# The Wreck of a World/Chapter 9

CHAPTER IX.
"Boatswain," shouted I, "open the hatches and let the passengers come on deck."
"Ay, ay, sir," was the answer, and up the ladders poured the human stream. The full moon had just risen and was shedding a long yellow stream of light over the rippling waters. For a few moments they were silent. What might have been happening during all the crashing and banging of the last hour they knew not, but when they saw that we were floating safely with our consorts beside us, suddenly one of them shouted "We've beaten them! we've beaten them! Glory, Hallelujah!" and all at once with one impulse such a cheer rose from a thousand throats as I had not heard since my Harvard days when we won the great boat-race against the Oxford crew. And then all burst forth into the old war song:—
"Glory, glory, hallelujah, Glory, glory, hallelujah, Glory, glory, hallelujah, As we go marching on."
​We lay in the river-mouth that night and the two following days, for much had to be done in the way of repairs. The America and the Roanoke had both lost their topmasts, and had to fix new spars, while the bows of the latter vessel and of the Hope were so seriously stove in that our carpenters and engineers had to fit temporary cutwaters of wood and iron to enable us to proceed with safety. But our foe made no attempt to molest us again; and when on the third day we weighed anchor once more it was with a new courage and hope to which our hearts had long been strangers. Some indeed of our party, especially those who had taken no part in the fight, were just a trifle inclined to bluster. I happened one day to overhear the following conversation, the interlocutors being our boatswain and a fussy self-important little person who from his airs and assumption was generally known as "the President."
The President—Well James, I reckon we did pretty well in that little affair of Friday; showed 'em the stuff Amurr'can citizens are made of, hey?"
Boatswain—Why, boss, I guess that's so. Us sailors ain't so bad at a set-to; it's our business o' ​course; but for cool-headed courage against long odds give me the Amurr'can citizen of the Missouri Valley.
The P.—Right you are there James. How we just cavorted through that big fellow—turned his entrails wrong side out—eh James, eh?
B.—That we did, sir, sure-ly. You'll excuse me a-mentioning of it, sir, if so be it's a secret, but I know what they be a saying all about the ship.
The P.—What's that James, what's that?
B.—Why sir, they do say this-wise, 'The boss ain't no slouch, he's good enough for me on a fair weather voyage across a mill-pond, but when it's a case of a rough sea and a run through a blockade give me the President. Who planned the run? The President. Who fought the ship? The President.' That's what they say, sir; and so say I.
The P.—Why James, I'd no idea they had found this out. Who told 'em?
B.—Told 'em, sir? Couldn't they see out of their eyes? When the boss fainted as we was going to ram that big 'un—and small blame to him either, being a landsman, and not so young as he was—don't we all know who ran to the helm and kept her head straight ​till we come out t'other side? And that's why I say, and why we all says, the President's the man for our money.
The P.—Why really James, you must not give me too much credit. I only did what any other—a—brave man would have done under the circumstances.
B.—Well, sir, begging your pardon I must speak my mind. And I'll tell you what I heard the boss say when he thought he was alone with the two skippers—'I tell you what it is,' says he, 'if we three did what was right, we'd go straight to the President and beg him on our knees to take command of the squadron, and ask as a particular favour that we might sail with him as powder-monkeys.'
The P. (beaming)—Well James, as you've found me out it's no good being too modest. I am glad to have done what I did, and saved the ship, and perhaps the squadron, and I'd do it again, and shall do, maybe. But I seek no reward, except the applause of my conscience. And I wouldn't for the world turn out any of the captains. They are worthy sensible men, James, if they haven't got the pluck or the wits of some, and I shall always be happy to give them the ​best of my advice and assistance. But I am a retiring man, James, and don't seek to stand in other men's shoes; on the contrary, if they can get any credit from my humble actions, let 'em, James, let 'em. I waive my claims.
The boatswain looked queerly at the President for two whole minutes, his expression contrasting admirably with the Pecksniffian radiance of the other. Then he burst out—
"Why, ye thundering little dressed-up hurdy-gurdy monkey, that's got neither pluck enough to fight a well-growed cock-robin, nor wit enough to hold your tongue when ye'd run away, d'ye think there's a man woman or child on board the ship, let alone James Barker, so simple as to believe that ye'd have crept out of your cabin during the fight for a million of dollars, unless ye'd been kicked out? Didn't I see ye lying on the cabin floor as white as a tallow candle, with your red tongue a-lollopin' out of your mouth, and a-stoppin' of your ears to try and keep out the sound of the guns? And wasn't the very women a-sassin of you, and saying 'Oh, Mr. President, do please get up and protect us?' and you to go and claim the ​credit of fighting the ship and saving the squadron! The skipper's a landsman, more's the pity, but there's many a seaman I've known, and many an officer too, that wouldn't have carried her through the enemy's lines so straight and bold, and I'm proud to be one of his crew, I am. Git down to your berth, ye vain little jackdaw, and tuck your fool's head safe under the bed-clothes; for if I see ye again flaunting your peacock's feathers up and down the main-deck, I'll just bid half-a-dozen of the roustabouts give ye a good coat of tar and tie ye up to the cross-trees for a cock-shy, sure as my name's James Barker. Git."
Panic terror overcame the hero, and taking the boatswain's threat au pied de la lettre, he actually took to his berth and remained there for two days. When at last he crept up the hatches it was with the limp air of the anathematized Jackdaw of Rheims, the conceit all out of him—for the time being.
No adventures befell us on our voyage down the Gulf of Mexico, and nothing more serious than repeated stranding in the Darien Canal, which having now been for some months disused was already beginning to silt up. These little difficulties seemed to me a ​god-send, as they served to occupy our minds, and prevent them from dwelling on the graver aspects of our past and future. Steering thence for the Sandwich Islands we encountered a cyclone which caused us much anxiety and some damage, but in spite of all misadventures we arrived safely at our destination six weeks after leaving the mouth of the Mississippi.
We found our new home as wild an any of the desert islands discovered by our early explorers. Here too the race of man seemed to be extinct. What miracle had happened to depopulate all quarters of the globe at once? Were we destined to be only the last devoured by the Cyclops? Yet here indeed the natural process of deterioration may have accounted for an extinction which it would surely have produced in a few years. At all events the absence of natives or other whites than ourselves simplified a good many problems that I had foreseen as likely to arise.
It was the 4th of September 1949, that we dropped anchor in a deep land-locked bay. Every soul was on deck, even our friend the President, to witness the landing of the relics of the ancient world on the soil ​where we hoped to begin afresh, and reconstruct the world anew. So landed the remnant left by the Trojan war, "relliquiœ Danaum," on the shore of Latium. So landed the relics of Roman civilization on the mud banks of the Lido. But what exiles yet, since Noah and his children, had ever borne with them the whole hopes of the human race, scarcely saved from the wreck of a ruined universe?
The scene was very lovely. All the wealth of tropical vegetation seemed to be concentrated in that small bay, where we rode in perfect security as though in some inland sea. And as we thanked Providence for bringing us safely through all dangers I think there rose in each man's heart some consciousness of the duty that lay upon him, and a determination to do his best to make the new world that was to be purer, truer, honester, happier, less selfish, less greedy, than the old world which we had left behind.
We passed the night on board, and on the morrow we landed. And then ensued a busy scene, each family being eagerly occupied in framing temporary shelters in which to pass a few weeks until more permanent structures could be erected. It was delightful ​to see the children after their long confinement on board revelling in the luxury of their mother nature, and at the same time eagerly helping their parents and elder brothers at their work. Such a camping out never was.
We were rather hasty in fixing upon this spot for our home, as soon appeared by the scarcity of water, and after a few days we again shipped our passengers and sailed round the island in search of the town of Honolulu. When we found it we were much surprised that, although there could be no mistake about the spot, of habitations there was no sign. A few months had sufficed, with the aid of the luxuriant vegetation, to obliterate all trace of what had once been a thriving port. It needed however but a few weeks' hard labour to restore it to something not unlike its former appearance and to something more than its former prosperity, if prosperity is to be reckoned by the virtue and happiness of the citizens. Our early trials and struggles were much like those of any other Colonists of a new country, and I do not propose to dwell upon them. Without any formal sanction except the general consent I governed the ​island as chief magistrate, with Gell and Dana as my vice-gerents and assessors. My duties chiefly consisted in settling rival claims to parcels of land which in the first settlement of the island were not precisely defined. The people recognised that I tried to act justly, and there was no appeal from my decisions.
I had taken care to bring with me the whole of my library, which was a good scientific one, besides containing the best literary works of all nations—not such an unwieldy number, after all—and my medicine chests, which were fortunately well-stocked. My most important duties were perhaps those of physician and surgeon to the whole community; but I was also general instructor and minister of religion! It was impossible for me to continue to exercise these multiple functions, so I persuaded young Dana to learn as much as I could teach him of the science of medicine, he merely stipulating that nothing should deprive him of the command of his beloved ships, which he kept in perfect order, and would occasionally take for a short cruise with such of the sailors as would accompany him.
Poor Gell, who never could get over the loss of his ​bride, and cherished some wild ideas on that subject which I thought wisest to ignore, was glad enough to undertake the duties of teaching and preaching, so far as we practised the latter function, which was not a great deal. The three of us made a point of meeting informally every day to report the condition of things and the needs of the people, while once a week we had a regular meeting to determine the occupations and duties of the next week. The inhabitants were under a benevolent despotism, but as that despotism was never exercised for its own ends, nor where unnecessary, I suppose they thought it quite as good as government by mass-meeting and mob-oratory.
I have said that Gell entertained some peculiar notions about his lost bride. They first came out as follows:—we had been discussing the question of the instruction of the younger children when I observed,
"If our dear Aurelia had been alive, she would have been able to give us good advice."
"Alive! Are we sure she is not? Do you know sir, I have many time thought that we hurried away too soon, without obtaining proof positive of her death?"
​I turned to him in amazement. "My dear Gell, what can you mean? Did not you yourself go in search of her, track her every footstep, and find the very spot where . . . poor darling—" I could say no more for a moment. "Did you not actually bring back those relics, which with the footmarks and wheel tracks formed as good circumstantial evidence as was ever brought before a court of justice?"
"I cannot help it," replied Gell; "I own I was at the time convinced, but ever since we started on the voyage here I have been thinking daily that we were too hasty. Nay, if I must tell you, I have dreamt of her night after night, and seen her face looking at me across the sea with a sad reproachful gaze, as though she would say 'Why did you leave me, William?' And each morning I wake with those words ringing in my ears—and I can't bear it," added the poor fellow with a sob.
"William," said I kindly, laying my hand on his shoulder, "you have been overworking your brain, and will get ill if you don't take care. As for our dear Aurelia having survived, though you know I would lay down my life if I could prove it to be true, and ​could see her with us again, it is as certain as we are talking together that she is no more. It is a horrible idea of yours besides. That our poor darling should have been left alone with those monsters on that vast continent, without a soul to speak to, and certain of a miserable death by starvation or at the hands of that loathsome foe, is a notion which if true would allow me not an hour's happiness for the rest of my days"
"I know," interrupted Gell, "that is just what makes me so miserable."
"But it is not true, William, your reason tells you it can't be true, and were it not that you are overwrought and brainsick I should be very angry with you for entertaining such a thought. Now listen to me. You must drop your work at once, and go for a cruise with Dana round the islands. I want to get a supply of useful plants, shrubs and vegetables of all sorts that the islands produce, to stock our farms and gardens. You are a bit of a botanist, here is a Flora of the Sandwich Islands, and I want you to bring me specimens of all those that I have marked, besides any others that you think will be of value. You must spend all your time in the open air, and take lots of ​exercise, and drive all 'papillons noirs' out of your head. These are my orders, not only as magistrate, but as your physician."
Gell sighed, but I would not listen to his protests, and two days after I sent him off in Dana's charge on this cruise, which I had long intended to organize, but which might have been indefinitely postponed but for his hallucinations, which gave me great anxiety.
When he was gone I deliberately reviewed what he had said, in order to satisfy myself whether there could be the slightest ground for his strange fancy, but soon came to the inevitable conclusion that it could only be due to a disordered brain. Short of having witnessed her actual fate, no evidence could be more absolutely conclusive.
So Gell and Dana and a picked crew sailed away, and were absent for some six weeks, during which time I had the whole care of the community on my shoulders. On their return I was pleased to find that not only had they enriched our stock of plants by a large number of invaluable specimens of nutritious and medicinal qualities, but that Gell had recovered his tone and spirits, although never quite the same ​man since his sweetheart's sad loss that he had been before.
Nothing of note happened to our little settlement for the next year or two, save that it increased in numbers and prosperity, without losing the health and virtue which were the natural results of a simple and industrious life in a beautiful climate. My reading has introduced me to most of the ideal and actual communities of the world, but our social policy reminds me of none so much as of that sketched by Sir Thomas More in his Utopia. We had no coinage, no commerce, none of the mere gauds of life, only a free exchange of the products of our hands. Each man brought to market the excess of his productions over the needs of his family; each took thence so much and no more than he required. Those who are acquainted with that remarkable work of the chancellor of King Henry VIII. of England will know how closely the details of our economy correspond with those of his imaginary state. In the XXth century after Christ we had revived the glories of the Golden Age.