Discovery of a human habitation. The skeleton and manuscript.

It will be remembered that I had never been able in my own mind to account for many things that I had found upon the island; amongst others, the goats, sweet potatoes, and tobacco. I could not disabuse my mind of the impression that some one else had been before me on this lonely spot of earth; that man at some age of its existence had placed his foot upon the soil. I little knew when I started on my trip to Mirror Bay how soon some of these mysteries, that had so many years confused me, would in a moment be made plain. I looked forward to no startling adventure, and yet I was, without knowing it, sailing straight towards the solution of many problems, guided, unknown to myself, by a mightier hand than mine.

I arrived safely in Mirror Bay, and proceeded up towards the river, the machinery of my yacht working beautifully. When I arrived at the mouth I found that I could still ascend, but thought it best to anchor near the western bank, just inside the mouth, and not a stone's throw from the bank. I had come by the way of the Eastern Cape, and having started early in the morning, at daybreak, about four o'clock, I found myself at anchor at about seven o'clock by the sun, having made the run in three hours, or at least six knots an hour, the distance being, as near as I can judge, eighteen miles.

When my yacht was nicely anchored, and the fire put out and the engine placed in order, I took my little flat-boat and went on shore with my goat, intending to walk inland in a northwesterly direction, towards Mirror Lake; but I had scarcely taken ten steps into the open woods before I recoiled with a sensation of fear, such as I have never before experienced, and made for my boat, but before I reached it my horror had become curiosity. Turning about, I faced the direction from whence I had come; and, taking my shot-gun from my shoulder, I looked carefully to the flint to see that it was all right, eased a knife that I carried at my belt in its sheath, and thus, with my mind collected, but with my brain almost confused with excitement, I advanced slowly towards the place from which I had just retreated in so startled a manner. Yes; there could be no mistake; looking through the boughs of an intervening tree of small growth, I saw a human habitation, and the habitation evidently of a civilized, or at least semi-civilized, being. Before me—in ruins, to be sure, but still unmistakably the work of human hands, and skilled ones, too—stood a stone hut at least ten feet square, and with dilapidated stone walls at least eight feet high, without roof, and with evident remains of a door and two apertures for windows facing towards the sea in the direction I stood. I leaned against the tree that I stood near, faint and overcome with emotion. A thousand thoughts rushed through my mind, but I soon convinced myself that this habitation had been deserted by man for long ages of time. Should I ever know how long? Everything about the hut denoted extreme age and decay; trees were even growing from the interior, and showed above the walls where the roof ought to be; rank weeds and grass grew in the open doorway, and vines crept around the dismantled walls; yet there it stood, a monument unmistakable of a human presence at some previous time, and a civilized one, too. No savage hands ever erected those walls or pierced those apertures for door and windows. I sat down, still gazing at the hut, and tried to gather my wits together and to overcome my agitation. Fifteen minutes in this position brought to me a certain amount of composure, for nothing presented itself that I could fear, and it seemed as if little information could be gained by a closer inspection.

Those who had built this hut had long since departed whence they came, or were stilled by the hand of death; there was nothing left for me,—no companionship, no information, nothing but the knowledge gained that the island had been inhabited either by chance or by colonization, and those who had visited it had built this hut, and, no doubt, brought the goats, tobacco, and sweet potatoes that had so long puzzled my brains to account for. Was this hut all, or was it one of a series? Was it the preparatory discovery to many others, or lone and solitary? Alas! I knew not.

Having completely recovered my composure and stilled my beating pulses, I advanced to examine more minutely the cause of my amazement and fright. Passing within what had formerly been the door, I found myself in a space of at least nine feet square, enclosed within rough, strong, but ruined walls. The remains of shelves were plainly visible upon the walls, and evidences of a prolonged occupation at some former day by civilized persons met my view. The hut had evidently never had any flooring, and in its place a long and luxuriant grass flourished. Passing further into the interior, I moved towards the southerly wall—the door opening towards the eastward—and proceeded to examine that portion. My eye caught, half way up the wall, a sort of projecting shelf, with something evidently made by human hands still clinging to its battered and weather-worn surface. I rushed eagerly towards it, but, before my hand could grasp it, I was almost thrown down by catching my feet in an obstacle hidden in the long grass, between me and my object. Regaining myself with difficulty, I glanced down to see what had obstructed my progress, and found my feet mixed up in the bones of a human skeleton. I was not frightened, but shocked, and, clearing my feet with care, I stepped back and examined these mute witnesses of former life. Here then, thought I, are the remains of one at least who has lived and died upon my island long ages ago. How did he come here? How long did he live here? Why did he die? Would this eventually be my fate, and should I some day have to lie down and die, too, with no one to inter my bones? This human being was either alone or else the last to succumb, or otherwise his bones would have been interred and not left to whiten the surface of the earth. Would this be my fate? To be sure, I had not as yet been sick one day so as to be confined to my bed, and had only suffered from minor ills, such as colds and slight summer attacks, but how long was it to be before I should be laid up in my own house, with fever or delirium, with none to care for me? To be sure, I had carefully arranged affairs about my bed in case of such a contingency, having arranged a shelf, upon which I had placed simple remedies, such as I had been able to collect, near to my hand, such as sulphur and saltpetre, with a few steeped herbs enclosed in jars ready for use to my hand, with spare matches, and lamps, and some preserved suet, etc. I had done everything that I could do to preserve myself should I be taken suddenly and dangerously ill; but what was to prevent me from at last coming to this very state before me, to die in my bed, and remain a grinning skeleton for some future generation to discover. Nothing but Divine Providence could keep me from this pitiable end. For if I did not escape it was only a matter of time when I should appear before others as this poor mortal appeared before me. I could not and would not believe that I was reserved for so cruel a fate. I was unwilling to believe that God, who had endowed me with enough intellect to construct and invent the many useful articles I had gathered around me, would allow me to perish, alone, uncared for, and unwept. My courage arose as I gazed upon the skeleton before me, and I moralized thus: You must have lived in an age when God had not granted to mortals the permission to discover and utilize many of the arts and sciences of my day; you did not live when steam was the motive power, when the lightnings of the heavens were made obedient to man to convey his demands and requests, when the paddle-wheels of floating steamers beat the waters of all the oceans of the earth. All of these things, and many others, were unknown to you. My case is not as bad as yours was, if you were shipwrecked. I, of this century, on this same island, have gathered about me, from nothing, strength and power. You, seemingly, have had only this rude hut over your head. I have chances of escape; I doubt if you ever had any from the first day of your arrival, for I cannot conceive of your having willingly remained upon this desert isle. And now, poor mortal, passed away so long ago, let us see if you can do anything for me, your living prototype.

FINDING THE SKELETON.—Page 268.

And, thus ending my musings, I kneeled down and commenced cutting away with my knife the long grass that surrounded and that was even interwoven with the bones. The clothes, if there had ever been any at the time of death, had long since been destroyed and blown away by the winds of heaven. From the narrow bone of the middle finger of the left hand, which was nearest me, I drew off a handsome gold-chased ring, with a fine carbuncle for a jewel, the whole in a state of perfect preservation. This at once announced that my unfortunate was a civilized being and one of some importance. Moving towards the right hand, I found the bones of the fingers imbedded in a tuft of grass, and, releasing them, I ascertained that they grasped some object in their clasp, which remained partly buried in the ground and soil that nature had piled up around it. Taking the point of my knife, I released it, and held in my hand a beautifully chased silver snuff-box, encrusted and soiled by exposure, to be sure, but in a remarkable state of preservation. I forced open the lid, and took out a small piece of parchment, which almost crumbled under my fingers. Being, however, warned by my discovery, I acted with caution, and took the box and its contents to a smooth stone outside the hut, and commenced examining the contents with care. The wrapper of parchment that crumbled under my fingers disclosed another within it that was much better preserved, and, noticing carefully that there was no writing upon the outer covering, I cast it away and commenced opening the second, which was also of parchment, but in a good state of preservation. This was also blank, but within it was enclosed a third piece, not more than six inches square when opened, on which were written these words:—

Anno Dom. 1781,

Dec. ye 17th.

Being neare to death I putt this on record in hopes that some God-fearing mann maye find it and become my heir. I have burried under ye foot of ye large tree, distant 27 pases from ye sou-yeste corner of this hous, a fulle and complete hystorie of my life and where my treasur lyes. Alas! at ye bottom of the sea, but hence it maye by skill and fortytude bee recovered.

Who he be that redes this, if of Christan breeding, I proclaim heir to me. If not Christan I hope he wille nott be able to read this, or discover my secret. Lette my bones be burried. My curse upon himn who uses this treasur butt for good, which I acquired by yeares of bloodshed. Wille God ever forgive me?

THOMAS SUTLAND.

As I finished reading the above I glanced out beyond the ruined walls, and saw before me the tree that was mentioned, but I did not move to solve the mystery further. Here was matter enough for thought before me where I sat. What had been this mortal's life that he should here set down that he had gained a treasure through bloodshed? I examined carefully the ink with which the document was written, and made up my mind that it was composed of blood, that this human being had probably written these lines with blood from his own veins some eighty years ago; and, although the characters were faint, they were perfectly legible. Treasure! what was treasure to me that was at the bottom of the sea? Ah! but I had a submarine boat with which I could seek for it. My curiosity began to be aroused, but my thoughts were still so conflicting that I did not yet fully grasp the information that the parchment conveyed. After a long musing I commenced again my search around the hut, and, in the first place, took from the shelf the article that had attracted my notice, which proved to be a perfectly formed clay pipe, of heavy and ancient pattern, but as well preserved as the day it was laid upon the shelf. The stem, of whatever material formed, had disappeared, but there was the bowl, just as used eighty years ago. I put it carefully to one side, and again commenced my explorations of the hut, which I began, by clearing away all the grass and shrubbery from within, and exposing, as far as practicable, the former flooring. Suffice it to say that, after a long day's work, this was the amount of my discoveries and collections,—one rusty gun-barrel, with stock and lock gone; the rusty remains of two large pistols, and one cutlass; the remnants of an iron pot, and open fireplace; and parts of a steel-plated helmet or fighting hat; with smaller pieces of iron and steel, of which it was impossible now to distinguish the use or form, a golden ring, a silver snuff-box, a pipe, a mass of useless, broken, rust-eaten steel and iron utensils, and a human skeleton. This was all, when gathered together, that my explorations brought to view, except the precious document that was to explain the whole. With a sad and despondent heart I called my pet goat to my side, and descended towards the yacht, and went on board to think over my strange adventure. This island then had been known eighty years ago, had been inhabited, even. Had this unfortunate been cast on shore alone as I was? No; his arms, hut, and utensils told another story. Why had he remained in this solitary spot? To expiate some horrible crime? By the confession before me, it seemed like it. How much character did this parchment, on the face of it, proclaim? In the first place, a bloody and savage nature, by its own confession; second, a fair, but not over excellent, education; third, a superstitious or cowardly fear of the Almighty in the hour of death, after confessed deeds of blood; fourth, a love of display, as exhibited in the snuff-box and ring; fifth, authority and command of some degree, as shown by the remains of costly weapons. Thus I gave my brain excitement all the night, instead of indulging my curiosity by trying to discover the history referred to. My life had been so lonely that I postponed as long as possible the final revelation of the life of this man. I played with the sensations that my discovery had evoked, as a cat does with a mouse, or as a sailor with his last piece of tobacco at sea, or a miser his gold. The sensation was so intoxicating to have something to think about out of the usual run that I did not choose to have it solved, and yet was on fire to solve it. In the morning, after a restless, sleepless night, I plunged into the waters of the bay and took my customary bath, and then to breakfast, after which I commenced the proseecution of my search with vigor. I proceeded to the southeast corner of the hut and paced off twenty-seven paces, which brought me to the tree that my eye had already picked out as the one alluded to. With some iron utensils that I had brought from the yacht, including the iron coal-shovel and poker, I commenced making an excavation in the ground. I dug a hole at least four feet deep before I found anything out of the ordinary, but when at about that depth, my shovel struck upon something that was not earth, as I felt assured, and I soon laid open before my eyes the top of what was evidently a wooden box of some foot or two in diameter, but so interwoven with the roots of the tree that had evidently grown about it since it was placed there, that I was unable to extricate it. I therefore went on board of the yacht and returned with a hatchet, and soon cleared away these obstructions, and dragged to the surface a rough wooden box, of an oblong shape, made of wood, of at least two inches in thickness originally, but now worm-eaten, rotten, and ready to be broken to pieces with my hands alone. With a slight use of my hatchet I forced this carefully apart, and found, within, a package rolled in what had evidently at some former time been birch bark. Peeling this off, I came to a glazed earthen or porcelain pitcher or jug with a large mouth and with handle, that would hold at least two quarts, the color of which was a dirty white or dusky brown. The mouth of this jug was closed with parchment, once carefully tied down, but now in a state of decomposition. Grasping my prize, I went on board of my yacht to examine it more fully at my leisure. This whole adventure had so worked upon my nervous system that I even went to work and got up steam and buoyed my anchor, ready to cast off at a moment's notice, before I would proceed further with my examination. Why I did this I cannot tell. It was a sort of sailor's precaution, engendered by years of care and prudence. My reason told me I had nothing to fear; my nerves told me to get ready for any emergency.

Having seated myself quietly on deck, after making all the above arrangements, I took the jug again in hand and commenced to tear off carefully the parchment at the mouth. The outside one, being removed, disclosed another in a better state of preservation, and this second a third, which, when removed, showed a large soft-wood plug or cover, fitting into the mouth of the jug, and profusely covered with a sort of pitch, which had evidently been melted and poured upon it, and was probably made from the resinous gums with which the island abounded. I soon had this started by repeated knocks of my knife-handle, and the plug exposed, which, with the point of my knife, I had little difficulty in extracting; having done which, I emptied upon the deck a roll of parchment, tied up with a broad band of the same material. With intense emotion I opened the roll, consisting of several sheets; and, written in black ink, but with similar errors and ancient spelling, as in the first document, I found the following, which, corrected into modern English, read thus:—