I took down the book, and opened it. It was, if I recollect right, called “Mayor’s Natural History.” At all events, it was a Natural History of Beasts and Birds, with a plate representing each, and a description annexed. It would be impossible for me to convey to the reader my astonishment and delight. I had never seen a picture or drawing in my life. I did not know that such things existed. I was in an ecstasy of delight as I turned over the pages, hardly taking sufficient time to see one object before I hastened on to another. For two or three hours did I thus turn over leaves, without settling upon any one animal; at last my pulse beat more regularly, and I commenced with the Lion. But now what a source of amusement, and what a multitude of questions had to be answered by my companion. He had to tell me all about the countries in which the animals were found; and the description of the animals, with the anecdotes, were a source of much conversation; and, what was more, the fore-grounds and back-grounds of the landscapes with which the animals were surrounded produced new ideas. There was a palm-tree, which I explained to Jackson, and inquired about it. This led to more inquiries. The lion himself occupied him and me for a whole afternoon, and it was getting dark when I lay down, with my new treasure by my side. I had read of the lion in the Scriptures, and now I recalled all the passages; and before I slept I thought of the bear which destroyed the children who had mocked Elisha the prophet, and I determined that the first animal I would read about the next morning should be the bear.

  I think that this book lasted me nearly two months, during which time, except reading a portion every night and morning to Jackson, the Bible and Prayer-book were neglected. Some times I thought that the book could not be true; but when I came to the birds, I found those which frequented the island so correctly described, that I had no longer any doubt on the subject. Perhaps what interested me most were the plates in which the barn-door fowls and the peacock were described, as in the back-ground of the first were a cottage and figures, representing the rural scenery of England, my own country; and in the second there was a splendid mansion, and a carriage and four horses driving up to the door. In short, it is impossible to convey to the reader the new ideas which I received from these slight efforts of the draftsman to give effect to his drawing. The engraving was also a matter of much wonder, and required a great deal of explanation from Jackson. This book became my treasure, and it was not till I had read it through and through, so as almost to know it by heart, that at length I returned to my Bible. All this time I had never asked Jackson to go on with his narrative; but now that my curiosity was appeased, I made the request. He appeared, as before, very unwilling; but I was pertinacious, and he was worried into it.

  “There were but four of us left and your mother, and the mate was in a very bad state of health; he fretted very much, poor fellow, for he had left a young wife in England, and what he appeared to fear most was, that she would be married again before he could get home. It ended in a confirmed liver complaint, which carried him off nine months afterwards; and thus was one more of our companions disposed of. He died very quietly, and gave me his sleeve-buttons and watch to deliver to his wife, if ever I should escape from the island. I fear there is little chance of her ever receiving them.”

  “Where are they?” said I, recollecting how I had seen him lift up the board under his bed-place.

  “I have them safe,” replied Jackson, “and it necessary, will tell you where to find them.”

  This reply satisfied me, and I allowed him to proceed.

  “We buried him in the guano, by the side of the two others, and now we were but three. It was at this time that your mother was confined and you were born; that is, about three months after the death of the mate. We had just finished laying in our stock of birds for the year when she was taken ill, sooner than was expected, and it was supposed that was occasioned by over-exertion at the time. However, she got up very well without any medical assistance, and your father was much pleased at having a son, for he had been married five years without any prospect of a family. I ought to observe, that the loss of our companions, one after another, had had the effect of bringing those that remained much closer together; I was treated with more kindness by both your father and mother, and the captain, and I returned it as well as my feelings would permit me, for I could not altogether get rid of my animosity to your father. However, we became much more confidential, that is certain, and I was now treated as an equal.

  “Six months passed away and you had become a thriving child, when a melancholy occurrence—” here Jackson covered up his face with his hands and remained for some time silent.

  “Go on,” said I, “Jackson; I know that they all died somehow or another.”

  “Very true,” replied he, recovering himself. “Well, your father disappeared. He had gone to the rocks to fish, and when I was sent to bring him home to dinner, he was nowhere to be found. It was supposed that a larger fish than usual had been fast to his line, and that he had been jerked off the rocks into the water, and the sharks had taken him. It was a dreadful affair,” continued Jackson, again covering his face.

  “I think,” replied I, “that any man in his senses would have allowed the fish to have taken the line rather than have been dragged into the water. I don’t think that the supposed manner of his death is at all satisfactory.”

  “Perhaps not,” replied Jackson; “his foot may have slipped, who knows? We only could guess; the line was gone as well as he, which made us think what I said. Still we searched everywhere, but without hope; and our search — that is, the captain’s and mine, for your poor mother remained with you in her arms distracted — was the cause of another disaster — no less than the death of the captain. They say misfortunes never come single, and surely this was an instance of the truth of the proverb.”

  “How did he die?” replied I, gravely; for somehow or other I felt doubts as to the truth of what he was saying. Jackson did not reply till after a pause, when he said —

  “He was out with me up the ravine collecting firewood, and he fell over the high cliff. He was so injured that he died in half an hour.”

  “What did you do?”

  “What did I do — what could I do but go back and break the news to your mother, who was distracted when she heard it; for the captain was her friend, and she could not bear me.”

  “Well, go on, pray,” said I.

  “I did all that I could to make your mother comfortable, as there how were but her, you; and I, left on the island. You were then about three years old; but your mother always hated me, and appeared now to hate me more and more. She never recovered the loss of your father, to whom she was devotedly attached; she pined away, and after six months she died, leaving you and me only on the island. Now you know the whole history, and pray do not ask me any more about it.”

  Chapter Ten.

  Jackson threw himself back in his bed-place and was silent. So was I, for I was recalling all that he had told me, and my doubts were raised as to the truth of it. I did not like his hurrying over the latter portion of his narrative in the way which he had done. What he had said about my mother was not satisfactory. I had for some time been gradually drawing towards him, not only showing, but feeling, for him a great increase of good-will; but suspicion had entered my mind, and I now began to feel my former animosity towards him renewed. A night’s sleep, however, and more reflection, induced me to think that possibly I was judging him too harshly, and as I could not afford to quarrel with him, our intercourse remained as amicable as before, particularly as he become more and more amiable towards me, and did everything in his power to interest and amuse me.

  I was one day reading to him the account of a monkey, given in the book of Natural History, in which it is said that that animal is fond of spirits and will intoxicate itself, and Jackson was telling me many anecdotes of monkeys on board of the vessel he had sailed in, when it occurred to me that I had never thought of mentioning to him, or of ascertaining the contents of the cask which had been thrown into the bathing-pool with the seaman’s chest, and I did so then to Jackson, wondering at its contents and how they were to be got at.

  Jackson entered into the question warmly, explaining to me how and where to bore holes with a gimlet, and making two spiles for me to stop the holes with. As soon as he had done so, curiosity induced me to go down to the pool where the cask had been lying so long in about a foot and half water. By Jackson’s directions I took a pannikin with me, that I might bring him a specimen of the contents of the cask, if they should prove not to be water. I soon bored the hole above and below, following Jackson’s directions, and the liquor, which poured out in a small stream into the pannikin, was of a brown colour and very strong in odour, so strong, indeed, as to make me reel as I walked back to the rocks with the pannikin full of it. I then sat down, and after a time tasted it. I thought I had swallowed fire, for I had taken a good mouthful of it. “This cannot be what Jackson called spirits,” said I. “No one can drink this — what can it be?” Although I had not swallowed more than a table-spoonful of it, yet, combined with the fumes of the liquor which I had inhaled when drawing it off into the pannikin, the effect was to make my head swim, and I lay down on the rock and shut my eyes to recover myself. It ended in my falling asleep for many hours, for it was not much after noon when I went to the cask, and it was near sunset when I awoke, with an intense pain, in my head. It was some time before I could recollect where I was, or what had passed, but the pannikin full of liquor by my side first reminded me; and then perceiving how late it was, and how long I must have slept, I rose up, and taking the pannikin in my hand, I hastened to return to the cabin.

  As I approached, I heard the voice of Jackson, whose hearing, since his blindness, I had observed, had become peculiarly acute.

  “Is that you, Frank?”

  “Yes,” replied I.

  “And what has kept you so long? — how you have frightened me. God forgive me, but I thought that I was to be left and abandoned to starvation.”

  “Why should you have thought that?” replied I.

  “Because I thought that some way or another you must have been killed, and then I must have died, of course. I never was so frightened in my life, the idea of dying here all alone — it was terrible.”

  It occurred to me at the time, that the alarm was all for himself, for he did not say a word about how sorry he should have been at any accident happening to me, but I made no remark, simply stating what had occurred, and my conviction that the contents of the cask were not drinkable.

  “Have you brought any with you?” inquired he, sharply.

  “Yes, here it is,” said I, giving him the pannikin. He smelt it, and raised it to his lips — took about a wine-glass full of it, and then draw his breath.

  “This is delightful,” said he; “the best of old rum, I never tasted so good. How big did you say that the cask was?”

  I described it as well as I could.

  “Indeed, then it must be a whole puncheon — that will last a long while.”

  “But do you mean to say that you really like to drink that stuff?” inquired I.

  “Do I like to drink it? Yes, it is good for men, but it’s death to little boys. It will kill you. Don’t you get fond of it. Now promise me that you will never drink a drop of it. You must not get fond of it, or some sad accident will happen to you.”

  “I don’t think you need fear my drinking it,” replied I. “I have had one taste, as I told you, and it nearly burnt my mouth. I shan’t touch it again.”

  “That’s right,” replied Jackson, taking another quantity into his mouth. “You are not old enough for it; by-and-bye, when you are as old as I am, you may drink it, then it will do you good. Now, I’ll go to bed, it’s time for bed. Bring the pannikin after me and put it by my side. Take care you don’t spill any of it.”

  Jackson crawled to his bed and I followed him with the pannikin, and put it by his side, as he requested, and I returned to my own resting-place, without, however, having the least inclination to sleep, having slept so long during the day.

  At first Jackson was quiet, but I heard him occasionally applying to the pannikin, which held, I should say, about three half-pints of liquor. At last he commenced singing a sea-song; I was much surprised, as I had never heard him sing before; but I was also much pleased, as it was the first time that I had ever heard anything like melody, for he had a good voice and sang in good tune. As soon as he had finished, I begged him to go on.

  “Ah!” replied he, with a gay tone I had never heard from him before. “You like songs, do you? My little chap? Well, I’ll give you plenty of them. ’Tis a long while since I have sung, but it’s a ‘poor heart that never rejoiceth.’ The time was when no one in company could sing a song as I could, and so I can again, now that I have something to cheer my heart. Yes, here’s another for you. I shall rouse them all out by-and-bye, as I get the grog in — no fear of that — you find the stuff, and I’ll find songs.”

  I was surprised at first at this unusual mirth; but recollecting what Jackson had told me about his intemperance, I presumed that this mirth which it produced was the cause why he indulged so much in it; and I felt less inclined to blame him. At all events, I was much pleased with the songs that he sang to me one after another for three or four hours, when his voice became thick, and, after some muttering and swearing, he was quite silent, and soon afterwards snored loudly. I remained awake some time longer, and then I also sank into forgetfulness.

  When I awoke the next morning, I found Jackson still fast asleep. I waited for him for our morning meal; but, as he did not wake, I took mine by myself, and then I walked out to the rock, where I usually sat, and looked round the horizon to see if there was anything in sight. The spy-glass, from having been in sea-water, was of no use, and I did not know what to do with it; nor could Jackson instruct me. After I had been out about an hour I returned, and found Jackson still snoring, and I determined to wake him up. I pushed him for some time without success; but, at last, he opened his eyes, and said:

  “My watch already?”

  “No;” said I; “but you have slept so long, that I have waked you up.”

  He paused, as if he did not know my voice, and then said:

  “But I can’t see anything; how’s this?”

  “Why, don’t you know that you’re blind, Jackson?” replied I, with amazement.

  “Yes, yes; I recollect now. Is there anything in the pannikin?”

  “Not a drop,” replied I; “why, you must have drunk it all.”

  “Yes, I recollect now. Get me some water my good boy; for I am dying with thirst.”

  I went for the water; he drank the whole pannikin, and asked for more.

  “Won’t you have something to eat?” said I.

  “Eat? Oh no; I can’t eat anything. Give me drink;” and he held out his hand for the pannikin. I perceived how it trembled and shook, and I observed it to him.

  “Yes;” replied he, “that’s always the case after a carouse, and I had a good one last night — the first for many a year. But there’s plenty more of it. I wish you would get me a little more now, Frank, just to steady me; just about two or three mouthfuls, no more; that is, no more till night time. Did I make much noise last night?”

  “You sang several songs,” replied I, “with which I was much amused.”

  “I’m glad that you liked them. I used to be considered a good singer in my day; indeed, if I had not been such good company, as they term it, I had not become so fond of drinking. Just go and fetch me about half an inch high of the pannikin, my good fellow, that’s all I want now.”

  I went down to the cask, drew off the quantity that he requested, and brought it to him. He drank it off; and, in a few moments, appeared to be quite himself again. He then asked for some thing to eat, and commenced telling me a variety of stories relative to what he termed jolly parties in his former days; so that the day passed very agreeably. As the night closed in, he said:

  “Now, Frank, I know you want to hear some more songs; so go down and bring me up a full pannikin, and I will sing you plenty.”

  I complied with his request, for I was anxious to be again amused as I was the night before. The consequence was, that this night was, in the early portion of it, but a repetition of the previous one. Jackson took the precaution to get into his bed-place before he commenced drinking; and, as soon as he had taken his second dose, he asked me what sort of songs I liked. My reply naturally was, that I had never heard any one sing but him, and therefore could not say.

  “What did I sing to you last night?” said he.

  I replied as well as I could.

  “Ah,” said he, “they were all sea-songs; but now I will give you something better.”

  After a little thought, he commenced singing a very beautiful and plaintive one, and certainly much better than he had sung the night before; for he now was sober. The consequence was, that I was still more delighted; and, at my request, he sang several others; but at last his speech became rapid and thick, and he would not sing any more, using some very coarse expressions to me when I asked him. For a time he was silent, and I thought that he was going to sleep, and I was reflecting upon the various effects which the liquor appeared to have upon him, when I heard him talking and muttering, and I listened.

  “Never mind how I got them,” said he; “quite as honestly as other people, Old Moshes. There they are, do you choose to buy them?” Then there was a pause, after which he commenced: “They’re as pure diamonds as ever came out of a mine. I know that, so none of your lies, you old Jew. Where did I come by them? That’s no concern of yours. The question is, will you give me the price, or will you not? Well, then, I’m off. No, I won’t come back, you old thief.” Here he swore terribly, and then was silent.