Part 28 (2/2)
”I'll tell ye wot it is, cap'en,” said Tim Rokens, rising up, taking off his cap, and clearing his throat, as if he were about to make a studied oration. ”We've not none on us got no suggestions to make wotsomdiver.
You've only got to give the word and we'll go to work; an' the sooner you does so the better, for it's my b'lief we'll have a gale afore long that'll pretty well stop work altogether as long as it lasts.”
The indications in the sky gave such ample testimony to the justness of Rokens' observations that no more time was wasted in discussion. d.i.c.k Barnes, who acted the part of s.h.i.+p's carpenter when not otherwise engaged, went out to the wreck on the raft, with a party of men under command of Mr Millons, to fetch planking and the necessary material for the construction of a boat, while the remainder of the crew, under the captain's superintendence, prepared a place near Fairyland for laying the keel.
This spot was selected partly on account of the convenient formation of the sh.o.r.e for the launching of the boat when finished, and partly because that would be the lee side of the rocky point when the coming storm should burst. For the latter reason the hut was removed to Fairyland, and poor Ailie had the mortification in a few hours of seeing her little paradise converted into an unsightly wreck of confusion.
Alas! how often this is the case in human affairs of greater moment; showing the folly of setting our hearts on the things of earth. It seems at first sight a hard pa.s.sage, that, in the Word of G.o.d. ”What?”
the enthusiastic but thoughtless are ready to exclaim, ”not love the world! the bright, beautiful world that was made by G.o.d to be enjoyed?
Not love our fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, wives? not give our warmest affections to all these?” Truly, ye hasty ones, if you would but earnestly consider it, you would find that G.o.d not only permits, but requires us to love all that is good and beautiful here, as much as we will, as much as we can; but we ought to love Himself _more_. If this be our happy condition, then our hearts are not ”set on the world”; on the contrary, they are set free to love the world and all that is lovable in it--of which there is very, very much--more, probably than the best of men suppose. Else, wherefore does the Father love it and care for it so tenderly?
But Ailie had not set her heart on her possessions on the sandbank. She felt deep regret for a time, it is true, and in feeling thus she indulged a right and natural impulse, but that impulse did not lead to the sin of murmuring. Her sorrow soon pa.s.sed away, and she found herself as cheerful and happy afterwards in preparing for her long, long voyage as ever she had been in watching the gambols of her fish, or in admiring the lovely hues of the weeds and coral rocks in the limpid pools of Fairyland.
It was a fortunate circ.u.mstance that Captain Dunning set about the preparations for building the boat that afternoon, for the storm burst upon them sooner than had been expected, and long before all the requisite stores and materials had been rafted from the wreck.
The most important things, however, had been procured--such as the carpenter's chest, a large quant.i.ty of planking, oak.u.m, and cordage, and several pieces of sail cloth, with the requisite thread and needles for making boat sails. Still, much was wanting when the increasing violence of the wind compelled them to leave off work.
Some of the men were now ordered to set about securing such materials as had been collected, while others busied themselves in fixing ropes to the hut and rolling huge ma.s.ses of coral rock against its fragile walls to steady it.
”Av ye plaze, sir,” said Briant to the Captain, wiping his forehead as he approached with a lump of tarry canvas which he used in default of a better pocket-handkerchief, ”av ye plaze, sir, wot'll I do now?”
”Do something useful, lad, whatever you do,” said the captain, looking up from the hole which he was busily engaged in digging for the reception of a post to steady the hut. ”There's lots of work; you can please yourself as to choice.”
”Then I comed fur to suggist that the purvisions and things a-top o' the sandbank isn't quite so safe as they might be.”
”True, Briant; I was just thinking of that as you came up. Go and see you make a tight job of it. Get Rokens to help you.”
Briant hurried off, and calling his friend, walked with him to the top of the sandbank, leaning heavily against the gale, and staggering as they went. The blast now whistled so that they could scarcely hear each other talk.
”We'll be blowed right into the sea,” shouted Tim, as the two reached a pile of casks and cases.
”Sure, that's me own belaif entirely,” roared his companion.
”What d'ye say to dig a hole and stick the things in it?” yelled Rokens.
”We're not fit,” screamed Phil.
”Let's try,” shrieked the other.
To this Briant replied by falling on his knees on the lee side of the goods, and digging with his hands in the sand most furiously. Tim Rokens followed his example, and the two worked like a couple of sea-moles (if such creatures exist) until a hole capable of holding several casks was formed. Into this they stowed all the biscuit casks and a few other articles, and covered them up with sand. The remainder they covered with tarpaulin, and threw sand and stones above it until the heap was almost buried out of sight. This accomplished, they staggered back to the hut as fast as they could.
Here they found everything snugly secured, and as the rocks effectually sheltered the spot from the gale, with the exception of an occasional eddying blast that drove the sand in their faces, they felt comparatively comfortable. Lighting their pipes, they sat down among their comrades to await the termination of the storm.
CHAPTER NINETEEN.
THE STORM.
A storm in almost all circ.u.mstances is a grand and solemnising sight, one that forces man to feel his own weakness and his Maker's might and majesty. But a storm at sea in southern lat.i.tudes, where the winds are let loose with a degree of violence that is seldom or never experienced in the temperate zones, is so terrific that no words can be found to convey an adequate idea of its appalling ferocity.
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