CHAPTER XLIX.
THE _Springbok_ arrived in due course at longitude 103 deg. 31 min., butsaw no island. This was dispiriting; but still Captain Moreland did notdespair.
He asked General Rolleston to examine the writing casefully, and tell himwas that Miss Rolleston's handwriting.
The general shook his head sorrowfully. "No," said he; "it is nothinglike my child's hand."
"Why, all the better," said Captain Moreland; "the lady has got somebodyabout her who knows a thing or two. The man that could catch wild ducksand turn 'em into postmen could hit on the longitude somehow; and hedoesn't pretend to be exact in the latitude."
Upon this he ran northward four hundred miles; which took him three days;for they stopped at night.
No island.
He then ran south five hundred miles; stopping at night.
No island.
Then he took the vessel zigzag.
Just before sunset, one lovely day, the man at the mast-head sang out:
"On deck there!"
"Hullo!"
"Something in sight; on our weather-bow."
"What is it?"
"Looks like a mast. No. Don't know what it is."
"Point."
The sailor pointed with his finger.
Captain Moreland ordered the ship's course to be altered accordingly. Bythis time General Rolleston was on deck. The ship ran two miles on thenew course; and all this time the topman's glass was leveled, and thecrew climbed about the rigging all eyes and ears.
At last the clear hail came down.
"I can make it out now, sir."
"What is it?
"It is a palm-tree."
The captain jumped on a gun, and waved his hat grandly, and instantly thevessel rang with a lusty cheer; and, for once, sailors gabbled likewasherwomen.
They ran till they saw the island in the moonlight, and the giant palm,black, and sculptured out of the violet sky; then they set the leadgoing, and it warned them not to come too close. They anchored off thewest coast.
A daybreak they moved slowly on, still sounding as they went; and,rounding the West Point, General Rolleston saw written on the guanoedrocks in large letters
AN ENGLISH LADY WRECKED HERE. HASTE TO HER RESCUE.
He and Moreland shook hands; and how their eyes glistened!
Presently there was a stranger inscription still upon the rocks--a roughoutline of the island on an enormous scale, showing the coast-line, thereefs, the shallow water, and the deep water.
"Ease her! Stop her!"
The captain studied this original chart with his glass, and crept slowlyon for the west passage.
But, warned by the soundings marked on the rock, he did not attempt to gothrough the passage, but came to an anchor, and lowered his boat.
The sailors were all on the _qui vive_ to land, but the captain, to theirinfinite surprise, told them only three persons would land thatmorning--himself, his son, and General Rolleston.
The fact is, this honest captain had got a misgiving, founded on ageneral view of human nature. He expected to find the girl with two orthree sailors, one of them united to her by some nautical ceremony, dulywitnessed, but such as a _military_ officer of distinction could hardlybe expected to approve. He got into the boat in a curious state ofdelight, dashed with uncomfortable suspense; and they rowed gently forthe west passage.
As for General Rolleston, now it was he needed all his fortitude. Supposethe lady was not Helen! After all, the chances were against her beingthere. Suppose she was dead and buried in that island! Suppose that fataldisease, with which she had sailed, had been accelerated by hardships,and Providence permitted him only to receive her last sigh. All thesemisgivings crowded on him the moment he drew so near the object which hadlooked all brightness so long as it was unattainable. He sat pale andbrave in the boat; but his doubts and fears were greater than his hope.
They rounded Telegraph Point, and in a moment Paradise Bay burst on them,and Hazel's boat within a hundred yards of them. It was half-tide. Theybeached the boat and General Rolleston landed. Captain Moreland graspedhis hand, and said, "Call us if it is all right."
General Rolleston returned the pressure of that honest hand, and marchedup the beach just as if he was going into action.
He came to the boat. It had an awning over the stern, and was clearlyused as a sleeping-place. A series of wooden pipes standing on uprightsled from this up to the cliff. The pipes were in fact mere sections ofthe sago-tree with the soft pith driven out. As this was manifestly atube of communication, General Rolleston followed it until he came to asort of veranda with a cave opening on it; he entered the cave, and wasdazzled by its most unexpected beauty. He seemed to be in a giganticnautilus. Roof and sides, and the very chimney, were one blaze ofmother-of-pearl. But, after the first start, brighter to him was an oldshawl he saw on a nail; for that showed it was a woman's abode. He toredown the old shawl and carried it to the light. He recognized it asHelen's. Her rugs were in a corner; he rushed in, and felt them all overwith trembling hands. They were still warm, though she had left her bedsome time. He came out wild with joy, and shouted to Moreland, "She isalive! She is alive! She is alive!" Then fell on his knees and thankedGod.
A cry came down to him from above. He looked up as he knelt, and therewas a female figure dressed in white, stretching out its hands as if itwould fly down to him. Its eyes gleamed; he knew them all that way off.He stretched out his hands as eloquently, and then he got up to meet her;but the stout soldier's limbs were stiffer than of old; and he got up soslowly, that, ere he could take a step, there came flying to him, withlittle screams and inarticulate cries, no living skeleton, norconsumptive young lady, but a grand creature, tanned here and there, rosyas the morn, and full of lusty vigor; a body all health, strength, andbeauty, a soul all love. She flung herself all over him, in a moment,with cries of love unspeakable; and then it was, "Oh, my darling, mydarling! Oh, my own, own! Ha, ha, ha, ha! Oh, oh, oh, oh! Is it you? isit? can it? Papa! Papa!" then little convulsive hands patting him, andfeeling his beard and shoulders; then a sudden hail of violent kisses onhis head, his eyes, his arms, his hands, his knees. Then a stout soldier,broken down by this, and sobbing for joy. "Oh, my child! My flesh andblood! Oh, oh, oh!" Then all manhood melted away except paternity; and afather turned mother, and clinging, kissing and rocking to and fro withhis child, and both crying for joy as if their hearts would burst.
A sight for angels to look down at and rejoice.
But what mortal pen could paint it?