CHAPTER XX.

CHAPTER XX.

“O, BERNARD, IT IS YOUR FATHER’S SHIP!.”

After the strange meeting with Bernard Herbert, his imprisonment on the lonely island no longer felt irksome to Tom Talisker.

Indeed, for a time at all events, he was in no hurry for “the ship” to come. Had it arrived the first week even, I daresay Tom would have been a little disappointed. O, it was bound to appear some day or other; all three prisoners felt sure of that. For they were young and healthy, and therefore they were happy and hopeful. Why should they not enjoy life as thoroughly as possible, therefore? They did so anyhow.

They hunted, they fished, they roamed through the woods and wild glens, and studied nature in its every phase and form, and in fact really felt part and parcel of the living joys and wonders all around them.

“It is very well being a Crusoe, for a short time all by yourself,” Tom said one day to Bernard; “but it is doubly delightful to have a companion.”

The very flowers seemed more beautiful now, the trees looked greener, and the sky and sea a deeper blue.

Strange to say, neither Tom nor Bernard thought twice of the buried treasure. It was there waiting them when they wanted it. Far more in gold alone than would purchase all the lands of Craigielea, and half the parish besides. They did not even trouble themselves to wonder how it had come there. A dying convict had told Bernard its whereabouts--a convict that he had befriended--and doubtless it had been concealed long years ago by the buccaneers who infested these seas in the good old times.

The huge tame tortoises were a source of endless amusement to the Crusoes. They even managed to domesticate them. Two of these especially were great pets and favourites. Both were old males--bulls Bernard called them; and there is really no saying how long they might not have crawled about the island--probably a hundred years if not two. Tortoises are animals that take life wondrously easy. They never hurry, and most assuredly never worry; and thus they manage to exist for a whole century, and live happy ever afterwards.

One would think that during such a long innings the Galapagos tortoise would amass a vast deal of wisdom. Perhaps they do; but, if so, they keep it to themselves. They seem to know that silence is golden, and consequently stick to it. These two giants, Peter and John the Crusoes called them, knew well enough what was good for them; and that is more than some boys do. Their food was collected for them, and they stopped eating at once when nature was satisfied; and they never touched anything that was left, a second time. If stale food were offered to them, they snorted and drew in their heads at once; but as soon as the half-dry stuff was taken away, and some nice juicy morsels of cacti placed about a yard off, out came the heads again. Not quickly; O, no, they did not even hurry themselves in putting their heads out; though they always managed to draw them in with a jerk

[Illustration: GIANT TORTOISE RIDING]

when offended. Black Tom was their particular aversion. I cannot understand why, but as soon as he appeared, “Pshaw!” they would shout, and in went their heads in a moment; and away Black Tom would fly, with his tail on end and like a bottle brush. The cat could growl and hiss pretty well himself; but not in the terribly startling way the tortoises did. John was the better-natured of these two race-horses. That is the reason they call him John. The other was a little crotchety so they called him Peter. Peter did not like anyone to point a stick or even a finger at him. If you did so, you offended him at once. “Pshaw!” he would cry, and draw in his head, and one could not help feeling mean. But you might have pointed a finger all day long at John, and he would not have troubled himself.

Is it possible, I wonder, for huge ungainly monsters like these to possess affection? I myself believe it is; and that John grew really fond of Tom. For sometimes after eating his dinner, instead of drawing in his neck and going quickly to sleep as his brother Peter did, John started looking or staring at Tom, if he happened to be lying reading out of doors. It was a long, steady, stony stare, that lasted for perhaps half an hour at a time. Bernard used to say that he saw a smile on John’s face; but Tom would not admit that. However, there was no mistake about the staring; for Tom used to shift his position, and the head and neck followed him slowly round. But John never turned his body round. That would have been far too much trouble. When Tom got tired of being stared at like this he used to call for pussy. That was enough for John. “Pshaw!” he would cry, and in would go the neck.

* * * * *

In about a month’s time Bernard Herbert, though still dressed in garments made of skin, was as thoroughly civilized as could be wished, and his English was now unexceptionably good. But though a handsome man, he was a terribly red-brown one. The tanning his skin had received in the wilds of the eastern lands of Ecuador would probably never leave it; only there was surely nothing to be sorry for on this account.

Tom had commenced to teach Bernard to read, and, partly because his heart was in it, and partly because he really was very clever, he soon made excellent progress.

One forenoon when Brandy was away in the woods Tom had just sat down to give Brother Bernard, as he called him, a lesson, when they heard a distant shout, and looking up beheld the negro boy coming rushing wildly over the plain.

Tom ran for his rifle, then hastened to meet him, not knowing what might be the matter. He hailed the lad when near enough; but Brandy had no voice now, he could only point away seawards and make faces.

“Is it a ship?” cried Tom.

Brandy signalled assent, and back ran Tom, shouting wildly, madly, exultantly--

“A ship! A ship!”

And Bernard threw his goat-skin cap in the air and joined the chorus, for Brandy had recovered his breath, and the very woods and welkin rang with--

“A ship! A ship!”

Then away they all hurried together to the look-out station.

The vessel was standing steadily in towards the land, with all sail set.

But Tom had only to look at her once before he exclaimed:

“O, Bernard, it is the _Caledonia_! It is your father’s ship!”

Bernard smiled faintly, then pressed both hands to his heart, as if in sudden pain. Strong man though he was, the joyful and sudden news was almost too much for him.

He recovered in a moment though; then, as if by some sudden impulse, the three joined hands and danced and capered there until they were fain to desist from sheer exhaustion. They quieted down after this. They had allayed their excitement, blown off their steam. But for the time being surely no madder, dafter dance had ever been danced on a hilltop. Brandy, with his black face and white rolling eyes, the wild red man in his skins, and honest Tom Talisker in his rags-a comical trio!

I think when the dance was over they were all a little ashamed of it; but after all what else could they have done under the circumstances?

“Well, sah,” said Ginger Brandy, “I’se ’llayed my feelings plenty proper.”

“And I’ve allayed mine,” said Tom.

“I think,” said Bernard, “that dance has saved my reason.”

“And now,” cried Tom, “look, yonder goes the anchor down. Let us run and meet them.”

Well, surely there is truth in the old saying that wonders will never cease, for who should Tom meet near the shore coming panting up the tortoise-path but Uncle Robert himself.

“O, may the Lord be praised, my boy, we have found you.”

And for one moment Tom in his rags was pressed to the old man’s heart, and, will it be believed, he was sobbing like a child.

Uncle Robert saw he could not speak, though he was trying hard to, so he wisely forestalled his questions.

“Your mother and father, sister and brothers are all well, and ’Theena is here on board the _Caledonia_.”

About the same time an earnest-eyed red man in goat skins had rushed up to Captain Herbert on the beach.

“Father,” he said. “Do not start, I am your boy, Bernard!”

But wonders had not ceased even yet. For coming along the path, clambering over lumps of scoriæ and kicking away cinders, was Barnaby Blunt himself.

“I tell you what it is, friends, this is about the prettiest bit of an ending to a drama that ever I see’d in all my born days, and I reckon nobody’ll care to contradict me. Here was Captain Barnaby Blunt foundered at sea, and took to boats, separated from his dinghy and finally picked up by a whaler, who landed him at Buenos Ayres. Here five months afterwards was Captain Herbert, and my young friend’s Uncle Robert, come out from England to look for their runaway boys, and here we all meet again as unexpected as if we had dropped out of a balloon. If it ain’t about the strangest and queerest thing that ever happened, then may Barnaby Blunt never command a ship of his own again, nor meet his dear old wife, ’Liza Ann. And here’s Brandy himself.”

Then this queer old Quaker Yankee got serious all at once.

“I say, men and boys,” he said, “don’t you think we’ve all got a deal to be thankful for. Then let us just kneel down here among the cinders and praise God’s holy name.”

They did kneel down--just there, where they had been standing, and if Barnaby Blunt’s prayer was brief it was heartfelt.

* * * * *

Reader, my story is all but ended, and I am not the one to keep the curtain up a single minute longer than is necessary.

Just as they were then, in their rags and skins, Captain Herbert insisted on bundling them on board the _Caledonia_. “Bundling” is the right word in the right place.

When Tom Talisker saw advancing to meet him on the quarter-deck a beautiful girl of some seventeen summers--we should always call it summers when talking of a lady’s age--he felt inclined to hang fire, and Bernard was half afraid too.

But Tom soon screwed up his courage, took Brother Bernard by the hand, and both advanced; and when she looked at them ’Theena first smiled and then laughed right heartily, though the tears were rolling over her face all the time. And everybody joined in the laugh, even the Crusoes themselves.

* * * * *

The treasure was safely loaded and stowed, and let me say to his credit that Barnaby Blunt was not a bit jealous of the young men’s luck.

“‘Liza Ann and me has eno’, praised be His name,” said Barnaby, “and I wish you long life and luck to spend your fortune, boys.”

When boats at Guayaquil brought off Tom’s treasures of natural history, and brought off at the same time his old friend Samaro to see Uncle Robert, the latter was indeed a proud and happy man. And his parting with his quondam guide was quite affecting.

“My boy Tom may see you again, Samaro,” he said, “he is a rover born; but I never shall till we meet up bye. Farewell!”

“_A dios_, my good señor. _A dios._”

These were Samaro’s last words as he went slowly over the side.

* * * * *

It was many months after this ere the good ship _Caledonia_ was towed up the Clyde; but the long voyage had been a very happy one, almost idyllic indeed, and ere it was all ended ’Theena had one evening under the silvery stars promised Tom Talisker that she would take a longer voyage with him--the voyage through life.

They are living now at Craigielea; Tom’s parents still keep the fine old farm, but Tom himself lives at Craigie Castle, and owns the shootings. Black Tom, the cat, is also alive and very living like. Uncle Robert has rooms at the castle too. The place would not be complete without Uncle Robert.

Bernard is still a bachelor and likely to be, but he has bought a fine estate not far from Tom’s place.

Between them they own a very beautiful yacht, with decks white as snow and sails like sea-bird’s wings; but only their most intimate friends know the reason why she is named the _Southern Hope_.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Some of these wonderful tortoises are so large that half a dozen men can hardly lift them from the ground.

[2] Owing to the raids made upon these strange animals by the American whalers they had become very scarce, but this island not having been visited for many years, they had recuperated their forces.--G. S.

[3] This is the idea Indians have of photographs.