Black Bartlemys Treasure

"Why, Martin," says she, snugging down, "here is wondrous soft bed and fragrant."

"'Twill serve until I can contrive a better," quoth I, and coming without the cave, stood looking down on her, while the night deepened about us apace.

"And what of you, Martin?"

"I shall sleep here, beyond the fire."

"Do you think there be any wild beasts hereabouts?"

"God knoweth!" says I. "Howbeit you may sleep secure and fear nothing."

"I know that, O I know that!" says she gently.

"Do you lack for aught?"

"Only sleep, Martin."

"Why then, I'll set about making the fire." So I fell to gathering twigs and driftwood, of which there was no lack, and taking out my tinder-box (albeit the tinder was still damp) soon contrived to have the fire crackling right merrily. This done and with store of fuel to hand, I scooped me out a hollow in the warm sand and lying therein found myself very well, the aches of my many bruises notwithstanding. The night air struck chill through my damp garments, but now, stretched in the comfort of the fire, there grew within me a great wonder at our miraculous deliverance; and this led me to ponder upon our present situation, cast thus destitute upon this lonely island where, devoid of every comfort and necessity, we must needs live in barbarous fashion as best we might until either Penfeather should come to our relief or we be taken off by some chance vessel. And supposing (thinks I) that neither chance befall and we doomed to drag out our days to their miserable end? Here I must needs bethink me of all the woeful tales I had heard of marooners or poor, shipwrecked mariners who, by reason of wretchedness and hardship, had run mad or become baser than the brutes. And now, I must needs take out and read Penfeather's crumpled letter, and bethinking me how (in my wicked folly) I had cast overboard the packet of instructions whereby we must at least have found all those stores he made mention of, from cursing him I straightway fell to bitter recriminations of my vain self.

"Are you asleep, Martin?"

"No!" Here I heard her sigh, and a rustle as she turned on her leafy couch.

"O Martin, surely God hath had us in His care to bring us safe through so many dangers, and methinks His gentle hand will be over us still."

"Have you no fear of what is to be?"

"None, Martin--not now. But had I found myself alone here--hurt and helpless in the dark--and really alone, O methinks I should have died indeed, or lost my wits and perished so. O truly, truly, God is infinitely merciful!"