AS the weather was now so fine, I thought it best to begin the gathering of calabashes, before going regularly to the work of rope-making. I should need an immense quantity of these gourds, and they must be as dry as possible and perfectly sound, or they would be unserviceable for my purpose. The collection and transportation of these gourds would have proved an immense task but for a happy thought which occurred to me; that was to make the stream do the major part of the labor. With this view I drove a row of stakes across the creek just above where the boats were moored. These stakes were placed close enough together to catch every gourd that floated down stream. After this precaution was taken I went with my axe to the calabash grove and began the work of gathering the gourds, throwing them into the water of the stream. Soon they were bobbing along down stream in a steady procession. I worked faithfully at this for more than half a day, and until I had just time to get home before supper. When I arrived I found that Alice Millward had been busy fishing out the floating gourds, and had a huge pile on the sand, and that the creek was still literally filled with them for several rods above the row of detaining stakes. In coming home I had followed down the stream, wading, with a pole to dislodge all that had caught on the way.

Wet and tired and hungry though I was, I went immediately to work throwing the gourds out on the bank where they might begin drying and hardening, and it was long after sunset before I finished this disagreeable labor. I was very glad to change my wet clothing and to sit down to the cheerful supper-table which the patient Alice had kept waiting for me.

“You must have worked very steadily, Mr. Morgan,” said she; “there has been a constant stream of those great calabashes coming down all the afternoon.”

“I see that you also were not idle,” said I. “The great heap of gourds I found taken out must have kept you pretty busy.”

“Oh, indeed, I was very busy, and kept the creek clear for quite a while,” said she; “but then they began to arrive like a marching army, and soon overwhelmed me. I suppose you have enough of them collected now, have you not?”

“No, Miss Millward, perhaps there is half enough. I shall go again to-morrow.”

“The sight of that immense number of calabashes makes me better able to realize the magnitude of the task we have undertaken,” remarked the old gentleman, in a thoughtful tone.

“But that should not trouble us,” I said; “we have plenty of time before us, and a little done every day makes a great deal. Now I roughly calculate that we must have a pile of gourds as large as the Spanish galleon, if you can imagine it lying on the beach; for the floating capacity of these round gourds in a heap would not represent, owing to the interstices between the individual gourds, more than half that of a single, great gourd of the size of the heap. Or to put it in another way, let us say we want a sufficient number of gourds to hold half the air that the galleon would hold if empty of water. Such a capacity would require, I imagine, a pile of gourds as great as the galleon. At any rate we will offer that for as good a guess as we are able now to make. I suppose we might estimate the cubical contents of the galleon, and so determine mathematically with reasonable accuracy just how many gourds would do the work of lifting it,—that is to say, of equalling its displacement or sufficiently approaching it. But I think we shall be near enough with our guess without that trouble.

The next day, starting earlier, I finished collecting the gourds by noon, and had them all out of the creek before two o’clock in the afternoon. As the wind was light and favorable, I proposed that we spend the remainder of the day in a voyage to the plantation, stay there all night, and return in the morning. This was heartily agreed to, and we speedily loaded the few things we were likely to need on board the “Alice,” including an armchair and Mr. Millward’s couch. When all was ready for the embarkation I carried him down and seated him, well braced, just aft of the centre-board.

We now hoisted sail and passed out over the bar. As we came into the neighborhood of the sunken galleon it was just three o’clock by Mr. Millward’s watch, the sun was shining brightly, and the water was clear. If I could pick up the submerged buoy I could now with the water-glass show my companions the wreck. My sight poles on shore were down, and I could only guess at the locality. However, with Miss Millward standing on the fore deck keeping a bright lookout for the bunch of submerged gourds, I cruised about as near as I could guess to the neighborhood. In a few minutes she caught sight of them, and we were speedily made fast. We hauled up directly above the wreck and put the glass over the side; then all, including Mr. Millward, who managed to do so by our joint assistance, took a good look at the venerable hulk.

As the old man was looking I explained to him, “You see, Mr. Millward, the ship’s forefoot sticks up a little clear of the sand.”

“Yes, yes, that is true.”

“And you will see that there is plenty of room there to drag the bight of a hawser well under the keel.”

“Yes, I see.”

“Now look at the stern, and you will notice that it overhangs very much, and that the rudder has broken away and become detached.”

“Yes, quite true,” said the old man; “and you could easily drag the bight of your second hawser under the projecting stern.”

“Exactly,” I replied; “and then we shall have the old relic swung securely from two points, and come up she must if only her old ribs and bones are strong enough to stand the strain. She must float or break in two.”

“Mr. Morgan, we must and will succeed,” said the old man, excitedly. “That craft is to all appearance sound and strong. I have heard that wood when under water completely does not decay as when exposed to the air. We shall find her still strong enough to be raised.”

“I trust so and believe so,” I replied.

When the fair Alice came to look at the wonders of the deep through the glass her delight was extravagant.

“Why,” she cried, “I can see the old cannon all covered with sea-weed. And what a strange, old-fashioned ship! Two cabins built one on top of the other, and in front a sort of house. I can even see the doorway in the cabin, and the funny little windows, and a fish swimming in at one of them as though he lived there. Shells are growing all over the whole vessel like lichens on a rock. What a lovely, horrible sight!”

When we had spent an hour at this sight-seeing we cast off from the buoy and made sail for Plantation Cove, and very soon came abreast of it. From the sea, except for the break in the beach, the opening into the cove was scarcely distinguishable in the wall of the cliff, which here came out in a sort of cape or headland. Just in this headland was the cleft. I wore round and ran straight in for the mouth of the cove, and found water enough easily to cross the bar. We glided swiftly through the rocky gate with the momentum, and floated out on the deep, quiet waters of the cove, the breeze being entirely cut off by the cliff, except a faint, uncertain gust now and then, which found its way in as a draught will sometimes blow down a chimney. There was just enough motion to carry us alongside the pier, which now at low tide stood high above us, so high that it would be impossible to get Mr. Millward on shore by its aid. For this reason I pulled the boat along until her nose was against the rocky shore at the side of the pier and made her temporarily fast, while I carried Mr. Millward on shore, and landed his daughter. I then pulled back to a place where a rude ladder led from the pier down to the water, and moored the boat securely, head and stern, with sufficient line so that she might ride safely at all tides, then I overhauled the sail we had brought along for a tent, carried it ashore and set it up, built a rousing fire, and gathered a quantity of fern for bedding. As soon as the fire was started Alice set about warming up a bean porridge for supper, that we might have it early enough to visit the plantation before dark.

We hurried through the supper, and then leaving Mr. Millward comfortably seated in the armchair, I started with Alice for a little walk up to the rising ground to show her a view of the orange grove and plantation buildings which could be seen from this side. Along the old road, a great part of which was overgrown with weeds and straggling volunteer plants from the various crops that had formerly been cultivated here: Indian-corn, tall, tasselled sugar-cane, pink-blossomed tobacco, with great, velvety leaves and up-shooting stalk, an occasional dried cotton plant with shreds of cotton still clinging to the brown bolls, yams run wild and growing in broad green bands of fleshy vine across the path in tropical luxuriance,—these and countless wild weeds and plants not only filled the fields but trenched upon the road.

Before we reached a point at which the groves and houses could well be seen Miss Millward had already gathered a great armful of samples to carry back to the tent that her father might see them. We went along up the road until we came to the remains of a gate,—two upright stones roughly resembling pillars, and having iron hinge-pieces let into one of them. The gate itself had been thrown down at one side. Here we were in full sight of all the buildings, and of the grove of fruit trees. I left her here a few moments while I waded through the weeds to gather a bunch of bananas, some of which were ripe and red. As I came back I saw her beckon to me to hasten; and I ran as fast as I could, until I reached her side.

“Listen,” said she, “I thought just now I heard a cry.”

We listened a moment, and then I heard distinctly, from the direction of the cove, her father’s voice as though calling for help.

“It is father calling us,” she cried, and immediately began running down the road.

I threw down my bunch of bananas and soon passed her, impeded as she was with her skirts and the weeds. I plunged through the last heavy growth of weeds and canes that separated me from a clear view of the tent, and was thunderstruck to behold a man coming toward us from that direction. At first I thought of the pearl-fishers, and feared that violence had perhaps already been done to the helpless Mr. Millward, whose voice we had just heard calling for assistance. My first impulse was to turn back and stop Miss Millward, whom I could hear struggling through the weeds behind me. But in a moment I was still more astonished to recognize in the approaching figure Mr. Millward himself! I do not believe I should have been more surprised to have seen a dead man rise and walk. I had never seen him, you will remember, otherwise than helpless, and my mind was completely habituated so to regard him. Now here he was, upright and walking with apparent firmness toward me. I was inexpressibly astonished, and for the moment quite speechless. I stood there with open mouth staring at him when Miss Millward came panting through the weeds to my side.

“Father! oh, father!” she cried, and without a moment’s pause hurried on as fast as she could to meet him. Collecting my own wits I speedily followed her. When they met she fell upon the old man’s breast and began to sob out, “Oh, what is the matter? Oh, why did you call?”

She had evidently forgotten, or failed to comprehend for the moment, that there was anything surprising in the fact that he was up and walking about. This oversight was doubtless due to the fact that, unlike myself, she had been long accustomed to see him walk, and the helpless condition was the one she was least accustomed to. However, without endeavoring to analyze our relative feelings of surprise, let us listen to the curious account given by Mr. Millward of his sudden recovery of the use of his lower limbs.

“After you had left me,” he said, “I was sitting comfortably in the armchair looking at you until you disappeared among the vegetation. Presently I became aware that a little breeze had risen and was driving the smoke of the fire toward me. This was disagreeable, but as it could not be helped I quietly endured it, thinking it would not be for long, and that you would be back soon. But very soon thereafter I found the dry fern all around me on fire, and fearing I should roast to death I twice called as loudly as I could, hoping you would hear me in time. The flames, however, came very fast, my chair caught fire, my hands were slightly scorched, and I was at the same time smothering with the smoke. I sprang up and put out the fire with the blanket which you had wrapped around my limbs. Then finding I could walk, I started to meet you. That is all. God in his merciful providence has restored me.”

That was all. But it was quite enough. We turned back and walked together to the tent I could not get used to it. That this man whom I left helpless in his chair less than half an hour before, should now be actually standing firm on his feet, and walking about, as though nothing had been the matter with him, was entirely too much for my practical, matter-of-fact mind. Mr. Millward evidently noticed my bewildered air, and laughing said: “Rest easy, Mr. Morgan, I believe this recovery will be permanent. The excitement of the sudden danger must have roused my torpid nerves, and did suddenly for me what doubtless would have taken place a few weeks later in a slower way. Now let us thank God with all our hearts for this mercy.”

The delight of the daughter, when she realized the pleasant truth was very touching indeed; she wept, embraced him, and patted him with her hands, cooing and sobbing and laughing all at once, while the old man in silence passed his hand gently from time to time over her beautiful hair.

From the scattered embers I rebuilt the fire, and after the sun went down, we all three sat in front of it talking over this strange occurrence. Intervals of silence would now and then fall upon us unbroken for several minutes. It was very hard indeed to realize the remarkable change. Perhaps the most curious thing was the effect produced upon Duke. The dog eyed Mr. Millward with an air of such ludicrous doubt, edging away from him, and then coming back wagging his tail to be patted, that we could not refrain from laughing heartily at his conduct. He resented our merriment with a sheepish, tail-between-legs air that only made us laugh the more.

Leaving the father and daughter to sleep in the tent, Duke and I went down to the boat. There, gently rocked by the incoming tide, I slumbered peacefully through the night until long after dawn, and was then awakened by the old man’s hand laid gently on my shoulder. It was time for breakfast, which we made of oranges and plantains, the latter baked in the hot ashes. Mr. Millward had already been clear to the plantation buildings and returned with this spoil. He was still weak and feeble. That after his long inactivity his muscles should have strength enough for him to walk about at all, was, in truth, matter of surprise, even not considering the recent paralysis. The possession of so much physical vigor was doubtless due to the continued and regular rubbing and massage treatment he had received.

It was thought best, now that we were here with the boat, to collect and take back with us as much as we could conveniently carry of the produce of the groves and plantations. One thing Mr. Millward was specially desirous of getting was a good supply of coffee-berries, which we might cure in the usual manner by drying them in the shade, and thus finally get the kernels for use. Oranges would also keep well; and bananas and plantains would ripen even better in the bunch hung up at home than upon the tree. So, too, there was needed sweet-potatoes and yams, and a good supply of tobacco for curing. With shovel and hoe and improvised baskets made of huge plantain leaves we went to work, digging and gathering and carrying,—Miss Alice and I doing the chief part of the work, while Mr. Millward, feeling somewhat feeble and exhausted, was content to stroll about a little or to rest in the shade. Wandering about among the outhouses he came across a setting hen on a nest of fifteen eggs, and brought in hen, nest, and eggs all together, the devoted bird courageously allowing herself to be captured rather than leave the nest. This prize we stowed in the cuddy-hole of the boat, shutting her and her beloved nest in safety together.

I found an old, dilapidated fanning-mill, and a small grindstone mounted in a frame with a crank to turn it. Anything of this sort I thought might be useful to me in contriving my rope machinery; so I loaded it on the boat.

About the middle of the afternoon we got on board, and after sculling the boat out over the bar set sail for Home Creek, where we arrived safely about five o’clock. While supper was being made ready I built a safe coop for the old hen, with sticks driven into the ground, and put her with her nest into it, giving her corn and a gourd of water, and left her to hatch her brood if she chose. We were all very tired that night and went early to bed.

The next day Mr. Millward and I went to work to contrive some sort of device for spinning the cocoa-husk fibre into rope-yarn. The old fanning-mill came very handily into play in this job. The fan was geared to run at a high rate of speed, and by disconnecting the sieves and shakers and taking off the fan blades, this final piece of shafting could be made to revolve at a rattling gait by a comparatively slow motion of the crank, and with very little expenditure of force. We turned the old machine up on one end and mounted it on stilts to bring the final or fan shaft into convenient position. Then on the end of the fan shaft we mounted the spinning device, whittled out of hard wood and pieces of cane. This consisted primarily of a spool about a foot in length mounted in a framework so that its axis would be at right angles to the fan shaft. The revolution of the fan shaft would now cause the spool to revolve with an end-over-end movement; so that a piece of cord, if one end were tied or wound upon the spool, would be twisted. The next thing was to contrive some method for causing the spool to rotate automatically on its own axis at a slower rate, so as to wind up the cord as fast as it was twisted by the other motion of the spool at a high rate of speed.

This movement cost us an almost indescribable amount of the closest and hardest thought. To complete the machine up to this point took only two days. Then we stuck fast for a whole week debating the matter and trying contrivances which would not work, and which, when they came to trial it seemed as though we should have known would not work, so complete and humiliating was their failure. Finally we changed the whole structure by mounting the spool loosely on the end of the fan shaft itself with its axis coincident with the axis of the shaft, fitting the spool to run by friction on the shaft, while the frame which led the yarn to the spool was rigidly fixed on the same shaft. Now the rapid motion of the frame would do the twisting and the cord would wind only as fast as it was freely fed, the spool slipping at a commensurate rate on the shaft. This worked all right with a piece of cord already made; but whether it would make the yarn out of unformed fibre was a matter to be determined by trial. This trial we could not make until we had built a feeding-table on which to pile the mass of fibre, fitted with a tube of cane to guide the forming yarn to the twister-frame. When this was done the machine proved satisfactory and did the work it was designed to do rapidly and well. It required two to work it,—one to turn the crank and thus furnish the power, and the other to feed up and manipulate the fibre so that it would be smoothly and properly interwoven with the twisting end of the forming filament.

The construction of this rude machine took us ten days of hard study and work. But when it was done we had taken a long step in advance. When we learned it would work we celebrated the occasion by twisting a spoolful of yarn, about a hundred yards,—I turning the crank, with the sweat of honest toil dripping from me, while Mr. Millward fed in the fibre. This yarn, which was quite firmly spun, we doubled, and allowed it to twist together upon itself making a stout cord nearly fifty yards in length and of the size of signal halyard stuff. It was strong and firm, and as we judged would easily stand a strain of fifty pounds without breaking. That it was not absolutely smooth and even, was a matter of comparatively small consequence, the vital thing being strength and compactness.

To say that we were both delighted with the result of our labors, is only faintly to express the real condition of mind with which we hailed it.

Alice Millward had come down to see the trial of the machine, and was a witness of the making of the first piece of cord, and we all joined together in the rejoicing.

Now began a period of steady, hard work, manufacturing rope. We first rigged up the machine under the shed, so that we might have protection from the sun and the rain, and then set to work, regularly each day, excepting of course on the sabbath day, during which we always rested and held divine service at least once. We divided the working day as follows: from breakfast until nine o’clock we spent gathering husks enough for the whole day’s work, bringing them to the shed and pounding up and separating sufficient of the fibre for a run of half an hour. Promptly at nine o’clock I took the crank and began a steady half-hour’s grind; then to give my muscles a change we would go again at pounding and separating fibre for half an hour; then came another half-hour at the crank, and so on until the blessed hour of noon arrived, when we would take dinner and rest until one o’clock; then hard at it again, rain or shine, until five o’clock.

Mr. Millward could sit at his feeding work and was thus able to endure it; but it was doubtless very hard for him, though he never uttered a complaint and seemed to thrive on it. My work at the crank was very hard indeed, and at first when night came every bone and muscle in my whole body would ache with the strain. As the days went by, however, the work grew easier and easier day by day, until I felt it no longer as a strain upon me.

At five o’clock we set to work getting up the necessary fuel and doing the chores about the house, and such little things as Alice wanted attended to. Exactly at six o’clock Alice, who carried the watch, would come out and call us in for supper, to which two tired men were sure to do justice, especially to the hot coffee which we now had at each meal in plenty. After supper we generally sat on the porch talking over various matters of interest. Mr. Millward, who when a younger man had spent ten years as a missionary in India and South Africa, related many interesting reminiscences of his life in those strange countries: of desperate fights with savages in resisting forays; of hunts for game and encounters with wild beasts; of the rude forms of worship and superstitions of the African tribes, and the complex religion of the Hindoos. His memory was wonderfully accurate and stored with countless incidents, curious, strange, and interesting.