Cord and Creese Read online

  CHAPTER V.

  THE MYSTERY OF COFFIN ISLAND.

  When Brandon awaked on the following morning the sun was already high inthe sky. He rose at once and walked slowly up, with stiffened limbs,to a higher spot. His clothes already were partly dry, but they wereuncomfortable and impeded his motion. He took off nearly every thing,and laid them out on the sand. Then he examined his pistol and the boxcontaining cartridges. This box held some oil also, with the help ofwhich the pistol was soon in good order. As the cartridges were encasedin copper they were uninjured. He then examined a silver case whichwas suspended round his neck. It was cylindrical in shape, and thetop unscrewed. On opening this he took out his father's letter and theinclosure, both of which were uninjured. He then rolled them up in asmall compass and restored them to their place.

  He now began to look about him. The storm had ceased, the waves hadsubsided, a slight breeze was blowing from the sea which just ruffledthe water and tempered the heat. The island on which he had been castwas low, flat, and covered with a coarse grass which grew out of thesand. But the sand itself was in many places thrown up into ridges, andappeared as though it was constantly shifting and changing. The moundwas not far away, and at the eastern end of the island he could see theblack outline of the rock which he had noticed from the ship. The lengthhe had before heard to be about five miles; the width appeared aboutone mile, and in its whole aspect it seemed nothing better than theabomination of desolation.

  At the end where he was the island terminated in two points, betweenwhich there was the cove where he had found refuge. One of these pointswas distinguished by the mound already mentioned, which from where hestood appeared of an irregular oblong shape. The other point was low,and descended gently into the water. The island itself appeared to bemerely the emergence of some sand-bank which, perhaps, had been formedby currents and eddies; for here the currents of the Strait of Sundaencounter those from the Southern and Indian oceans, and this bank layprobably near their point of union.

  A short survey showed him this. It showed him also that there was butlittle if any hope of sustaining life, and that he had escaped drowningonly perhaps to perish by the more lingering agonies of starvation.

  Already hunger and thirst had begun to be felt, and how to satisfy thesewants he knew not. Still he would not despair. Perhaps the _Java_ mightreturn in search of him, and his confinement would only last for a dayor so.

  He understood the act of Cigole in a way that was satisfactory tohimself. He had thrown him overboard, but had made it appear like anaccident. As he fell he had heard the shout "Man overboard!" and was nowable to account for it in this way. So a faint hope remained that thecaptain of the _Java_ would not give him up.

  Still subsistence of some kind was necessary, and there was nothingto be done but to explore the sandy tract before him. Setting forth hewalked toward the rock along the sea-shore. On one side toward thenorth the shore was shallow and sloped gently into the water; but onthe southern side it descended more abruptly. The tide was out. A steepbeach appeared here covered with stones to which myriads of shell-fishwere attached. The sight of these suggested the idea to him that on theopposite side there might be clams in the sand. He walked over there insearch of them. Here the slope was so gradual that extensive flats wereleft uncovered by the receding tide.

  When a boy he had been sometimes accustomed to wander on sand flats nearhis home, and dig up these clams in sport. Now his boyish experiencebecame useful. Myriads of little holes dotted the sand, which he knew tobe the indications of these molluscs, and he at once began to scoop inthe sand with his hands. In a short time he had found enough to satisfyhis hunger, and what was better, he saw all around an unlimited supplyof such food.

  Yet food was not enough. Drink was equally necessary. The salt of theseshell-fish aggravated the thirst that he had already begun to feel, andnow a fear came over him that there might be no water. The search seemeda hopeless one; but he determined to seek for it nevertheless, and theonly place that seemed to promise success was the rock at the easternend. Toward this he now once more directed his steps.

  The island was all of sand except the rocks on the south beach and thecliff at the eastern end. Coarse grass grew very extensively over thesurface, but the sand was fine and loose, and in many places thrownup into heaps of many different shapes. The grass grew in tufts or inspires and blades, thinly scattered, and nowhere forming a sod. The soilwas difficult to walk over, and Brandon sought the beach, where the dampsand afforded a firmer foothold. In about an hour and a half he reachedthe rock.

  It was between five hundred and six hundred feet in length, and aboutfifty in height. There was no resemblance to a coffin now as Brandonapproached it, for that likeness was only discernible at a distance. Itssides were steep and precipitous. It was one black solid mass, withoutany outlying crags, or any fragments near it. Its upper surface appearedto be level, and in various places it was very easy to ascend. Up one ofthese places Brandon climbed, and soon stood on the top.

  Near him the summit was somewhat rounded; at the farther end it wasflat and irregular; but between the two ends it sank into a deep hollow,where he saw that which at once excited a tumult of hope and fear. Itwas a pool of water at least fifty feet in diameter, and deep too, sincethe sides of the rock went down steeply. But was it fresh or salt? Wasit the accumulation from the showers of the rainy season of the tropics,or was it but the result of the past night's storm, which had hurledwave after wave here till the hollow was filled?

  With hasty footsteps he rushed toward the margin of the pool, andbent down to taste. For a moment or so, by a very natural feeling,he hesitated, then, throwing off the fever of suspense, he bent down,kneeling on the margin, till his lips touched the water.

  It was fresh! Yes, it was from the heavens above, and not from the seabelow. It was the fresh rains from the sky that had filled this deeppool, and not the spray from the sea. Again and again he quaffed therefreshing liquid. Not a trace of the salt-water could be detected. Itwas a natural cistern which thus lay before him, formed as though forthe reception of the rain. For the present, at least, he was safe.

  He had food and drink. As long as the rainy season lasted, and forsome time after, life was secure. Life becomes doubly sweet after beingpurchased by such efforts as those which Brandon had put forth, and thethought that for the present, at least, he was safe did not fail to fillhim with the most buoyant hope. To him, indeed, it seemed just then asif nothing more could be desired. He had food and drink in abundance. Inthat climate shelter was scarcely needed. What more could he wish?

  The first day was passed in exploring the rock to see if there was anyplace which he might select for his abode. There were several fissuresin the rock at the eastern end, and one of these he selected. He thenwent back for his clothes, and brought them to this place. So the firstday went.

  All the time his eyes wandered round the horizon to see if a sail mightbe in sight. After two or three days, in which nothing appeared, heceased his constant watch, though still from time to time, by a naturalimpulse, he continued to look. After all he thought that rescue mightcome. He was somewhat out of the track of the China ships, but still notvery much so. An adverse wind might bring a ship close by. The hope ofthis sustained him.

  But day succeeded to day and week to week with no appearance of anything whatever on the wide ocean.

  During these long days he passed the greater part of his time eitherunder the shelter of the rock, where he could best avoid the hot sun, orwhen the sea-breeze blew on its summit. The frightful solitude offeredto him absolutely nothing which could distract his thoughts, or preventhim from brooding upon the hopelessness of his situation.

  Brooding thus, it became his chief occupation to read over and overhis father's letter and the inclosure, and conjecture what might be hiscourse of action if he ever escaped from this place. His father's voiceseemed now to sound to him more imploringly than ever; and the winds atnight, as they moaned round the rock, seemed to
modulate themselves, toform their sounds to something like a wild cry, and wail forth, "Comehome!" Yet that home was now surely farther removed than ever, and thewinds seemed only to mock him. More sad and more despairing than Ulysseson the Ogygian shore, he too wasted away with home-sickness.

  [Greek: kateibeto se glukus aion noston oduromeno.]

  Fate thus far had been against him, and the melancholy recollections ofhis past life could yield nothing but despondency. Driven from home whenbut a boy, he had become an exile, had wandered to the other side of theworld, and was just beginning to attain some prospect of a fortune whenthis letter came. Rising up from the prostration of that blow, he hadstruggled against fate, but only to encounter a more over-masteringforce, and this last stroke had been the worst of all. Could he rallyafter this? Could he now hope to escape?

  Fate had been against him; but yet, perhaps, here, on this lonelyisland, he might find a turning-point. Here he might find that turningin the long lane which the proverb speaks of. "The day is darkest beforethe morn," and perhaps he would yet have Fate on his side.

  But the sternest and most courageous spirit can hardly maintain itsfortitude in an utter and unmitigated solitude. St. Simeon Stylitescould do so, but he felt that on the top of that pillar there restedthe eyes of the heavenly hosts and of admiring mankind. It is when theconsciousness of utter solitude comes that the soul sinks. When theprisoner thinks that he is forgotten by the outside world, then he losesthat strength which sustained him while he believed himself remembered.

  It was the lot of Brandon to have this sense of utter desolation: tofeel that in all the world there was not one human being that knewof his fate; and to fear that the eye of Providence only saw him withindifference. With bitterness he thought of the last words of hisfather's letter: "If in that other world to which I am going thedisembodied spirit can assist man, then be sure, O my son, I will assistyou, and in the crisis of your fate I will be near, if it is only tocommunicate to your spirit what you ought to do."

  A melancholy smile passed over his face as he thought of what seemed tohim the utter futility of that promise.

  Now, as the weeks passed, his whole mode of life affected both mind andbody. Yet, if it be the highest state of man for the soul to liveby itself, as Socrates used to teach, and sever itself from bodilyassociation, Brandon surely had attained, without knowing it, a mostexalted stage of existence. Perhaps it was the period of purificationand preparation for future work.

  The weather varied incessantly, calms and storms alternating; sometimesall the sea lying dull, listless, and glassy under the burning sky; atother times both sea and sky convulsed with the war of elements.

  At last there came one storm so tremendous that it exceeded all thatBrandon had ever seen any where.

  The wind gathered itself up from the south-east, and for a whole day theforces of the tempest collected themselves, till at last they burst infury upon the island. In sustained violence and in the frenzy of itsassault it far surpassed that first storm. Before sundown the stormwas at its height, and, though yet day, the clouds were so dense and soblack that it became like night. Night came on, and the storm, and roar,and darkness increased steadily every hour. So intense was the darknessthat the hand, when held close by the face, could not be distinguished.So restless was the force of the wind that Brandon, on looking out tosea, had to cling to the rock to prevent himself from being blown away.A dense rain of spray streamed through the air, and the surf, rollingup, flung its crest all across the island. Brandon could hear beneathhim, amidst some of the pauses of the storm, the hissing and bubbling offoaming waters, as though the whole island, submerged by the waves, wasslowly settling down into the depths of the ocean.

  Brandon's place of shelter was sufficiently elevated to be out of thereach of the waves that might rush upon the land, and on the lee-sideof the rock, so that he was sufficiently protected. Sand, which he hadcarried up, formed his bed. In this place, which was more like the lairof a wild beast than the abode of a human being, he had to live. Manywakeful nights he had passed there, but never had he known such a nightas this.

  There was a frenzy about this hurricane that would have beeninconceivable if he had not witnessed it. His senses, refined andrendered acute by long vigils and slender diet, seemed to detect audiblewords in the voice of the storm. Looking out through the gloom hissight seemed to discern shapes flitting by like lightning, as though thefabled spirits of the storm had gathered here.

  It needed all the robust courage of his strong nature to sustain himselfin the presence of the wild fancies that now came rushing and throngingbefore his mind. The words of his father sounded in his ears; he thoughthe heard them spoken from the air; he thought he saw an aged spectralface, wan with suffering and grief, in front of his cave. He coveredhis eyes with his hands, and sought to reason down his superstitiousfeeling. In vain. Words rang in his ears, muffled words, as thoughmuttered in the storm, and his mind, which had brooded so long over hisfather's letter, now gave shape to the noise of winds and waves.

  "--In the crisis of your fate I will be near."

  "I shall go mad!" cried Brandon, aloud, and he started to his feet.

  But the storm went on with its fury, and still his eyes saw shapes, andhis ears heard fantastic sounds. So the night passed until at last thestorm had exhausted itself. Then Brandon sank down and slept far on intothe day.

  When he awaked again the storm had subsided. The sea was stillboisterous, and a fresh breeze blew which he inhaled with pleasure.After obtaining some shell-fish, and satisfying his appetite, he went tothe summit of the rock for water, and then stood looking out at sea.

  His eye swept the whole circuit of the horizon without seeing any thing,until at length he turned to look in a westwardly direction where theisland spread out before him. Here an amazing sight met his eyes.

  The mound at the other end had become completely and marvelouslychanged. On the previous day it had preserved its usual shape, but nowit was no longer smoothly rounded. On the contrary it was irregular, thenorthern end being still a sort of hillock, but the middle and southernend was flat on the surface and dark in color. From the distanceat which he stood it looked like a rock, around which the sand hadaccumulated, but which had been uncovered by the violent storm of thepreceding night.

  At that distance it appeared like a rock, but there was something in itsshape and in its position which made it look like a ship which had beencast ashore. The idea was a startling one, and he at once dismissed itas absurd. But the more he looked the closer the resemblance grewuntil at last, unable to endure this suspense, he hurried off in thatdirection.

  During all the time that he had been on the island he had neverbeen close to the mound. He had remained for the most part in theneighborhood of the rock, and had never thought that a barren sandhillock was worthy of a visit. But now it appeared a very differentobject in his eyes.

  He walked on over half the intervening distance, and now the resemblanceinstead of fading out, as he anticipated, grew more close. It was stilltoo far to be seen very distinctly: but there, even from that distance,he saw the unmistakable outline of a ship's hull.

  There was now scarcely any doubt about this. There it lay. Every steponly made it more visible. He walked more quickly onward, filled withwonder, and marveling by what strange chance this vessel could havereached its present position.

  There it lay. It could not by any possibility have been cast ashore onthe preceding night. The mightiest billows that ever rose from oceancould never have lifted a ship so far upon the shore. To him it wascertain that it must have been there for a long time, and that the sandhad been heaped around it by successive storms.

  As he walked nearer he regarded more closely the formation of thiswestern end. He saw the low northern point, and then the cove where hehad escaped from the sea. He noticed that the southern point where themound was appeared to be a sort of peninsula, and the theory suggesteditself to him by which he could account for this wonder. This ship, hesaw
, must have been wrecked at some time long before upon this island.As the shore was shallow it had run aground and stuck fast in the sand.But successive storms had continued to beat upon it until the movingsands which the waters were constantly driving about had gathered allaround it higher and higher. At last, in the course of time, a vastaccumulation had gathered about this obstacle till a new bank had beenformed and joined to the island; and the winds had lent their aid,heaping up the loose sand on high till all the ship was covered. Butlast night's storm had to some extent undone the work, and now the wreckwas once more exposed.

  Brandon was happy in his conjecture and right in his theory. All whoknow any thing about the construction and nature of sand islands suchas this are aware that the winds and waters work perpetual changes. Thebest known example of this is the far-famed Sable Island, which lies offthe coast of Nova Scotia, in the direct track of vessels crossing theAtlantic between England and the United States. Here there is repeatedon a far larger scale the work which Brandon saw on Coffin Island. SableIsland is twenty miles long and about one in width--the crest of a vastheap of sand which rises out of the ocean's bed. Here the wildest stormsin the world rage uncontrolled, and the keepers of the light-house havebut little shelter. Not long ago an enormous flag-staff was torn fromout its place and hurled away into the sea. In fierce storms the spraydrives all across, and it is impossible to venture out. But most of all,Sable Island is famous for the melancholy wrecks that have taken placethere. Often vessels that have the bad fortune to run aground are brokenup, but sometimes the sand gathers about them and covers them up. Thereare numerous mounds here which are known to conceal wrecked ships. Someof these have been opened, and the wreck beneath has been brought toview. Sometimes also after a severe gale these sandy mounds are tornaway and the buried vessels are exposed.

  "GREAT HEAVENS!" CRIED BRANDON, STARTING BACK--"THE'VISHNU!'"]

  Far away in Australia Brandon had heard of Sable Island from differentsea captains who had been in the Atlantic trade. The stories which thesemen had to tell were all largely tinged with the supernatural. One inparticular who had been wrecked there, and had taken refuge for thenight in a hut built by the British Government for wrecked sailors, toldsome wild story about the apparition of a negro who waked him up at deadof night and nearly killed him with horror.

  With all these thoughts in his mind Brandon approached the wreck and atlast stood close beside it.

  It had been long buried. The hull was about two-thirds uncovered. A vastheap of sand still clung to the bow, but the stern stood out full inview. Although it must have been there for a long time the planks werestill sound, for they seemed to have been preserved from decay by thesand. All the calking, however, had become loose, and the seams gapedwidely. There were no masts, but the lower part of the shrouds stillremained, showing that the vessel was a brig. So deeply was it buried inthe sand, that Brandon, from where he stood, could look over the wholedeck, he himself being almost on a level with the deck. The mastsappeared to have been chopped away. The hatchways were gone. The holdappeared to be filled with sand, but there may have been only a layer ofsand concealing something beneath. Part of the planking of the deck aswell as most of the taffrail on the other side had been carried away.Astern there was a quarter-deck. There was no skylight, but onlydead-lights set on the deck. The door of the cabin still remained andwas shut tight.

  All these things Brandon took in at a glance. A pensive melancholy cameover him, and a feeling of pity for the inanimate ship as though shewere capable of feeling. By a natural curiosity he walked around to thestern to see if he could read her name.

  The stern was buried deep in the sand. He had to kneel to read it.On the side nearest him the letters were obliterated, but he saw someremaining on the opposite side. He went over there and knelt down. Therewere four letters still legible and part of a fifth. These were theletters:

  VISHN

  "Great Heavens!" cried Brandon, starting back--"the _Vishnu!_"