The Coxswain's Bride; also, Jack Frost and Sons; and, A Double Rescue by Ballantyne (reading fiction .TXT) 📕

enough. Have you got the small twigs broken and ready, Slag?”

“All ready, sir.”

“Now look here, Tomlin.”

As he spoke, the doctor picked up a dead but wet branch, and, sheltering himself under the tarpaulin, began to whittle it with his penknife. He found, of course, that the interior of the branch was dry. The thin morsels which he sliced off were handed to Slag, who placed them with great care in the heart of a bundle of very small twigs resembling a crow’s nest. A place had been reserved for this bundle or nest, in the heart of the large pile of branches lying on the ground. Meanwhile, Slag held the nest ready in his hands.

“Now, Tomlin, get out your matches,” said the doctor.

With the utmost care the anxious man unfolded the kerchief, and, opening the box, looked into it earnestly.

“Wet?” asked Hayward.

Tomlin shook his head. “I fear they are.” He took one out, while the whole party assembled round him to note the result.

The first match dropped its head like a piece of soft putty when scraped on the lid. The second did the same, and a suppressed groan escaped from the little group, for it could be seen that there were not more than ten or twelve matches in the box altogether. Again and again a match was struck with similar result. The fifth, however, crackled a little, and rekindled, sinking hope in the observers, though it failed to kindle itself. The seventh burst at once into a bright blaze and almost drew forth a cheer, which, however, was checked when a puff of wind blew out the new-born flame.

“Och! let Bob Massey try it!” cried O’Connor. “Sure he’s used to workin’ in throublesome weather.”

“Right, boy,” said Slag, “hand it to the coxs’n.”

Tomlin readily obeyed, only too glad to get some of the failure shifted to other shoulders.

Massey readily undertook the task, and success attended his first effort.

“I knowed it!” said Nellie, in a quiet tone, as she saw the bright flame leap up and almost set her husband’s beard on fire. “Bob never fails!”

The burning match was quickly plunged into Hayward’s handful of shavings, which blazed up as he thrust it into Slag’s nest; and Slag, holding the nest with the tender care of a loving sick-nurse and the cool indifference of a salamander till it was a flaming ball, crammed it into the heart of the pile of sticks. Tremendous was the volume of smoke that arose from the pile, and anxious were the looks riveted on it.

“Sure ye’ve smothered it intirely,” gasped O’Connor.

“Oh, me!” sighed Peggy in a voice of mild despair.

“No fear, it’s all right,” said Massey, in a confident tone, while Joe Slag, on his knees, with cheeks inflated and nose all but kindling, blew at the glowing heart with unwearied determination, regardless alike of friend and foe.

“It’s going to do,” remarked John Mitford in his most dismal tone.

“Any child might tell that,” said Nellie, with a light laugh.

The laugh seemed infectious, for the whole party joined in as a glorious gush of flame rushed among the sticks, dried up the dampness, and effectually changed the pillar of smoke into a pillar of fire.

The fire thus kindled was rightly deemed of such vital importance that it was not permitted to go out thereafter for many months, being watched night and day by members of the party appointed to the duty by turns. It had, indeed, not a few narrow escapes, and more than once succeeded in reaching what appeared to be its last spark, but was always caught in time and recovered, and thus was kept burning until a discovery was made which rendered such constant attendance and care unnecessary.

“Now,” said Dr Hayward, when the fire was safely established, “we have not much daylight left, so it behoves us to make the most of it. You are a man of action and experience, Robert Massey, what would you advise us to do first?”

“Well, doctor, since you’re good enough to ask me, I would advise that we should appoint a leader. You see, mates,” he continued, addressing himself to the company in general, “there’s no possibility of a ship gettin’ along without a captain, or an army without a general. If we was going off to a wreck now, with or without a lifeboat, I would claim a sort o’ right to be coxswain in virtue o’ past experience; but, as we’ve now begun a sort o’ shore-goin’ business, which requires a deal o’ general knowledge, besides seamanship, an’ as Dr Hayward has got that by edication, I move that we make him our leader.”

“Right you are, Bob,” said Joe Slag. (“As he always is,” said Nellie, sotto voce.) “So I second the move—if that’s the reg’lar way to do it.”

“Hear, hear!” said every one with right good will, and a gleam of pride flashed from Eva’s pretty brown eyes as her husband was thus unanimously appointed leader of the shipwrecked band.

Like a sensible man, knowing his capacity, he at once accepted the command without any display of undue modesty, and proved his fitness by at once going to work.

“The first thing, then, is to thank God for our deliverance, which we all do, I am sure, most heartily.”

This was received with a responsive “Amen” from every one—not even excepting Black Ned.

“Next, we must find fresh water and boil a bit of pork—”

“Ah, then, we haven’t a kittle!” exclaimed O’Connor.

“Haven’t we a big baling-dish, Terrence?” said Hayward.

“Sure we have, sor, an’ it’s a tin wan as’ll stand fire,” returned Terrence with a reproved look.

“Well, then, you go fetch it; wash it well out and get the pork ready. Jarring and Tomlin will gather as much dead wood as they can find and pile it beside the fire. Mitford will search for fresh water—there must be a spring or brook not far off—and Massey and I will rig up some sort of shelter for the night.”

“Please, sir, may I go with Mitford to seek for water?” asked Nellie.

“By all means, if you wish to.”

“And I will keep you company, Nell,” said Mrs Hayward energetically.

“So will I,” chimed in little Mrs Mitford, feebly. “I was always fond of water. As a child I used to paddle about in it continually, an’ sometimes tumbled into it, for of course young people will—”

“No, Peggy, you must sit by the fire with my wife,” said the doctor. “Neither of you is fit for work of any kind yet, so sit down and warm yourselves.”

Eva was too wise and Peggy too weak to offer objection, so these two sat by the fire while the others went to work.

Energy of action tends to lighten the burdens that may be laid on human spirits, and to induce the most favourable view of the worst circumstances. The toil which the party now undertook was such a blessed relief to them after the prolonged exposure to cold and comparative inaction in the boat, that all returned to the camp-fire in a much more cheerful state of mind than they left it. The searchers for water came back first, having found what they sought close at hand; and Terrence, filling his baling-dish, soon had the pork boiling, along with some mysterious herbs gathered by the doctor to convert the liquid into soup. Tomlin and Black Ned returned heavily laden with firewood, and Bob Massey discovered a tree with branches sufficiently spreading and leafy to protect them to some extent from rain.

“’Tis as well we have found overhead protection, Massey,” said the doctor, when our coxswain led him to the spot, “for I have been thinking that as we have no blankets, we shall be obliged to use our tarpaulin as a quilt rather than an umbrella.”

“That’s true, sir,” returned Massey, “but how about the women?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about that,” said Hayward, “and I’ve devised a plan for to-night at least; to-morrow I hope to hit on a better arrangement. First of all, we’ll spread in front of a fire, which we will kindle beneath this tree, a layer of branches and grass. In the middle of this the women will lie down side by side, after having dried and warmed themselves thoroughly at the fire. Then we’ll take two of the floor planks from the boat, and put one on each side of them—partially frame them, as it were. Then one half of us men will lie down on one side of the frame, the other half on the other side, and we’ll draw the tarpaulin over us all.”

“Hm! not very comfortable,” said Massey, “for the poor women to be framed like that.”

“Admitted; but what else can we do?” said Hayward. “It would risk our lives to sleep without covering of any kind in such cold weather, and with sleet falling as it does now. Better have the sheet spread upon us than merely over our heads. So now let’s kindle another fire, and do you arrange our couch, Bob.”

In spite of the cold and the sleet, things looked much more cosy than persons unacquainted with “roughing it” could believe possible, and they became comparatively happy when the couch was spread, and they were seated under the sheltering tree, with the fire blazing and crackling in front of them, suffusing their faces and persons and the leaf-canopy overhead with a deep red glare, that contrasted well with the ebony-black surroundings, while a rich odour of pork soup exhaled from the baling-dish.

“Ah! now there’s nothin’ wantin’ to produce parfit felicity but a pipe,” said O’Connor with a sigh.

“That’s so, lad,” assented Tomlin, echoing the sigh, and feeling in his pocket from force of habit, though he knew too well that nothing was to be found there.

“Here, Terrence,” said Massey, handing him an empty pipe, at the same time asking him to shut his eyes and draw, and try to imagine himself smoking, but Terrence shook his head.

“I couldn’t do that, Bob,” he said, “but I’ll sing ye a stave in praise o’ the weed.”

Without waiting for permission, the jovial Irishman at once began:

“Oh! it’s ’baccy as is my chief joy,

    At mornin’, noon and night;

An’ it’s verily my belief, boy,

    That I love it with all my might.

If your liver an’ lungs are squeakin’,

    An’ your head is growin’ cracky,

There’s nothin’ so sure to kill or cure,

    As fumes o’ the strongest ’baccy.”

“If it would improve your voice, Terrence,” observed Mr Mitford, meekly, “I’m sure I wish ye had pounds of it, for it’s that harsh—though, of course, I make no pretence to music myself, but—”

“Just listen to that now, ‘Harsh!’ an’ that to a man whose own mother, by the father’s side, towld him he shud make music his purfession! Arrah, howld on, Black Ned, ye spalpeen; ye’ve had two helpin’s already!”

This latter remark had reference to the baling-dish of soup which was being passed round the party, so that each might help himself to two mouthfuls of soup before passing it on. As they had no spoons, the doctor had extemporised ladles of folded bark which served the purpose pretty well.

“Haven’t ye a small bit o’ ’baccy in the corner o’ wan o’ yer pockets, doctor, dear?” asked Terrence, insinuatingly. “May be ye’d find a morsel if ye’d try.”

“Quite useless to try, my poor fellow,” returned the doctor, with a look of affected pity, “for I’m a non-smoker. I never indulge in such an absurdity.”

“Sure, it’s a true proverb that says ‘doctor’s differ,’” retorted O’Connor, “for most o’ the saw-bones of my acquaintance have smoked like lime kilns.”

“More’s the pity, Terrence, but if you’ll heave on some more firewood you’ll have a smoke that may do as a substitute at present.”

By heaping quantities of fresh branches on the fire till it was large enough to roast an ox, the party managed to pass the night in comparative comfort, in spite of cold and sleet. Hayward watched the fire during the first part of the night. Then he was relieved by our coxswain, who was succeeded by Joe Slag,