The Spanish Galleon. Charles Sumner Seeley

of copper-color here and there, where the internal fires flashed and glowed. The wind sank to a perfect calm, and occasionally a great drop of rain fell warm as blood. I had brought all the contents of the chest up near the hut, and I now hurried to get them under the shelter. The fire was smouldering near by, and there was a good supply of wood piled near it. I hurriedly carried this into the house, and also four or five charred and ignited sticks, which I placed in the middle of the room on the sand together in such manner that they would smoulder slowly there and keep alight. The smoke might be an annoyance, but as soon as there was a draught of air, it would drift out through the ventilators, and I could keep to windward of it. Finally I ran out and dragged in my turtle shell with its store of meat, and put that also under shelter.

      The calm still continued deathlike and dark. When all was under shelter and I had returned from the brook with my goblet filled with fresh water, I stood at the open door, looking at the sea. Suddenly, without any further warning, down came the rain in bucketfuls, falling in vertical lines—such a shower as is rarely seen. The roof held tight, the water streaming from it like a cataract, but not a drop coming through to the interior. In about twenty minutes the rain as suddenly ceased. Looking out over the ocean, I saw on the surface a streak of blue-black water, parallel with the horizon and flecked with tiny streaks of white, advancing. The squall was coming. Hurriedly I unrolled my door-curtain and fastened it securely at the bottom. I was just in time. As the blast struck the house, the whole structure trembled and swayed, but held fast. I could hear the shrieking of the wind as it swept through the neighboring palms, and the occasional crash of a breaking stem mingled with the dashing rain which now drove violently against the roof and walls, and I thanked my good-fortune that this shelter was ready. This gale continued to blow until long after dark. Indeed it was still raging when I fell asleep, to dream of shipwrecks and hurricanes.

      When I awoke early in the morning and looked out through the ventilator, I found that the wind had fallen to a moderate breeze and had veered around to the northeast, bringing a dense fog, and that a fine rain was falling with a settled appearance such as betokened a wet day. My first care was to look after my fire. It was almost out, and to rekindle it from the few smouldering sparks was a matter requiring very tender manipulation. But at last I had it going again, and my pans of turtle meat stewing and frying on a gentle blaze, that demanded to be watched constantly.

      This was a good time to overhaul my stock of books to see what they were, and to find out whether the salt water had left them in condition for use. They were now perfectly dry, but the bindings were warped and loosened. The leaves were in many places stuck together, and yellow and brown leather stains had crept in about the margins. But they still held together and were legible. The books consisted of a dozen well-selected novels, a manual of photography, the United States Dispensatory, a student’s manual of botany, a school geology, and a German word-book. Looking over these books while I lay on my couch, with an occasional glance at the cooking, I passed the time very pleasantly all the morning.

      At noon the rain still continued; so, not to be idle, I ran out and picked up some freshly fallen cocoanuts both to vary my diet and to obtain a supply of fibre for spinning. The whole afternoon was spent in preparing the fibre and spinning it into cord, and by night I had accumulated quite enough to make me a hammock. This, I resolved, should be my next task if the foul weather continued. The smoke from the smouldering fire was a source of great annoyance, by getting into my eyes. I determined to remedy this as soon as I could, by erecting a fireplace and chimney of some sort. But in the mean time I utilized this annoying guest as much as possible by hanging several sticks full of strips of the turtle meat in the peak of the roof, where the smoke collected thickest, that it might become partially cured. This, I hoped, would preserve it, as it had been lying in sea water in the shell; and so it proved. For after this smoking the meat dried without taint, and, as I subsequently found, made most excellent eating.

      With melted turtle fat, a clam-shell, and a wick made of fibre, I improvised a light, and after it grew dark, fell to looking over my library until bedtime, the rain still pattering on the thatch when I retired. The next morning the weather was still boisterous, the rain driving and the heavy mists sweeping along the sea. The leaden clouds still hung low and dark. This day I spent indoors working at my hammock and varying the monotony by hanging up the last of the meat to smoke, looking over my books and wishing for fair weather. I finished the hammock, but could not use it on account of the smoke, and was obliged to sleep on my pallet as before. As the turtle fat was all gone and therefore no light was to be had, I turned in early and awoke in the morning at dawn. On going out I found the sky clear and the sun rising fair. All the foliage looked fresh and bright after the rain, and the birds were cheerfully singing in the forest. It was a glorious change, and my confinement in the house for two days gave added zest to it. This would be a good day for an exploring trip, and I thought I would spend it in such an expedition.