Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. Wrecked but not Ruined by R. M. Ballantyne (best manga ereader .TXT) 📖
- Author: R. M. Ballantyne
Book online «Wrecked but not Ruined by R. M. Ballantyne (best manga ereader .TXT) 📖». Author R. M. Ballantyne
Making a straight cut, therefore, across the bay in front of the fur-trading establishment, on ice that had not yet been floated away, he gained the land below the fort and continued his journey down the coast. That night he slept in the snow.
Let not the reader entertain the mistaken idea that such a sleeping-place was either cold, wet, or uncomfortable. It was the reverse of all that, being warm, dry, and cosy. The making of this bed we record here, for the benefit of housemaids, and all whom it may concern.
First of all, the sturdy trapper walked along the coast, sometimes on snow-shoes when fields of snow-covered ice projected out to sea; at other times on foot, with the snow-shoes slung over his back, when long stretches of sand or shingly beach, from which the ice had been swept away, presented themselves. This process of progression he continued till night began to close upon him. Then he bethought him of encamping, and retired to the neighbouring woods for the purpose.
The woods referred to consisted chiefly of pines, which fringed the base of the precipitous hills by which that part of the Gulf of Saint Lawrence is bordered. Here he selected the largest tree he could find, and threw down his bundle of food and blankets under the flat spreading branches thereof. Resting one of his snow-shoes against the stem of the tree, he proceeded to dig a huge hole in the snow, using his other snow-shoe as a shovel. The operation cost him much labour, for he had to dig completely down to the ground, and the snow in the woods was still between three and four feet deep. When a hole of ten feet long by five broad was thus cleared to the bottom, the natural walls were raised by the snow thrown out, to a total height of about six feet. This was Bellew’s bedchamber. The spreading pine-branches overhead were its admirable roof. Next, the trapper cut down a young pine, with the tender branches of which he covered the floor of his chamber to a depth of ten or twelve inches. This was his mattress, and a soft, warm, elastic one it was, as the writer of this narrative can testify from personal experience. The head of the mattress rested against the stem of the pine tree, and a convenient root thereof served Bellew for a pillow. At the foot of the bed he had left the floor of his chamber uncovered; this was his fireplace, and in the course of ten minutes or so he cut down and chopped into billets enough of dry wood to fill it with materials for a splendid fire. These being arranged, with a core of dry moss and broken twigs in the centre, the patient man struck a light by means of flint, steel, and tinder, and applied it. While the first few tongues of fire were crackling in the core of moss, he spread a thick blanket on his bed, and then stood up leisurely to fill his pipe and dreamily to watch the kindling of the fire.
And this was a sight worth watching, for the change in the aspect of affairs was little short of miraculous. Before the flames shot forth, Jonas Bellew, looking over the edge of a black hole that was disagreeably suggestive of a tomb, could dimly perceive a stretch of cold, grey, ghostly forest, through the openings of which hummocks of ice could be seen floating away over the black waters of the sea. The little starlight that prevailed only served to render darkness visible, and thus to increase the desolate aspect of the scene. But when the ruddy flames began to shoot forth and tip with a warm glow the nearest projections, they brought out in startling prominence the point of Bellew’s nose and the bowl of his little pipe. Continuing to gain strength they seemed to weaken the force of distant objects in proportion as they intensified those that were near. The pale woods and dark waters outside deepened into invisible black, while the snow-walls of Bellew’s chamber glowed as if on fire, and sparkled as if set with diamonds. The tree stem became a ruddy column, with Bellew’s shadow lying black as ink against it, and the branches above became like a red-hot roof.
It may, perhaps, be supposed that the snow-walls melted under this ordeal; nothing of the sort. Their tendency to do so was checked effectually, not only by a sharp frost, but by the solid backing of snow behind them; and the little that did give way in close proximity to the fire ran unobtrusively down to the earth and crept away under the snow towards the sea, for Bellew had made his camp with the fire at its lower end, so that not a drop of water could by any means reach the spot whereon he lay.
Having stuffed his little tin can or kettle with snow, he put this on the fire to melt, and then spread out his bacon and biscuit, and sugar and tea, all of which being in course of time prepared, he sat down to enjoy himself, and felt, as well as looked, supremely happy.
Then Jonas Bellew went on his knees and prayed—for he was one of those men who do not think it unmanly to remember the Giver of all that they enjoy—and thereafter he rolled himself in his blanket, pillowed his head on the tree-root, and sank into profound repose—such repose as is known only to healthy infants and hard-working men and women. Little by little the fire burnt low, the ruddy lights grew dim, the pale lights reappeared, and the encampment resumed its tomb-like appearance until the break of another day gave it a new aspect and caused Jonas Bellew to rise, yawn, shake the hoar-frost from his blanket, pack up his traps, and resume his journey.
A wreck on a rocky shore is at all times a dreary sight, but especially so when the shore is that of an uninhabited land, and when the rocks as well as the wreck are fringed with snow-wreaths and cumbered with ice.
Some such thoughts probably filled the mind of the trapper when, on the afternoon of the day whose dawn we have mentioned, he stood beside the wreck of what had once been a full-rigged ship and gazed intently on the scene of desolation.
Life and death were powerfully suggested to him. Many a time had he seen such a craft breasting the waves of the broad Saint Lawrence, when every dip of the bow, every bend of the taper masts, every rattle of the ropes, and every mellow shout of the seamen, told of vigorous life and energy; and now, the broken masts and yards tipped and fringed with snow-wreaths, the shattered stern, out of which the cargo had been evidently washed long ago, the decks crushed down with snow, the bulged sides, the bottom pierced by rocks, the bowsprit burst to shivers by the opposing cliff, the pendant and motionless cordage, even the slight ripple of the sleeping sea, which deepened rather than broke the prevailing silence, all told eloquently of death,—death, perchance to passengers and crew, at all events to sanguine hopes and prospects. Nevertheless there was much life connected with that death-like scene, as the sequel of our tale will show.
The trapper, although fond of moralising, was not prone to indulge in sentiment when circumstances called him to action. He had come suddenly in sight of the wreck on turning the point of the frowning cliff where the gallant ship had met her doom, and stood only for a few seconds to gaze sadly on the scene.
Hastening forward he proceeded at once to make a thorough survey of the vessel.
First he went to the stern to ascertain, if possible, her name. The greater part of the stern had, as we have said, been torn away; but, after careful search, he discovered a piece of wood on which he could plainly trace portions of the letters B and E and T. The remainder of the word, whatever it was, had been completely erased.
Bellew did not at first climb on board the ship, because from her general aspect he knew full well that there could be no survivor in her, besides, through the yawning stern he could see nearly the whole of the interior.
His next step was to search the neighbourhood for tracks, in order to see whether or not the wreck had been lately visited by human beings. This search resulted in discoveries which perplexed him greatly, for not only did he find numerous footprints which crossed each other in various directions, but he knew from their appearance that these had been recently made, and that they were those of white men as well as red; some of them showing the prints of shoes, while others displayed the marks of moccasins.
Had Bellew discovered one or two tracks made by men of the forest like himself, his knowledge of wood-craft would have enabled him at once to decide which way they had come and whither they had gone; but, with at least a dozen meandering tracks radiating from the ship in all directions, as well towards the sea as the land, he felt himself puzzled. He knew well enough that they were too fresh to be those of the wrecked crew, unless indeed the crew had remained by the ship; but in that case there would have been evidences of an encampment of some sort, such as fittings-up on board, or huts on shore. He followed the tracks that led to the sea and found that they terminated abruptly, as if those who had made them had plunged into the water and drowned themselves. Before following up those that went landward he returned to the ship and clambered on board, but found nothing to reward him for his pains. The sea had swept the hold fore and aft so completely that nothing whatever was left.
These investigations did not take up much time. The trapper, after one or two circuits, found the spot where the footsteps became disentangled from the maze of individual tracks, and led, not along the shore as he had supposed they would, but up into a narrow gorge; and now he learned that the tracks of what appeared a multitude of people had been made by the running to and fro of not more than a dozen men, six of whom were natives. Thinking it probable that the party could not be far distant, for the gorge up which they had proceeded seemed of very limited extent, the trapper pushed forward with increasing expectation, not unmingled with anxiety.
Turning the point of a projecting cliff he came suddenly on a sight that filled him with sadness. It was the mouldering remains of a human being—one who had been a seaman, to judge from the garments which covered him. One glance sufficed to show the trapper that his services there were not required. He also observed that the fresh tracks which he had been following circled round the body of the seaman and then led straight on.
Following these, Bellew soon came to an open circular space at the head of the gorge, where the appearance of smoke, rising from among the trees, arrested his attention. In a few minutes he had reached the spot whence it issued, and there to his surprise found Mr Bob Smart with five of his men and several Indians standing in solemn silence round something on the ground that appeared to rivet their attention. Some of the men looked up as Bellew approached and nodded to him, for the trapper was well-known in the district; they also moved aside and let him pass.
“What’s wrong, Mr Smart?” he asked, on coming up.
The fur-trader pointed to the ground, on which lay a group of men, who,
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