A STORM AND A WRECK—THE CASTAWAY—DEAD—A NIGHT OF HORROR—THE BOATHOUSE DESTROYED—A BURIAL AT SEA.

Winter was now rapidly approaching, but before its advent something of a very grave nature happened.

It had been a very blustering day, with occasional showers of sleet, when about four p.m. I found myself standing by the watch-house, holding my hat on; the sun fast setting in a very angry-looking sky.

Evidently a storm was brewing, so I hauled my saucy little "Yellow Boy" high above high-water line, and made everything snug before I went indoors just after darkness had fallen all around. I felt uncomfortable somehow, but could not tell why; but when the time for bed came, and the wind was howling round the house as if it meant to cast it bodily into the sea, I did not for some reason care to turn in; so replenishing my lamp I sat down to read, but the wind shook the casements so roughly that I had to give it up. About midnight, although it was late in the autumn, a flash of lightning lit up the room and startled me; in a few seconds the thunder began to roll, but a long way off.

I sat waiting for another flash, and presently it came, this time with the thunder much nearer. A little while and another more vivid flash, with the thunder close to its heels, upon which I started up on the impulse of the moment and donned my oilskin suit and sou'wester and sallied out into the night; why I knew not. At first the night was pitch dark, but a flash of brilliant lightning seemed to light up the whole island, while at the same time came a crash of thunder, such as I hope never to hear the like of again. It was as if the whole of the granite island had been shivered to atoms by some awful volcanic crash; in fact, I thought it was an earthquake. It only lasted a few seconds, but it seemed to literally paralyze me; so much so, that I thought I should have fallen. Other flashes succeeded, one of them striking a granite block, which it shivered to pieces, although it weighed many tons, and in the shock appeared itself to be broken; that is, it seemed like the first stroke of a smith's hammer upon a red hot piece of iron, when the sparks fly off in every direction. I dare not go along that path, although it was now probably the safest; but as I went towards the beach I could see the lightning run among the wet rocks like phosphorus.

As I stood by the watch-house I fancied I could detect human voices crying for aid, but put it down to my imagination, till I saw, to my horror, not a hundred yards from the shore, a French Chasse-marÉ, or fishing boat, driving straight for the rocks. I shouted, but the noise of the breaking sea rendered it inaudible five yards off against such a wind. Two of her three masts were gone, and by the next flash I could distinguish several men crouching by the bulwarks, and one at the tiller. Then came a sudden lurch and a dead stop, a tremendous sea crashed on deck, and I knew she had struck the rocks on the beach not fifty yards from where I stood.

Heaven help them, for no earthly power could. I was helpless to render the slightest assistance. I could only pray, and that I did fervently. Doubtless the men would jump into the sea, with the very remote chance of being thrown ashore alive, but that was very improbable.

Still, there was a chance, and I went along the beach, as far as the nature of the rocky shore would allow me, up and down, up and down, like a dog on a race course, till at last, among a lot of cordage and fishing gear, I thought I espied a man cast ashore, and so it was. He was entangled in the mass of wreckage, and appeared dead. As I thought a spark of life might still remain, I tried to disengage him, but try as I would I could not disentangle his legs, so had recourse to my knife to cut away the ropes which held him so fast. This I found a long process, but at length I freed the poor fellow, and carried, or rather half dragged him to the shelter of some rocks, and tried to revive him. His heart still beat, so I ran to the house and got a bundle of straw and some brandy. With the straw I made him a kind of bed, as he was a big man, and the pathway too steep for me to carry him up, and pouring some brandy into his mouth as he lay back I succeeded in causing him to open his eyes, after about twenty minutes. I chafed his hands and did all I could for him, and then ran back to procure more comforts. When I returned he appeared much better; but although he looked at me he appeared unable to speak, although he made a curious unintelligible noise, such as one hears a dumb man make when he wishes to call a person's attention. I noticed that blood was oozing from the corners of his mouth, and signed to him to open it, when, to my horror, I perceived that he had bitten his tongue completely off; hence his inability to articulate. I then proceeded to examine him all over, but when I touched his body he gave great groans, so that I would fain have left him alone, had I not considered it my duty to act the Good Samaritan to him.

I tried to persuade him by signs to rise, that I might support him to the house, but he shook his head and groaned again, when it occurred to me that his legs might be injured, and this I found to be but too true; both his thighs were broken. Then an idea came happily to my mind, I would fetch my donkey and cart, and so endeavour to get him by a circuitous route to the house and put him to bed.

Away I went and harnessed my faithful servant to his wonderful cart, and was back again in about twenty minutes; but that short period had bereft me of my patient, for when I bent over him to see if he were better, I found he was again senseless. Taking up the lantern so that it shed its full light on his face, I at once saw, to my consternation, that he was dead. His eyes were wide open, and his teeth clenched in such a ghastly manner as to make me, for a brief time, tremble with horror to think I was thus left alone with a corpse.

I threw a handful of straw over the awful countenance, and went home in an unutterable frame of mind, as to me death has a most unnerving effect. I laid down on my bed, after taking off my wet oil skins; but sleep would not give me the oblivion I so craved till dawn. Sometimes I dozed off, but only to dream horribly, so that I would awake in a great perspiration, and with my nerves thoroughly unstrung, I would start to my feet and gaze round the room, as if I expected some dread visitor. It was an awful night for me.

About four o'clock in the morning I had just dozed off again, when a loud gust of wind gave my window an extra hard rattle, which woke me. I laid quite still, but presently heard a curious shuffling outside my door, which made me sit upright upon my bed, with my eyes starting from my head, and riveted upon the door, which gradually opened with a peculiar sliding noise, little by little, in jerks, and as it did so I could feel my hair move on my head, as if trying to stand on end with horror, but as it was very long it could only move in locks like writhing eels. Little by little the door opened, and I expected to see my black-bearded dead giant, with the awful face enter. I looked instinctively near the top of the door for the face to show itself; but such an awful visitant I was not doomed to see, though in his place, and much nearer the floor, appeared a black head surmounted by a pair of pointed horns. My eyes seemed as if they would fly from their sockets at this sight, but only for a minute, for a body followed the head, which was perfectly familiar to me—it was my goat.

TOO LATE!

TOO LATE!I dropped upon my bed, overcome by the sudden change from horror to joy, and laid there for some minutes, till the faithful Nanny came and licked my ear and brought me back to consciousness again.

I afterward accounted for her unexpected visit by surmising that the wind must have blown open the outer door and let her into the passage, as I had never fastened the doors, although the outer ones were provided with bolts. Then Miss Nanny must have pushed open the door of my room with a series of prods with her nose, and as she did so the old rug, which I always threw at the bottom of the door to keep out the draught, was gradually forced back till she had made sufficient space for the admission of her body.

Oh, the horrors of that night! Shall I ever forget them? No, not if I live to the age of Noah, who ran his grandfather, Methuselah, very close in the race of years.

Day did dawn at last, and putting out my lamp I slept soundly for several hours; in fact, when I awoke it was mid-day, and the sun shining down pleasantly from a blue and cloudless sky.

I breakfasted, fed my animals, and then—then! What of the dead man lying on the beach? I shuddered at the mere idea of going near the poor fellow. I dreaded gazing upon that face again—it must be done, still it need not be done just yet. I would take a walk round the island and see if the storm had thrown up anything else upon the shore, and give myself time to think what I should do with the dead Frenchman. I would walk the reverse way round to that which I usually did; that is to go round past the boathouse, and thus along the east shore. This I did so that I might make the tour of the island before seeing the dreadful man again.

Gun on shoulder, and dog at heel, I started slowly along, but had not gone more than two hundred yards—in fact, had only just got in sight of the boathouse—when I was startled by its changed appearance. The roof was completely gone, and so were huge masses of the walls, the stones of which were scattered thickly about the pathway along which I was walking. I was so excited by the curious appearance that I actually ran towards the building, as if the remaining portion had made up its mind to take its flight after the part which was missing.

When I arrived at the ruins I soon discerned what had taken place. The lightning had struck it last night, and what felt to me like an earthquake was the explosion of my large cask of gunpowder. The boathouse was a complete ruin, and the ruin involved the loss of many things of great value to me, among them being my canoe, most of my lamp oil, paints, and above all, tools.

I was like the prophet Jeremiah weeping over Jerusalem, for I sat down on a rock, and viewing the desolation around me, wept also. Then I dried my wet cheeks, and there and then set about clearing the ruin. But it was a great task, and would take several days before I could clear the debris and recover such goods and chattels as were not totally destroyed. I dug, I heaved over great masses of granite wall which had been tumbled inward and outward by the explosion, I sawed through beams and hacked through rafters with an axe, but my thoughts were not altogether with my work.

Every man has a skeleton in his cupboard, but I had more; I had a whole carcase lying near my house, and this occupied my mind as much as my labour. As I thought of it, so the harder I worked, but to no purpose, and presently, for a spell of breathing, I sat down, axe in hand, upon a beam, and resolved to decide there and then what to do.

During the daylight I did not so much mind my dread visitor, but it was the approaching night I did not like. Why are we so much more in fear of unseen things at night than during the day? Whence comes the spell of dread that night brings beneath its black wing? Does darkness affect the nerves of a blind man as it does that of one with his full visual powers? I think not. Probably day and night are but as one to the blind. Then why does darkness bring a certain awe to ordinary mortals?

But to resume the thread of my narrative.

It appeared to me that there were three courses open to me. I could fire the cannon (I had a few pounds of powder in the store near the house) and summon aid; I could dig a grave and bury the body; or I could hitch on my donkey and drag it down to the water at low tide, and let it be washed whithersoever the sea should take it.

I did not like either of these plans. If I fired the cannon it would bring a possÉ of curious, prying people to the island, and probably I should be taken away to St. Peter Port upon a coroner's quest. If I buried the man I should always shun that part of the island, and should have a constant memorial of my "night of horror" to depress me; while if I committed the body to the waves I should for ever have it on my conscience that I refused burial to a christian.

Then I thought, why not at dawn in the morning tow the body to Herm, and drag it ashore on the rocks opposite the labourers' cottages, as if it had been flung there by the waves; but a high sea was running, and to my craft the passage of the PercÉe was impossible, for the current running through it would have swept me away, so that with a weight towing astern I should never have reached Herm, not even if I had taken the corpse as a passenger inside my boat. I lit my pipe to conjure up fresh inspiration, and the charm worked, for I got an idea which seemed to me to fulfil all my requirements from a religious point of view, and it also appeared practicable.

Being a sailor, my idea was to give the poor fellow a sailor's funeral, and bury him myself at sea; and if the sea were not too rough it should take place this very night. It wanted yet an hour of dusk, and I would commence my preparations at once. Having formed my plan, and looked calmly upon my undertaking as one that was a duty for a christian man to perform, the fear in a great measure seemed to leave me.

I hauled down my boat, with "Eddy's" help, to high-water mark, and then went, with as bold a mien as I could muster, to the poor man's side; nerving myself with a prayer I lifted the straw from his face, and was pleased to find that the features had assumed their normal aspect, in fact but for the eyes being partly opened, he looked as if he were asleep. This was a great relief to me, and I now felt firm for the task I had undertaken. I got the body on the cart by great exertion, and transported it to the boat, where I laid it across amidships on two planks and tied a huge rock to each ankle; then, having prepared everything by the time night set in, I left the boat, as I found the tide would not float her away, and went home.

I thought if I waited another four or five hours the swell of the sea would run down with the tide and become calm enough for me to venture out upon my mission. I therefore had a substantial meal, and lay down on my bed to rest, as I was very tired with my day's work and my previous sleepless night.

When I awoke I found that it was past eleven p.m., but on looking out discovered that it was a fine night, though very dark. The sea had greatly quieted down, so taking my lantern and dog, I blundered along down the rocky path with "Eddy" at my heels, till I came to the boat of which I was presently to become the Charon.

With "Eddy's" help the boat was safely, though riskily launched, as my passenger made it very top heavy. Seeing this, I caught "Begum" up and tossed him overboard, so that he might swim ashore again, which I daresay he thought a great liberty and very unkind, but it was a necessity.

Away into the darkness of the night I steered my little bark, among the big hills and vales of the pathless deep. When I had gone as far as I judged it prudent to venture, I thought I would drop anchor and down sail, and accordingly hove the anchor overboard; but somehow the sail would not descend. I had therefore to climb over my passenger and go to the foot of the mast with the lantern to see what was amiss. I found the halyard had jammed in the sheave, and in trying to release it, as the boat slid down the side of a great black wave, she gave a tremendous lurch, and I thought was about to capsize, but she righted quickly as the yard came down on my head by the run. I gathered in the canvas and turned round to see how I could make room for the yard to lie safely when, presto, the dead man was gone! It certainly made my heart give a big thump, but a moment's reflection shewed me that the rolling of my boat had caused the body to shoot off the boards, feet downward, thus saving me the trouble of having to tip it off the planks.

The boat was now in good trim, and I had no fear for her safety nor my own, so placing the lantern on the floor, I sat down and read by its uncertain light the stirring service for the "Burial of those who die at Sea." Fervently I said those prayers as the salt spray, mingling with my tears, ran down my face, and when I pronounced the words, "I therefore commit his body to the deep," I looked around fearfully, as if the man might still be near me, but I saw him no more.

The bell of St. Peter's struck twelve o'clock just as the service was finished, sounding as I had never heard it sound before—so solemn and full of meaning as it tolled out in the still midnight air.

I pulled back with great effort, by reason of the heavy roll of the sea, and landed by the ruined boathouse, with great risk of losing both myself and boat. When safely ashore at last I was thankful to have accomplished my dread mission without accident. As I hauled my boat up I felt as if a tremendous weight had been lifted from my shoulders, and was quite happy again; probably at having acted the Good Samaritan to a man who, like the one in the Bible, was not of the same country or creed as myself.

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