A Century Too Soon Part 11

The foxes proved their only annoyance, and Stevens shot them until they became more shy. He killed nineteen in a single night. It became necessary to make a strong wooden cage, or box to keep their food in; but the salt junk was scented by the foxes, and they gathered about it in great numbers and made the night hideous with their howls.

At last he hit upon a plan which nearly exterminated the foxes and rid them of the nuisance. Among other articles brought from the s.h.i.+p was poison. He shot a goat and, while it was warm and bleeding, cut it open, poisoned the meat and left it where the foxes could get at it.

Early in the night the fighting, snapping and snarling began, and the next morning the woods were filled with dead foxes, so it was years before the howl of another was heard.

Fully realizing the importance of making haste in removing the wreck to the sh.o.r.e, he worked with more than human efforts until he had gotten off almost everything of value. Blanche aided him all she could, and when their tents were up, her womanly instincts as housekeeper gave a homelike appearance to them.

Having brought off all that was valuable, he built a house close under a bluff, where a projecting shelf of rock covered a small grotto, which he enlarged with pick and shovel. Before the rainy season set in, he had a comfortable house. They had a store of provisions enough to last for two years, and, in addition, John brought away Indian corn, barley, and wheat which he planted and, to his delight, discovered that it grew well. Being a farmer, it was only natural that he should give his thoughts to agriculture.

John was industrious, thoughtful and, having been brought up in the colony, was calculated to make the wilderness bloom as Virginia had done. His axe awoke the echoes of the forest, and he busied himself building houses, planting fields, and providing for their comforts. All the while the flags were kept flying from the hills, in hopes of attracting some pa.s.sing s.h.i.+p.

Two years glided by, and not a sail had been seen on the ocean. The wreck had disappeared; but John and Blanche were provided with comfortable homes. They had tamed the goats, exterminated the foxes, and their fields waved with corn, wheat and barley. To grind their corn, John, who was something of a genius, invented a mill from two stones.

The wild fruits and berries of the island improved under cultivation and yielded a greater abundance. Their floors were covered with rush mats, and the furniture brought from the wreck gave to the rooms a comfortable and homelike air.

It was evening, and the sitting-room was lighted by candles made of goat's tallow. John Stevens was reading aloud from a Bible and Blanche sat listening with rapt attention.

"Read more," she said when he had finished the page. "What a blessing to know that even in the uttermost parts of the earth G.o.d is with us."

"Verily, it is a comfort."

"Should we die here, He will be with us."

"G.o.d is everywhere. He will not desert us," John said.

"But I hope we will yet be rescued."

"I trust so."

He closed his book and placed it on the table at his side and buried his face in his hands. She watched his strong emotion with eyes which were moist with sympathy, and, rising, came to his side and placed her hand on his shoulder.

"You are stronger than I," she said, "why should you grieve more at our calamity? Surely G.o.d is with us."

The tears were trickling through his fingers and his frame was convulsed with emotion. She noted his grief and, to encourage him, added:

"G.o.d is everywhere; he is here; he will guard and watch over us, and, if it be his pleasure that we escape from this island, he will send some s.h.i.+p to our deliverance."

"My burden is greater than I can bear."

"Remember He said, 'Take my yoke upon you, for my yoke is easy and my burden is light.' Trust all to Jesus, and He will give you strength."

"You are all alone in the world, Blanche."

"Yes."

"You have not a relative living."

"No, my father was lost."

"I wish I had none. It is not for myself that I grieve, but the helpless ones at home."

"Helpless--"

"My wife and children."

Blanche, shocked and amazed, gazed at him in silence. The blood forsook her face, her breast heaved, and her breath came in painful gasps. He had never before in all the two years they had been alone upon the island mentioned his wife and children.

"I left them to better my fortune," he continued. "They were so helpless and I so poor; but I did what I thought best. Last night I saw them in my dreams, her great bright eyes all red with weeping, and my baby's warm little hands were again about my neck imploring me to come home in accents so pathetic and sweet, they melted my heart. My blue-eyed Robert was no longer gay, but melancholy. O G.o.d, give me the wings of a dove that I may go and see them again!"

His head fell on the table and his whole frame shook with emotion, while Blanche, with her own sad beautiful eyes swimming in tears, could not utter a word of consolation. When he had partially recovered she asked:

"Why did you not tell me this before, you might have had my sympathy all along."

"I did not care to burden you with my griefs."

"Trust in G.o.d."

"I do; but this dark uncertainty; my helpless children."

"They have their mother."

"She is unpractical, knows nothing of life and is as helpless as the children. The little money left her has been spent long before this, and they are--Heaven only knows what ills they may endure. So long as I was with them, I s.h.i.+elded them from the rude blasts of the world; but now they are without a protector."

[Ill.u.s.tration: BLANCHE COULD NOT UTTER A WORD OF CONSOLATION.]

Overcome with the sad picture he had created in his mind, he buried his face again in his hands. Once more Blanche sought to soothe his cares by a.s.suring him that He who watched the sparrow's fall would in some way care for his loved ones at home.

The years rolled on, and day by day he climbed the top of the nearest hill and gazed off to the sea, hoping to discern a sail, but in vain.

He had brought the captain's gla.s.ses from the s.h.i.+p, and with this often gazed at the two islands toward the north with longing eyes. Did they connect with the main land where people dwelt, and from which they might find means of transportation to the home which he sometimes feared he might never again behold?

"Would it be too dangerous to undertake a voyage to those islands?"

Blanche asked one day when they were gazing for the thousandth time at them.

"If we had a suitable boat we might attempt it."

"How is our own boat?"

"Too frail. The boards are almost rotten."

"Then why not make one?"

The idea was a good one, for it promised him employment. He felled a large tree and proceeded to make a dug-out such as the Indians of Virginia used.

Blanche helped him and was so cheerful, kind and considerate, that often, as he gazed on her beautiful face, he sighed:

"Had Dorothy possessed her spirit, this misery would have been averted."

He felt a twinge of conscience at rebuking his wife, even in thought. No doubt she had paid dearly for her folly.