The White Squall. John C. Hutcheson
atmosphere of the town. So you were brought up here, borne on the very sofa on which you were placed when they picked you up after your fall, four negroes acting as your palanquin bearers.”
“Jake was one, I bet!” I here put in, interrupting her. “I am sure he wouldn’t have let anyone else carry me if he could help it.”
“Oh, yes, Jake assisted,” she said; “and I gave him a fine scolding, too, afterwards, for allowing you to ride down that hill at such a pace. It was a mercy you were not killed outright!”
“It wasn’t his fault, mother,” I interposed at this point. Really, I was not going to let poor Jake be blamed for my obstinacy! “I made Prince gallop into the town as hard as I could, in spite of all he could say, for I was anxious to get down to the wharf before the passengers had landed from the steamer. I wished to be the first to meet dad.”
“And you’ve found out now, Tom, the truth of the old proverb, ‘more haste, worse speed,’ eh, my dear?”
“Yes, mother,” I said with a laugh, “I never got there at all. But, dad came all right, for I saw him, you know. Where is he?”
“He’ll be here presently,” she replied; “he has been very anxious about you, and has sat up every night with you.”
“I’m very sorry,” I said; but then, feeling about my face and head with the solitary hand I was now only able to move, I noticed something strange. “Why, hullo, mother!” I cried out, “what is the matter with the top of my head—where is my hair gone? All seems so smooth!”
She couldn’t help laughing—I suppose it was at my comical look of mingled astonishment and perplexity.
“It had to be shaved off when you were delirious, Tom,” she said with a smile; “you feel funny without it, no doubt, but it will soon grow again, my boy.”
“Oh dear, oh dear!” I exclaimed lugubriously; “I suppose I will be bald and have to wear a wig, like old Mr. Bunting! My arm, too, mother, hurts awfully! and I can’t move it at all.”
“Never mind, Tom, it might have been worse, you know,” she said in her quiet soothing way. “You ought to thank God for sparing your life, instead of grumbling at what your own recklessness has produced. However, my dear boy, you’ll soon pull round and be yourself again if you will only keep quiet and obey all the doctor’s directions.”
“But, mother, it’s a terrible task for me to keep quiet,” I cried in such a serious manner that I made her laugh again.
“No doubt it is,” she said, “but you must learn to do it if you wish to get well again; and, Tom, I can’t help reminding you that your being laid up now has greatly interfered with our plans. Your father wished to have sold the estate, and for us all to go home to England. Indeed, but for your accident we would have gone by the last packet.”
This was news with a vengeance! It almost made me jump out of bed, crippled as I was, and my mother had to put her hand on my shoulder to restrain me.
“What! sell Mount Pleasant?” I ejaculated.
“Yes,” she replied.
“And all of us go home together, instead of my being sent to England alone to school?” I continued.
“That was what your father thought of,” said my mother in answer to this question of mine; “but your illness has made him alter his mind somewhat, as you will learn when you are able to get up and move about. You must now, dear, remain quiet, and not excite yourself; otherwise, your recovery will be retarded and that will worry your father more.”
“All right, mother, I promise to be good,” I said resolutely, nestling down amongst the pillows which had been comfortably fixed around me, and trying to be as still as a mouse. “I will do all that you and the doctor tells me, if you’ll only make me well again.”
“That’s my brave boy,” she murmured softly, smoothing my poor hairless head with her gentle hand in such a caressing way that it made me feel drowsy, and in another minute I had dropped off into a sound sleep. I did not wake again until some hours afterwards, when I was so refreshed and hungry that I was able to demolish a large basin of jelly-like chicken broth with some thin toast, which did me much good.
From that time I gradually got better; but my recovery was very slow, on account of the thorough shaking I had received from my fall, and it was quite another fortnight before I was able to be moved downstairs and allowed to sit in the verandah, where the fresh breezes from the sea and the scent of the flowers on the terrace completed my cure.
For some days even after this, however, I had to keep perfectly quiet, in accordance with the orders of Doctor Martin, who feared that I had sustained some injury to my spine in addition to my other contusions. This suspicion of his turned out, fortunately for me, to be groundless; but the rest he enjoined was very much out of keeping with my buoyant and excitable nature, which was fidgety in the extreme.
Still, this period of convalescence was by no means irksome to me on the whole, for I had plenty wherewith to occupy my attention and my sisters for companions, little Totty, the youngest, never being so happy as when with me.
In order the better to amuse me, and make me remain in a recumbent position, dad rigged up an Indian grass hammock for me beneath the shade of one of the large silk-cotton trees by the side of the house; and here I used to swing at my ease for hour after hour, looking at the bright-coloured humming-birds flitting about and watching the busy “Jack-Spaniards,” as the wild bees or hornets of the tropics are locally styled, building their clay nests under the eaves of the verandah, just in the same way as the sand-martens make their habitations at home.
I also read a great deal, for a kind neighbour luckily lent me at this time a couple of odd volumes of Captain Marryat’s works, so that I had now the pleasure of gloating over the wonderful history of Mr. Midshipman Easy, besides enjoying the strange episodes of Peter Simple’s eventful career. Both of these books were previously unknown to my boyish ken, and I need hardly say how entrancing I found them. Even now, after the lapse of so many years, I cannot hear the titles of either mentioned, without my memory taking me back in a moment to the garden of my old island home in the West Indies—the very perfume of the frangipanni and jessamine being almost perceptible to my vivid imagination, while my fancy pictures the scene around, and my listening ear catches the faint rustle of the wind through the tops of the cabbage palms!
Once, I recollect, when lazily rocking to and fro in my hammock, I saw a large armadillo crawl out from amidst the brushwood under the trees, he having probably come down from his cave somewhere up in the mountains for change of air. This animal is something like a tortoise, only ever so much bigger; and as the negroes esteem them very good eating, saying they are better than turtle, I at once gave Jake a hail to let him know of the arrival of the strange visitor, when my darkey hastened speedily to the spot, securing the armadillo without much difficulty. Jake was all the more delighted with his prize from the fact that my accident had prevented me from going manacou hunting with him as I had promised. He argued that the armadillo would serve as a set-off to Pompey’s iguana, which had been constantly “thrown in his teeth,” as it were, ever since his rival had killed it in my presence, the one capture neutralising the other.
It may be wondered that I introduce all these little details of my illness and subsequent recovery, but, “there’s a reason in everything, even in the roasting of eggs,” says the proverb; and, when it is considered that, had it not been for my accident, dad and mother with my sisters and myself would all have gone to England in the mail steamer together, instead of my essaying the voyage alone in a sailing ship, these incidents are naturally relevant, quite apart from the strong impression they made upon me at the time, as but for what occurred I should have nothing of any importance to tell with reference to my subsequent adventures when alone on the Atlantic.
However, to make a long story short, I may briefly state that, after a pretty long interval of lying still, Doctor Martin said one day that I might get up and move about; when the change from inaction to action had such an improving