Part 4 (1/2)

[Ill.u.s.tration: ”Some of these creatures even ventured to enter the outer room of the hut, in order to devour them.”

_P. 86._]

”Sure,” exclaimed Tommy, ”such a life as that must have been miserable and dreadful indeed.” ”Why so?” said Mr Barlow. _Tommy._--Because, being always in danger of being devoured by wild beasts, those men must have been always unhappy. _Mr B._--And yet they never were devoured.

_T._--No, sir; because they made weapons to defend themselves. _Mr B._--Perhaps, then, a person is not unhappy merely because he is exposed to danger, for he may escape from it, but because he does not know how to defend himself. _T._--I do not exactly understand you, sir. _Mr B._--I will give you an instance. Were you not very unhappy when the snake coiled itself round your leg, because you imagined it would bite you? _T._--Yes, sir. _Mr B._--But Harry was not unhappy. _T._--That is very true, sir. _Mr B._--And yet he was in more danger of being bitten than yourself, because he took hold of it. _T._--Indeed he did. _Mr B._--But he knew that by boldly seizing it, and flinging it away, he was in very little danger; had you, therefore, known the same, you probably would neither have feared so much nor have been so unhappy as you were. _T._--Indeed, sir, that is true; and, were such an accident to happen again, I think I should have courage enough to do the same. _Mr B._--Should you then be as unhappy now as you were the first time?

_T._--By no means, because I have a great deal more courage. _Mr B._--Why, then, persons that have courage are not so unhappy as those that are cowardly when they are exposed to danger. _T._--Certainly not, sir. _Mr B._--And that must be equally true in every kind of danger.

_T._--Indeed, it must; for I have sometimes heard my mother shriek out when she was pa.s.sing in a coach through a small stream of water, while my father only laughed at her. _Mr B._--Why, then, if she had possessed as much courage, perhaps she would have laughed too. _T._--Indeed, I believe she might; for I have sometimes seen her laugh at herself, when it was over, for being so cowardly. _Mr B._--Why, then, it is possible that when these men found they were so well able to defend themselves against the bears, they might no longer be afraid of them; and, not being afraid, they would not be unhappy. _T._--Indeed, I believe so. _Mr B._--Let us now continue.

”The three different kinds of animals above mentioned--viz., the reindeer, the blue and white foxes, and the white bears--were the only food these wretched mariners tasted during their continuance in this dreary abode. We do not at once see every resource; it is generally necessity which quickens our invention, opening by degrees our eyes, and pointing out expedients which otherwise might never have occurred to our thoughts. The truth of this observation our four sailors experienced in various instances. They were for some time reduced to the necessity of eating their meat almost raw, and without either bread or salt, for they were quite dest.i.tute of both. The intenseness of the cold, together with the want of proper conveniences, prevented them from cooking their victuals in a proper manner. There was but one stove in the hut, and that being set up agreeable to the Russian taste, was more like an oven, and consequently not well adapted for boiling anything. Wood also was too precious a commodity to be wasted in keeping up two fires; and the one they might have made out of their habitation to dress their victuals would in no way have served to warm them. Another reason against their cooking in the open air was the continual danger of an attack from the white bears. And here I must observe that, suppose they had made the attempt it would still have been practicable for only some part of the year; for the cold, which in such a climate for some months scarcely ever abates, from the long absence of the sun, then enlightening the opposite hemisphere,--the inconceivable quant.i.ty of snow, which is continually falling through the greatest part of the winter, together with the almost incessant rains at certain seasons,--all these were almost insurmountable to that expedient. To remedy, therefore, in some degree the hards.h.i.+p of eating their meat raw, they bethought themselves of drying some of their provisions during the summer in the open air, and afterwards of hanging it up in the upper part of the hut, which, as I mentioned before, was continually filled with smoke down to the windows; it was thus dried thoroughly by the help of that smoke. This meat so prepared, they used for bread, and it made them relish their other flesh the better, as they could only half-dress it. Finding this experiment answer in every respect to their wishes, they continued to practise it during the whole time of their confinement upon the island, and always kept up, by that means, a sufficient stock of provisions.

Water they had in summer from small rivulets that fell from the rocks, and in winter from the snow and ice thawed. This was of course their only beverage; and their small kettle was the only vessel they could make use of for this and other purposes. I have mentioned above that our sailors brought a small bag of flour with them to the island. Of this they had consumed about one-half with their meat; the remainder they employed in a different manner equally useful. They soon saw the necessity of keeping up a continual fire in so cold a climate, and found that, if it should unfortunately go out, they had no means of lighting it again; for though they had a steel and flints, yet they wanted both match and tinder. In their excursions through the island they had met with a slimy loam, or a kind of clay nearly in the middle of it. Out of this they found means to form a utensil which might serve for a lamp, and they proposed to keep it constantly burning with the fat of the animals they should kill. This was certainly the most rational scheme they could have thought of; for to be without a light in a climate where, during winter, darkness reigns for several months together, would have added much to their other calamities----”

_Tommy._--Pray, sir, stop. What! are there countries in the world where it is night continually for several months together? _Mr Barlow._--Indeed there are. _T._--How can that be? _Mr B._--How happens it that there is night at all? _T._--How happens it! It must be so, must it not? _Mr B._--That is only saying that you do not know the reason.

But do you observe no difference here between night and day? _T._--Yes, sir, it is light in the day and dark in the night. _Mr B._--But why is it dark in the night? _T._--Really I do not know. _Mr B._--What! does the sun s.h.i.+ne every night? _T._--No, sir, certainly not. _Mr B._--Then it only s.h.i.+nes on some nights, and not on others. _T._--It never s.h.i.+nes at all in the night. _Mr B._--And does it in the day? _T._--Yes, sir.

_Mr B._--Every day? _T._--Every day, I believe, only sometimes the clouds prevent you from seeing it. _Mr B._--And what becomes of it in the night? _T._--It goes away, so that we cannot see it. _Mr B._--So, then, when you can see the sun, it is never night. _T._--No, sir. _Mr B._--But when the sun goes away the night comes on. _T._--Yes, sir. _Mr B._--And when the sun comes again what happens? _T._--Then it is day again; for I have seen the day break, and the sun always rises presently after. _Mr B._--Then if the sun were not to rise for several months together, what would happen? _T._--Sure, it would always remain night, and be dark. _Mr B._--That is exactly the case with the countries we are reading about.

”Having therefore fas.h.i.+oned a kind of lamp, they filled it with reindeer's fat, and stuck into it some twisted linen shaped into a wick; but they had the mortification to find that, as soon as the fat melted, it not only soaked into the clay but fairly ran out of it on all sides.

The thing, therefore, was to devise some means of preventing this inconvenience, not arising from cracks, but from the substance of which the lamp was made being too porous. They made, therefore, a new one, dried it thoroughly in the air, then heated it red-hot, and afterwards quenched it in their kettle, wherein they had boiled a quant.i.ty of flour down to the consistence of thin starch. The lamp being thus dried and filled with melted fat, they now found, to their great joy, that it did not leak; but for greater security they dipped linen rags in their paste, and with them covered all its outside. Succeeding in this attempt, they immediately made another lamp for fear of an accident, that at all events they might not be dest.i.tute of light; and, when they had done so much, they thought proper to save the remainder of their flour for similar purposes. As they had carefully collected whatever happened to be cast on sh.o.r.e, to supply them with fuel, they had found amongst the wrecks of vessels some cordage and a small quant.i.ty of oak.u.m (a kind of hemp used for caulking s.h.i.+ps), which served them to make wicks for their lamps. When these stores began to fail, their s.h.i.+rts and their drawers (which are worn by almost all the Russian peasants) were employed to make good the deficiency. By these means they kept their lamp burning without intermission, from the day they first made it (a work they set about soon after their arrival on the island) until that of their embarkation for their native country.

”The necessity of converting the most essential part of their clothing, such as their s.h.i.+rts and drawers, to the use above specified, exposed them the more to the rigour of the climate. They also found themselves in want of shoes, boots, and other articles of dress; and as winter was approaching, they were again obliged to have recourse to that ingenuity which necessity suggests, and which seldom fails in the trying hour of distress. They had skins of reindeer and foxes in plenty, that had hitherto served them for bedding, and which they now thought of employing in some more essential service; but the question was how to tan them. After deliberating on this subject, they took to the following method: they soaked the skins for several days in fresh water till they could pull off the hair very easily; they then rubbed the wet leather with their hands till it was nearly dry, when they spread some melted reindeer fat over it, and again rubbed it well. By this process the leather became soft, pliant, and supple--proper for answering every purpose they wanted it for. Those skins which they designed for furs they only soaked one day, to prepare them for being wrought, and then proceeded in the manner before-mentioned, except only that they did not remove the hair. Thus they soon provided themselves with the necessary materials for all the parts of dress they wanted. But here another difficulty occurred; they had neither awls for making shoes or boots, nor needles for sewing their garments. This want, however, they soon supplied by means of the pieces of iron they had occasionally collected.

Out of these they made both, and by their industry even brought them to a certain degree of perfection. The making eyes to their needles gave them indeed no little trouble, but this they also performed with the a.s.sistance of their knife; for, having ground it to a very sharp point, and heated red-hot a kind of wire forged for that purpose, they pierced a hole through one end; and by whetting and smoothing it on stones, brought the other to a point, and thus gave the whole needle a very tolerable form. Scissors to cut out the skin were what they next had occasion for; but having none, their place they supplied with the knife; and, though there was neither shoemaker nor tailor amongst them, yet they had contrived to cut out the leather and furs well enough for their purpose. The sinews of the bears and the reindeer--which, as I mentioned before, they had found means to split--served them for thread; and thus, provided with the necessary implements, they proceeded to make their new clothes.”

”These,” said Mr Barlow, ”are the extracts which I have made from this very extraordinary story; and they are sufficient to show both the many accidents to which men are exposed, and the wonderful expedients which may be found out, even in the most dismal circ.u.mstances.” ”It is very true, indeed,” answered Tommy; ”but pray what became of these poor men at last?” ”After they had lived more than six years upon this dreary and inhospitable coast,” answered Mr Barlow, ”a s.h.i.+p arrived there by accident, which took three of them on board, and carried them in safety to their own country.” ”And what became of the fourth?” said Tommy.

”He,” said Mr Barlow, ”was seized with a dangerous disease, called the scurvy; and, being of an indolent temper, and therefore not using the exercise which was necessary to preserve his life, after having lingered some time, died, and was buried in the snow by his companions.”

CHAPTER III.

Harry's Chicken--Tommy tries kindness on the Pig--Account of the Elephant--Story of the Elephant and the Tailor--Story of the Elephant and the Child--Stories of the Good Natured Boy and the Ill Natured Boy--The Boys determine to Build a House--Story of the Grateful Turk--The Boys' House blown down--They rebuild it stronger--The Roof lets in the Rain--At last is made Water-tight.

Here little Harry came in from his father's house, and brought with him the chicken, which, it had been mentioned, he had saved from the claws of the kite. The little animal was now perfectly recovered of the hurt it had received, and showed so great a degree of affection to its protector, that it would run after him like a dog, hop upon his shoulder, nestle in his bosom, and eat crumbs out of his hand. Tommy was extremely surprised and pleased to remark its tameness and docility, and asked by what means it had been made so gentle. Harry told him he had taken no particular pains about it; but that, as the poor little creature had been sadly hurt, he had fed it every day till it was well; and that, in consequence of that kindness, it had conceived a great degree of affection towards him.

”Indeed,” said Tommy, ”that is very surprising; for I thought all birds had flown away whenever a man came near them, and that even the fowls which are kept at home would never let you touch them.” _Mr B._--And what do you imagine is the reason of that? _T._--Because they are wild.

_Mr B._--And what is a fowl's being wild? _T._--When he will not let you come near him. _Mr B._--Then a fowl is wild because he will not let you come near him. This is saying nothing more than that when a fowl is wild he will not let you approach him. But I want to know what is the reason of his being wild. _T._--Indeed, sir, I cannot tell, unless it is because they are naturally so. _Mr B._--But if they were naturally so, this fowl could not be fond of Harry. _T._--That is because he is so good to it. _Mr B._--Very likely. Then it is not natural for an animal to run away from a person that is good to him? _T._--No, sir; I believe not. _Mr B._--But when a person is not good to him, or endeavours to hurt him, it is natural for an animal to run away from him, is it not?

_T._--Yes. _Mr B._--And then you say he is wild, do you not? _T._--Yes, sir. _Mr B._--Why, then, it is probable that animals are only wild because they are afraid of being hurt, and that they only run away from the fear of danger. I believe you would do the same from a lion or a tiger. _T._--Indeed I would, sir. _Mr B._--And yet you do not call yourself a wild animal? Tommy laughed heartily at this, and said No.

”Therefore,” said Mr Barlow, ”if you want to tame animals, you must be good to them, and treat them kindly, and then they will no longer fear you, but come to you and love you.” ”Indeed,” said Harry, ”that is very true; for I knew a little boy that took a great fancy to a snake that lived in his father's garden; and, when he had the milk for breakfast, he used to sit under a nut tree and whistle, and the snake would come to him and eat out of his bowl.” _T._--And did it not bite him? _H._--No; he sometimes used to give it a pat with his spoon, if it ate too fast; but it never hurt him.

Tommy was much pleased with this conversation; and, being both good-natured and desirous of making experiments, he determined to try his skill in taming animals. Accordingly, he took a large slice of bread in his hand, and went out to seek some animal that he might give it to.

The first thing that he happened to meet was a sucking pig that had rambled from its mother, and was basking in the sun. Tommy would not neglect the opportunity of showing his talents; he therefore called Pig, pig, pig! come hither, little pig! But the pig, who did not exactly comprehend his intentions, only grunted, and ran away. ”You little ungrateful thing,” said Tommy, ”do you treat me in this manner, when I want to feed you? If you do not know your friends I must teach you.” So saying this, he sprang at the pig, and caught him by the hind-leg, intending to have given him the bread which he had in his hand; but the pig, who was not used to be treated in that manner, began struggling and squeaking to that degree, that the sow, who was within hearing, came running to the place, with all the rest of the litter at her heels. As Tommy did not know whether she would be pleased with his civilities to her young one or not, he thought it most prudent to let it go; and the pig, endeavouring to escape as speedily as possible, unfortunately ran between his legs and threw him down. The place where this accident happened was extremely wet; therefore Tommy, in falling, dirtied himself from head to foot; and the sow, who came up at that instant, pa.s.sed over him, as he attempted to rise, and rolled him back again into the mire.

Tommy, who was not the coolest in his temper, was extremely provoked at this ungrateful return for his intended kindness; and, losing all patience, he seized the sow by the hind-leg and began pommelling her with all his might, as she attempted to escape. The sow, as may be imagined, did not relish such treatment, but endeavoured with all her force to escape; but Tommy still keeping his hold, and continuing his discipline, she struggled with such violence as to drag him several yards, squeaking at the same time in the most lamentable manner, in which she was joined by the whole litter of pigs.

During the heat of this contest a large flock of geese happened to be crossing the road, into the midst of which the affrighted sow ran headlong, dragging the enraged Tommy at her heels. The goslings retreated with the greatest precipitation, joining their mournful cackling to the general noise; but a gander of more than common size and courage, resenting the unprovoked attack which had been made upon his family, flew at Tommy's hinder parts, and gave him several severe strokes with his bill.

Tommy, whose courage had hitherto been unconquerable, being thus unexpectedly attacked by a new enemy, was obliged to yield to fortune, and not knowing the precise extent of his danger, he not only suffered the sow to escape, but joined his vociferations to the general scream.

This alarmed Mr Barlow, who, coming up to the place, found his pupil in the most woeful plight, daubed from head to foot, with his face and hands as black as those of any chimney-sweeper. He inquired what was the matter; and Tommy, as soon as he had recovered breath enough to speak, answered in this manner: ”Sir, all this is owing to what you told me about taming animals; I wanted to make them tame and gentle, and to love me, and you see the consequences.” ”Indeed,” said Mr Barlow, ”I see you have been ill-treated, but I hope you are not hurt; and if it is owing to anything I have said, I shall feel the more concern.” ”No,” said Tommy, ”I cannot say that I am much hurt.” ”Why, then,” said Mr Barlow, ”you had better go and wash yourself; and, when you are clean, we will talk over the affair together.”

When Tommy had returned, Mr Barlow asked him how the accident had happened? and when he had heard the story, he said, ”I am very sorry for your misfortune; but I do not perceive that I was the cause of it, for I do not remember that I ever advised you to catch pigs by the hinder leg.” _Tommy._--No, sir; but you told me that feeding animals was the way to make them love me; and so I wanted to feed the pig. _Mr B._--But it was not my fault that you attempted it in a wrong manner. The animal did not know your intentions, and therefore, when you seized him in so violent a manner, he naturally attempted to escape, and his mother hearing his cries, very naturally came to his a.s.sistance. All that happened was owing to your inexperience. Before you meddle with any animal, you should make yourself acquainted with his nature and disposition, otherwise you may fare like the little boy that, in attempting to catch flies, was stung by a wasp; or like another that, seeing an adder sleeping upon a bank, took it for an eel, and was bitten by it, which had nearly cost him his life. _T._--But, sir, I thought Harry had mentioned a little boy that used to feed a snake without receiving any hurt from it. _Mr B._--That might very well happen; there is scarcely any creature that will do hurt, unless it is attacked or wants food; and some of these reptiles are entirely harmless, others not; therefore the best way is not to meddle with any till you are perfectly acquainted with its nature. Had you observed this rule, you never would have attempted to catch the pig by the hinder leg, in order to tame it; and it is very lucky that you did not make the experiment upon a larger animal, otherwise you might have been as badly treated as the tailor was by the elephant. _T._--Pray, sir, what is this curious story? But first tell me, if you please, what an elephant is?