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Chapter XII.
The Last Match.

"Forward !" said Knudsen, and we started our tramp along the edge of the cliff; but we found the track far harder than ever we had expected it to be, and before we had got any distance we were cut and torn all over from those terrible thorns. It was not as though we could keep walking; frequently we had to crawl upon our hands and knees, tearing our way through the bush; and then we would suddenly come upon a wide stream, which we had to cross as best we could—those who could not swim being helped by those who could.

I do not think I shall ever forget the horrors of that march; but just as we felt we were all done up, we arrived at the spot where the other three fellows had camped before they had decided to return to Disappointment Island.

Here we found a hut which they had built, but the roof was blown off. However, we soon got some grass and put that to rights. We found that whatever the advantages of this page 217island might be, you certainly could not build a house half so well as you could upon the other one, owing to the lack of sods—the only thing we had to make a roof of was grass, and grass is not waterproof.

However, we soon got it fixed up all right, and then we decided to make a fire inside, out of the wind. We did this because we did not want to risk our precious matches, and we thought that if we could once get it going, we could then make a big, blazing fire outside, and keep it roaring all night.

Walters had picked up, on the beach, when we landed, a small piece of pitch-pine wood, which was very dry; and from this we cut a lot of shavings, with which to start the fire. We carried these shavings into the house, piled them carefully in a little heap, and then, all clustering round so as to prevent any stray breath of wind putting the match out, we took out our little tin box.

But when we opened that box!

I do not think I shall ever forget the look that came into every face. The head of one vesta was half off, and the other appeared all sodden and damp. For a minute or more there was absolute silence; we felt that we could not speak. And then, at last, Mickey tried to force a laugh and said:

"Well, it is no good trying to strike those matches as they are; we have got to get them dry somehow, first."

"How can we get them dry?" asked Walters. "With no fire and no sun, how is that page 218Possible?" and that Was a question which none of us could answer. Perhaps on a warm day the task would have been possible, but with these mists and fogs it seemed a thing utterly hopeless to look for.

We sat and talked for a little while, and at last we decided to turn in and make the best of a bad matte; but we knew we were in a very tight corner. No fire, boat smashed up, canvas cut through and through, and only enough food for one scanty meal before we turned in!

I shall never, never forget that night. Try to imagine it. Four weary, weak, despairing men alone on that big island. Far away we could see our old home, but it appeared very small in the distance, and, as we looked at it, we felt that our comrades' prophecy was coming true, and we would have given anything to have been back there again.

At last we crawled into our miserable hut; we were camped on the edge of a small creek or waterfall, surrounded by trees and shrubs; but we did not get very much sleep that night, for we spent most of the hours consulting as to what was the best thing to be done with the matches.

At last we decided we would try to get a piece of hard wood and rub that upon a piece of soft, until the friction made both pretty hot, and then try to strike a match upon the hot wood, in hopes that the heat might induce it to take fire.

The next morning we went down to the page 219beach to have a look round, and to get the seal which we had killed the day before. We found we could get to the beach by a very much shorter road than the way we had come; and when we arrived we saw heaps of our poor Dundonald wreckage, washed up all over the place—topgallant mast, royal-yards, wooden fenders, etc.

On our tramp we managed to gather some limpets from the rocks; and these, with leaves from the trees, and grass, formed our morning meal. We reached our seal, and cut him into four pieces, and then started back to the camp, each man carrying a quarter slung across his back.

Soon after we got back the sun came out a bit, and we immediately got out our tin box, and, opening it, rested the matches in the lid, placing them in the rays of the sun, one man sitting by the box the whole time, so as to close it directly the sun clouded and the mists came along.

"I am afraid that we shall never manage them this way," I said, as I looked at the matches after one of their brief exposures to the sun's rays; and, indeed, the truth of my words seemed all too plain for contradiction. The feeble heat of the passing sunshine seemed to have no effect on those little lumps of damp, red phosphorus,

"Then God help us," was Knudsen's solemn reply; "for it seems to me, Charlie, that unless we can obtain a fire with the aid of these matches there is nothing but death before us."

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"Faith," said Mickey, "I wish we could get a bit of that fire across here. Look at the smother those fellows are making," and he pointed across to Disappointment Island, where we could see a huge column of smoke rising in the air; our comrades were signalling to us; and we, alas, had no means of answering them !

"Well," said Walters, "it is no good remaining idle here; and if we can do nothing else, we had better see if we can't build another hut, so that we may be a little more comfortable."

There was a good deal of reason in his words, for the one in which we had slept the previous night was not only far from weather-proof, but it was too small to hold the four of us comfortably.

Well, we started looking for a better place, and we decided upon a spot a little further up the creek. We cleared a space large enough for our purpose, but we could not do more than that before night came on; and so we had to go back to the old one. And now we found another pressing need facing us. We were hungry—very hungry—for, with the exception of one bird's leg each, we had had no food since we started from the other island.

"What's to be done now?" said Mickey; "I'm that hungry I could eat the soles off' my boots—if I had got any."

"Plenty of food there," said Knudsen, grimly, pointing to the seal.

We knew what he meant—we should have page 221to eat it raw ! The raw mollyhawks, which we had devoured when first we went to Disappointment Island, had seemed horrible enough; but the seal's carcase looked far worse.

However, there was no help for it; food we must have, so we cut thin slices of the raw meat, wrapped them in leaves and grass, and from that unpalatable provender we made our meal that night. We had a good look at the matches before we turned in, but we could see that they were not fit to strike yet, so the only thing before us was to brave the cold and discomfort for the time being.

The next day passed as the previous one had done—wet, mist and an occasional gleam of sunshine, and, for our food, raw seal flesh; and on the third night we turned in cold and disheartened, clustering close together for warmth, and talking through the long, silent hours of the desperate condition in which we found ourselves.

That night we had a scare; for just before daylight we heard a sound outside our hut —a long, shrill, clear whistle, just such as a man would give, signalling to a comrade at a distance. Of course, we all rushed out of the hut, and stared around in bewildered surprised, but there was nothing to see. Only the bush, the shadows, the solitude, and the ever-brooding silence. Again we heard that same cry! It made our hearts stand still; our hair seemed to rise on end. It seemed as though the spirit of some unhappy castaway, page 222who had perished on those lonely forests, must be uttering those warning cries, as if to tell us of the fate which would surely befall us.

"What can it be?" muttered Knudsen, between his teeth, and we could only stand and stare, unable to answer that question, until Walters uttered a short harsh laugh, and, pointing to a tree standing by itself, said:

"There it is—there is the little beggar that has scared us!" And there in the faint dawnlight we saw on a twig a little bird—an exceedingly pretty little thing of a deep green colour, about the size of a common sparrow— and, as we watched it, we saw it raise its head and again utter that clear, shrill whistle, the sound of which had so scared us. I may say that I learnt later that this little bird was called a bell-bird.

That day we set to work and managed to complete our new hut, but the effects of the privations we were undergoing were beginning to tell upon us, and we found ourselves drifting back to the condition of weakness which we had all experienced on Disappointment Island about the time of the mate's death.

Here were three days practically wasted; we had not moved a step forward in the direction we must tramp if we were to find the depôt! And yet we felt that we dare not go forward, for, with the exception of the seal, which we had killed on our arrival, we had not seen a sign of anything which would serve us for food.

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Weak, sodden, chilled to the bone, we felt that if we attempted to face the unknown perils of that journey, without even the prospects of making a fire, we should all fall by the way, and perish miserably. Indeed, so desperate was our condition, that we almost felt numbed. We did not know what to do for the best; and while one advised one thing, another would advance quite an opposite theory. It was a horrible day—from early morn the mists pressed thick over the island, and with the mist a thin, chilling rain. But towards the end of the afternoon the clouds lifted, and for a little while the sun shone out; and directly those cheering beams appeared we rushed for our tin box, and once more exposed the matches to the rays.

"Do you think it is any good trying one of them to-night?" queried Walters, but I shook my head. To me it seemed a little short of an impossibility for either of those matches ever to be struck. One had its head hanging on by three threads, and the other was bent and broken, and the head of it was so soft that it came off on the fingers like paint.

"Well, we have got to risk it," was Knudsen's grim remark; "we can't possibly go on like this, I don't think if we kept them like this for a year, it would make very much difference. We should be no better off at the end of the time than we are now."

"Do as you think best, Knudsen," I answered resignedly; "they won't strike, and that is all about it. So we may as well know it at first as at last."

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"Well, we will give them every chance," Walters said; "we will do as we decided at first: get a couple of pieces of wood, rub them until the friction makes them fairly hot, and then see if the heat will ignite the match."

But the task of getting those pieces of wood, simple as it may appear, was by no means an easy one. Wood there certainly was in plenty, but not of the kind we wanted. Ail the green stuff, which we broke from the trees, was so full of sap, that even the most vigorous rubbing hardly raised the temperature at all.

But, however, patience and perseverance will accomplish great things, and at last we managed to get two pieces which we thought would answer our purpose. We waited until the evening drew on, and then we got a little heap of shavings ready, thanking our stars that these at least were dry. We piled these inside our hut, out of the wind, and then, taking our two pieces of wood, we started rubbing them together.

And my word, how we did rub! We made our arms ache, and that wretched wood hardly seemed to grow warm beneath our efforts.

"We must keep it going," said Knudsen; "it is no good getting impatient; at any rate, we have got it fairly dry, and now it will get hot more rapidly."

And then Mickey looked up, and he put a question which made us all pause. It seemed a very simple one, which need not occupy a page 225moment's thought in answering, and yet we couldn't answer it. It was this:

"And who is to strike the match?"

Who was to strike the match? Why should we make any trouble about answering that? But there was so much depending upon it. I have read of men being in certain circumstances where life itself depended upon a cool head, a clear eye and a steady hand—and it was something like that now. The hand must be steady, for if that frail little piece of waxen thread and phosphorus was to be clumsily handled, and so damaged, it meant that our chances of life were reduced by one half.

I frankly own that I did not want the job. I felt that if I attempted it, I should have the lives of my three companions—to say nothing of my own—depending upon my success. That was a sort of responsibility which almost unnerved one to think of, and we asked once again, "Who is to strike the match?"

At last, after a good deal of arguing, Harry Walters said that if we wished it he would strike the match; and as we did wish it—every one—that matter was got over without any further trouble.

I wish I could bring that picture before you. We four men, kneeling on the ground in that little hut, where the shadows were rapidly thickening, clustered round one little piece of wood, which one of our number kept vigorously rubbing with another piece.

There was Waiters, the match between his fingers, and his face as set and white as though page 226he were a soldier going into action. Again and again we faltered and hesitated. I can tell you I was trembling from fingers to toes —not with cold, but with excitement.

At last we could bear the suspense no longer, and Walters, with a gasp, muttered, "Here goes!" Then gently, very gently he struck the match on the hot wood. We knelt, staring intently, holding our breath with the excitement of it; and then from four pairs of trembling lips there escaped a heart-rending groan of despair.

The top of that match came off like paint, leaving a red streak upon the wood! It was worthless. Our chances were diminished by just one half!

"Let me have the other one!" said Walters, in a hoarse voice; but I checked him.

"For heaven's sake no, man!" I said. "The condition of that is no better than this one was. Give it another twenty-four hours; we can endure for that space."

"Better get through with it now," he said desperately; but Knudsen sided with me. If there was a chance, we would not lose it through foolhardiness and impatience;

That failure had cast a gloom on all our spirits. I think then we felt more despondent than we had ever done since we were first cast upon Disappointment Island. Not even the death of Mr. Peters had overshadowed us more. We had worked so long and patiently for success, and only utter failure had been our reward. There we were, not knowing which page 227way to turn, with nothing but that raw seal flesh to eat, and not knowing where another meal would come from when that was consumed. There, on the beach, shattered and useless, lay the frame for our boat. The canvas was so torn that it was impossible to mend it. We had neither means of going back, nor of going forward, and we had only death to hope for, staying where we were.

Well, we decided that we would wait for the morrow before we touched the last match, and we turned in with but one prayer on our lips: "God grant that match may give us a light to-morrow." And that night, how it rained again! It came down in one unceasing, monotonous pour. The poor roof of our hut was utterly inadequate to keep it out, and soon it was dropping all over us as we lay cowering there, clustering together for warmth. Bob Ellis and Santiago had told us what to expect, but we had never looked for anything as bad as this. Indeed, they had been better off, for those vestas were dry when they had them, and, whatever their privations, they had managed to keep a good fire going.

Just before daylight, the rain cleared off, and shortly after the sun arose, bringing with it, for once, the promise of a fairly fine day, and so we immediately got our match out to dry.

One match! One little vesta! Can you imagine that? You, with whom matches are so common that you would throw away a box of them, and think nothing of it. Just one page 228solitary little vesta; and yet it was all that-stood between us and, in all probability, death. If we could secure a fire, we might have hope, for, as I explained, we could carry it with us.

Perhaps some of my readers may think that the question of food was more important than that of warmth; but they can hardly understand how that awful numbing cold sapped away all our strength. We could struggle on, subsisting on grass and roots, but we could not endure, for any lengthened period, being continually numbed to the bone with a cold, which, in England, is never experienced. Our blood all seemed frozen; our joints seemed too stiff to move; our limbs felt as if they would give under us when we tried to walk.

So there we sat watching our match, but, alas! for our hopes, within an hour the sun had gone, and the mists had come down on us again.

"It is no good, boys!" said Mickey, with a groan. "We might stop and watch that match until we were old men, and it would never be dry enough to use!"

"Well, for heaven's sake, don't let us stay here any longer," I cried. "Let us go back to the beach, if we can't do anything else, and see if we can find anything there!"

"What can we find there?" asked Walters. "What do you hope for ?"

"Don't know—let's go and see," I answered. "We have only been in one direction—let's try the other. If we cannot do anything else, page 229we may find some shell-fish; and there is seaweed down there. We have eaten it before, and we can eat it again."

"Charlie is right; sitting here moping is about the worst thing we can do," said Knudsen. "We have been in some tight corners before, and we have got out; and, by God's help, we will get out again."

"That is the sort of talk!" I answered. "It's no good giving way; so come on, and the best man gets there first."

Well, we tramped back to the beach, and we went about a quarter of a mile in the opposite direction to that we had taken before. Then we came to a long stretch of fine, jet-black sand, with pools of fresh water in it, and here we saw a number of birds, about the size of a chicken, which we sailors call skewer gulls. We had seen some of these on Disappointment Island, but they were not like the mollyhawks—they were always on the wing; and without guns or nets it was impossible to catch them.

And yet it was very tantalizing to see them there; it was like having one's dinner before one, and yet having it just without our reach. However, as it was utterly impossible to capture any of them, we turned our thoughts to other fare, making our meal of limpets and seaweed, and then we tramped back to the camp to try our last match.

Our last match! Those words will ring in the ears of four sailors, and that scene will live in the memory of four sailors, as long as they live.

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Our last match, and on the striking of that, life itself might depend.

Well, we got into the hut, and then we started the same debate as we had had before. Who was to strike it? Walters wouldn't. Mickey couldn't—at least, so he said. So it lay between Knudsen and myself. And, after some arguing, our sturdy little Norwegian mate agreed to make the attempt. If we had been preparing for a most solemn business, we could not have taken more pains. And indeed, it was a solemn business, about as solemn as anything could well be. It was as though he held a dice-box in his hands, and was going to make a cast—the issue of which was life or death.

We cleared a space, and once again we cut a little pile of shavings from the pitch-pine which Walters had found, and then we started rubbing the wood, as we had done on the previous occasion. But we did not suffer impatience to influence us now; we were all too well aware of the importance attaching to success or failure to do anything to mar the one, or increase the likelihood of the other. One after another we took our turn at the rubbing with steady pertinacity, until, beneath our efforts, the wood became quite hot.

"Mickey, lad," said Walters, "get a piece of the canvas, and go and stand over by the door. If you are not good for anything else, you will serve to keep the draught out."

Mickey complied, and fulfilled instructions so literally, that he not only excluded every page 231chance breath of wind, but every ray of feeble light, leaving us in total darkness. And then three men howled at him, for with the darkness came the fear that some accident might happen to our match.

"Great Scott, boy, not so much ! Let us have a little light in at the top. How can we see if you don't ?"

Mickey obeyed, as cheerful as ever; indeed, it was wonderful how cheerful he could be, even when everything seemed contrary. He lowered the canvas a few inches, so that the light came in the aperture above, and, dim and indistinct, we three fellows clustered round the wood—I holding it, Walters rubbing it, and Knudsen ready with the match.

"It is hot enough now !" cried Walters. "Go on, Knudsen—strike !"

"Go on, Knudsen!" I repeated.

"Go on, Knudsen!" cried Mickey from the doorway.

Knudsen bent forward and struck our last match.

Crack!—a blue spark—nothing more.

"Try again, Knudsen !"

Crack-fizz—and—it was alight!

It was alight! A little flame shot up; for one-eighth of a second it shone clear, and then —it faded away !

That was the end of it; and, with the gloom which settled in the hut, a greater gloom, like the shadow of deaths, fell upon the souls of us castaways.