I do not like it; I would rather lose Juno for a time,” replied Mrs Seagrave.
“My dear wife,” said Mr Seagrave, “recollect how Providence has preserved us in such awful dangers—how we are landed in safety. And now, will you not put trust in that Providence, when the dangers are, as I trust, only imaginary?”
“I was wrong, my dear husband; but sickness and suffering have made me, I fear, not only nervous and frightened, but selfish: I must and will shake it off. Hitherto I have only been a clog and an incumbrance to you; but I trust I shall soon behave better, and make myself useful. If you think, then, that it would be better that you should go instead of William, I am quite content. Go, then, with Ready, and may Heaven protect you both!”
“No, ma’am,” replied Ready, “William will do just as well. Indeed, I would go by myself with pleasure; but we know not what the day may bring forth. I might be taken ill—I might hurt myself—I am an old man, you know; and then I was thinking that if any accident was to happen to me, you might miss me—that’s all.”
“Pardon me,” replied Mrs Seagrave; “a mother is foolish at times.”
“Over-anxious, ma’am, perhaps, but not foolish,” replied Ready.
“Well, then, William shall go with you, Ready;—that point’s settled,” observed Mr Seagrave: “what is the next?”
“The next is to prepare for our journey. We must take some provisions and water with us, a gun and some ammunition, a large axe for me, and one of the hatchets for William; and, if you please, Romulus and Remus had better come with us. Juno, put a piece of beef and a piece of pork into the pot. William, will you fill four quart bottles with water, while I sew up a knapsack out of canvas for each of us?”
“And what shall I do, Ready?” said Mr Seagrave.
“Why, sir, if you will sharpen the axe and the hatchet on the grindstone, it would be of great service, and Tommy can turn it, he is so fond of work.”
Tommy jumped up directly; he was quite strong enough to turn the grindstone, but he was much fonder of play than work; but as Ready had said that he was fond of it, he wished to prove that such was the case, and worked very hard. Before they went to prayers and retired for the night, the axe was sharpened, the knapsacks made, and everything else ready.
“When do you intend to start, Ready?” said Mr Seagrave.
“Why, sir, I should like to get off at the dawn of day, when the heat is not so great.”
“And when do you intend to come back?” said Mrs Seagrave.
“Why, madam, we have provisions enough for three days: if we start to-morrow morning, which is Wednesday, I hope to be back some time on Friday evening; but I won’t be later than Saturday morning if I can help it.”
“Good-night—and good-bye, mother,” said William, “for I shall not see you to-morrow!”
“God bless and protect you, my dear child!” replied Mrs Seagrave. “Take care of him, Ready, and good-bye to you till we meet.”
Mrs Seagrave went into the tent to hide the tears which she could not suppress.
Chapter Fourteen.
Ready was up before the sun had appeared, and he awakened William. The knapsacks had been already packed, with two bottles of water in each, wrapped round with cocoa-nut leaves, to prevent their breaking, and the beef and pork divided between each knapsack. Ready’s, which was larger than William’s, held the biscuit and several other things which Ready had prepared in case they might require them.
As soon as the knapsacks were on, Ready took the axe and gun, and asked William if he thought he could carry a small spade on his shoulder, which they had brought on shore along with the shovels. William replied that he could; and the dogs, who appeared to know they were going, were all ready standing by them. Then, just as the sun rose, they turned into the cocoa-nut grove, and were soon out of sight of the tents.
“Now, William, do you know,” said Ready, stopping after they had walked twenty yards, “by what means we may find our way back again; for you see this forest of trees is rather puzzling, and there is no path to guide us?”
“No, I am sure I cannot tell; I was thinking of the very same thing when you spoke; and of Tom Thumb, who strewed peas to find his way back, but could not do it, because the birds picked them all up.”
“Well, Tom Thumb did not manage well, and we must try to do better; we must do as the Americans always do in their woods,—we must blaze the trees.”
“Blaze them! what, set fire to them?” replied William.
“No, no, William. Blaze is a term they use when they cut a slice of the bark off the trunk of a tree, just with one blow of a sharp axe, as a mark to find their way back again. They do not blaze every tree, but about every tenth tree as they go along, first one to the right, and then one to the left, which is quite sufficient; and it is very little trouble,—they do it as they walk along, without stopping. So now we’ll begin: you take the other side, it will be more handy for you to have your hatchet in your right hand; I can use my left. See now—just a slice off the bark—the weight of the axe does it almost.”
“What an excellent plan!” observed William.
“But I have another friend in my pocket,” replied Ready, “and I must use him soon.”
“What is that?”
“Poor Captain Osborn’s pocket-compass. You see, William, the blazing will direct us how to go back again; but it will not tell us what course we are now to steer. At present, I know we are going right, as I can see through the wood behind us; but by and by we shall not be able, and then I must make use of the compass.”
“I understand that very well; but tell me, Ready, why do you bring the spade with us—what will be the use of it? You did not say yesterday that you were going to bring me.”
“No, William, I did not, as I did not like to make your mother anxious; but the fact is, I am very anxious myself as to whether there is any water on this island; if there is not, we shall have to quit it sooner or later, for although we may get water by digging in the sand, it would be too brackish to use for any time, and would make us all ill. Very often there will be water if you dig for it, although it does not show above-ground; and therefore I brought the spade.”
“You think of everything, Ready.”
“No, I do not, William; but, in our present situation, I think of more things than perhaps your father and mother would: they have never known what it is to be put to their shifts; but a man like me, who has been all his life at sea, and who has been wrecked, and suffered hardships and difficulties, and has been obliged to think or die, has a greater knowledge, not only from his own sufferings, but by hearing how others have acted when they were in distress. Necessity sharpens a man’s wits; and it is very curious what people do contrive when they are compelled to do so, especially seamen.”
“And where are we going to now, Ready?”
“Right to the leeward side of the island.”
“Why do you call it the leeward side of the island?”
