Chapter XXVI
I must say that I was much better pleased with the appearance of the cabin, it was so neat and clean to what it had been, and everything was out of the way. The next day was a calm and clear day, and we went down to fish. We were fortunate, and procured almost as many as we had done at the previous fishing—they were all put in the bathing pool as before. When we went up to the cabin, as soon as the fish was put on the fire, under the direction of my mother, I turned up the sides of one of the pieces of sheet iron, so as to make a sort of dish. The other piece I did the same to, only not so high at the sides, as one piece was kept for baking the fish on and the other as a dish to put our dinner upon when cooked. That day we had been too busy with fishing to think of anything else, but on the following I recollected the magnifying glass, and brought it to her. She first showed me the power it had to magnify, with which I was much amused for a time, and she explained as well as she could to me the cause of its having that power, but I could not well understand her; I was more pleased with the effect than cognisant of the cause. Afterwards she sent me to the cabin for some of the dried moss which I used for tinder, and placing the glass so as to concentrate the rays of the sun, to my astonishment I saw the tinder caught fire. It was amazement more than astonishment, and I looked up to see where the fire came from. My mother explained to me, and I, to a certain degree, comprehended, but I was too anxious to have the glass in my own hands and try experiments. I lighted the tinder again-then I burnt my hand—then I singed one of the gannet's heads, and lastly, perceiving that Nero was fast asleep in the sun, I obtained the focus on his cold nose. He started up with a growl, which made me retreat, and I was perfectly satisfied with the result of my experiments. From that time, the fire was, when the sun shone, invariably lighted by the burning-glass, and very useful did I find it. As it was so portable, I always carried it with me, and when I had nothing to do, I magnified, or set fire, according to the humour of the moment.
Although I have not mentioned it, not a morning rose, but before breakfast, I read the Scriptures to my mother.
"There's so much in that book which I cannot understand," said I, one morning.
"I suspect that, living as you have, alone on this island, and having seen nothing of the world," replied my mother, "that there are not many books that you would understand."
"But I understand all that is said in the Beast and Bird Book," replied I.
"Perhaps you may, or think you do; but, Frank, you must not class the Bible with other books. The other books are the works of man, but the Bible is the word of God. There are many portions of that book which the cleverest men, who have devoted their lives to its study, cannot understand, and which never will be understood as long as this world endures. In many parts the Bible is a sealed book."
"But will it never be understood then by anybody?"
"There is quite as much of the Bible as is necessary for men to follow its precepts, and this is so clear that anybody may understand it—it contains all that is necessary for salvation; but there are passages, the true meaning of which we cannot explain, and which God, for his own purposes, will not permit us to. But if we do not know them now, we shall probably hereafter, when we have left this world, and our intellects more nearly approach God's."
"Well, I don't understand why we should not understand it."
"Frank," replied she, "look at that flower just in bloom. Do you understand how it is that that plant keeps alive—grows every year—every year throws out a large blue flower? Why should it do so? why should the flower always be blue? and whence comes that beautiful colour? Can you tell me? You see, you know that it does do so; but can you tell me what makes it do so?"
"No."
"Look at that bird. You know it is hatched from an egg. How is it that the inside of an egg is changed into a bird? How is it that the bird is covered with feathers, and has the power to fly? Can you explain to me yourself? You can walk about just as you please—you have the power of reasoning, and thinking, and of acting; but by what means is it that you possess that power? Can you tell? You know that is so, but you know no more. You can't tell why or how or what causes produce these effects—can you?"
"No."
"Well, then, if you are surrounded by all manner of things, living and dead, and see every day things which you cannot explain, or understand, why should you be surprised that, as God has not let you know by what means these effects are produced, that in his written word he should also keep from you that which for good purposes you are not permitted to know. Everything here is by God's will, and that must be sufficient for us. Now do you understand?"
"Yes, I see now what you mean, but I never thought about these things before. Tell me some more about the Bible."
"Not now. Some day I will give you a history of the Bible, and then you will understand the nature of the book, and why it was written; but not at present. Suppose, as we have nothing particular to do, you tell me all you know about yourself from Jackson, and all that happened while you lived with him. I have heard only part, and I should like to know all."
"Very well," replied I. "I will tell you everything, but it will take a long while."
"We shall have plenty of time to spare, my dear boy, I fear, before we leave this place; so, never mind time—tell me everything."
I commenced my narrative, but I was interrupted.
"Have you never been able to call your own mother to your memory?" said she.
"I think I can now, since I have seen you, but I could not before. I now can recollect a person dressed like you, kneeling down and praying by my side; and I said before, the figure has appeared in my dreams, and much oftener since you have been here."
"And your father?"
"I have not the slightest remembrance of him, or anybody else except my mother."
I then proceeded, and continued my narrative until it was time to go to bed; but as I was very circumstantial, and was often interrupted by questions, I had not told a quarter of what I had to say.
Chapter XXVII
Mrs Reichardt had promised to give me a history of the Bible; and one day, when the weather kept us both at home, she thus commenced her narrative:—
"The Bible is a history of God's doings for the salvation of man. It commences with the fall of man by disobedience, and ends with the sacrifice made for his reinstatement. As by one man, Adam, sin came into the world, so by one man, Jesus Christ, was sin and death overcome. If you will refer to the third chapter of Genesis, at the very commencement of the Bible, you will find that at the same time that Adam receives his punishment, a promise is made by the Lord, that the head of the serpent shall hereafter be bruised. The whole of the Bible, from the very commencement, is an announcement of the coming of Christ; so that as soon as the fault had been committed, the Almighty, in his mercy, had provided a remedy. Nothing is unknown or unforeseen by God.
"Recollect, Frank, that the Bible contains the history of God's doings, but it does not often tell us why such things were done. It must be sufficient for us to know that such was the will of God; when he thinks proper, he allows us to understand his ways, but to our limited capacities, most of his doings are inscrutable. But, are we to suppose that, because we, in our foolishness, cannot comprehend his reasons, that therefore they must be cavilled at? Do you understand me, Frank?"
"Yes," replied I; "I do pretty well."
"As I pointed out to you the other day, you see the blade of grass grow, and you see it flower, but how it does so you know not. If then you are surrounded all your life with innumerable things which you see but cannot comprehend—when all nature is a mystery to you—even yourself—how can you expect to understand the dealings of God in other things? When, therefore, you read the Bible, you must read it with faith."
"What is faith? I don't quite understand, mother."
"Frank, I have often told you of many things that are in England, where you one day hope to go. Now, if when you arrive in England, you find that everything that I have told you is quite true, you will be satisfied that I am worthy of belief."
"Yes."
"Well, suppose some one were to tell you something relative to any other country, which you could not understand, and you came to me and asked me if such were the case, would you, having found that I told you truth with regard to England, believe that what you had been told of this other country was true, if I positively asserted that it was so?"
"Of course I should, mother."
"Well, then, Frank, that would be faith; a belief in things not only not seen, but which you cannot understand. But to go on, I mention this because some people are so presumptuous as to ask the why and the wherefore of God's doings, and attempt to argue upon their justice, forgetting that the little reason they have is the gift of God, and that they must be endowed with intellect equal to the Almighty, to enable them to know and perceive that which he decides upon. But if God has not permitted us to understand all his ways, still, wherever we can trace the finger of God, we can always perceive that everything is directed by an all-wise and beneficent hand; and that, although the causes appear simple, the effects produced are extraordinary and wonderful. We shall observe this as we talk over the history of the Jews, in the Bible. But, I repeat, that we must study the whole of the Bible with faith, and not be continually asking ourselves, 'Why was this done?' If you will turn to the ninth chapter of the Epistle to the Romans, you will see what the Apostle Paul says on the subject: 'Nay but, O man, who art thou that repliest against God?' Shall the thing formed say to him that formed it, 'Why hast thou made me thus?' Do you not understand in what spirit the Bible should be read?"
"Yes, I do. We must read it as the Word of God, and believe all that we read in it."
"Exactly;—now we will proceed. After Adam's fall, the earth became so wicked that God destroyed it, leaving but Noah and his family to re-people it; and as soon as this was done, the Almighty prepared for his original intention for the future salvation of men. He selected Abraham, who was a good man, and who had faith, to be the father of a nation chosen for his own people—that was the Jewish nation. He told him that his seed should multiply as the stars in the heavens, and that all the nations of the earth should be blessed in him; that is, that from his descendants should Christ be born, who should be the salvation of men. Abraham's great-grandchildren were brought into Egypt, to live apart in the land of Goshen. You have read the history of Joseph and his brethren?"
"Oh yes; I know that well."
"Well, the Almighty wished the Jews should be a nation apart from others, and for that purpose he brought them into Egypt. But observe, Frank, by what simple and natural causes this was effected. It was by a dream of Joseph's, which, when he told them of it, irritated his brothers against him; they sold him as a slave, and he was sent into Egypt. There, having explained the dream of Pharaoh, he was made a ruler over Egypt, and saved that country from the famine which was in every other land. His brothers come down to buy corn, and he recognises them. He sends for his father and all the family, and establishes them in the land of Goshen, as shepherds, apart from the Egyptians. Here they multiplied fast; but after Joseph's elevation they were cruelly treated by the Egyptians, who became afraid of their rapid increase, and eventually the Kings of Egypt gave orders that all the male children of the Jews should be destroyed. It was at this time, when they were so oppressed and cruelly treated by the Egyptians, that God interfered and sent for Moses. Moses, like all the rest of the Jews, knew nothing of the true God, and was difficult to persuade, and it was only by miracles that he was convinced."
"Why did God keep the Jews apart from the Egyptians, and have them thrown in bondage?"
"Because he wished to prepare them to become his own peculiar people. By their being descended from Abraham, and having never intermarried with other nations, they had become a pure race; by being in bondage and severely treated, they had suffered and become united as a people. They knew no Gods but those worshipped by the Egyptians, and these Gods it was now the intention of the Almighty to confound, and prove to the Jews as worthless. At the same time he worked with his own nation in mystery, for when Moses asked him what God he was to tell his people that he was, the Almighty only replied by these words—I am; having no name like all the false Gods worshipped by the Egyptians. He was now about to prove, by his wonderful miracles, the difference between himself and the false Gods."
"What are miracles?"
"A miracle is doing that which man has no power of doing, proving that the party who does it is superior to man: for instance—to restore a dead man to life is a miracle, as none but God, or those empowered by God could do. Miracles were necessary, therefore, to prove to the Jews that the Almighty was the true God, and were resorted to by him in this instance, as well as in the coming of Our Saviour, when it was also necessary to prove that he was the Son of God. When the Almighty sent Moses to Pharaoh to demand that the Israelites should have permission to sacrifice in the desert, he purposely hardened the heart of Pharaoh that he might refuse the request."
"But why did he so?"
"Because he wanted to prove to the Israelites that he was the only true God and had Pharaoh consented to their going away, there would have been no opportunity of performing those miracles by which the Israelites were to be delivered, and by which they were to acknowledge him as their God."
Mrs Reichardt often renewed this conversation, till I became acquainted with Scriptural History.
Chapter XXVIII
The following morning, I went with Nero to take a couple of fish out of the pool. As soon as Nero had caught them, he went into the other part of the bathing pool to amuse himself, while I cleaned the fish, which I generally did before I went up to the cabin, giving him the heads and insides for his share, if I did not require any portion for the birds. Nero was full of play that morning, and when I threw the heads to him, as he frolicked in the water, he brought them out to the rocks, but instead of eating them, as usual, he laid them at my feet. I threw them in several times, and he continued to bring them out, and my mother, coming down to me, was watching him.
"I think," said she, "you must teach Nero to fetch and carry like a dog—try. Instead of the heads, throw in this piece of wood;" which she now broke off the boat-hook staff.
I did so, and Nero brought it out, as he had done the heads of the fish. I patted and coaxed the animal, and tried him again several times with success.
"Now," said my mother, "you must accustom him to certain words when you send him for anything. Always say, 'Fetch it, Nero!' and point with your finger."
"Why am I to do that, mother?" I asked.
"Because the object to be gained is, not that the animal should fetch out what you throw in, but what you send it to bring out which you have not thrown in. Do you understand?"
"Yes," replied I. "You mean if there were anything floating near on the sea, I should send him for it."
"Exactly. Then Nero would be of some use."
"I will soon teach him," replied I; "to-morrow I will send him into the sea after the piece of spar. I've no fear that he will go away now."
"I was thinking last night, Frank, whether they had taken the pail with them in the boat."
"The pail," said I; "I know where it is, but I quite forgot it. We left it up the ravine the last day we planted the potatoes."
"We did so, now I recollect. I will go for it while you get the breakfast ready."
We had now been for many weeks on a fish diet, and I must confess that I was tired of it, which was not the case when I lived upon the dried birds during the whole of the year. Why so I cannot tell, but I was soon to learn to relish fish, if I could obtain them.
It was not often that the wind blew direct on the shore, but coming from the northward and eastward, it was in a slanting direction, but occasionally, and chiefly about the time of the Equinoxes, the gales came on very heavy from the eastward, and then the wash of the seas upon the rocky coast was tremendous. Such was the case about this time. A fierce gale of wind from the eastward raised a sea which threw the surf and spray high over the loftiest of the rocks, and the violence of the wind bore the spray far inland. The gale had come on in the evening, and my mother and I, when we rose in the morning, were standing on the platform before the cabin, admiring the grandeur of the scene, but without the least idea that it was to be productive of so much misery to ourselves. My mother pointed out to me some passages in the Psalms and Old Testament bearing strongly upon the scene before us; after a time I called Nero, and went down with him to take fish out of the pool for our day's consumption. At that time we had a large supply in the pool—more than ever, I should say. When I arrived at the pool, I found the waves several feet in height rolling in over the ledges, and the pool one mass of foam, the water in it being at least two or three feet higher than usual; still it never occurred to me that there was any mischief done, until I had sent Nero in for the fish, and found that, after floundering and diving for some time, he did not bring out one. My mind misgave me, and I ordered him in again. He remained some time and then returned without a fish, and I was then satisfied that from the rolling in of the waves, and the unusual quantity of the water in the pool, the whole of the fish had escaped, and that we were now without any provisions or means of subsistence, until the weather should settle, and enable us to catch some more.
Aghast at the discovery, I ran up to the cabin, and called to my mother, who was in her bedroom.
"Oh, mother, all the fish have got out of the pool, and we have nothing to eat. I told you we should be starved."
"Take time, Frank, and take breath," replied she, "and then tell me what has happened, to cause this alarm and dismay, that you appear to be in."
I explained to her what had happened, and that Nero could not find one fish.
"I fear that what you say must be correct," replied she; "but we must put our trust in God. It is his will, and whatever he wills must be right."
I cannot say I was Christian enough at the time to acknowledge the truth of her reply, and I answered, "If God is as good and as gracious as you say, will he allow us to starve? Does he know that we are starving?" continued I.
"Does he know, Frank?" replied my mother; "what does the Bible say—that not a sparrow falls to the ground without his knowledge; and of how much more worth are you than many sparrows? Shame upon you, Frank!"
I was abashed but not satisfied, I therefore replied quietly, "We have nothing to eat, mother."
"Granted that we have lost all our fish, Frank, still we are not yet starving; the weather may moderate tomorrow, and we may catch some more, or even if it should not till the day afterwards, we can bear to be two days without food. Let us hope for the best and put our trust in God—let us pray to him and ask him for his assistance. He can rebuke these stormy waters—he can always find means of helping those who put confidence in him, and will send us aid when all hope appears gone. Pray, Frank, as I will do, fervently, and believing that your prayer is heard—pray with faith, and your prayer will be answered."
"It is not always so," replied I; "you have told me of many people who have died of starvation."
"I grant it, and for all wise purposes they were permitted so to do, but the Almighty had reasons for permitting it, unknown to us, but which you may depend upon it, were good. We cannot fathom his decrees. He may even now decide that such is to be our fate; but if so, depend upon it, Frank, all is right, and what appears to you now as cruel and neglectful of you, would, if the future could be looked into by us, prove to have been an act of mercy."
"Do you think, then, that we shall starve?"
"I do not—I have too much faith in God's mercy, and I do not think that he would have preserved our lives by preventing the men from taking us into the boat, if we were now to starve. God is not inconsistent; and I feel assured that, forlorn as our present position appears to be, and tried as our faith in him may be, we shall still be preserved, and live to be monuments of his gracious love and kindness."
These words of my mother and the implicit confidence which she appeared to have, much revived me. "Well," said I, "I hope you are right, my dear mother, and now I think of it," continued I, brightening up at the idea, "if the worst come to the worst, we can eat the birds; I don't care much for them now, and if I did, you should not starve, mother."
"I believe you would not hesitate to sacrifice the birds, Frank, but a greater sacrifice may be demanded of you."
"What?" inquired I; and then after a little thought, I said, "You don't mean Nero, mother?"
"To tell the truth, I did mean Nero, Frank, for the birds will not be a support for more than a day or two."
"I never could kill Nero, mother," replied I gloomily, and walking away into the cabin, I sat down very melancholy at the idea of my favourite being sacrificed; to me it appeared quite horrible, and my mother having referred to it, made her fall very much in my good opinion. Alas! I was indeed young and foolish, and little thought what a change would take place in my feelings. As for the birds, as I really did not care for them, I resolved to kill two of them for our day's meal, and returning to the platform I had laid hold of the two that were there and had seized both by the neck, when my mother asked me what I was going to do.
"Kill them, and put them in the pot for our dinner," replied I.
"Nay, Frank! you are too hasty. Let us make some little sacrifice, even for the poor birds. We surely can fast one day without very great suffering. To-morrow will be time enough."
I dropped the birds from my hand, tacitly consenting to her proposal. It was not, however, for the sake of the birds that I did so, but because one day's respite for the birds would be a day's respite for Nero.
"Come," said my mother, "let us go into the cabin and get some work. I will alter some of the clothes for you. What will you do?"
"I don't know," replied I, "but I will do whatever you tell me."
"Well, then, I perceive that the two fishing-lines are much worn, and they may break very soon, and then we shall be without the means of taking fish, even if the weather is fine, so now we will cut off some of the whale line, and when it is unravelled, I will show you how to lay it up again into fishing line; and, perhaps, instead of altering the clothes, I had better help you, as fishing-lines are now of more consequence to us than anything else."
This was an arrangement which I gladly consented to. In a short time the whale line was unravelled, and my mother showed me how to lay it up in three yarns, so as to make a stout fishing line. She assisted, and the time passed away more rapidly than I had expected it would.
"You are very clever, mother," said I.
"No, my child, I am not, but I certainly do know many things which women in general are not acquainted with; but the reason of this is, I have lived a life of wandering, and occasional hardships. Often left to our own resources, when my husband and I were among strangers, we found the necessity of learning to do many things for ourselves, which those who have money usually employ others to do for them; but I have been in situations where even money was of no use, and had to trust entirely to myself. I have therefore always made it a rule to learn everything that I could; and as I have passed much of my life in sailing over the deep waters, I obtained much useful knowledge from the seamen, and this of laying up fishing lines is one of the arts which they communicated to me. Now, you see, I reap the advantage of it."
"Yes," replied I; "and so do I. How lucky it was that you came to this island!"
"Lucky for me, do you mean, Frank?"
"No, mother! I mean how lucky for me."
"I trust that I have been sent here to be useful, Frank, and with that feeling I cheerfully submit to the will of God. He has sent me that I may be useful to you, I do not doubt; and if by my means you are drawn towards him, and, eventually, become one of his children, I shall have fulfilled my mission."
"I do not understand you quite, mother."
"No, you cannot as yet, but everything in season," replied she, slowly musing; "'First the blade, then the ear, and then the full corn in the ear.'"
"Mother," said I, "I should like to hear the whole story of your life. You know I have told you all that I know about myself. Now suppose you tell me your history, and that of your husband. You did say that perhaps, one day you would. Do you recollect?"
"Yes, I do recollect that I did make a sort of promise, Frank, and I promise you now that some day I will fulfil it; but I am not sure that you will understand or profit by the history now, so much as you may bye-and-bye."
"Well, but mother, you can tell me the story twice, and I shall be glad to hear it again, so tell it to me now, to amuse me, and bye-and-bye that I may profit by it."
My mother smiled, which she very seldom did, and said—
"Well, Frank, as I know you would at any time give up your dinner to listen to a story, and as you will have no dinner to-day, I think it is but fair that I should consent to your wish. Who shall I begin with—with my husband or with myself?"
"Pray begin with your own history," replied I.