobbled down to the harbour to see us off, and in doing so
handed me a long heavy case as a parting gift, with instructions not to
open it for a week, by which time he hoped to be far away in Paris.
We unmoored, left the harbour, and in an hour were laying at anchor off
the north end of Jethou.
[Illustration: Decorative scroll]
[Illustration: Decorative chapter heading]
CHAPTER II.
I TAKE POSSESSION OF THE ISLAND--LANDING STORES--A GRAND
CAROUSAL--FAREWELL--ALONE.
The 2nd March, 187--, was a bright mild day, with but little wind and a
quiet sea: just the day for landing my stores. The goods I had selected,
and those added by my father and M. Oudin, were of a very miscellaneous
kind, and included provisions, farm and garden seeds (and a few
implements), a canoe, a gun, clothing, fishing gear, oil and coal,
cooking apparatus, and a score other things. As I knew the island was
devoid of animals except rabbits, I asked for, and obtained some live
stock--in fact, quite a farmyard. There were a goat, a dog, a cat, six
pigeons, two pigs, six fowls, and last, though by no means least, a
young donkey.
The large cases of goods were landed in a boat, not without a slight
mishap, however, as one of them, in being lowered over the bulwarks, was
carelessly unhitched by the men in the boat and tumbled overboard; it
fell in three fathoms of water, but the water was so translucent that it
was clearly discernible on the bottom.
This took quite an hour to get up, as it was an awkward thing to
grapple, but there were plenty of hands willing to help in landing the
goods, as several of the Guernsey men had come over to have a parting
spree.
The pigs and donkey were pushed overboard and quickly reached the shore;
the former, in spite of popular belief, proving themselves excellent
swimmers when once they struck out shorewards, especially as the
distance was short. On landing they went up over the island, and for the
time disappeared among the rocks and wild bushes.
By dusk the cry was, "All ashore," as everything had been landed, and
the "Cormorant" brought to a safe mooring under the lee of the rocky
island of Crevicon.
Altogether there were nearly twenty of us, that is, my father and self,
the skipper and crew of the "Kitty," and several of the workmen who had
been employed in altering and repairing the vessel; also the master
shipwright, in whose charge the vessel had been.
First came a grand spread in the principal room of the house, the
provisions for which had been brought over from St. Peter Port. It was a
great success, and after the improvised table had been cleared away
(boxes, surmounted by planks covered with a sail, formed the table) the
fun commenced. Joke followed joke, and song followed song. Then came
toasts and sentiments, which were of quite an international character,
as songs and sentiments in English, French, and Spanish were
continuously fired off, most of them being of a seafaring character.
The skipper of the "Cormorant" led off with a regular old North Sea
song, called, "The Dark-eyed Sailor." It is probably known by nearly
every seaman in the North Sea Fishery, and is a great favourite at all
carousals. It commences:
"It's of a comely young maiden fair,
Who walked on the quay to take the air,
She met a young sailor on the way,
So I paid attention, so I paid attention to what they did say."
This song, sung by a Norfolk man, always seems to me a great curiosity,
as the last line is lengthened out and twisted about in a most grotesque
manner, apparently to suit the whim or fancy of the singer, for no two
of them seem to conjure vocally with it in the same way. Everyone
present is supposed to join in the last line as a kind of chorus, and
not only join in, but "give it lungs," as they say. Some of them pay
such attention to these points, that they appear in danger of lockjaw,
or the starting of a blood-vessel, so heartily do they sing.
Then came a French song, with a chorus something about "Houp, houp, houp
a tra-la-la-la!" the singer standing on the top of an empty barrel to
warble, and as he set the fashion, so every succeeding singer followed
suit, and mounted the "pulpit," as they dubbed the cask.
Old Roscoe, our wooden-legged mate (the right leg of flesh having been
lost in my father's service), gave a funny jaw-breaking Scotch song,
with a chorus which no one could repeat, so when the chorus came he sang
it alone, while we contented ourselves with howling "Rule Britannia"--at
least all those who knew it, while the others who did not, laughed and
smoked.
Then a Spaniard (who was a shipwright) sang one of his national songs to
an accompaniment of thumb-snapping (to imitate castanets), at which he
was very expert. He had a fine baritone voice, and his song was full of
fire, being a famous bull-fighting ditty, in which El Toro came in for a
dashing chorus.
By and bye the fun became still faster and more furious, till old Ross,
of the timber-toe, took exception and would insist on order being kept.
Ross always constituted himself Master of the Ceremonies when anything
festive was on foot, and our men, as a matter of course, left everything
in his hands; but the men of St. Peter Port knew him not, and would have
no authority from him, and as a kind of good-natured revenge for his
interference, some of them played a practical joke upon him; but they
did not know their man, for no sooner had the joke been carried into
effect (gunpowder in his pipe) than Ross seized his stick and knocked
two of his tormentors down, the rest quickly fleeing out of doors. His
wooden leg greatly handicapped him, but he at length got one of the men
in a corner, who, on finding there was no means of escape, struck out
right and left at Ross's somewhat prominent nose, causing the claret to
flow like the cataract of Lodore. Now his Scotch blood was up, and he
certainly would have done his assailant an injury, as he was a very
powerful man, had not some of his comrades rescued him. But this did not
appease his fury, for he went at them all with a glass bottle in one
hand and a heavy stick in the other; but luckily his career was cut
short by a man who ran behind him, and with a well-directed blow with
an iron rod broke his leg clean in two just below the knee--the wooden
one, of course. Down came the hero, who in his rage tore up the earth
around him to fling at the circle of grinning faces. By this time my
father and the skipper came upon the scene, and after a time cooled down
the gallant Scot, and persuaded him to "gang awa" to bed, which he did,
going in state, borne at the _four_ corners by four of his shipmates.
This incident put a stop to the singing, but commenced fun in another
way. Some of the fellows cut up the remains of Ross's leg and stick and
set them on fire, the barrel which had done duty for a rostrum being
also broken up and added; other wooden articles were quickly flung on,
till at length quite a large bonfire was formed, round which these
excited men danced hand-in-hand like children round a Maypole. Their
manners, however, were hardly childlike, for they jumped, and yelled,
and sang with the ruddy firelight glowing on their countenances, till
they looked like a lot of demons performing some diabolical incantation.
All around was the dark night, and rocks, and trees, which gave a most
weird aspect to the scene when viewed from a short distance.
And thus they were enjoying their pandemonium when my father, the
skipper, and I left them in the "wee sma' hours" and retired to rest.
How long they kept it up I know not, but when I awoke and dressed at
daylight all was quiet. At six all hands were called, and a sorry sight
they presented. Ross had mounted a jury-leg, while among the other men
no less than three black eyes appeared, beside bruised cheeks, and red
swollen noses. However, all were friendly again, and agreed that they
had hardly ever before spent such a jolly night. Such was a sailor's
idea of a jolly time or "high old spree!"
Breakfast over, my goods were hauled from the beach and placed in the
different rooms and sheds according to their kind, while by noon the
"Cormorant," with her Blue Peter flying, was ready for a start northward
to dear old England. The Guernseaise had departed amid give and take
cheering directly after breakfast, so that only the crew of the vessel
remained. My father bade me an affectionate farewell on the deck of the
vessel, but at the last embrace I felt too full of emotion to speak, for
a lump was in my throat, and a tear started from my father's eye and
rolled down his bronzed cheek, so that I knew that he, too, was greatly
moved at losing me for such a long period. A firm grip of the hand told
without words how we, father and son, loved each other, and to hide my
emotion I tumbled over the bulwarks into the dingy, and was pulled
ashore by a couple of hands, amid the hearty cheers of the men who stood
on deck. They gave me a salute of twelve _guns_ (fired from two
revolvers).
I stood on the rocky shore and waved a tablecloth tied to a boat-hook
till the vessel was hull down on the horizon, and then turned my face to
my island home, not feeling nearly so happy as I had anticipated a month
before. Alone! I felt as if the whole world had departed from me, and
that I was the sole survivor of the human race.
[Illustration: Decorative chapter heading]
CHAPTER III.
FIRST THOUGHTS AND IMPRESSIONS--A TOUR OF THE ISLAND AND
DESCRIPTION.
As I walked up the rocky path leading to the house, I must confess I
felt anything but sprightly. I felt that Crusoe life, after all, was not
all _caviare_. I was very depressed, and must admit a few tears, as the
whole force of what I had undertaken presented itself vividly to my
mind. What if I met with an accident? What if I were taken ill? Suppose
someone put in at night and cut my throat for the sake of plunder? Who
would help me? Who would know of my position? Might I not die any one of
a hundred deaths without the fact being known for weeks, perhaps months?
What did this idiotic idea of mine amount to after all? Where was the
pleasure? Would it not be better to be home in dear old Barton with my
skiff and pretty Priscilla?
Such were some of my thoughts, but my depression I cannot so readily
sprinkle on paper, and will not try to describe it. Let it suffice that
_I was_ depressed, and deeply too.
I felt thirsty, so wandered to the house and sat down and poured myself
out a bottle of Bass, and as I drank it, became aware of the presence of
my dog, who placed his muzzle in my hand and looked into my face with
positively tears in his dear old eyes. Why, after all, I was not alone.
No, here was a friend indeed (teste Byron), who would be ever by my side
in weal and woe. "Poor dog, are you hungry then?" Yes he was, and by the
bye, why should I not try something? We ate; and in half an hour--such
is the changeableness of the human mind--I was as happy as a sand-boy
(whatever that may be), as I wandered by the sunny shore.
I would make a tour of inspection of my estate; and, reader, if you will
kindly accompany me, I will show you the different sights of my little
island.
Jethou, I must premise, is about half a mile long by a quarter wide. It
rises steeply from the sea all round, except at the North end, where the
slope is somewhat gentle. It is a dome-shaped mass, rising at the summit
to a height of nearly three hundred feet. It may serve to give a good
idea of its form if I liken it to a huge dish cover (a Britannia metal
one, if you will, for it is crown property), as it is very symmetrical
when viewed from a distance. It is, in fact, a huge bosom-like hill,
around which three paths are cut; the first varying from fifty to a
hundred feet above the sea, the second averages one hundred and fifty
feet above high water, and another runs round perhaps fifty feet higher
still. These paths at certain points are connected by other paths, so
that one may readily get from one elevation to another, except where
the island is unusually steep, when zig-zag paths have to be negotiated.
In one part seven or eight zig-zags have to be walked to rise to an
elevation of about sixty or seventy feet, so steep is the south end of
the island. At the north-west rises a curious pyramidal mass of granite,
about one hundred and twenty feet above high water, called Crevicon,
which may be reached on foot at low tide or even quarter flood; but
after the tide once gets above the boulders it comes in like a mill
race, rising at times during certain winds as much as seven feet within
the hour; so that one may be cut off from the main island in a very few
minutes, as it would be madness to try and cross during a heavy sea,
whatever excellent swimming powers one might possess, as the rush of the
tide would sweep one away like a straw.
Strange to say, there is another of these vast piles of granite, but of
greater altitude and bulk, at the south end of the island, with just
such a race of water running between it and the mainland after the tide
turns. It is called La Fauconnaire, or the Falconry, and approaches two
hundred feet in height, and very difficult of ascent. Each of these
rock-islands is surmounted by a stone beacon in form of a miniature
lighthouse tower (without the lantern story), about fifteen feet high.
These beacons serve seamen as landmarks, from which to take bearings,
and to warn them of the danger of a too near approach to this dreadful
coast--or rather coasts--for all these islands are terrible places in
rough weather.
[Illustration: ISLAND of JETHOU By E. R. Suffling]
Now I will ask the reader to accompany me on a brief tour round the
island. Starting from the house, past the pigeon-tower, we pass under
some large walnut trees so thickly planted as to make the part very
shady, even on a bright day, and on dull days quite gloomy. We take the
middle path, which is about four feet wide, and flanked on each side by
braken and boulders. Indeed, nearly half the island consists of brakes
and granite blocks. I will mention the various items of interest as we
pass along, if the reader will supply his own imaginings of whirling
seagulls, frisking rabbits, sea breezes, bellowing surge as it bumps and
breaks against the granite sides of the island, flowers and bloom,
singing birds and sweet-smelling shrubs, etc. These things a mere pen,
however facile and graceful, cannot adequately describe without the help
of the reader's brain; so I will ask him to imagine the above for
himself, but I must warn him not to take cold with his lively
imagination, as occasionally the March winds are very keen here, and in
the present age of hypnotism, and thought-reading, and like gymnastics
of the brain, it is very easy to make the imagination play pranks of an
undesirable nature.
Now to resume our walk. Taking the middle path we quickly ascend to a
height of nearly two hundred feet above the boiling surge dashing
against the impregnable rocks below, and get a splendid view of
Guernsey, a good three miles distant, stretching far away to the north,
where it lies so low that it seems to melt gradually away into the sea.
Presently we come to some huge rocks which lie so much in our path that
the footway has to wind round them. They are huge masses of granite so
poised that apparently a good push would send them rolling into the sea
below, but their very size makes them secure, as some of the larger ones
must certainly weigh forty or fifty tons, and the wind would have to
blow a hurricane indeed which would dislodge them.
Here is one weighing perhaps three or four hundredweight which I will
try and push over. I tug, and push, and presently it nods, and nods, and
rolls over and over, till gathering impetus down the steep side of the
island, it crashes with irresistible force through the furze, and
heather, and shrubs, clearing a path as it goes till it reaches the
granite rocks, upon which it crashes and bounds, breaking off great
splinters, till finally with a boom it buries itself in the foam, never
more to be seen by mortal eyes.
Following the path we come to some curious terraces, one above the
other, which form a hanging garden facing due south. Now covered with
turf, it was many years ago a famous potato garden. This spot is known
as the Cotils.
Almost opposite this end of the island and at a short distance, rises
the huge pyramidal mass of granite called La Fauconnaire (The Falconry).
It is nearly two hundred feet high, and surmounted, as already
mentioned, by a white stone beacon, which from Jethou looks the shape
and size of a loaf of white sugar; but a scramble to the top of the
rocks for those who have nerve to climb the steep sides of La
Fauconnaire, will show that the sugar loaf is fifteen feet high. La
Fauconnaire is, I believe, unclimbable except at one place, at least for
those who are not experienced cragsmen or Alpine experts. At low water
a causeway of rocks joins it to the mainland, but at half-tide even it
is impassable, except in a boat on a calm day. On a windy day such a
strong tide rushes through the strait that a boat would be swept away in
the attempt to cross, although the distance is only four or five hundred
feet. The narrowness of the channel makes the rush greater.
Still keeping the middle path we come to an awful yawning chasm in the
earth, called La Creux Terrible. Its sides are so sheer that one
shudders to approach its crumbling brink for fear a slip should mean a
step into eternity. No man could fall here and live to tell the
sensation. Standing near the brink one can just discern the bottom, and
hear the sea surging and rolling along the floor as the tide gradually
rises. The chasm is funnel-shaped, and about two hundred feet deep by
about one hundred feet across. The bottom is connected with the beach by
a cavern, which may be entered at low tide, and the view taken from
below upward; but woe to the individual caught in this cave, for he
would have but a poor chance for his life if the tide once hemmed him
in.
Leaving this dreadful place, which I never approached but twice in the
dark, we shortly come to a very noticeable rock rising from the sea; it
is called Le Rocher Rouge, but as the apex takes the form of a gigantic
arm-chair, I have taken the liberty (as I have done with many other
places and things) of rechristening it Trone de Neptune (Neptune's
Throne), and it has so fixed itself in my mind, that I have often during
a stormy night wondered if he might not be sitting there ruling the
elements, but never had the temerity to go and see. I may here tell the
reader that although not naturally superstitious, I have a way of
peopling my island with beings during the solitary walks I take in the
day, that at night I almost fancy these spirit-forms hover round
me--perhaps watching me. It may be that I have mistaken the flight of a
sea-gull or night-bird for something superhuman, but on several
occasions I have been warned of approaching danger by something outside
myself; not tangible to the touch, nor definable to the eye, but still
noticeable to the ear and to the mind. Put it down a bird, as your
opinion, reader, and enjoy that opinion, and let me enjoy my warning
watchers, whether fowl or spirit. Perhaps during my narrative I may have
more to say of my "hovering ones."
From the island, at the point opposite Neptune's Throne, a good view of
Sark is obtained; on one day it will be seen standing clearly above the
sea, with Brechou or Merchant's Island clearly discernible, and La
Coupee (the isthmus which holds the two parts of the island together)
plainly in view in the sunlight; while on another day but a misty view
of it may be obtained; on yet another day it will be quite invisible,
although the distance is only about six miles.
Resuming our path, Herm is close on our right, the swift channel, La
Percee, running between us and it, and as it lies in the sun looks a
very beautiful picture, especially as the prettiest end, the south, is
presented to our view. A little further we turn up the hill and come to
a grove of rather stunted trees, standing like a double row of soldiers
up to their knees in braken. It is a lovely spot, as the pretty
fern-like brakes grow in great luxuriance beneath the spreading arms of
the walnut and other trees. These brakes grow so tall and thick that it
is quite difficult to force a passage through them, except where I have
cut a narrow path leading to a clearing, across which, on hot days, I
frequently swing my hammock, so as to obtain the full benefit of the
cool sea breeze as I sway beneath the welcome shadow of the biggest
walnut.
Beyond the grove, at the summit of the island, is my arable land, my
farm, lying in a fence of wire-netting, without which I should not be
able to preserve a blade of anything eatable from the hordes of rabbits
which make the island a perfect warren.
We descend again to the pathway with care, as the island's side is so
steep here that a trip over a stone or root might result in fatal
consequences.
As we approach the north-east corner of the island we find the pathway
gradually descending, till we are not more than twenty or thirty feet
above sea level, and notice that a spur of land hooks out into the sea,
forming quite a little bay, very rugged, and very rocky, but still very
convenient as a haven in light weather. Here I keep my crab and lobster
pots, as it is easily accessible from the house. I call it Baie de
Homard (Lobster Bay).
Keeping along the shore, to the north end of the island, we arrive at a
two-storied stone building which stands on the beach. This is my
store-house (for fishing gear, etc.) and workshop, and is situated only
a short distance from the house--perhaps three hundred yards. In the
days of the old privateers this house played an important part, for it
was fitted as a blacksmith's and carpenter's shop, and was probably a
very handy place for slight repairs to be carried out at very short
notice.
Leaving the Store, a beautiful velvety path, broad enough for a cart
road, leads up a slight ascent skirting the beach to the house and
cottage, which I naturally call by a word very dear to me in my
solitude--_home_.
I will ask the reader to glance at the accompanying plan to aid him in
getting a clearer idea of this homestead than my pen, unaided by
pictorial effort, would convey.
A, then, is a comfortable and picturesque four-roomed cottage. B is the
stable for my noble steed, Edward. C is the store-house, with loft over
for straw, etc., for said noble quadruped. In the store I keep my
utensils and implements for farm work, potatoes, flour, coals, and other
heavy goods. D, sheltered garden for winter crops; F, the vegetable and
fruit garden, in the midst of which stands an immense and very prolific
mulberry tree; it spreads its branches fifty-four feet from north to
south, and fifty-one feet from east to west. The garden contains fruit
trees of all kinds. E, the Seignieurie or Government House--my
palace--or, in plain words, a solid stone-built four-roomed house that
might stand a siege. The front windows look out over the lawn, G, to the
sea beyond, and those at the back command the well-walled-in fruit
garden, F. H is devoted to shrubs and medicinal herbs. J is the
flower-garden with a summer-house in the corner. K, the well of
excellent water. L, flight of stone steps to the lower path leading
round the island. M, pigeon-tower and fowl-house amidst walnut trees. N,
Plantation and forest trees. O, watch house, once used as a strong room
or prison. P, an old iron gun (mounted on a stone platform, which would
probably fall to pieces at the first discharge) for summoning aid in
case of sickness or distress. Q, road to fishing-store and boathouse. R,
path up the hill to the piggery.
I think the reader may, from the foregoing, form some idea of the island
and homestead, as I have taken him all round the former, and pointed
out, although very briefly, the various portions of the latter. I have
wasted no time nor ink in so doing, as he like myself, will doubtless
find more pleasure in the narrative which commences in the succeeding
chapter. A fair idea of the island is necessary, so as clearly to
understand some of the incidents which are placed before the reader, and
I trust I have said sufficient to enable him to follow me in what I have
to tell of my sojourn on the pretty, though solitary island of Jethou.
A glance at the accompanying map will give a good idea of the various
places in Jethou mentioned in this story.
[Illustration: Decorative scroll]
[Illustration: PLAN OF HOMESTEAD 1890]
[Illustration: Decorative chapter heading]
CHAPTER IV.
FARMING OPERATIONS--I MAKE A PLOUGH AND A CART--A DONKEY HUNT--DUMB
HELPERS--MY LIVE STOCK.
My first few days were spent pleasantly enough, but as soon as the sun
had set my spirits would droop, and I felt anything but jolly, but like
Mark Tapley, I firmly made up my mind to be happy under all
circumstances.
I had a deal of unpacking to do, and determined, as my stay was to be a
lengthy one, "to find a place for everything, and keep everything in its
place." My initial motto was a good one, and I worked for quite a week
scheming and contriving all kinds of receptacles and appliances for my
heterogeneous goods and chattels.
My goat and donkey I turned loose, and as for my pigs, I had not seen
them since I landed; but I trusted that they were not like the
evil-tempered swine of the Bible, who cast themselves headlong into the
sea, for if that were the case they could commence their suicide at any
moment by rolling down any of the steep sides of the island into the
sea. I trusted that my pigs were sweet-tempered beasts, and of a
non-suicidal variety, and so they afterwards proved, and toothsome into
the bargain.
The boathouse received my canoe, fishing gear, carpenter's tools, and
gunpowder, for I was afraid to keep the latter near the house, as I had
a large quantity, nearly half a hundredweight. I had this large quantity
for several reasons, the principal being that I wished to shoot a large
collection of sea fowl, and still have plenty for the big cannon which
was to summon aid from Herm or Guernsey, should it be required. My good
father had made arrangements for me to signal as follows:
If I fired a single gun, the coastguard from Herm would put off to my
aid; if two guns were fired, help was to be considered very urgent, and
either the coastguard or one of the peasants of Herm would put over, if
the weather were calm enough to allow of a boat being launched. If I
fired minute guns, either by night or day, they would be reported to the
harbour master of St. Peter Port, who had my father's instructions to
send out a doctor immediately. Thus I felt comparatively easy in my mind
as to help in case of great need, either by accident or sickness. My
gunpowder was therefore kept in the lower floor of the boathouse, as I
thought it the safest place. I took only a pound at a time to the house
for shooting purposes.
Having got everything stowed away to my satisfaction, my next step was
to look over the island and see how I could employ my time in
cultivating the soil. Near the top I found a large patch of arable land
fenced in with wire netting, but it was greatly overgrown, having
apparently been some time out of cultivation. I stepped it out in as
correct yards as I could command by striding, and to my dismay found
there were just two acres, which discovery somewhat nonplussed me for a
time; for to dig over two acres with a spade was no light task, and I
took time to reflect and see if I could not concoct some easier means of
turning the soil than by digging.
Down I sat upon a stone and lighted my pipe--the solitary man's
comforter--and with my gun across my knees ready for a stray shot, I
made out my plan of campaign, after much cogitation. Why not make a
plough? Nothing is made of nothing! What had I to turn into a plough?
Then the idea of a real Saxon plough came into my head, and there the
idea took tangible form, as I saw close by me a tree which would answer
my purpose. Down went my gun, and away I trotted down the rocky path to
the house, and quickly returned with an axe. I was quite out of breath
when I regained the tree, having made as much haste as if the tree were
provided with means of locomotion, or as if I had to cut down the tree
in a given time; but that is just my way, I am much too impulsive.
A few strokes laid the tree low, and I soon had it trimmed ready for my
purpose. My next care was to make a pair of wheels, and this took me
much longer. I had noticed during one of my walks a large tree that had
been felled for some purpose, but never used, and to it I repaired with
a saw and worked away for several hours, cutting two slices from the
fairly symmetrical bole, about four inches wide. These gave me a pair
of solid wheels about twenty inches in diameter, which were large enough
for my purpose. These I attached to a short axle and bolted to the tree
which I felled, and by horizontally thrusting an iron rod, two feet
long, through the nose of my plough, about eighteen inches from the end,
I had my implement complete. The iron rod was to keep the pointed end of
my oak tree from burying itself too deeply in the ground. It was not a
beautiful object, but its usefulness condoned its ugliness.
[Illustration: MY PLOUGH.--UTILITY, NOT BEAUTY.]
I placed my handiwork aside for a season, and the next two days made
myself a curious sideless cart, which I could not help thinking bore a
great resemblance to a ladder on wheels. Two more sections from the big
tree formed the wheels, while a square piece of quartering thrust
through formed an axletree. The shafts and body of my vehicle were two
thick ash saplings twelve feet long, joined together with barrel staves
two and a half feet long, with the convex sides downward; then fore and
aft of the wheels I erected a species of gibbet to prevent my load from
shifting, which having done, my antediluvian chariot was complete.
[Illustration: AN ANTEDILUVIAN CHARIOT.]
Having provided my implements I now proceeded to till my land. I took a
whole back-aching day to pluck all the large weeds and stones off my
farm, and retired weary at night to dream of my flourishing crops of the
future.
Up with the lark next morning, I set out to find my noble long-eared
steed, Edward; but although I roamed about for an hour and a half I
could not discover him anywhere, so breakfasted and searched again, but
to no purpose. I gave him up as having been drowned whilst browsing on
the toothsome but truculent thistle or gorse. I looked at my plough and
cart in dismay, saying, "Man proposes, and an ass disposes." But shortly
after this dismal reflection, judge of my joy when I heard his musical
voice lifted up in sweet song, and borne to my enraptured ears on the
balmy noontide breeze. Laugh not, reader, for the poor brute's voice
_was_ sweeter to me in my loneliness than that of the greatest operatic
singer who ever trilled her wondrous notes.
Even after hearing the ass's braying I was a long time before I came
upon him quite down upon the stony shore, with not a blade of grass nor
even a thistle for him to nibble at. How he got there is to me a problem
to this day; but how I laboured to get him up again will ever remain in
my mind, for it makes me feel sore all over to think of it.
Where I found him was at the south end of the island, facing rocky
Fauconnaire. How I wandered up and down seeking a place for him to
regain the lower path of the island. But all in vain. No place could I
find; and all the afternoon I worked like a Titan, getting him up to the
pathway again. Poor fellow! he was very docile, and I had thoughts of
trying to carry him up; but although I got under him and lifted him, I
could not climb with him, so at last had recourse to a block and fall,
and after bruising and battering the poor creature somewhat, I got him
to a safe ledge of rock, from whence by pushing, and tugging, and
lifting, I got him up, foot after foot, till the perspiration streamed
down my face. The real Robinson Crusoe never had anything half so
difficult as this to contend with, and yet here was I at the outset
working harder than a galley slave! I envied Robinson Crusoe number one,
and went at my donkey again, till towards evening I got him to the lower
path, and after a rest rode him home in triumph, lecturing him severely
all the way "not to be such an ass again."
Next day I was _not_ up with the lark--in fact it was past nine before
I opened my eyes, so much had the previous day's exertions tired me. I
felt tired and stiff all over, but my morning tub and breakfast quickly
restored me nearly to par.
Edward was now domiciled in the stable, so putting on his collar and a
pair of home-made traces I harnessed him, with the help of various
contrivances of cord and staples, to my mediaeval cart, and _bumped_ (for
my cart was springless) down to the beach to gather seaweed. All day
long we worked, "Eddy" and I, taking load after load to the top of the
island; and the next day too was occupied in carting up seaweed or
"vraic," as the natives call it, except that we also took up two or
three loads of withered bracken, leaves, and other rubbish, which I
burned and spread over the land.
After the ash and seaweed were spread I ploughed it in after a fashion,
streaking long shallow trenches with my pointed wooden plough, till I
had gone over the whole of the land. I looked at the tumbled ground with
no great satisfaction, for as much of the manure-seaweed was upon the
surface as under, so I turned to and ploughed crossways, which gave it a
little better appearance. Then I allowed it a week to rest, taking my
spade in the meantime and breaking the lumps and digging in the straying
"vraic." At length I had my land in tolerable order, although the
seaweed refused to rot as quickly as I desired. I reckoned, however,
that it would rot in time, and thus nourish the seed I put in, and so it
did.
I will not weary the readers with too much of my farming cares, but have
written a little about it to show what obstacles a Crusoe has to
overcome, and how hard he has to work to gain his ends. He has no one to
pat his back when he is triumphant, nor anyone to sympathise with him
over a failure. He is his own critic and censor. Suffice it to say that
in due course I had patches of barley, clover, lucerne, mangold,
carrots, etc., sown, and when once the seeds were in I had plenty of
leisure for other pursuits.
Although early spring, the weather was very mild to what I had been used
to on the Norfolk coast; in fact the temperature was as warm in April as
it is in the East of England at the end of May.
The garden by the house also had my care, for I planted enough edibles
in it to have maintained a large family, instead of a solitary being
like myself. Still, I counted my animals as my family, and got to love
them all, even to the little pigs. I named them all. There was my dog
"Begum," the donkey "Eddy," the goat "Unicorn," which I contracted to
"Corny." This name was derived from the fact that she had broken off one
horn close to her head. The pigs being twins were "Romulus" and "Remus,"
and, like the first Romans of that name, had frequent family quarrels,
which were, however, soon ended, the brothers rolling over each other in
delight in their pig stye.
"Corny" gave me about a pint to a pint and a half of milk a day, which I
found quite sufficient for my wants, as I only used it for breakfast and
tea, water forming my invariable drink for dinner. Breakfast and
tea-supper I usually took with some show of punctuality, but my dinner
was eaten in all sorts of places--on the Crevicon, in my canoe, on the
beach, or in the grove--in fact, just where I happened to be when I felt
hungry and had my wallet with me.
"Begum" always took his meals with me, except when I was on the sea,
when the poor fellow would follow my canoe round the island, and watch
till I came back again. Then his joy knew no bounds. He would go fairly
mad with delight, and I must confess I used to look for my comrade as
fondly as if he were a brother awaiting my landing. He would carry quite
a big load for me up the rocky cliff path, and esteem it quite a
pleasure; but when I had anything extra heavy to take up I made him
fetch "Eddy" to my aid. Strange as it may seem, this was a very simple
proceeding, for I taught him in a couple of days, thus:
On the stable door I fastened a piece of wood to act as a fall-latch,
which worked so easily that "Begum" could lift it with his nose and
allow the door to swing open. Then "Eddy" would march out, and wherever
I happened to be, would trot to me at the sound of my voice. Indeed, at
length he used to follow "Begum," directly he was released, to any part
of the island. Therefore, if I required "Eddy's" services when I was
quite at the south end of the island, I had only to send "Begum" to
fetch him, and away they would come together. This proceeding had only
one drawback, and that was, that "Eddy" would always help himself to a
mouthful of anything in the way of green food, which happened to be
growing within his reach, if he had to come near my little farm. I
verily believe that "Begum" used to take his friend past my crops on
purpose, although it was by no means the easiest way to get to the
Cotils, where my potato crop grew, and where I often used to go to get a
shot at the sea fowl on the Fauconnaire. As the crops were principally
for his own winter maintenance, I could not grudge him a bite of his
food in advance.
Many a time when I have landed from my boat very tired, after a long
cruise or fishing expedition, I have always found "Begum" waiting for
me, ready to fetch "Eddy," at my word, to help to beach the boat and
carry my gear up the cliff. This used to be of such frequent occurrence
that upon the end of the boat's painter I worked a kind of collar for
"Eddy" to pull upon in comfort. This collar I made of old sacking sewed
over with sennet, and I must say it was quite a success, for he would
hold his head out as naturally to receive the collar as a beggar would
hold out his hat for the reception of an alms.
The pigeons I brought with me and placed in the cote or tower soon
departed or died; possibly they were killed by hawks or other birds, but
that I never could discover. Anyway, the tower was not long tenantless,
for a pair of owls took up their abode there, and soon had a family of
six fluffy little fellows. Instead of destroying these birds as many
persons do in England, I allowed them to haunt the tower, in return for
which they kept the mice down, and I could not find that they did me any
kind of damage. I got quite to like their "to-whitting" and "to-wooing"
more than the monotonous "cooing" of the pigeons which never did sound
like music to my ears.
My six hens and a cockerel were located in the watch-house, from whence
they had the run of a large piece of wild ground overhanging the cliff.
Eggs I had in abundance, and even to spare, and before I left the island
had over thirty fowls. Beside the fowls' eggs I could, in the spring,
gather the eggs of the wild fowl inhabiting the islands by the score.
Enough of animals and birds; let us open another chapter on another
topic.
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CHAPTER V.
CANOEING--FISH OF THE PLACE--THE ORMER AND LIMPET--A CURIOUS
FISHING ADVENTURE--QUEER CAPTURES FROM THE SEA--ROCK
FISH--CONSTRUCT A FISH-POND AND WATER-MILL.
When the warm days and calm seas of May came I turned my thoughts to the
sea, of which I am passionately fond, and of which one never seemed to
tire, as one does of tame river water. Unfortunately my only vessel was
a canoe about fourteen feet long by three feet beam, and for sea work,
such as one gets round the shores of these islands, quite unfitted; but
there it was, and I had simply Hobson's choice--that or none.
On a calm sea, with a tide running only one way, such as one gets on the
English coast, the canoe was all very well and fairly safe; but here,
through the Percee, as the channel is called between Herm and Jethou,
the tide at times runs with great speed, and meeting with the resistance
of the Ferriers and other huge rocks, whirls, and turns, and foams in
all directions, so that a frail craft like a canoe would be a death-trap
to anyone foolhardy enough to venture out in it. That being the case, I
could only follow my canoeing hobby when the sea was calm, but even then
did not venture far from land.
I had several narrow escapes from upsetting, and at last, whilst lying
sleeplessly in bed (where, by-the-bye, most of my thinking and scheming
is done), the idea of making alterations in my canoe came under my
consideration, and before I went to sleep that night I had made up my
mind to improve her stability in several ways. I would make her fore and
aft compartments air-tight, so that if she turned turtle she would act
as a life preserver, and moreover, why not add an outrigger, such as the
natives of the Pacific have to theirs, making them almost impossible to
upset?
The second day saw my plans an accomplished fact. I put in bulkheads
fore and aft, and pitched the canoe inside and out, making her heavier,
but thoroughly water-tight--the end compartments being even air-tight. I
raised the combing of the well to six inches in height, put on a deeper
keel, shortened my mast, and added an outrigger. What more _could_ I do?
The outrigger I made of a bundle of bamboos lashed firmly together, like
the pictures one sees of the old Roman Fascines, or Rods of Authority,
and this I fastened about five feet from the side by means of a couple
of stout ash saplings. I found these improvements so admirable, that I
was not afraid in light winds (having gained a knowledge of the tides
and currents) of venturing anywhere either around Jethou or Herm.
Immense quantities of fish are found all round Jethou, the principal
being lobsters, crabs, crayfish, spider crabs, plaice, John Dorey,
soles, ormers, pollock, bass, gurnard, skate, cod, long-nose, rock fish,
turbot, brill, whiting, and conger.
Several of the fish I had never seen before, as they are rarely if ever
caught off the Norfolk coast; thus John Dorey, spiders, ormers, rock
fish, and pollock were all new to me, and gave me great enjoyment in
their capture, beside which I was greatly taken with the flavour of both
the Dorey and pollock, scores of which I caught in the Percee.
The ormer, rarely seen in England, is, I believe, sometimes called the
Sea Ear. It is somewhat the shape and size of a half cocoa nut (divided
lengthwise). The outside of the shell is of a rough texture, and of a
dull red colour, while the inside is beautifully coloured with an
iridescent mother o' pearl coating. (Why do we never hear anything of
the father o' pearl?) The ormer adheres to the rocks like the limpet
tribe, but is seldom seen above _low_ water-mark, like the limpet, who
loves to be exposed to the sun and air twice a day.
The flesh of the ormer, when grilled, is something like a veal cutlet
cooked in a fishy frying-pan, and I cannot say I was greatly enraptured
with the uncommon univalve.
My first meeting with the ormer was by accident. I was having an _al
fresco_ lunch of bread and raw limpets which I was detaching from the
rocks, eating them with a seasoning of vinegar and pepper which I had
brought with me when, being close down to the water among some outlying
rocks (as it was a very low neap tide), I saw something just under the
surface of a pool, of a dull red colour, which I perceived to be a
shell-fish of some kind. Stooping down, with a rapid blow of my knife I
detached it, and ere it sank into the unknown depths of the pool,
plunged in my left hand and secured it. It was an ormer--at least, so I
supposed, and on this supposition took it home and compared it with a
book on shells I had, and being satisfied with my researches, cooked and
ate the mollusc, although in some doubt. Next day, feeling much as the
first man who ever swallowed an oyster did--alive and hearty--I went at
dead low tide and gathered some more and ate also, but finally came to
the conclusion that one good sole was worth a sack of ormers. Still,
there is no accounting for taste. Some of the islanders are very fond of
ormers; but what is one man's meat is another's "_poisson_."
Although at neap tide on many occasions I gathered many more, it was
more for the beauty of the shells than the flavour of the fish inside
them.
For one with artistic tastes and love of colour like myself, the
interior of an ormer shell is a veritable fairy grotto. One discovery I
made regarding them and that is, that they form a dainty dish for the
huge conger eels which abound among the rocks, and about this bait I
must presently tell a little more.
The granite rocks below high water-mark are simply spotted all over with
myriads of limpets, some of them of enormous size. Many of the shells in
my collection are over three inches across, and the fish when cooked
make two ample mouthfuls. My manner of dressing them was to place them
in a tub of sea water for a night, and then to lay them on a gridiron,
point downward, over a bright fire, and grill them. When cooked they
would drop out of their shells when turned upside down over a plate
containing vinegar and pepper, and I considered them very nice. A friend
of mine who has tasted them in Cornwall says they would make any
well-bred dog sick. Thus, I say again, tastes vary!
I must allow, however, that the leathery limpet is as far behind the
delicious sole or turbot in flavour, as a turnip is inferior to an
apple; but still a change is desirable, and for the matter of change I
think I had a turn at everything eatable on the island or in the sea
surrounding it, and still live to tell the tale.
Well, now, let me tell an adventure that befell me while conger fishing
off the Crevichon one calm evening just after dark. First let me point
out a device I had to adopt because my canoe had not sufficient space to
hold or carry all the fish I sometimes caught. I had to have recourse to
a floating fish carrier, and this I contrived out of an old dry goods
box, which I bored full of holes, so as to allow a current of water to
flow through and keep my fish alive. To give floating power to this
_fish-pound_, I fastened large bungs all round the outside, and to each
of the four corners I attached an inflated bladder, so that I could
easily store in it from thirty to forty pounds of fish, as it must be
observed, that whilst _in_ the water the fish will swim, and thus add
but little weight to their floating prison. This box I attached to the
outrigger by a stout lanyard, and fended it off with the paddle, if the
eddy brought it in too close proximity to my craft.
Well, to my fish story. I had been anchored for about two hours near
Rocher Rouge fishing for conger, of which I had caught three small ones,
beside several rock fish and whiting, when I thought I would try another
kind of bait, so I armed my hook with a small ormer, which being of a
gristly texture, held on the barb well. Over the side went the gear,
attached to a strong line of thick water-cord, and although it was down
a considerable time no warning tug gave hope of sport to follow, so I
busied myself with the other two lines I had down, with a fair amount of
success. At length getting tired of taking nothing on my big line, I
thought I would coil it up and examine the bait, but when I had got the
line straight up and down it refused to leave the bottom, tug as I
would. I pulled till my canoe danced and bobbed about in an alarming
manner, in fact, till the coaming was in danger of going under the
gently heaving sea, but to no purpose; it would not budge, so tripping
anchor I paid out line and paddled fifty yards, thinking that if my hook
had fouled a rock I might by a side pull clear it. I hauled in gently,
and to my surprise found the line come in with a curious vibrating
motion, in little jerks, till it got straight up and down again, and
then I had a hard pull to get it from the bottom; but still I did get it
up little by little, and was now positive that it was a fish of some
kind, and of great weight. Foot after foot of line came in very
spasmodically, and with great reluctance, till at last a great, ugly,
slimy head, with yellow-green eyes, came above the surface, and so large
did it appear, that it quite took me aback. In my surprise I let go
several coils of the line before I knew what I was about. The head was
enormous and _ex pede Hercules_. I knew the body must be of gigantic
proportions too. That I had hooked one of Neptune's fiends seemed
certain, and I was some time before I hauled up again to see really what
I had captured. In came the line again, foot by foot, with great
difficulty, till at length up came the terrible head again. But this
time I was prepared, and setting my teeth, held on. It was a huge
conger, such as I had never seen before, and which came very near being
the last I might gaze upon, for suddenly it brought its tail up over the
outrigger, and before I could counterbalance my craft, seemed to swamp
the canoe by its dead weight and the power of its fins. I was in the
water in a second, but never loosened my hold of the line. Letting go
the loose coils I struck out for Rocher Rouge, only some fifty yards
away, and, landing at the foot of the great granite throne, commenced to
haul in my line. To my joy the canoe, which still floated with its
coamings out of water, although the well was full, followed my line. I
afterwards ascertained that in falling overboard I had dropped between
the canoe and outrigger, and had thus drawn the line through the
intervening space after me. To this fact I owed the recovery of my
craft, which would otherwise have floated away, as I should have been
afraid to follow it, although an excellent swimmer, as the currents are
here so strong that I should probably never have got back again.
[Illustration: "I WAS SWAMPED IN A MOMENT."]
The canoe came slowly in till it was within reach, when I seized it, and
with a mighty effort dragged it ashore undamaged. The lines I also drew
in and coiled tidily away, leaving the long one till the last, which, to
my great surprise, when I hauled in, still had the monstrous eel in tow.
I quite thought he had freed himself when he swamped me, but such was
evidently not the case. Having a firm footing I hauled in my line with
more confidence, and at length got my lord close to the rocks, and in
the clear water could see his huge length and thickness. He was a
terrible fellow, and if he had got my legs in his embrace might have
easily drowned me; but I did not give him a chance to use either his
tail or teeth, but getting his head close to the rocks I took a turn of
the line round a projecting crag, and proceeded to slaughter the monster
with my only weapon, the paddle. He took a lot of assassinating, but
gave up the ghost at last, after I had nearly pounded his head to a
jelly.
Old "Begum," I must mention, witnessed my sudden departure from my
canoe, and the dear old fellow arrived at Rocher Rouge at the same
moment that I landed, so that we faced each other dripping wet in a most
comical manner. I sent "Begum" to fetch "Eddy," and in the meantime
emptied the canoe and put all straight, so that when the two animals
appeared on the cliff, standing out in bold relief against the clear
sky, I was in my canoe and on the way to the Cotills. They followed me
till I landed, and came and stood by me like two old comrades. I had
dragged the conger after me through the sea with a cord through his
gills, and this cord I attached to "Eddy," who dragged him home in
triumph, while I sat on his back, _a la conqueror_, as I rode into my
domain, tired and wet, and as hungry as the proverbial hunter.
A cheerful blaze of wood soon caused the kettle to boil, and over my
tea-supper I congratulated myself over my lucky adventure, for to lose
neither fish, canoe, nor self, was indeed a large slice of luck.
Next day I improvised a pair of scales with the help of a half
hundredweight and a seven-pound weight which I possessed, and found to
my surprise that the monster weighed one hundred and three pounds. This
was not only the largest eel I ever caught, but the largest I ever saw.
In Guernsey market the heaviest conger I saw was one of sixty-seven
pounds--a baby in comparison to mine!
The weights I used in weighing the monster were stones adjusted to the
proper iron weights, which I used as standards, and then by selecting
various sized stones obtained after great toil a whole set, from one
pound up to ten pounds, and thus could weigh anything.
I had many other fishing adventures, but I think the above was about the
most exciting. I had many good takes of whiting and pollock, but was not
so fortunate among the soles, and plaice, and such-like ground game, as
my net was a very ramshackle affair of my own construction.
I had also some remarkable miscellaneous captures at different times.
Once in the winter I had laid a long line for codling, and brought up,
firmly hooked, a very nice red tablecloth, beautifully worked round the
edge by some skilled hand in an Oriental pattern. I used it on gala
days as a flag, and I dare say passers by in the various vessels
wondered to what nationality it belonged, as the centre was ornamented
with a golden elephant with very curly tusks worked in white beads.
Another day I fished up a copper oil can, such as engineers use to oil
machinery with; and yet another time a bag of gravel which had
apparently once formed part of a yacht's ballast.
When I found time heavy on my hands I would often take my canoe about
fifty yards south of La Fauconnaire, and with two or three lines fish
for rock fish, and never, on a single occasion, returned empty-handed.
The worst part of this performance was digging the bait of lugworms on
the little beach of Crevichon. It was terribly hard work lifting the
rocks and boulders aside to find a place to dig, and then it was harder
work in digging the nasty worms from the granite grit in which they
resided, dwelt, or had their horrid being. Probably these hairy, oozy
creatures have their joys and pleasures, and their woes, just as every
other of God's creatures, but of what their happiness consists who can
tell? Anyway they are good for bait, and so have use if not beauty to
commend them.
Crabs and lobsters I could trap at any time by putting down "pots"
anywhere round the island; but after a few weeks I got quite tired of
them for the table, but would occasionally put down a couple of "pots"
to see what of a curious nature I could catch. The crayfish,
spider-crabs, and hermit crabs, gave me infinite amusement, as they are
so different in their manners and customs to the ordinary crabs, and are
very bellicose, going for each other tooth and nail, or rather legs and
claws, in a most terrible manner. The way these little crustaceans
maimed each other put me in mind of the scene in Scott's "Fair Maid of
Perth," where the rival clans hew each others' limbs off with
double-handed swords, so that a truce has to be called for the purpose
of clearing the battle-ground of human _debris_. The crabs have the
advantage over the human species, insomuch that they can reproduce a
lost limb.
Finding I could catch a large quantity of fish of all kinds, especially
rock fish, which, being new to me, I greatly admired, I set about
constructing a fish pond near the house.
These rock fish are a curiosity in the way of fish. They run from about
six inches to two feet in length; weigh from a few ounces to a dozen
pounds, and no two that I have ever caught are alike, either in colour
or disposition of spots. They are spotty and speckly all over. Some have
copper-coloured spots, some yellow, some brown, some green, some red,
and some an assortment of colours, so that one never knows what colour
is coming up next. Persons who are fond, when playing cards, of betting
upon the colour of the trump to be turned up--black or red--would find
the pastime of "backing their colour" infinitely varied, if they tried
to guess the colour of the fish which would next appear.
My first fish pond, ten feet by five feet, was a failure, as it was
leaky; but not to be beaten I commenced another and much larger one,
sixteen feet by ten feet. I selected a site close above high water-mark,
and commenced digging, and in fact worked a whole day at it, intending
to line it with a mixture of sand and lime, of which I had several tubs
for making mortar for repairing the brickwork of my homestead; but that
very evening I discovered a natural fish pond, or rather a pool, that
could be turned into one by a little outlay of labour.
A cleft between two large rocks, separating them by about six feet,
allowed the sea at high tide to flow into a pool at the foot of an
amphitheatre of rocks, which gave a basin of water, at high tide, about
twenty feet across. Here was a grand, natural fish pool, and I soon
turned it into a comfortable home for my finny captures.
First at low tide I cleared the bottom of this pool, and made it deeper.
Then, having previously made a huge batch of mortar, I set to work and
built a wall of rock across the cleft, until I had raised it six feet
high, taking great care to make it perfectly water-tight. This I
strengthened by laboriously placing blocks of stone on each side, so as
to prevent the sea from toppling my mortar-built wall over. As a pond it
was a perfect success, except in one particular, and that was that the
water in time would evaporate, or become stale; so I put my wits
together and constructed a curious kind of mill pump, which worked with
four wooden buckets upon an endless rope. It was jerky, but effective;
that is it was effective at high water, when the tide came up to my
sea-wall. At this time the mill, being placed right for the wind, would
commence to work, and the buckets to ascend and descend, and each shoot
its gallon of water into the pond, till sometimes it was full to the
brim, and even running over. Thus I could change the water at will. I
was simply delighted, and fished from morning till night to stock my
pool, and in a fortnight had specimens of all kinds, colours, and sizes.
Eels, soles, whiting, dorey, pollock, long-nose, crabs, lobsters were
all there, but to my mind the big blubber-lipped rock fish were the
peacocks of my pool.
I was so fond of lingering by this pool to read, and smoke, and watch
the fish, that I built myself a rock summer-house, and roofed it in with
wood, upon which I placed a layer of mortar, and then thatched it with
pine branches and braken. It was a picturesque little house, in a
picturesque spot, and if I tell the truth, I believe I made a
picturesque Crusoe.
My dress consisted, in summer, of white duck trousers, canvas shoes,
coloured flannel shirt, a blue jean jacket, and broad-brimmed hat. Round
my waist I always wore a long red sash; it was four yards long,
consequently, would encircle my waist three times and still leave some
of the two ends to hang down at my side. This sash I found very useful,
for I used it as a wallet or hold-all. Nothing came amiss to
it--tobacco, pipes, cartridges, biscuits, fruit, fishing tackle, all
were tucked away in it at different or the same time, as they were so
easy to get at, and left the hands free.
Now let us leave fish and fishing, and see in what other ways I enjoyed
my solitary life.
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CHAPTER VI.
"FLAP" THE GULL--SURGICAL OPERATION--THE GULL WHO REFUSED TO
DIE--TAXIDERMY EXTRAORDINARY--FEATHERED FRIENDS--SNAKES.
Every part of the island swarmed with rabbits, in fact, it was a perfect
warren, and must have contained thousands of them. I had therefore to
devise some means of keeping them down, or they would so have multiplied
as to eat up everything that to a rodent was toothsome, and that is
_nearly_ everything green, even to the furze bushes. I had only four
tooth-traps with me, and these were not nearly adequate for the number I
wanted to kill, so I had recourse to wire gins. These I soon became an
adept in setting, and discovered that by placing the thin wire noose
close to the ground I could catch the wee rabbits, while by keeping the
lower part of the noose about four inches above the turf I could secure
the large ones. By practice and observation I soon learned not only the
best "runs," but could tell just where they would place their feet, as
they bounded up or down the steep acclivities.
At times I had seventy or eighty gins set, and caught perhaps a hundred
a week in the season, which I regret to say were nearly all thrown into
the sea. This destruction of good food I was very sorry to cause, as it
would have fed a dozen poor families; but it was a case of kill the
rabbits, or starve my own animals. I chose the latter alternative, and
thus had plump animals and plump rabbits too. Those I retained formed
food for myself, dog, pigs, and a gull I kept.
The gull I must say a little about, as he became a constant companion to
me when I was within the wall which surrounded the homestead. "Flap,"
for so I christened him, was a large grey and white gull which I secured
soon after coming to the island, by breaking his wing at a long shot. He
tried, poor fellow, to scramble down to the sea, and swim away, but
"Begum" was too quick for him, and pounced upon him before he could get
over the rocks. I examined the bird and found the wing bone to be
broken, but otherwise the bird was not at all hurt. It then came into my
mind to perform a surgical operation, and this I quickly carried out. I
trimmed away all the feathers from about the wound, and then with one
draw of my sharp knife cut through the flesh between the smashed bone,
and quickly amputated the wing.
"Flap" was so fierce, and had such a formidable bill, that I had to
fasten him to a post to do all this, or he might have given me a deep
wound. I then bathed the stump of the wing with warm water, and bound it
up in a lump of lard, and the operation was complete.
I placed him in the stable and fed him with bits of fish, rabbit, and
vegetable for about a week, by which time he was fairly tame; so then I
took him out and fastened a leather strap round his leg, and tethered
him on the grass plot in front of my house, as one would a cow, feeding
him several times daily on animal food or fish. After a week of this he
was so tame that he would try to get away from his peg to meet me in the
morning. Seeing this, I decided to release him from his stake. I did so,
and the poor bird followed me about like a dog; in fact, I believe
"Begum" was jealous of him, for when I petted the gull he would come and
thrust his great black nose into my hand, and look up to my eyes, as
much as to say,
"Don't forget me, master!"
At the end of about three weeks I ventured to take the bandage off
"Flap's" wing-stump, when I found, to my surprise, that it was so nearly
healed as not to require further treatment from me, Harry Nilford, M.D.
"Flap's" domain was the homestead, about which he would hop and flap
with his one wing in a most comical manner. If I threw down half a
rabbit and called him, he would dash across the lawn at a gait that
would defy description, while his voracity was wonderful to behold. He
would take down half a rabbit in two or three fierce gulps, skin, bones,
and flesh; and I have known him, when very hungry, to eat a whole one at
a meal, which would only take a couple of minutes for him to discuss. It
was simply a matter of Hey Presto! and his meal was consumed. If a man
could eat in the same proportion, half a sheep would make a meal, while
a goose or turkey would only be a snack. Thank goodness, our appetites
are less keen, or a fat bullock would only serve a large family for
dinner, with the odds and ends left for supper.
"Begum" and "Flap" were fast friends, and the dog would allow the bird
to take many liberties with him, such as taking quietly some pretty
sharp pecks if he attempted to eat a bit of "Flap's" food; but on the
other hand, "Flap" would take "Begum's" food from under his very nose
without a protest of any kind from the dog, except a look out of the
corner of his eye, as if he thought "What impudence!"
I found sea fowl of all kinds to be very tenacious of life, especially
the common large gull. One case of this occurs to me as I write. I fired
at a gull and brought it down on the rocks; but it was only winged, and
picking it up, I wrung its neck, and flung it down, thinking it was
dead, but in a couple of minutes it gave such signs of returning
animation that I put the butt of my gun on its neck, which was upon the
hard pathway, and pressed with all my might. But the thing would _not_
die, so I got cross with both it and myself, with the bird for not dying
and myself for causing it so much unnecessary pain. Thinking to kill the
bird instantaneously, I took out my penknife, and ran it (or supposed I
was in the right spot) quite through the brain, so that the blade
projected half an inch on the other side. Just then some more gulls came
within shot, and I threw the bird on the ground, and made an onslaught
on the others. I dropped one, and scrambled down the cliffs for it, and
at length having secured it, climbed laboriously up the steep rocks
again. Judge of my surprise when, purring and blowing from my exertions,
just as my head rose above the ledge of the pathway where I had left the
transfixed bird, I saw it rise to its feet, give a loud Quah! and before
I could prevent it, away it went, half flying and flopping, half running
and scrambling, with my knife still in its skull, and was quickly out of
sight.
The different kinds of gulls visiting Jethou are very numerous, and some
of them very pretty. One of the finest being the swift sea swallow, with
its lovely grey feathers, forked tail, and long graceful wings. Another
is the sea-pie, a very shapely black and white gull, which makes a noise
quite peculiar to itself when hunting among the rocky inlets for its
food, thus betraying its presence.
Whenever I killed a bird of which I did not know the name, I would
fasten it up to some sticks in as life-like manner as possible, and make
a water colour drawing of it, taking great care to shew every detail, so
that in time I had over thirty drawings, each of which took me half a
day to execute. These are now in the writer's possession, and form a
pretty memento of his Crusoe days.
I took to making these drawings, because my attempts at taxidermy were
grotesquely ludicrous; to put it plainly, they were unmitigated
failures. These remarks apply to my very early attempts, for I would not
have the readers think me incapable after long practice of turning out a
shapely bird or a fish fair to behold. I must own that my early
struggles at skinning and stuffing were certainly funny, as except from
the colour of the feathers one could not tell a tern from a Kentish crow
after I had mangled it about for a few hours. They were wonders of
natural history these specimens of mine, not altogether from my
unskilfulness in handling them, but from the fact that I lacked
materials to work with. During the long nights of autumn, I, to a
certain extent, perfected myself in setting up specimens, but found they
would not keep, as I had no arsenic to work with, using in its place a
disinfectant which was not a preservative, consequently my specimens
began to get mouldy and to smell high, and this prevailing mustiness
brought them to an untimely end, or at least the greater portion of
them. Thinking a day in the sunshine and fresh air might improve them, I
took them all out of the house, and carried them a few at a time down to
the small lawn, as it was nice and open, placing them promiscuously down
on the green sward; and a funny lot they looked. Fish of all kinds,
condition, and colors, and birds in all positions, natural and
unnatural; the Chamber of Horrors at Madame Tussaud's Waxworks was a
pleasant sight in comparison to my collection, at least that was the
impression I gleaned from "Begum" and "Flap," both of whom seemed
perfectly mad at seeing such an array of scarecrows on their favourite
playground.
It was a lovely mild day, and I spent best part of it at La Fauconnaire,
rabbit and gull shooting, bringing home for my day's sport as many as I
could fairly carry. Leaving them in the storehouse I fed "Eddy," and
proceeded to perform the same office for the goat and pigs, but they
were nowhere to be seen. After a fair amount of searching I gave them up
for the time, and proceeded to take in my stuffed wonders, but alas, the
pigs and goat had been before me, for in the morning I had not properly
latched the lawn gate, and they had got in and created awful havoc. Many
of my specimens the pigs had actually eaten, others they had disjointed
and mangled in such a manner as to be perfectly useless, while what they
had not fallen foul of my Quixotic goat had, by spiking them with her
single horn, till she had had the satisfaction of knocking the stuffing
out of them. What was left of my most magnificent collection now looked
as if a charge of dynamite had played havoc with it. Thus my friends and
the world in general were prevented from gazing upon one of the most
curious collections of birds, beasts, and fishes that have ever been
stuffed (with whatever was handiest) since the art of taxidermy was
introduced.
The stormy petrel during rough weather used to be a frequent visitor to
the Perchee Channel, skimming just above the dark waves so close to the
surface, as to appear to walk up a wave, rise above its crest, and then
walk down into the valley of water on the opposite side. I shot several
specimens, two of which I stuffed, but they were both eaten by those
horrid pigs.
Oyster-pickers were quite plentiful, and I quickly discovered that they
might also aptly be termed limpet-pickers, for they seemed to take these
shell fish as their staple food. The _modus operandi_ of feeding is to
pounce down upon a rock which the receding tide has left bare, and with
a single sharp blow with its beak, detach a limpet, and turning it mouth
upward, pick out the fish at its leisure. If it failed to detach the
limpet at once it would go on to another, knowing that when once
disturbed the limpet requires great force to detach it. Oysters lie in
deep waters where they are inaccessible to these birds, so whence is
their name derived?
Then there were various kinds of divers, the principal of which class
was the cormorant, greatly resembling a half-starved black swan, that
is, it had a longer and thinner and less graceful body; but in many
points it was superior to the swan, especially in its flying and diving
powers, and in its quickness of action. Its head appears never to be
still, but constantly bobbing and turning from side to side, as if
saying, "Did you ever catch a cormorant asleep?" Knowing that the
Chinese train these birds to catch fish, I endeavoured to induce one to
come to me, and serve his apprenticeship as a fisherman, but to no
purpose. It was just as well I could not catch one, for I find they must
be trained from their young days to the art, as they are intractable in
their grown-up wildness, and I was thus spared a great deal of
unnecessary trouble and irritability of temper.
Although I had a store of simple medicines with me, I scarcely ever
required to open the case. Once and once only, I felt poorly for a whole
week, but that I fancy was attributable to fruit and the heat. Although
not well, I thoroughly enjoyed a whole lazy week, most of which I spent
by the side of my fish pool, studying the habits of my finny comrades
in captivity. Some of the rock fish became so tame that they would rise
to the surface when I dropped crumbs of biscuits on the water, and I
verily believe if I had had the patience, I might have taught them to
feed from my fingers. Sometimes for a treat I would bring "Flap" and
place him near the water, and he seemed to enjoy looking at the
denizens; but they were all too big for him to gobble, or he would have
made an Aldermanic dinner of some of them.
I occasionally saw a snake, but always of the harmless, blindworm
variety. Of this species I caught two and admired them, but I did not
make pets of them as I did of nearly everything else I could lay hands
on.
One big fellow nearly two feet long I threw into the sea, thinking to
rid the island of at least one snake; but to my surprise he swam ashore
on the surface of the water as quickly as he could have progressed on
dry land. He was a veritable sea-serpent, although a small specimen.
There were also two kinds of lizards of which I do not know the name,
but they were only small fellows, and may be what are called "efts."
They would sun themselves on the warm rocks, and on being disturbed dart
into some cranny till danger was past. They ran up and down rocks which
were nearly perpendicular, and were very amusing in their rapid
movements.
I often thought as I lay in my hammock how I should have liked a
squirrel or two to be climbing about the branches above me; but one is
never contented with what is allotted them. Probably had I possessed a
squirrel or two, I should have longed for a few monkeys, and having
them, should have wished for something else.
Altogether I was perfectly contented with my lot, especially after the
melancholy of the first week had worn off, except just now and again a
particularly dismal feeling would assert itself, which I could not shake
off; but I simply attributed this to dull weather or over exertion. It
was nothing worth mentioning.
My spirits are like a barometer; when the sun shines and the weather is
warm I am up; when it is wet and dull I am down, and I think this is the
case with many persons; in fact, I believe weather has a greater
influence on our lives than we are aware of. Statistics go to prove
this; for instance, more marriages take place during the five months,
June to September, than in the other seven colder months. From gaiety to
despair,--more suicides take place at the fall of the year than at any
other period. Rodent slaughter commenced this chapter and suicide ends
it; this puts me in mind of the Marriage Service, which commences
"Dearly" and ends with "amazement."
[Illustration: Decorative scroll]
[Illustration: Decorative chapter heading]
CHAPTER VII.
I BUILD A CURIOUS "BOX" BOAT--AN UNPLEASANT NIGHT AT SEA--MY SUNDAY
SERVICE--THE POEM, "ALEXANDER SELKIRK"--ITS APPLICABILITY TO MY
LOT.
During the summer my roving propensities began to assert themselves, and
I longed to go farther _afield_ over the sea. I bethought me how I might
contrive myself a boat in which to venture into the offing with, as my
canoe was too frail to go far from shore.
I looked around to see what I could utilize, and found I had a few inch
boards and plenty of rivets, nails, and screws; but after overhauling my
stock I came to the conclusion that my materials would not warrant my
commencing a craft of any size, so for several days I gave up the
project, till one day visiting the boathouse I cast my eyes on the large
tin-lined packing cases in which my goods had been packed. Why not
utilize these? There were four of them. Three were of the same
dimensions, namely, four feet long, three feet wide, and two and a half
feet deep; while the fourth was three feet and a half long, two feet
wide, and two and a half feet deep.
That night I went to bed early, so as to have a good "think" as to how I
could make a boat of these boxes, with the help of my deal boards and
tools.
I soon hit on a plan, and could scarcely get a wink of sleep for
thinking and maturing my plans; in fact, at two a.m. I got up, dressed,
and went and re-measured the cases and re-inspected them, to see if they
were really eligible for my purpose. They were, and I retired to bed
again perfectly overjoyed, so that I only dozed and woke continually
till five a.m., when I finally arose and commenced operations in the
boathouse.
"Begum" knew there was something in the wind, for I had little to say to
him, so full was I of my scheme.
I found my cases with their tin linings were quite water-tight, which
was a necessary condition for keeping my craft afloat, and having
prepared my tools and got my timber ready for a start, went homeward to
breakfast, shooting a very fine pigeon on the way, which had probably
strayed over from Guernsey. Here was a dinner provided for me which only
required cooking. Indeed, it frequently happened that at breakfast time
my dinner would be flying about round the island.
To help me in the description of the building of my craft I here give
sketches of her construction. First I took my cases 2, 3, and 4, and
firmly screwed them together, and afterwards added number 5, which was
not so wide by six inches, but still served admirably for a stern. Then
came my first difficulty. How should I form the bows? This I got over by
making another case, No. 1, of a triangular form with a bulkhead
running across, to which I nailed my side timbers, so as to give them an
outward curve. These streaks I put on clinker-wise--that is,
overlapping, and thoroughly caulked them with oakum soaked in grease.
[Illustration: The Yellow-Boy]
Next, to strengthen the hull and hold everything firmly in position, I
nailed a top streak along from stem to stern, so as to form a gunwale,
and another at the lower edges of the cases, tarring everything as I
proceeded, including myself; but as the weather was hot a pair of old
pants cut off at the knee, and a ragged shirt, were my only encumbrance
in the way of clothing. Now I proceeded to cut down the partitions
between the various sections for a depth of six inches. I then carefully
caulked the tiny crack between each of these bulkheads, and turning the
surplus tin over, nailed it to the wood. Over these bulkheads I placed
thwarts six inches wide, and then proceeded to make a keel. This I did
by bolting two thicknesses of board together and cutting them down, so
that it measured three inches deep at the stem and six at the stern. The
fastening on of this keel gave me more trouble than anything else
connected with the boat, for I had no bolts long enough to go through
six inches of timber, and then through the bottom of the boat. There was
only one way, and that was to make some bolts eight inches long, and
this I did from some pieces of three-eight iron rod I found. Nine bolts
took me a whole day to make--from six in the morning till six in the
evening. My anvil was a granite rock, which I had to carry on my
shoulders from the beach; but it served its purpose capitally.
My labours at the anvil were considerably lightened by the singing of
all the appropriate songs I could think of, especially the "Village
Blacksmith," which I think I must have worn out while making my bolts
and other fastenings.
I made heads to my bolts, and thrusting them through the keel, fastened
them off on the inside with iron collars or burrs. To make the keel more
secure I ran a strap of iron up the stern, from the heel of the keel,
and screwed it in place.
For the mast I made a step by crossing two pieces of board, and where
they crossed cut a hole through sufficiently large to take my mast,
which was a short one, being only about ten feet long. These cross
pieces not only held the mast, but also greatly strengthened the bows,
which felt the first and full force of the waves.
Then the rudder had to be made and attached, thole pins provided, and
the whole concern tarred inside and out, tin and all.
Oars had to be made, and with these I had some little difficulty; but by
steadily pegging away I at length turned out three very serviceable, if
not elegant, ones. The third was in case of a breakage, for it would
never do to go to sea without a spare oar, as in case of accident I
might have drifted helplessly goodness knows where.[1]
The Bay of Avranches is a large place, and as the Channel Islands do not
lie in the direct course of ocean-going vessels, it would be extremely
awkward, even on a calm day, to be alone in a boat with but one oar.
I found a large roll of old sails in the loft of the boathouse, all much
too large for my boat; but I selected a jib, and cut it down to form a
lug-sail. This sail being discoloured, I gave it a coat of yellow ochre
and boiled oil on each side, which gave it a very curious appearance.
The upper strake of my boat I also painted yellow, and to finish off
christened my craft the "Yellow Boy."
The launch was a Herculean task, as I had built her too high above high
water-mark, and it took me nearly a day to get her down and afloat.
Finding I could not move her with my own bodily strength, I had to carry
an anchor out and attach a block-tackle and thus, with the help of my
faithful old comrade, "Eddy," haul the boat gradually down below high
water-mark, where I left her for the tide to rise and float her. She
seemed large while I was at work upon her, but the huge bulk of
Crevichon towering up in the background dwarfed her to a cockle shell.
While the tide was rising I busied myself in selecting large flat pieces
of granite for ballast, and fastening them down to the floor with
battens, which operation was scarcely finished when the tide came into
the little cove, and in half an hour the "Yellow Boy" was afloat.
"Hurrah!" I shouted, while "Begum" barked with joy. I could not refrain
from taking the good fellow with me for the trial trip, for I must have
someone to talk to, as I felt in such a joyful mood.
It was late in the afternoon when we started off, and I had not broken
my fast since dinner, so letting the boat drift on the now sluggish
tide, I opened my tin provision box, and with capital appetites my dog
and I fell to.
The water found its way in in two or three places, but these I quickly
caulked, and soon had everything water-tight. Then the sail did not sit
to my liking, so down it came, and having my palm and needles I soon
altered it. Then I shifted the ballast somewhat, and got everything
square and snug.
After about a couple of hours, as the tide was quite spent, I thought it
was about time to turn towards home, but on looking back the islands had
disappeared in the evening haze which was springing up, so turning the
boat's head I guessed at the position of Jethou, and hauled up the sail.
There was but a breath of wind, and before half an hour of our homeward
voyage was accomplished it was (with the sea fog and the approach of
night) quite dark. Still I kept on, not sure where I was going, as I
could not see a light anywhere, till presently a steady rain set in, and
then I knew we were in for a night of it. The weather was warmish, but I
was so lightly clothed that I was quickly drenched to the skin. I looked
eagerly for a ship's light, but not one could I see, or I would have
borne down upon her and got the bearings of Jethou from her skipper. I
did what best I could under the circumstances, resolving never again to
be led away by any new fad, so as to be oblivious to everything else, as
I had been in getting my new boat into trim. It was a dreadful time for
me, as I knew Jethou to be surrounded by rocks on all sides, so that I
had to keep a very sharp look out, for fear of running on them and
getting stove in, which would probably have resulted in my death, if the
rocks were submerged at high water.
About what I should judge to be the middle of the night, as I sat
shaking with cold with my hand on the tiller, I suddenly became aware of
the presence of huge rocks right in front of me. I lowered the sail
instantly and got out the oars, pulling gently to the lee side of these
rocks, and with some difficulty landed and made fast my boat between two
lofty pillars of granite, which rose sheer from the sea. I was
dreadfully cold and could find no shelter from the rain, which had
completely saturated my paltry clothing. I therefore had a dip in the
sea, which appeared to me warmer than the cold rain and night air, and
less likely to have bad after effects upon my constitution. Oh, poor
Robinson Crusoe! here was a pretty kettle of fish at the very first
trip. How gladly would I have changed places with my donkey, who was
safely under shelter, listening to the rain beating down, and saying to
himself, "No work for me to-morrow!"
The longest night must have an end, although I began to fear this
particular one would not do so, till I was past caring whether the sun
ever rose again or not. But by-and-bye the dawn began to break, and
quickly spread itself over the sky, and with the light the fog dispersed
slowly, and showed me a barrel upon the top of a pole perched on the
highest rock of the group I was a prisoner upon, by which I knew I was
on the Ferriers, which lie about a short mile south-west of Jethou. I
climbed to the pole and took a survey, and could just make out Jethou's
back above the haze which still rolled silently above the still waters.
Down I scrambled to my boat, eager to push off and reach home, but alas,
my craft was high and dry four feet above the sea, on a ledge which
just held her comfortably cradled, in derision to my anxiety. "Begum"
lay calmly sleeping in the stern sheets. How I envied him his power of
passing the dull hours away, oblivious to wet or cold.
Half an hour--an hour--two hours passed, and then the kindly sea had
compassion on my lonely, forlorn condition, and rose and toyed with my
boat, and finally lifted her and bore her safely back to my home.
Home! what a word after such a night! I almost fell ashore, so great was
my anxiety, and so desperately hungry did I feel.
My surroundings had now changed from what they were three hours since;
for now I was on my island home, with the birds singing and the sun
shining brightly and warmly upon me, so that I threw off my wet clothes
and worked in a state of nature to get my tackle ashore, while "Begum"
fetched "Eddy" to help me to get my craft above tide mark.
Good old "Eddy." I felt he was indeed a friend as he came trotting down
the rocky path with a regular royal salute of braying. He tugged, and I
tugged, till when the boat was safely beached I felt as nearly exhausted
as ever I have been in my life. I scarcely had strength to get up the
path which usually I took at a run. However, I _did_ get up, and took a
good nip of brandy, following it with some solid refreshment, eating as
I lit the copper fire and filled the copper with water. While I waited
for the water to become hot, I became so drowsy that I could scarcely
keep awake, and yawned till an observer might have seen the roots of my
hair, such an open countenance did I present. The water (although I
watched it) boiled at last, and this I poured into a big tub partly
filled with cold water, and had a bath for ten minutes as hot as I could
bear it, after which I hopped into bed and slept, and slept, and slept.
It was eight a.m. when I went to bed, and I did not wake for fourteen
hours--that is till ten p.m.; and knowing that I had slept the entire
day away without a thought for my poor live stock, I turned over,
resolving to be up and feed the said live stock at dawn. But when I
again woke the sun was high above the horizon, and up I jumped, or tried
to, but found that I was very stiff and sore all over from my night
adventure. As I walked about and worked, feeding my animals, I gradually
felt better, especially after a hearty breakfast, of which I stood much
in need, after twenty-four hours' fast.
After this adventure I was very careful not to go out again without
protection from the weather in the shape of a good thick coat and
sou'wester, beside which I always put a tin of biscuits and a two-pound
tin of preserved meat in the lockers near the stern, in case of
emergency, and more than once I had to break bulk when a trip
unexpectedly kept me out longer than I anticipated.
I now had all I could desire in the way of comforts and engagements, and
not an idle day did I spend, except Sundays, upon which day I never did
a stroke of work nor fired a shot. Even my rabbit gins were neglected
that day. All I did was to feed my animals, walk or doze in my hammock
and meditate, and this to me was a great enjoyment. When the wind was
westerly I could hear the Guernsey church bells ringing for service, and
when they ceased I knew it was eleven o'clock, and regulated my watch
accordingly; that being done I always spent the time between that hour
and twelve in going through the church service for the day, and the
regulation three hymns, with one or two added, and a chapter or two from
the Bible in place of a sermon. Then I felt comfortable, and contented,
and without fear.
One Sunday afternoon, swinging in my hammock in the grove reading a book
of poetry, I came across those beautiful verses by Cowper, entitled,
"Alexander Selkirk," and could not but think how true they were to my
own lot in many points; in fact, few persons reading the poem _could_
appreciate it as I did in my solitude, with nought but the sea and sky
with their teeming creatures around me. The first half of the first
verse fitted me capitally, and I could not get it out of my head all
day; it tickled my fancy:
"I am monarch of all I survey,
To my right there is none to dispute;
From the centre all round to the sea,
I am lord of both fowl and of brute."
In the second verse occur the lines:
"I am out of humanity's reach,
I must finish my journey alone;
Never hear the sweet music of speech--
I start at the sound of my own."
Certainly it was very seldom I heard a human voice, even in the
distance, sometimes not for weeks together; but as to starting at the
sound of my own, well, that is not at all correct. Probably if my
friends could have heard the voice of either "Eddy" or myself, when in
full song, _they_ would have had a _start_, if not a severe shock to the
system.
Again:
"Society, friendship, and love,
Divinely bestowed upon men;
Oh, had I the wings of a dove,
How soon would I taste you again!"
Dove's wings would not have borne my thirteen stone weight. Perchance
the giant wings of the Albatross would have been more practicable, if
less poetical, and with these appendages I might have been tempted to
have a peep at my friends in England, despite the supremely ridiculous
figure I should have cut in the air, and the chance I should have stood
of being shot as a very _rara avis_. Fancy me lighting down on our old
thatched-roof house, and frightening everyone out of their seven senses,
including my darling Priscilla, who, if she were not too frightened,
would certainly bring me down with a charge of No. 4 (chilled) shot.
The next verse is nearly true of my state in its entirety:
"Religion! what treasure untold
Resides in that heavenly word!
More precious than silver and gold,
Or all that this earth can afford;
But the sound of the church-going bell
These valleys and rocks never heard;
Never sighed at the sound of a knell,
Or smiled when a Sabbath appeared."
It is scarcely true to say that the rocks _never_ hear the sound of the
church-going bell, for with a westerly breeze the bells can be heard
quite plainly, and I have even heard a dog bark at that distance, which
shows how distinctly, and to what a great distance sound will travel
over water.
If rocks have ears they must occasionally have been ravished by my
rendering of Sankey and Moody's hymns. If they have a memory they must
have learnt several of them by heart; in fact, have been so familiar
with them as to desire a change for something secular. They never
applauded me, but when the Heavens spoke with thunder they clapped their
granite hands till they cracked again.
The last verse hits me again--quite a bull's eye:
"But the sea fowl is gone to her nest,
The beast is laid down in his lair;
Even here is a season of rest,
And I to my cabin repair.
There's mercy in every place,
And mercy, encouraging thought!
Gives even affliction a grace,
And reconciles man to his lot."
Yes, I nightly had to repair to my cabin, and in the wet season had my
cabin to repair; but I made it so cosy, that like the last line, "it
reconciled me to my lot."
Oh, Crusoe! how I would have loved to have shared Juan Fernandez with
thee! What a Friday I would have been, and what enjoyment I should have
discovered in everything--except black man killing! But even that I
should have taken my part in it if it came to the question "kill or be
killed."
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FOOTNOTE:
1: It so happened that only a few years since, a young lady,
taking a row after church one Sunday evening, lost an oar overboard and
drifted out to sea. In the morning she was picked up (being then quite
out of sight of land) by a vessel bound for Canada, and actually taken
to Newfoundland, from whence in about a month she arrived home safely,
much to the joy of her sorrowing friends, who had given her up as
drowned.
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CHAPTER VIII.
A TRIP TO ST. SAMPSON'S HARBOUR--A HORRID PORCINE MURDER--A VOYAGE
ROUND SARK--NEARLY CAPSIZED--TRIP ROUND GUERNSEY--THE
PEPPER-BOX--CURIOSITY OF TOURISTS.
From time to time I made many improvements in the "Yellow Boy," and
learnt her capabilities, so that in time I took quite long cruises as
far as Guernsey, and even to Sark.
It will be remembered that two of the conditions my father imposed upon
me, were that I should not land on any other island nor speak to anyone
under any pretence whatever, and these rules I rigorously carried out.
Many a time passing boatmen hailed me, but a wave of the hand and my
finger pointed to my output tongue was the only answer they received,
consequently I was called the "Dumb Man of Jethou," or the "Yellow Boy,"
and as such and by no other name many of the fishermen knew me. Those
who did not know my history pitied me as a kind of voiceless castaway or
semi-sane being.
My long trips were sometimes undertaken on calm moonlight nights: one, I
remember, was to St. Sampson's Harbour, Guernsey. I started about three
a.m., and reached the harbour before four o'clock, so that I had a good
look around the little haven, and at the shipping before anyone was
astir. I moored to the cable of a big brigantine which was lying
alongside the wharf ready for her cargo of granite for London. Curb
stones, blocks for paving, and broken metal for macadam roads are all
shipped here to the amount of several thousand tons weekly, so that the
granite quarrying and dressing give occupation to about 2,000 men,
women, and children. Granite working and fruit growing are the two great
industries of the island, which seems to me to be composed principally
of two extremely different materials--granite and glass; at any rate it
is not the place for stone throwing.
As I swung on the cable of the big ship, I made myself a cup of coffee;
for I always carried a small lamp stove with me, so that I could cook
the fish I caught fresh from the sea, or make myself a cup of tea or
coffee to wash my meal down with.
I have since found, that within the memory of persons still alive,
Guernsey was nearly cut off from Vale Parish by an arm of the sea, which
flowed over the salt marshes at high tide, so that all communication was
cut off between the two parts of the island except by one little bridge
and the ferry boat. The bridge was about 380 yards west of St. Sampson's
Church; but at the present day pleasant meadows, houses, and roads take
the place of the broad stream of salt water and marshes, which formerly
made Guernsey and Vale separate islands twice a day, at the time of high
tide.
Just before five o'clock when heads began to peep over bulwarks, and men
to