On the wreck--Efforts to kindle a fire--My flagstaff--Clothing impossible--Growing corn in turtles' blood--My house of pearl shells--How the pelicans fished for me--Stung by a "sting-rae"--My amusements--A peculiar clock--Threatened madness--I begin to build a boat--An appalling blunder--Riding on turtles--Preaching to Bruno--Canine sympathy--A sail--How I got fresh water--Sending messages by the pelicans--A wonderful almanac--A mysterious voice of hope--Human beings at last.
That morning I made my breakfast off raw sea-gulls' eggs, but was unable to get anything to drink.Between nine and ten o'clock, as the tide was then very low, I was delighted to find that it was possible to reach the wreck by walking along the rocks.So, scrambling aboard, I collected as many things as I could possibly transfer ashore.I had to take dangerous headers into the cabin, as the whole ship's interior was now full of water, but all I could manage to secure were a tomahawk and my bow and arrows, which had been given me by the Papuans.I had always taken a keen interest in archery, by the way, and had made quite a name for myself in this direction long before I left Switzerland.I also took out a cooking-kettle.All these seemingly unimportant finds were of vital importance in the most literal sense of the phrase, particularly the tomahawk and the bow, which were in after years my very salvation time after time.
I was very delighted when I secured my bow and arrows, for I knew that with them I could always be certain of killing sea-fowl for food.There was a stock of gunpowder on board and a number of rifles and shot-guns, but as the former was hopelessly spoiled, Idid not trouble about either.With my tomahawk I cut away some of the ship's woodwork, which I threw overboard and let drift to land to serve as fuel.When I did eventually return to my little island, I unravelled a piece of rope, and then tried to produce fire by rubbing two pieces of wood smartly together amidst the inflammable material.It was a hopeless business, however; a full half-hour's friction only made the sticks hot, and rub as hard as Iwould I could not produce the faintest suspicion of a spark.I sat down helplessly, and wondered how the savages I had read of ever got fire in this way.
Up to this time I had not built myself a shelter of any kind.At night I simply slept in the open air on the sand, with only my blankets round me.One morning I was able to get out of the vessel some kegs of precious water, a small barrel of flour, and a quantity of tinned foods.All these, together with some sails, spars, and ropes, I got safely ashore, and in the afternoon Irigged myself up a sort of canvas awning as a sleeping-place, using only some sails and spars.
Among the things I brought from the ship on a subsequent visit were a stiletto that had originally been given to me by my mother.It was an old family relic with a black ebony handle and a finely tempered steel blade four or five inches in length.I also got a stone tomahawk--a mere curio, obtained from the Papuans; and a quantity of a special kind of wood, also taken on board at New Guinea.This wood possessed the peculiar property of smouldering for hours when once ignited, without actually bursting into flame.
We took it on board because it made such good fuel.
As the most urgent matter was to kindle a fire, I began experiments with my two weapons, striking the steel tomahawk against the stone one over a heap of fluffy material made by unravelling and teasing out a piece of blanket.Success attended my patient efforts this time, and to my inexpressible relief and joy I soon had a cheerful fire blazing alongside my improvised shelter--and, what is more, Itook good care NEVER TO LET IT GO OUT DURING THE WHOLE LIME IREMAINED A PRISONER ON THE ISLAND.The fire was always my first thought, and night and day it was kept at least smouldering by means of the New Guinea wood I have already mentioned, and of which I found a large stock on board.The ship itself, I should mention, provided me with all the fuel that was required in the ordinary way, and, moreover, I was constantly finding pieces of wreckage along the shore that had been gathered in by the restless waves.
Often--oh! often--I reflected with a shudder what my fate would have been had the ship gone down in deep water, leaving me safe, but deprived of all the stores she contained.The long, lingering agony, the starvation, the madness of thirst, and finally a horrible death on that far-away strip of sand, and another skeleton added to that grisly pile!
The days passed slowly by.In what part of the world I was located I had not the remotest idea.I felt that I was altogether out of the beaten track of ships because of the reefs that studded these seas, and therefore the prospect of my being rescued was very remote indeed--a thought that often caused me a kind of dull agony, more terrible than any mere physical pain.
