CHAPTER XVII
PRISONER ON A BARREN ISLAND
Because his bed of boughs was snug and comfortable, and because therewas nothing else to do and nowhere to go, and it was the best way,anyhow, to spend the hours of imprisonment that would last until theblizzard spent itself, Bobby gave himself the luxury of a long sleep.But even then it was still dark when he awoke, and at first he waspuzzled, for he was sure he had slept away hours enough for daylight tohave come. He could hear the raging storm and pounding seas in a muffledroar, as though far away, while he lay for a little while wondering atthe darkness.
The air had grown close and stifling, and presently he arose and strucka match. It glowed for a moment but refused to burn. He struck anotherand then another, with like result. The matches were perfectly dry, forhe carried them in a small, closely corked bottle. He could notunderstand it in the least. He struck another. It flashed, but like theothers went out.
Then he suddenly remembered that Skipper Ed had once said fire would notburn in air from which the oxygen had been taken, for then the air wouldbe "dead," and that a person would exhaust all the air in a close roomin a short time, and therefore rooms should be well ventilated. And withthis he realized what had happened. His air had been cut off and allthat remained was dead.
The drift had covered his den to a great depth while he slept, and thewind had packed the snow so hard that the air could no longer circulatethrough it.
It was necessary that an opening be made quickly or he would smother,and this he set about to do with all his might. He removed some of thesticks with which he had closed the doorway, and using one of them as atool dug away the snow, until light at last began to filter through, andhe knew it was day, and presently he broke the outer crust of the drift.A flood of pure but bitterly cold air poured in upon him, and hebreathed deeply and felt refreshed.
He had dug his opening straight out from the place which he had arrangedfor a door, and he now made it large enough to permit the passage of hisbody as he crawled upon hands and knees.
The storm had in no degree abated. The velocity of the wind was soterrific that had Bobby not stood in the shelter of the drift-coveredbowlder he could not have kept upon his feet. The air was so filled withdriving snow as to be suffocating. A tremendous sea was running andgreat waves were pounding and breaking upon the rocks with terrificroar, though no glimpse of them could he get through the snow cloudsthat enveloped him.
There was nothing to be done but to return to his burrow and makehimself as comfortable as circumstances would permit. His first carewas to clear away the snow which he had thrown back under the boat ashe dug his way out, and which partially filled his cave. And when thiswas done he selected a sharp stick and with it made three or four airholes in the roof of the drift above his door, to furnish ventilation,for it was not long before the entrance of the passageway was againclosed.
Bobby was very hungry, as every healthy boy the world over is sure to bewhen he rises in the morning, and when he had completed the ventilationof his cave to his satisfaction he proceeded to make a small fire overwhich to grill one of his birds, never doubting the smoke would pass outof the ventilating holes that he had made through the top of the drift.But to his chagrin the smoke did not rise and was presently so thick asto blind and choke him, and he found it necessary to put the fire out.And so it came about that in the end he had to content himself witheating his sea pigeon uncooked, which after all was no great hardship.
All that day and all the next day the storm continued and Bobby was heldprisoner in his cave, and he was thankful enough that he had the cave toshelter him.
When he awoke, however, on the morning of the third day of hiscaptivity, and forced his way out of doors, he was met by sunshine andhis heart bounded with joy. It was only behind bowlders and the clumpsof bushes scattered here and there, and in sheltered corners wheredrifts had formed, that snow remained upon the island. Elsewhere thewind had swept the rocks clean.
The gale that had racked the world had passed, but a brisk breeze wasblowing down from the north, sharp with winter cold. The sea, too, hadsubsided, though even yet big rollers were driving and pounding upon therocky shore.
"Now," said Bobby, "with the first calm night, when the water quietsdown, the bay will freeze, and then I can walk in on the ice. Butthey'll have to hurry in from the seal hunt or they'll be caught outthere and won't be able to bring the boat in this winter. I can stand ita little while, and I hope the freeze-up won't come till they get backhome."
But Bobby lost no time in needless calculation. What was of highestimmediate importance was the satisfaction of his appetite, which asusual was protesting against delay.
He had been eating raw sea pigeon quite long enough, and he proposed nowto enjoy the great treat of a grilled bird. And so without troublinghimself with vain regrets of what he might have done or might not havedone, he proceeded to fetch wood from his cave and to build a fire, anda good one it was to be, too, in the lee of his bowlder. And when thewood was crackling merrily he made a comfortable seat of boughs uponwhich to sit while he cooked and ate the one sea pigeon which he allowedhimself.
Bobby had never eaten a sea pigeon that seemed quite so small as thatone, and it required a large degree of self-denial and self-restraint toobserve the rule of economy which he had imposed upon himself on theevening he was wrecked. He had decided then that two sea pigeons a day,one in the morning and one in the evening, were all he could afford. Forwho could tell how long it might be before he would make his escape? Andthere were no birds or other game to be had on the island at thisseason, and when those he had were gone there would be hungry days toface. Though he declared to himself when picking the last bone of hisbreakfast that he could never possibly be any hungrier than at that verymoment.
Nor could he afford a large fire in future. He calculated that he hadalready collected enough wood to last him, with small and carefullyconstructed fires, one day, and a survey of the island and itspossibilities revealed the fact that all the additional fuel he couldgarner from the rocks would scarcely last him, even with rigid economy,another week.
While confined to his cave during the period of the blizzard he hadsatisfied his thirst with bits of ice. Now his fire was built close to alittle hollow in the rock, and, placing snow near the fire, it melted,and the water running into the hollow settled there, and gave him drink.
And so, making the best of his resources, Bobby prepared for his siege,which he felt quite sure would end only when the bay froze and he couldmake his escape over the ice. A great part of the daylight hours werespent in collecting bits of wood. This kept him exercising, and kepthis blood warm.
Already the sea was smoking. The freeze-up was close at hand. With eachhour the merciless winter cold increased in strength. That evening whenhe entered his cave he closed the entrance with snow, that it might bekept warm, but nevertheless he spent an uncomfortable night, and he wasglad enough to crawl out in the morning and light his fire.
That was a cheerless day. The sun shone through a gray veil, and offeredlittle warmth. There was no more wood to gather, and to save his littlestock he ran up and down upon the rocks that he might drive away thecold with exercise.
The sun was low when he lighted his evening fire, and as he prepared hissea pigeon for supper he remembered with regret that he had but one birdremaining.
"And I've been hungry ever since I've been here," he remarked tohimself. "I'm half starved this minute."
He was thinking a great deal now of what he should have to eat when hereached home, and planning for this and that. And, oh, for some goodhot tea!
And so, thinking, and dreading to go to his cheerless cave, he sat whilehis fire burned low and the sun sank from sight and the long and gloomytwilight gathered.
"I'll spare another stick or two," he said, replenishing the fire. "Ican't go into that hole yet."
The fire blazed up, and the twilight grew thicker, and the fire hadnearly burned out again while Bobby, dreaming
of home and Mrs. Abel, andwondering where Abel Zachariah and Skipper Ed and Jimmy were, fell intoa doze. Then it was that something unlooked for startled him into suddenwakefulness.