Chapter Twenty Five.How the awful Roar was canvassed.No one could tell what, or whence came the noise, but the terror it inspired was sufficient to chase away sleep from all. Everyone had been awakened, and the captain had at once gone to the watch, followed by Mark, after he had been to the end of the little tent and tried to give some comfort by telling its occupants that the noise came from some wild beast in the jungle.Mr Gregory and Small were on the alert. They had had a perfectly quiet watch till just then, as they were noticing the first signs of daybreak, when, increasing in volume and then dying away, there came this appalling roar.“Just the same as we heard, eh, Mark?” said the major, coming up.“Yes, just the same.”“Well, Gregory, what do you make it?” said the captain, who had rather doubted before.“Don’t know—some beast of the forest.”“You have heard nothing before?”“Not a sound. Small thinks it must be a lion.”“Well, something of that kind, sir. I once heered a lion make such a row that he nearly blew off the roof of his cage! but it wasn’t quite the same as this here, as is hollerer.”“Well,” said the captain, “it can’t be a lion; and as it does not seem disposed to molest us we must be—”He stopped short, for there was a low moan from the same direction as that in which they had heard the cry.“Is that something it has killed?” whispered Mark in an awe-stricken voice.The captain did not answer; and as all listened for a repetition of the sounds the day began to dawn rapidly, the birds twittered and piped, and shrieked at the edge of the jungle, while flecks of orange and scarlet appeared high up in the sky.Then a low murmur of admiration burst from the group as they saw a roseate cloud upon the top of the conical mountain begin to glow and burst into a dozen tints of purple and gold, shot with the most effulgent hues; and then slowly there was a glowing point to be seen just above the cloud, which circled it like a ring of gorgeously-coloured vapour; then slowly the light descended the mountain till from top to bottom it was aglow with purple and green and orange; and they turned sharply, to see that the sun was just rolling up over the smooth sea, spreading a pathway of light from the horizon to the isle.So glorious was the scene, as the light wreaths of mist above the purple rolled away, that the terrible awakening from sleep was forgotten, and a spirit of thankfulness that they had been saved from the sea to land in such a paradise filled the breasts of all.Beauty is beauty, but the loveliest scene is soon forgotten by a hungry man. Rest, freedom from peril, wounds and bruises amending, and the fact that the previous day’s supply had been very short, combined to make everybody ravenous; and the captain, though without a ship, had his hands full.He satisfied himself that Morgan and the sailor were better, the fever having abated, and then gave his orders shortly.Two men were set to make a fire, two more to cut down a cocoa-nut tree that was of small size and yet bore several fruits.The major and Widgeon started off along the shore with a biscuit-bag to collect shell-fish, and at the muddy exit of a tiny stream came upon quite a swarm of little crabs, who challenged them to fight—so Billy afterwards said—by snapping their claws at them and flourishing them above their heads as they retreated to their holes.Mark and Small provided themselves with a bag of bivalves for bait and went off to the boat to fish.Lastly, the captain and the ladies walked to the edge of the jungle in search of fruit, while the former shot a few birds.The morning was delightful, and Mark and Small were soon afloat, to Billy Widgeon’s intense disgust, for it had been his full intention to take Mark’s place and form one of the fishing party.Mark soon had a line ready, and after opening some of the shell-fish with his knife baited a couple of hooks and waited till the boatswain had piloted the boat to where there was an opening in the reef and the sea was setting into the lagoon.“Now, lookye here, my lad,” said Small; “when I was a boy I used to fish in the mill-dam at the back of our cottage, and I always found as there was most fish where the stream set in or came out. Now that’s deep water, and I’ll hold on to the bit of rock here while you chuck in; and if you don’t get a bite we’ll try somewheres else.”He laid in the oar, and taking the boat-hook had no difficulty in taking hold of the coral, which was only a couple of feet below, and Mark made his first cast right into the running current.It was a good throw, and he stooped down and picked up the loose rings, to lay them out quite neatly and wind some of the superabundant line about the little frame, when there was a whiz over the side, the line darted out, there was a painful sensation of cutting, a jerk at the lad’s arm as if it were about to be dragged out of the socket, and—that was all!“Well, you hooked him,” said Small grimly. “He must have been a big un.”“Big?—a monster!” cried Mark excitedly. “He must have broken the line.”“Haul in and bait again,” said Small; and as the line was drawn in it was found that there was no breakage, but the soft metal hook had bent out nearly straight and torn from the fish’s mouth.“It hurt my hand horribly,” said Mark as he bent the damaged hook back into position; “but it must have hurt the fish more.”“Sarve him right, my lad!—he was on his way to kill and eat some other fish. That’s it. Chuck out again, and this time let him have it easy, and if he’s a big one give him time.”The carefully-baited hooks were thrown out again, and before the bait had sunk a couple of feet it was once more seized.“Sha’n’t starve here, my lad!” said Small gleefully.“Not if we can catch the fish,” said Mark, whose fingers were burning with the friction of the line. “I say, Small, is it a crocodile?”“G’long with you! Crocodile!—no; it’s not a very big one.”“But see how it pulls!” cried Mark as the fish continued its rush and would have been off, line and all, some twenty fathoms, if it had not been that the cord was securely fastened to the winder, which was suddenly snatched from the bottom of the boat to fly with a rap against the lad’s knuckles.“Don’t you let him go, Mr Mark, sir!” cried Small, who was as excited now as the lad. “Hold on! That’s all our braxfusses.”“I’m going to hold on if I can,” said Mark between his teeth; “but I shall let him run if he’s going to pull me out of the boat.”As he spoke the fish was tugging furiously at the line, drawing the holder’s arms out to their full stretch, and actually threatening to jerk him over the side of the boat. Now it rushed to right, now to left, and then made straight once more for the sea, and so full of strength that this time Mark set his teeth, feeling sure that line, hook, or his fingers must give way.“You’ll lose him. I know you will,” cried Small, though how the fisherman was to prevent the catastrophe now that he was at the end of the line the boatswain did not say; and while finding fault, after the fashion of lookers-on, it never occurred to him that he might help the capture by letting the boat follow the fish.Matters then had just as it were reached a climax, when, instead of the line breaking or Mark going over the side, the strong cord, which had been hissing here and there through the water, suddenly grew slack, and the tension was taken off Mark’s muscles and mind to give place to a feeling of despair.“Well, you are a fisherman, sir,” growled Small, spitting a little tobacco juice into the water in disgust. “You’ve lost as fine a fish as was ever pulled out of the sea.”“How do you know?” said Mark, beginning to haul in the line slowly hand over hand. “You didn’t see it.”“See it! Why, I see it pull. It was a fine un, and badly as we wants a bit o’ fish too. There, haul in sharp and put on a fresh bait.”“It doesn’t seem much use,” said Mark bitterly. “My hands are quite sore.”“You’ll be obliged to let me have a try. Skipper’ll come down on me if we don’t have something to show when we get back. Ah! there’s a nice fish now,” he continued, as a great fellow looking like a fifty-pound salmon sprang a full yard out of the water and fell back with a tremendous splash.“Why, that’s him,” cried Mark, “and he’s on still.”“Hooray! then: get him this time, my lad,” cried Small; and it was evident now that, finding its course out to sea checked, the fish had suddenly turned and darted back, swimming toward the boat and causing the slackening of the line, but directly in the hauling it felt the hook it sprang right out of the water and made a fresh rush.But this was not so powerful a run as the first, and as Mark held on, the fish repeated its manoeuvre and swam toward the boat.This time Mark was able to haul in nearly half the line before the fish made another dart, but only to be checked, and rush to and fro, forming zigzags through the water, which it varied by a series of leaps clear out.“You’ll lose him, my lad, you’ll lose him,” grumbled Small at every bound; but the hook was fast in, and Mark instinctively gave line at every rush till the fish grew weary, and was drawn in closer to the boat after the wild dashes, and then, for the seventh or eighth time as it was hauled in, and Mark was prepared for a new dart, and in dread that this time the hook should straighten or break away, the panting creature suddenly turned up and floated upon its side.“Well hauled,” shouted Small. “You have done it this time, my lad.”“Not caught yet!” said Mark. “How are we to get it in the boat?”“Oh, I’ll show you about that,” said the boatswain, loosening his hold of the rock, and, watching his opportunity, he gaffed the great fish cleverly with the boat-hook by drawing it into the prize’s gills, and the next instant it lay splashing at the bottom of the boat.“Well done us!” cried Small, as Mark stood gazing down at his prize, a magnificent fish of over forty pounds weight, with brilliant silvery scales double the size of those of a salmon, and all flashing in the morning sunshine.“What is it?” said Mark.“Well, I don’t rightly know,” said Small drily. “’Taint a sole.”“Why, of course not.”“Nor it arn’t a salmon, you see, cause it’s got all them stickles on its back. Some kind o’ shark, I should say. Look at its teeth.”“And you’ve been to sea all your life, Small, and don’t know a shark!” cried Mark. “Why, I know that isn’t a shark, or anything of the kind.”“Yes, because you’ve had books to go at all your life, my boy, while I’ve been knocking about in ships. Man may learn to be a good sailor, but he don’t learn much else aboard ship afore the mast.”“Never mind,” said Mark; “the question for us to settle is—Is it good to eat?”“Just you wait till we’ve cooked him over the fire,” said Small, as he extracted the hook from the fierce jaws. “I’ll answer that question then. ’Most anything’s good to eat when you’re half starved, my lad. I’ve knowed men eat their shoes. Going to have another try?”“Yes, I should like to get some more,” said Mark; and as soon as the captured fish was laid under the thwart he baited and threw out again.This time he waited so long that he began to draw in the line, expecting to find the bait gone; but long before it reached the surface it was seized by another ravenous fish, and after a sharp fight this was also got into the boat, proving to be something similar to the other, but only about half the size.“As I said before, I says it again,” said Small oracularly, “we sha’n’t starve here.”Mark thought of his words as he paddled ashore—Small cleaning the fish the while and throwing the offal overboard for ground-bait, as he said—when he helped carry the prizes up to the fire in triumph, for there he found that the major had returned, he and Widgeon having quite a load of shell-fish; the men had cut down the cocoa-nut tree, and the nuts were lying on the sand; while the captain and the ladies were back, the former with about a dozen small cockatoos, and the latter with handkerchiefs full of jungle fruit, a good deal of which promised to be valuable.A large fire of drift-wood and old cocoa-nuts and their husks was burning, making a fierce blaze, before and partly over which the fish were soon roasting on wooden spits, the sailors being particularly handy in obeying orders for anything which they could provide by means of their knives.The shell-fish soon followed, being ranged round the glowing embers to cook in their shells, and before long there was an odour rising that was little short of maddening to the hungry throng, several of whom directed envious glances at the birds which were hung up in the shade to be prepared for the next meal.“Well, not so very badly,” said the major about half an hour after the fish had been declared done. “I missed my cup of coffee and my dry toast, but I never ate fresher fish; and as to the scalloped gentlemen in their shells, captain, with one exception I never ate anything more delicious. Whether they were oysters, clams, cockles, or mussels, I’m sure I don’t know, and what’s more, I don’t care. I say they were good.”“What was the exception?” said Mrs O’Halloran, smiling, for that lady seemed to bear everything with equanimity, and always proved herself a campaigner’s wife.“The exception, my dear,” said the major, “was that spiral gentleman handed to me all hot by friend Mark, who took it sizzling out of the fire with a bit of bent stick held like tongs.”“But I meant that for Miss O’Halloran, sir,” said Mark, flushing.“Then, for what reason, sir, did you try to poison my daughter?” cried the major. “That fish, or mollusc as the naturalists would call it, was undoubtedly something of the whelk family; and if you can only find some of them large enough to cut up in slices, we shall have nothing to ear as to a supply of india-rubber shoe-soles. I’ve had some experience of contract beef in the army; but that is calves’-foot jelly compared to Mark’s whelk.”“I thought it would be a delicacy, sir,” said Mark, whose ears were particularly red as he saw Mary laughing.“And I thought it was a trick,” said the major; “so, after wriggling the monster out with my penknife and trying it fairly, I gave it to Mark’s dog, and he has looked very unwell ever since.”The major’s high spirits, and the calm matter-of-fact way in which his wife and daughter bore their privations, had an influence on the rest of the party, the captain looking less troubled, and Mr Gregory less serious. As for the sailors, they appeared to be quite enjoying themselves and treating the whole as a kind of picnic.But there was plenty of work to be done, for as soon as the captain had seen to the two wounded men, who were able to talk now feebly, but without a trace of delirium, he began to make his plans, talking the matters over with the major and the mate; while the men, pending instructions, cut off all the cocoa-nut leaves to lay to dry, and gathered plenty of fuel for the cooking fire, whose place Small decided ought to be in a nook among some rocks, where it would be sheltered from the wind, and the rocks would grow heated and help the roasting or baking.“It is gloriously fine now,” the captain commenced by saying; “and one of the first things we ought to do is to provide a kind of hut or shed against the tremendous showers we are sure to have before long.”“My dear Strong,” said the major, “I’m ready for anything, from shooting savages to cutting down trees.”“Then take your gun,” said the captain, “and shoot a few savages, only keep yourself to the smaller inhabitants of the place, as we are not cannibals.”“Can I have Mark for my game-bearer?” said the major; and the lad darted a grateful look at him.“I was going to propose that he should take a gun and go with you,” said the captain. “He can catch a fish, and the sooner he can shoot us food the better. But be careful, my lad, and don’t waste powder.”“I’ll drill him,” said the major; “and, by the way, would it not be as well to hoist something in the shape of colours on the top of the highest tree one of the men can mount?”“I had planned that too,” said the captain. “I hope our signals will soon be seen; but we must go on as if we expected to be in this place for years.”“That’s good policy, my dear Strong,” said the major; “so we’ll leave you to your work, while we two idlers see what we can find inland. Now, Mark, guns and cartridges, and call your dog. His leg seems to be healing fast.”“Keep a sharp look-out,” whispered the captain. “That noise must be made by some uncouth creature, so be on your guard.”“That’s why I’m going to have the dog,” replied the major; and, leaving the rest all busy over some preparation for the future comfort of the party, the ladies preparing to go fruit-seeking after attending to the wounded men’s wants, while Mary collected some large pearl-shell oysters and the halves of the cocoa-nuts for cups and plates, the major and his young henchman set off.
No one could tell what, or whence came the noise, but the terror it inspired was sufficient to chase away sleep from all. Everyone had been awakened, and the captain had at once gone to the watch, followed by Mark, after he had been to the end of the little tent and tried to give some comfort by telling its occupants that the noise came from some wild beast in the jungle.
Mr Gregory and Small were on the alert. They had had a perfectly quiet watch till just then, as they were noticing the first signs of daybreak, when, increasing in volume and then dying away, there came this appalling roar.
“Just the same as we heard, eh, Mark?” said the major, coming up.
“Yes, just the same.”
“Well, Gregory, what do you make it?” said the captain, who had rather doubted before.
“Don’t know—some beast of the forest.”
“You have heard nothing before?”
“Not a sound. Small thinks it must be a lion.”
“Well, something of that kind, sir. I once heered a lion make such a row that he nearly blew off the roof of his cage! but it wasn’t quite the same as this here, as is hollerer.”
“Well,” said the captain, “it can’t be a lion; and as it does not seem disposed to molest us we must be—”
He stopped short, for there was a low moan from the same direction as that in which they had heard the cry.
“Is that something it has killed?” whispered Mark in an awe-stricken voice.
The captain did not answer; and as all listened for a repetition of the sounds the day began to dawn rapidly, the birds twittered and piped, and shrieked at the edge of the jungle, while flecks of orange and scarlet appeared high up in the sky.
Then a low murmur of admiration burst from the group as they saw a roseate cloud upon the top of the conical mountain begin to glow and burst into a dozen tints of purple and gold, shot with the most effulgent hues; and then slowly there was a glowing point to be seen just above the cloud, which circled it like a ring of gorgeously-coloured vapour; then slowly the light descended the mountain till from top to bottom it was aglow with purple and green and orange; and they turned sharply, to see that the sun was just rolling up over the smooth sea, spreading a pathway of light from the horizon to the isle.
So glorious was the scene, as the light wreaths of mist above the purple rolled away, that the terrible awakening from sleep was forgotten, and a spirit of thankfulness that they had been saved from the sea to land in such a paradise filled the breasts of all.
Beauty is beauty, but the loveliest scene is soon forgotten by a hungry man. Rest, freedom from peril, wounds and bruises amending, and the fact that the previous day’s supply had been very short, combined to make everybody ravenous; and the captain, though without a ship, had his hands full.
He satisfied himself that Morgan and the sailor were better, the fever having abated, and then gave his orders shortly.
Two men were set to make a fire, two more to cut down a cocoa-nut tree that was of small size and yet bore several fruits.
The major and Widgeon started off along the shore with a biscuit-bag to collect shell-fish, and at the muddy exit of a tiny stream came upon quite a swarm of little crabs, who challenged them to fight—so Billy afterwards said—by snapping their claws at them and flourishing them above their heads as they retreated to their holes.
Mark and Small provided themselves with a bag of bivalves for bait and went off to the boat to fish.
Lastly, the captain and the ladies walked to the edge of the jungle in search of fruit, while the former shot a few birds.
The morning was delightful, and Mark and Small were soon afloat, to Billy Widgeon’s intense disgust, for it had been his full intention to take Mark’s place and form one of the fishing party.
Mark soon had a line ready, and after opening some of the shell-fish with his knife baited a couple of hooks and waited till the boatswain had piloted the boat to where there was an opening in the reef and the sea was setting into the lagoon.
“Now, lookye here, my lad,” said Small; “when I was a boy I used to fish in the mill-dam at the back of our cottage, and I always found as there was most fish where the stream set in or came out. Now that’s deep water, and I’ll hold on to the bit of rock here while you chuck in; and if you don’t get a bite we’ll try somewheres else.”
He laid in the oar, and taking the boat-hook had no difficulty in taking hold of the coral, which was only a couple of feet below, and Mark made his first cast right into the running current.
It was a good throw, and he stooped down and picked up the loose rings, to lay them out quite neatly and wind some of the superabundant line about the little frame, when there was a whiz over the side, the line darted out, there was a painful sensation of cutting, a jerk at the lad’s arm as if it were about to be dragged out of the socket, and—that was all!
“Well, you hooked him,” said Small grimly. “He must have been a big un.”
“Big?—a monster!” cried Mark excitedly. “He must have broken the line.”
“Haul in and bait again,” said Small; and as the line was drawn in it was found that there was no breakage, but the soft metal hook had bent out nearly straight and torn from the fish’s mouth.
“It hurt my hand horribly,” said Mark as he bent the damaged hook back into position; “but it must have hurt the fish more.”
“Sarve him right, my lad!—he was on his way to kill and eat some other fish. That’s it. Chuck out again, and this time let him have it easy, and if he’s a big one give him time.”
The carefully-baited hooks were thrown out again, and before the bait had sunk a couple of feet it was once more seized.
“Sha’n’t starve here, my lad!” said Small gleefully.
“Not if we can catch the fish,” said Mark, whose fingers were burning with the friction of the line. “I say, Small, is it a crocodile?”
“G’long with you! Crocodile!—no; it’s not a very big one.”
“But see how it pulls!” cried Mark as the fish continued its rush and would have been off, line and all, some twenty fathoms, if it had not been that the cord was securely fastened to the winder, which was suddenly snatched from the bottom of the boat to fly with a rap against the lad’s knuckles.
“Don’t you let him go, Mr Mark, sir!” cried Small, who was as excited now as the lad. “Hold on! That’s all our braxfusses.”
“I’m going to hold on if I can,” said Mark between his teeth; “but I shall let him run if he’s going to pull me out of the boat.”
As he spoke the fish was tugging furiously at the line, drawing the holder’s arms out to their full stretch, and actually threatening to jerk him over the side of the boat. Now it rushed to right, now to left, and then made straight once more for the sea, and so full of strength that this time Mark set his teeth, feeling sure that line, hook, or his fingers must give way.
“You’ll lose him. I know you will,” cried Small, though how the fisherman was to prevent the catastrophe now that he was at the end of the line the boatswain did not say; and while finding fault, after the fashion of lookers-on, it never occurred to him that he might help the capture by letting the boat follow the fish.
Matters then had just as it were reached a climax, when, instead of the line breaking or Mark going over the side, the strong cord, which had been hissing here and there through the water, suddenly grew slack, and the tension was taken off Mark’s muscles and mind to give place to a feeling of despair.
“Well, you are a fisherman, sir,” growled Small, spitting a little tobacco juice into the water in disgust. “You’ve lost as fine a fish as was ever pulled out of the sea.”
“How do you know?” said Mark, beginning to haul in the line slowly hand over hand. “You didn’t see it.”
“See it! Why, I see it pull. It was a fine un, and badly as we wants a bit o’ fish too. There, haul in sharp and put on a fresh bait.”
“It doesn’t seem much use,” said Mark bitterly. “My hands are quite sore.”
“You’ll be obliged to let me have a try. Skipper’ll come down on me if we don’t have something to show when we get back. Ah! there’s a nice fish now,” he continued, as a great fellow looking like a fifty-pound salmon sprang a full yard out of the water and fell back with a tremendous splash.
“Why, that’s him,” cried Mark, “and he’s on still.”
“Hooray! then: get him this time, my lad,” cried Small; and it was evident now that, finding its course out to sea checked, the fish had suddenly turned and darted back, swimming toward the boat and causing the slackening of the line, but directly in the hauling it felt the hook it sprang right out of the water and made a fresh rush.
But this was not so powerful a run as the first, and as Mark held on, the fish repeated its manoeuvre and swam toward the boat.
This time Mark was able to haul in nearly half the line before the fish made another dart, but only to be checked, and rush to and fro, forming zigzags through the water, which it varied by a series of leaps clear out.
“You’ll lose him, my lad, you’ll lose him,” grumbled Small at every bound; but the hook was fast in, and Mark instinctively gave line at every rush till the fish grew weary, and was drawn in closer to the boat after the wild dashes, and then, for the seventh or eighth time as it was hauled in, and Mark was prepared for a new dart, and in dread that this time the hook should straighten or break away, the panting creature suddenly turned up and floated upon its side.
“Well hauled,” shouted Small. “You have done it this time, my lad.”
“Not caught yet!” said Mark. “How are we to get it in the boat?”
“Oh, I’ll show you about that,” said the boatswain, loosening his hold of the rock, and, watching his opportunity, he gaffed the great fish cleverly with the boat-hook by drawing it into the prize’s gills, and the next instant it lay splashing at the bottom of the boat.
“Well done us!” cried Small, as Mark stood gazing down at his prize, a magnificent fish of over forty pounds weight, with brilliant silvery scales double the size of those of a salmon, and all flashing in the morning sunshine.
“What is it?” said Mark.
“Well, I don’t rightly know,” said Small drily. “’Taint a sole.”
“Why, of course not.”
“Nor it arn’t a salmon, you see, cause it’s got all them stickles on its back. Some kind o’ shark, I should say. Look at its teeth.”
“And you’ve been to sea all your life, Small, and don’t know a shark!” cried Mark. “Why, I know that isn’t a shark, or anything of the kind.”
“Yes, because you’ve had books to go at all your life, my boy, while I’ve been knocking about in ships. Man may learn to be a good sailor, but he don’t learn much else aboard ship afore the mast.”
“Never mind,” said Mark; “the question for us to settle is—Is it good to eat?”
“Just you wait till we’ve cooked him over the fire,” said Small, as he extracted the hook from the fierce jaws. “I’ll answer that question then. ’Most anything’s good to eat when you’re half starved, my lad. I’ve knowed men eat their shoes. Going to have another try?”
“Yes, I should like to get some more,” said Mark; and as soon as the captured fish was laid under the thwart he baited and threw out again.
This time he waited so long that he began to draw in the line, expecting to find the bait gone; but long before it reached the surface it was seized by another ravenous fish, and after a sharp fight this was also got into the boat, proving to be something similar to the other, but only about half the size.
“As I said before, I says it again,” said Small oracularly, “we sha’n’t starve here.”
Mark thought of his words as he paddled ashore—Small cleaning the fish the while and throwing the offal overboard for ground-bait, as he said—when he helped carry the prizes up to the fire in triumph, for there he found that the major had returned, he and Widgeon having quite a load of shell-fish; the men had cut down the cocoa-nut tree, and the nuts were lying on the sand; while the captain and the ladies were back, the former with about a dozen small cockatoos, and the latter with handkerchiefs full of jungle fruit, a good deal of which promised to be valuable.
A large fire of drift-wood and old cocoa-nuts and their husks was burning, making a fierce blaze, before and partly over which the fish were soon roasting on wooden spits, the sailors being particularly handy in obeying orders for anything which they could provide by means of their knives.
The shell-fish soon followed, being ranged round the glowing embers to cook in their shells, and before long there was an odour rising that was little short of maddening to the hungry throng, several of whom directed envious glances at the birds which were hung up in the shade to be prepared for the next meal.
“Well, not so very badly,” said the major about half an hour after the fish had been declared done. “I missed my cup of coffee and my dry toast, but I never ate fresher fish; and as to the scalloped gentlemen in their shells, captain, with one exception I never ate anything more delicious. Whether they were oysters, clams, cockles, or mussels, I’m sure I don’t know, and what’s more, I don’t care. I say they were good.”
“What was the exception?” said Mrs O’Halloran, smiling, for that lady seemed to bear everything with equanimity, and always proved herself a campaigner’s wife.
“The exception, my dear,” said the major, “was that spiral gentleman handed to me all hot by friend Mark, who took it sizzling out of the fire with a bit of bent stick held like tongs.”
“But I meant that for Miss O’Halloran, sir,” said Mark, flushing.
“Then, for what reason, sir, did you try to poison my daughter?” cried the major. “That fish, or mollusc as the naturalists would call it, was undoubtedly something of the whelk family; and if you can only find some of them large enough to cut up in slices, we shall have nothing to ear as to a supply of india-rubber shoe-soles. I’ve had some experience of contract beef in the army; but that is calves’-foot jelly compared to Mark’s whelk.”
“I thought it would be a delicacy, sir,” said Mark, whose ears were particularly red as he saw Mary laughing.
“And I thought it was a trick,” said the major; “so, after wriggling the monster out with my penknife and trying it fairly, I gave it to Mark’s dog, and he has looked very unwell ever since.”
The major’s high spirits, and the calm matter-of-fact way in which his wife and daughter bore their privations, had an influence on the rest of the party, the captain looking less troubled, and Mr Gregory less serious. As for the sailors, they appeared to be quite enjoying themselves and treating the whole as a kind of picnic.
But there was plenty of work to be done, for as soon as the captain had seen to the two wounded men, who were able to talk now feebly, but without a trace of delirium, he began to make his plans, talking the matters over with the major and the mate; while the men, pending instructions, cut off all the cocoa-nut leaves to lay to dry, and gathered plenty of fuel for the cooking fire, whose place Small decided ought to be in a nook among some rocks, where it would be sheltered from the wind, and the rocks would grow heated and help the roasting or baking.
“It is gloriously fine now,” the captain commenced by saying; “and one of the first things we ought to do is to provide a kind of hut or shed against the tremendous showers we are sure to have before long.”
“My dear Strong,” said the major, “I’m ready for anything, from shooting savages to cutting down trees.”
“Then take your gun,” said the captain, “and shoot a few savages, only keep yourself to the smaller inhabitants of the place, as we are not cannibals.”
“Can I have Mark for my game-bearer?” said the major; and the lad darted a grateful look at him.
“I was going to propose that he should take a gun and go with you,” said the captain. “He can catch a fish, and the sooner he can shoot us food the better. But be careful, my lad, and don’t waste powder.”
“I’ll drill him,” said the major; “and, by the way, would it not be as well to hoist something in the shape of colours on the top of the highest tree one of the men can mount?”
“I had planned that too,” said the captain. “I hope our signals will soon be seen; but we must go on as if we expected to be in this place for years.”
“That’s good policy, my dear Strong,” said the major; “so we’ll leave you to your work, while we two idlers see what we can find inland. Now, Mark, guns and cartridges, and call your dog. His leg seems to be healing fast.”
“Keep a sharp look-out,” whispered the captain. “That noise must be made by some uncouth creature, so be on your guard.”
“That’s why I’m going to have the dog,” replied the major; and, leaving the rest all busy over some preparation for the future comfort of the party, the ladies preparing to go fruit-seeking after attending to the wounded men’s wants, while Mary collected some large pearl-shell oysters and the halves of the cocoa-nuts for cups and plates, the major and his young henchman set off.
Chapter Twenty Six.How Mark and the Major saw Signs.Bruff limped up eagerly, and sometimes put down his injured paw, which he had been dressing after nature’s fashion by licking it well, and trotted by their side; but it was evident directly that another was to be of the party, for before they had gone fifty yards Jack bounded up and placed himself beside the dog.The major hesitated for a moment.“He won’t do any harm,” he said at last. “Let him come. I say, Mark, my lad, all that was very comic about the little fellow climbing the tree; but do you know, if you took pains I’m sure you might teach him to go up into the leafy crowns and screw the nuts round till they dropped.”“I was wondering whether it would be possible,” said Mark eagerly.“Quite. He is an intelligent little fellow. Try. Now, then, let’s take our bearings,” continued the major, and he pulled out a pocket-compass. “Don’t let’s be wearied out in finding our way back when we are tired.”“Which way are we going, sir?”“That depends, my lad. It is not as we please, but as the jungle allows. You talk as if you were in a country full of roads.”“I forgot,” said Mark, changing the position in which he carried his father’s double gun.“First lesson in using a gun,” said the major: “either point the muzzle at the ground or up at the sky. It’s considered bad manners, Mark, to shoot your companions.”“I—I beg your pardon, sir,” faltered Mark. “It was very clumsy of me.”“Not a bit more clumsy than every young fellow is, when he first handles a gun. That’s the way. I’m sure you don’t want to have to carry me home without a head. Now, then, our easiest route would be to go along the sands at the edge of the cocoa-nut groves; but I propose we strike in beside the first stream or through the first valley we find. Come along.”They followed the beautiful shore line for about five hundred yards, and at a turn came suddenly upon a lovely little stream which offered far better facilities for obtaining drinking water than that from which it had been obtained, and as soon as he saw the spot, the major exclaimed that this was the place for their temporary home.A cocoa-nut grove, a sandy cove, plenty of nipah-palms ready for making into thatch or wails for their hut, and an abundance of slight young palm-trees like scaffold poles exactly suitable for making their hut or shed.“We must go back, Mark,” said the major. “This is a find that will save them endless trouble.”It seemed a pity to return, as the sun was growing very hot; but they tramped back, and the captain followed when they again started, to decide with Gregory whether it would be a better site.“Now,” said the major, leaving them to their discussion, “you shall try and bring down the first eatable bird we see, and I’ll look out for pig or deer.”“Are you going straight inland?” asked Mark.“No, but just as the open ground beside this stream will let us. I want to get to the high ground and reach the slope of the volcano if we can.”It was not an easy task; for though the jungle was open here in comparison to what it was on either hand, every step of the way was impeded by creepers, awkward roots, patches of moss into which their feet sank, and by the rattan-canes that draped the trees and ran in and out and enlaced them together, as if nature were making rough attempts to turn the edge of the forest into a verdant piece of basket-work.The heat was great and it was rather exhausting toil, but at every turn the beauties of the place were quite startling to Mark in their novelty. Over the clear sun-spangled stream drooped the loveliest of ferns, whose fronds were like the most delicate lace; while by way of contrast other ferns clung to the boles of trees, that were dark-green and forked like the horns of some huge stag; great masses and clusters, six or seven feet long, hung here and there pendent from the old stumps.Flowers too were in abundance, but for the most part quaintly-shaped orchids of cream, and yellow, and brown, some among the moss, others clinging to the mossy bark of the trees. But the greatest curiosities of all were the pitcher-plants hanging here and there, some fully suspended, others so large that they partly rested on the moss, forming jungle cups capable of containing fully a pint of water, some of them even more.The beauties of the scene increased, in spite of each one in which they paused seeming as if it could not be surpassed; for as they penetrated more deeply they not only came upon flowering trees about which tiny sun-birds, whose plumage was a blaze of burnished metallic splendour, whirred, and buzzed, and darted, or probed the blossoms with their beaks, but they found that the island, if island it should prove, was inhabited by endless numbers of gorgeous butterflies.Great pearly-looking insects, whose wings gleamed with azure reflections, floated calmly down the glades, their wings fully eight inches across. Others were specked and splashed with scarlet, or barred with orange, or dashed with glistening green. Then, as if there was to be no end to the feast of beauty for their eyes, great quick-flying insects came darting among the sunny openings, butterflies with elongated, narrow, and pointed wings similar to those of the sphinx moths of our own land.Mark could have sat down and watched the various gorgeously-coloured beauties for hours, but theirs was a business task, and he plodded on behind the major, both the monkey and the dog untiringly investigating everything they saw.But there was no trace of large animal, no sound that suggested the neighbourhood of anything likely to be inimical, while the best test was the fearlessness with which their two companions kept by their sides.“Ah!” ejaculated the major at last, as a low cooing noise fell upon their ears. “Now for something for dinner! You go first, Mark, and let them have both barrels sharply—one after the other.”“Let what have them?”“The pigeons. Creep on yonder softly, and you will soon come upon them—a flock of pigeons feeding in one of the trees.”Mark went on as silently as he could, and the major kept back the two animals and waited a minute—five minutes, ten minutes—and then softly followed, to find the lad at the edge of a glade watching a flock of great lavender-hued and feather-crowned pigeons, as big as fowls, feeding in the most unconcerned manner.The major did not hesitate for a moment, but fired at the spot where the birds were thickest, and again as they rose with whirring and flapping wings in a little flock.Three went down at his first discharge, two at his second; and Mark started as if he too had been shot.“You here, sir?” he said.“Yes. Why didn’t you shoot?”“I forgot to,” said Mark hesitatingly; “and I was admiring them.”“Yes, admirable, my young naturalist!” said the major. “But we are sent out here to find food for so many hungry people; and these are glorious eating.”“Yes; I forgot,” said Mark, helping to collect the birds, which were tied by the legs and hung over the trunk of a tree, as the stream would act as their guide on their return.Then going on, the little rapids and falls in the tiny river showed that they must be steadily rising, but at so slow a rate that it soon became evident that, unless the country opened out, they would not reach the mountain that day.At the end of a couple of hours, though, when they paused to rest and began refreshing themselves with some fruit similar to a large nut, but whose interior contained a couple of kernels imbedded in custard, they found themselves quite upon a hill, with a valley dipping down below along which the streamlet came, and beyond these the mountain-slope rose, so that they had a good view of the cone, with the film of cloud still rising, but looking almost transparent in the bright sunrise.“There ought to be pigs here,” said the major; “but it does not seem as if we shall see any. But look yonder; there’s another of those fruit-trees, with pigeons feeding beneath. Go and try now.”Mark hurried on, and threading his way among the trees took a long and careful aim before firing; and, as might be expected, missing. But as luck had it, the flock rose with a tremendous beating of wings and went right over the major’s head, giving him an opportunity to get a couple of good shots, with the result that three more of the great pigeons came crashing down.“I think I hit one,” said Mark as he came panting back, to find that the major and Bruff between them had retrieved all three birds.“Where is it, then?” said the major.“The smoke got in my eyes, and I could not see whether one fell.”“Take the dog, then, and see if he can find it,” said the major, smiling to himself. But after a good search the lad came back hot and disappointed.“Better luck next time, my boy,” said the major. “You are not the only one who did not hit his first bird. Shooting is not so easy as fishing in the sea.”The question now arose whether to go on further or to return. They had obtained eight good weighty birds, and the heat was great; but Mark was so anxious to try and make better use of his piece that the pigeons just shot were hung up similarly to the first, and they proceeded, to find hopeful signs of an abundance of fruit, some of which was familiar to the major from his having encountered it in different parts of the East, while other kinds looked promising enough for testing.But though a sharp look-out was kept, no other opportunity for a shot presented itself.The reason was plain enough—they were unable to get along without making a good deal of noise; and though the smaller birds of brilliant plumage paid little heed, the larger, such as might have been used for food, took flight before they got within shot, as they often knew by the flapping and beating of their wings.They were slowly descending one beautiful slope after carefully taking in some landmarks so as to guide them on their return, when all at once Mark laid his hand upon the major’s arm and pointed to an opening in the jungle about a hundred yards away.“What is it?” said the major sharply. “Ah! that looks bad;” and he pressed Mark back under cover.“Savages?” whispered the lad.“I’m afraid so. It’s a bad sign and a good sign.”Mark looked at him interrogatively.“Bad sign if they are a fierce lot like the New Guinea men; good sign if they are peaceable fellows, for it shows that it is quite possible to live here.”The sight which had caught Mark’s attention was a thin cloud of vapour rising slowly from among some low bushes, and it was evident that there was a fire and some cooking operation going on.“Better part of valour is discretion,” said the major softly. “Not going to run away, Mark—soldiers can’t do that—but we must retire and take up fresh ground, my lad, for your father expressly pointed out to me that we were not cannibals, and that I was not to shoot the human savage. Keep out of sight. Perhaps we had better return.”They backed away softly, the dog following, and the major whispered:“The mystery is explained, Mark. It must have been one of those interesting gentlemen who made that terrific row. His idea of a cooey, I suppose.”A low growl came from Bruff just then, and they stopped short, the silence being broken by the dick, dick of the major’s gun.They had on retiring gone a little higher up the slope so as to be more among the trees, and the result was that they found themselves at the top of a little ridge and at the edge of the denser growth, so that, as they paused, they could look down into another part where the trees gave place to low bushes and glorious ferns, the whole being a glade of surpassing loveliness, such a spot as might very well be chosen by a party of simple savages for their home.The major pressed Mark down, and they cowered among the trees, for they were evidently going right in sight of a second encampment.“Keep the dog quiet if you can, lad,” whispered the major, peering among the trees. “Can’t see their attap (see note 1) huts, but there are plenty of fruit-trees.”“Have they seen us?” whispered Mark.“Impossible to say. You go along first between those trees bearing to the right. Stoop. I don’t want you to get a notice to quit in the shape of a spear.”Mark obeyed, and went on as swiftly and as silently as he could, so as to reach the path they had made in coming, and to this end he had to quit the denser shade and pass through a clump of foliage plants and flowering bushes of the loveliest hues.The way seemed easy, and the bushes were not so closely together, but the ferns were enormous, their fronds stretching out in all directions and having to be pressed aside.“Never mind me,” whispered the major, as Mark held an unusually large frond aside. “Bear down more to the right and strike the stream. We mustn’t leave those pigeons.”Mark forced his way on, with the growth completely hiding him from his companion, while the heat seemed to be more and more oppressive. It was a dank stewing heat, very different to the scorching of the sun out in the more open parts, and both were longing to get to a spot where they could breathe more freely, when Mark, who was about six yards ahead, leaped down into a little hollow to save himself from a fall, his feet having given way as he trod upon the rotten roots of a large fern.It was a matter of a few instants, for as the lad alighted he found that it was upon something soft and elastic, and at the same moment there was a disturbance among the undergrowth and a sharp angry hiss.He bounded back with a faint cry of horror, turned, and taking rapid aim at the spot where he had leaped fired downward.“Quick! load again,” said the major.“A great serpent,” panted Mark, obeying with nervous fingers.“Killed him?”“Don’t know, sir,” said Mark, staring down among the ferns and arums which filled the hole.“Must have killed him, for he does not move. Squat down. We don’t want the savages to see us. They are sure to come.”“Let’s run.”“What? The gauntlet? No, thank you, my boy. We are safer here. Hist!”They crouched there listening for the sounds of the enemy’s approach, but all remained silent. Mark could hear his heart beating with excitement, and he found himself wondering why it was that he, with a serpent on one side and savages on the other, was not more alarmed.“Keep still,” whispered the major; “we must hear them directly. What’s that?”“The dog,” said Mark in the same low tone, for Bruff had softly crept to their side, looked up in their faces, and lain down.“Why, hallo!” exclaimed the major, “this isn’t natural.”“What?”“This dog. There can’t be any savages on the way; and, what is more, you can’t have shot a serpent, or Bruff here would have been excited and routed him out. Did you see the serpent?”“No, sir; I didn’t see it exactly, but you heard it hiss.”“But, hang it all, Mark! You didn’t shoot at a hiss, did you?”“Well, no, sir. I was horribly startled, and shot down at the soft thing upon which I jumped.”“But if you are entrusted with a gun,” said the major angrily, “you mustn’t take fright and shoot at what you hear and feel, my lad.”“Did you see the savages, sir?” said Mark in self-defence.“Well, no, but I saw the smoke of their fire; and here, Bruff, fetch him out, boy,” he continued, breaking off his speech, and with cocked gun he parted the twigs and fronds cautiously as he stepped down into the hollow from which Mark had fled.Hiss! hiss! hiss! came sharply from where the major stepped, and he in turn bounded back to Mark’s side, falling over the dog, and having some difficulty in recovering himself.“That’s good! I like that,” he cried, as, instead of helping him, Mark covered his escape by taking a step forward, and bringing his gun to bear on the spot whence the sounds came.“Did—did you see it?” said Mark huskily.“See it! No, my lad. Only that! Look!”He pointed as he rose to a filmy vapour floating away and dissolving in the sunshine. “You did not see that before because you fired. Don’t you see? It’s steam.”“Steam!” said Mark.“Yes. Look here. Give me your hand. I don’t want to go through.”He caught Mark’s hand and stepped cautiously down, keeping one foot on sure ground, as with the other he pressed and stamped upon a spot that was quite elastic. At every stamp there was a hiss—a sharp, angry hiss and a puff of vapour rose from among the leaves.“There’s your serpent,” he said, laughing. “No wonder you did not hit it.”“Then that must be steam we saw over yonder, and not savages’ fires.”“Right, my lad. A false alarm. We’re in a volcanic land, and if we search about I daresay we shall find hot springs somewhere.”“It can’t be very safe,” said Mark thoughtfully, as he watched the little puffs of steam rise.“Not if you jump on a soft place, for there would be no knowing where you went. But come along, I think we’ve done enough for one day, so let’s find our pigeons and get back.”“Where’s Jacko?” said Mark, looking round.“Jack! Last time I saw him he was up a tree eating those sour berries just after I shot the last pigeon. He must have stayed back to feed.”They whistled and called, while, as if comprehending it all, the dog barked; but all was still, and in the hope of finding their hairy companion they now pressed steadily on, passing the tree laden still with a bright purple kind of berry, but there was no sign of Jack.“He’ll return to savage life, safe,” said the major. “It is too much of a temptation to throw in his way. Why, Mark, if I were a monkey I think I should.”“I don’t think he’d leave Bruff now,” replied Mark. “They’re such friends that they wouldn’t part, and I’m sure my dog wouldn’t go.”He glanced down at Bruff as he spoke, and the dog barked at him, and raised his injured paw.“Well, we shall see,” said the major, as they forced their way on. “There’s where we stopped to listen for birds,” he continued, “and there’s the tree upon which I hung the pigeons.”“Where?” asked Mark.“Yonder, straight before you. There, lad, fifty yards away.”“But I can’t see any pigeons,” said Mark.“Not near enough. Let’s get on, I’m growing hungry, and beginning to think of dinner, a cigar, a good rest, and a bathe in that delicious-looking sea. By the way, the clouds are gathering about the top of that mountain. I hope we shall have no storm to-night. Why, Mark, the pigeons are gone! I hung them upon that branch.”Mark turned from gazing at the clouds, which seemed to be forming about the cone away to his right, and was obliged to confess that the pigeons were gone.“Savage, or some animal,” said the major, peering cautiously round.“Would it be a big bird—eagle or vulture?” said Mark. “I saw one fly over.”“Might be,” replied the major. “I’m not naturalist enough to say; and if I was, I daren’t, Mark, for what a bird will do in one country it will not in another.”Mark stared at him.“Well, I mean this, Mark, my lad. At home, in England, the kingfishers sit on twigs over the streams, and dive into the water and catch fish. Here, in the East, numbers of them sit on twigs in the forest paths and catch beetles, so there’s no knowing what a bird of prey would do in a place like this.”Just then they were close up to the tree, and Bruff set up a joyous barking, which was answered by the chattering of the monkey.“Why, there’s Jack!” cried Mark.“The rascal, he has got down my pigeons!” cried the major.Just then a puff of feathers flew up in the air, and the two travellers stepped forward and simultaneously burst into a roar of laughter.For there, in amongst the undergrowth, sat Jack, his hairy coat, head, arms, and legs covered with feathers, which formed quite a nest about him, and as they came up he chattered away loudly, and went on tearing the lavender plumage out of one of the great pigeons which lay in his lap, and scattering the soft down far and wide.“Why, he must have seen the birds plucked yesterday,” said the major, wiping his eyes, so comical was the monkey’s seriously intent aspect, as he kept glancing up at them sharply, and then chattering and peering down at the half-denuded pigeon, his little black fingers nimbly twisting out the feathers, and his whole aspect suggestive of his being a cook in a tremendous hurry.“There, come along,” continued the major; “pick up the birds, Mark.”Easier said than done. There were three, but two, half-picked, had to be hunted out from the heap of feathers, and Jack objected to part with the third, holding on to it tightly till he was pressed back with the stock of the gun, after which the miserable half-picked birds were tied together by the legs and hung over the barrel.They had no difficulty in finding the rest of the morning’s sport, and this done, the first being shouldered by the major, they walked as fast as the nature of the way would allow, back to the shore, unwillingly on Mark’s part, for there was always some brilliant bird or insect flitting across their path and inviting inspection.But this inclination to stay was always checked by the major, who kept on bringing his companion back to the commonplace by uttering the one word, “Dinner!” and this sufficed.Note 1. Attap, thatching made of the leaves of a palm—the nipah.
Bruff limped up eagerly, and sometimes put down his injured paw, which he had been dressing after nature’s fashion by licking it well, and trotted by their side; but it was evident directly that another was to be of the party, for before they had gone fifty yards Jack bounded up and placed himself beside the dog.
The major hesitated for a moment.
“He won’t do any harm,” he said at last. “Let him come. I say, Mark, my lad, all that was very comic about the little fellow climbing the tree; but do you know, if you took pains I’m sure you might teach him to go up into the leafy crowns and screw the nuts round till they dropped.”
“I was wondering whether it would be possible,” said Mark eagerly.
“Quite. He is an intelligent little fellow. Try. Now, then, let’s take our bearings,” continued the major, and he pulled out a pocket-compass. “Don’t let’s be wearied out in finding our way back when we are tired.”
“Which way are we going, sir?”
“That depends, my lad. It is not as we please, but as the jungle allows. You talk as if you were in a country full of roads.”
“I forgot,” said Mark, changing the position in which he carried his father’s double gun.
“First lesson in using a gun,” said the major: “either point the muzzle at the ground or up at the sky. It’s considered bad manners, Mark, to shoot your companions.”
“I—I beg your pardon, sir,” faltered Mark. “It was very clumsy of me.”
“Not a bit more clumsy than every young fellow is, when he first handles a gun. That’s the way. I’m sure you don’t want to have to carry me home without a head. Now, then, our easiest route would be to go along the sands at the edge of the cocoa-nut groves; but I propose we strike in beside the first stream or through the first valley we find. Come along.”
They followed the beautiful shore line for about five hundred yards, and at a turn came suddenly upon a lovely little stream which offered far better facilities for obtaining drinking water than that from which it had been obtained, and as soon as he saw the spot, the major exclaimed that this was the place for their temporary home.
A cocoa-nut grove, a sandy cove, plenty of nipah-palms ready for making into thatch or wails for their hut, and an abundance of slight young palm-trees like scaffold poles exactly suitable for making their hut or shed.
“We must go back, Mark,” said the major. “This is a find that will save them endless trouble.”
It seemed a pity to return, as the sun was growing very hot; but they tramped back, and the captain followed when they again started, to decide with Gregory whether it would be a better site.
“Now,” said the major, leaving them to their discussion, “you shall try and bring down the first eatable bird we see, and I’ll look out for pig or deer.”
“Are you going straight inland?” asked Mark.
“No, but just as the open ground beside this stream will let us. I want to get to the high ground and reach the slope of the volcano if we can.”
It was not an easy task; for though the jungle was open here in comparison to what it was on either hand, every step of the way was impeded by creepers, awkward roots, patches of moss into which their feet sank, and by the rattan-canes that draped the trees and ran in and out and enlaced them together, as if nature were making rough attempts to turn the edge of the forest into a verdant piece of basket-work.
The heat was great and it was rather exhausting toil, but at every turn the beauties of the place were quite startling to Mark in their novelty. Over the clear sun-spangled stream drooped the loveliest of ferns, whose fronds were like the most delicate lace; while by way of contrast other ferns clung to the boles of trees, that were dark-green and forked like the horns of some huge stag; great masses and clusters, six or seven feet long, hung here and there pendent from the old stumps.
Flowers too were in abundance, but for the most part quaintly-shaped orchids of cream, and yellow, and brown, some among the moss, others clinging to the mossy bark of the trees. But the greatest curiosities of all were the pitcher-plants hanging here and there, some fully suspended, others so large that they partly rested on the moss, forming jungle cups capable of containing fully a pint of water, some of them even more.
The beauties of the scene increased, in spite of each one in which they paused seeming as if it could not be surpassed; for as they penetrated more deeply they not only came upon flowering trees about which tiny sun-birds, whose plumage was a blaze of burnished metallic splendour, whirred, and buzzed, and darted, or probed the blossoms with their beaks, but they found that the island, if island it should prove, was inhabited by endless numbers of gorgeous butterflies.
Great pearly-looking insects, whose wings gleamed with azure reflections, floated calmly down the glades, their wings fully eight inches across. Others were specked and splashed with scarlet, or barred with orange, or dashed with glistening green. Then, as if there was to be no end to the feast of beauty for their eyes, great quick-flying insects came darting among the sunny openings, butterflies with elongated, narrow, and pointed wings similar to those of the sphinx moths of our own land.
Mark could have sat down and watched the various gorgeously-coloured beauties for hours, but theirs was a business task, and he plodded on behind the major, both the monkey and the dog untiringly investigating everything they saw.
But there was no trace of large animal, no sound that suggested the neighbourhood of anything likely to be inimical, while the best test was the fearlessness with which their two companions kept by their sides.
“Ah!” ejaculated the major at last, as a low cooing noise fell upon their ears. “Now for something for dinner! You go first, Mark, and let them have both barrels sharply—one after the other.”
“Let what have them?”
“The pigeons. Creep on yonder softly, and you will soon come upon them—a flock of pigeons feeding in one of the trees.”
Mark went on as silently as he could, and the major kept back the two animals and waited a minute—five minutes, ten minutes—and then softly followed, to find the lad at the edge of a glade watching a flock of great lavender-hued and feather-crowned pigeons, as big as fowls, feeding in the most unconcerned manner.
The major did not hesitate for a moment, but fired at the spot where the birds were thickest, and again as they rose with whirring and flapping wings in a little flock.
Three went down at his first discharge, two at his second; and Mark started as if he too had been shot.
“You here, sir?” he said.
“Yes. Why didn’t you shoot?”
“I forgot to,” said Mark hesitatingly; “and I was admiring them.”
“Yes, admirable, my young naturalist!” said the major. “But we are sent out here to find food for so many hungry people; and these are glorious eating.”
“Yes; I forgot,” said Mark, helping to collect the birds, which were tied by the legs and hung over the trunk of a tree, as the stream would act as their guide on their return.
Then going on, the little rapids and falls in the tiny river showed that they must be steadily rising, but at so slow a rate that it soon became evident that, unless the country opened out, they would not reach the mountain that day.
At the end of a couple of hours, though, when they paused to rest and began refreshing themselves with some fruit similar to a large nut, but whose interior contained a couple of kernels imbedded in custard, they found themselves quite upon a hill, with a valley dipping down below along which the streamlet came, and beyond these the mountain-slope rose, so that they had a good view of the cone, with the film of cloud still rising, but looking almost transparent in the bright sunrise.
“There ought to be pigs here,” said the major; “but it does not seem as if we shall see any. But look yonder; there’s another of those fruit-trees, with pigeons feeding beneath. Go and try now.”
Mark hurried on, and threading his way among the trees took a long and careful aim before firing; and, as might be expected, missing. But as luck had it, the flock rose with a tremendous beating of wings and went right over the major’s head, giving him an opportunity to get a couple of good shots, with the result that three more of the great pigeons came crashing down.
“I think I hit one,” said Mark as he came panting back, to find that the major and Bruff between them had retrieved all three birds.
“Where is it, then?” said the major.
“The smoke got in my eyes, and I could not see whether one fell.”
“Take the dog, then, and see if he can find it,” said the major, smiling to himself. But after a good search the lad came back hot and disappointed.
“Better luck next time, my boy,” said the major. “You are not the only one who did not hit his first bird. Shooting is not so easy as fishing in the sea.”
The question now arose whether to go on further or to return. They had obtained eight good weighty birds, and the heat was great; but Mark was so anxious to try and make better use of his piece that the pigeons just shot were hung up similarly to the first, and they proceeded, to find hopeful signs of an abundance of fruit, some of which was familiar to the major from his having encountered it in different parts of the East, while other kinds looked promising enough for testing.
But though a sharp look-out was kept, no other opportunity for a shot presented itself.
The reason was plain enough—they were unable to get along without making a good deal of noise; and though the smaller birds of brilliant plumage paid little heed, the larger, such as might have been used for food, took flight before they got within shot, as they often knew by the flapping and beating of their wings.
They were slowly descending one beautiful slope after carefully taking in some landmarks so as to guide them on their return, when all at once Mark laid his hand upon the major’s arm and pointed to an opening in the jungle about a hundred yards away.
“What is it?” said the major sharply. “Ah! that looks bad;” and he pressed Mark back under cover.
“Savages?” whispered the lad.
“I’m afraid so. It’s a bad sign and a good sign.”
Mark looked at him interrogatively.
“Bad sign if they are a fierce lot like the New Guinea men; good sign if they are peaceable fellows, for it shows that it is quite possible to live here.”
The sight which had caught Mark’s attention was a thin cloud of vapour rising slowly from among some low bushes, and it was evident that there was a fire and some cooking operation going on.
“Better part of valour is discretion,” said the major softly. “Not going to run away, Mark—soldiers can’t do that—but we must retire and take up fresh ground, my lad, for your father expressly pointed out to me that we were not cannibals, and that I was not to shoot the human savage. Keep out of sight. Perhaps we had better return.”
They backed away softly, the dog following, and the major whispered:
“The mystery is explained, Mark. It must have been one of those interesting gentlemen who made that terrific row. His idea of a cooey, I suppose.”
A low growl came from Bruff just then, and they stopped short, the silence being broken by the dick, dick of the major’s gun.
They had on retiring gone a little higher up the slope so as to be more among the trees, and the result was that they found themselves at the top of a little ridge and at the edge of the denser growth, so that, as they paused, they could look down into another part where the trees gave place to low bushes and glorious ferns, the whole being a glade of surpassing loveliness, such a spot as might very well be chosen by a party of simple savages for their home.
The major pressed Mark down, and they cowered among the trees, for they were evidently going right in sight of a second encampment.
“Keep the dog quiet if you can, lad,” whispered the major, peering among the trees. “Can’t see their attap (see note 1) huts, but there are plenty of fruit-trees.”
“Have they seen us?” whispered Mark.
“Impossible to say. You go along first between those trees bearing to the right. Stoop. I don’t want you to get a notice to quit in the shape of a spear.”
Mark obeyed, and went on as swiftly and as silently as he could, so as to reach the path they had made in coming, and to this end he had to quit the denser shade and pass through a clump of foliage plants and flowering bushes of the loveliest hues.
The way seemed easy, and the bushes were not so closely together, but the ferns were enormous, their fronds stretching out in all directions and having to be pressed aside.
“Never mind me,” whispered the major, as Mark held an unusually large frond aside. “Bear down more to the right and strike the stream. We mustn’t leave those pigeons.”
Mark forced his way on, with the growth completely hiding him from his companion, while the heat seemed to be more and more oppressive. It was a dank stewing heat, very different to the scorching of the sun out in the more open parts, and both were longing to get to a spot where they could breathe more freely, when Mark, who was about six yards ahead, leaped down into a little hollow to save himself from a fall, his feet having given way as he trod upon the rotten roots of a large fern.
It was a matter of a few instants, for as the lad alighted he found that it was upon something soft and elastic, and at the same moment there was a disturbance among the undergrowth and a sharp angry hiss.
He bounded back with a faint cry of horror, turned, and taking rapid aim at the spot where he had leaped fired downward.
“Quick! load again,” said the major.
“A great serpent,” panted Mark, obeying with nervous fingers.
“Killed him?”
“Don’t know, sir,” said Mark, staring down among the ferns and arums which filled the hole.
“Must have killed him, for he does not move. Squat down. We don’t want the savages to see us. They are sure to come.”
“Let’s run.”
“What? The gauntlet? No, thank you, my boy. We are safer here. Hist!”
They crouched there listening for the sounds of the enemy’s approach, but all remained silent. Mark could hear his heart beating with excitement, and he found himself wondering why it was that he, with a serpent on one side and savages on the other, was not more alarmed.
“Keep still,” whispered the major; “we must hear them directly. What’s that?”
“The dog,” said Mark in the same low tone, for Bruff had softly crept to their side, looked up in their faces, and lain down.
“Why, hallo!” exclaimed the major, “this isn’t natural.”
“What?”
“This dog. There can’t be any savages on the way; and, what is more, you can’t have shot a serpent, or Bruff here would have been excited and routed him out. Did you see the serpent?”
“No, sir; I didn’t see it exactly, but you heard it hiss.”
“But, hang it all, Mark! You didn’t shoot at a hiss, did you?”
“Well, no, sir. I was horribly startled, and shot down at the soft thing upon which I jumped.”
“But if you are entrusted with a gun,” said the major angrily, “you mustn’t take fright and shoot at what you hear and feel, my lad.”
“Did you see the savages, sir?” said Mark in self-defence.
“Well, no, but I saw the smoke of their fire; and here, Bruff, fetch him out, boy,” he continued, breaking off his speech, and with cocked gun he parted the twigs and fronds cautiously as he stepped down into the hollow from which Mark had fled.
Hiss! hiss! hiss! came sharply from where the major stepped, and he in turn bounded back to Mark’s side, falling over the dog, and having some difficulty in recovering himself.
“That’s good! I like that,” he cried, as, instead of helping him, Mark covered his escape by taking a step forward, and bringing his gun to bear on the spot whence the sounds came.
“Did—did you see it?” said Mark huskily.
“See it! No, my lad. Only that! Look!”
He pointed as he rose to a filmy vapour floating away and dissolving in the sunshine. “You did not see that before because you fired. Don’t you see? It’s steam.”
“Steam!” said Mark.
“Yes. Look here. Give me your hand. I don’t want to go through.”
He caught Mark’s hand and stepped cautiously down, keeping one foot on sure ground, as with the other he pressed and stamped upon a spot that was quite elastic. At every stamp there was a hiss—a sharp, angry hiss and a puff of vapour rose from among the leaves.
“There’s your serpent,” he said, laughing. “No wonder you did not hit it.”
“Then that must be steam we saw over yonder, and not savages’ fires.”
“Right, my lad. A false alarm. We’re in a volcanic land, and if we search about I daresay we shall find hot springs somewhere.”
“It can’t be very safe,” said Mark thoughtfully, as he watched the little puffs of steam rise.
“Not if you jump on a soft place, for there would be no knowing where you went. But come along, I think we’ve done enough for one day, so let’s find our pigeons and get back.”
“Where’s Jacko?” said Mark, looking round.
“Jack! Last time I saw him he was up a tree eating those sour berries just after I shot the last pigeon. He must have stayed back to feed.”
They whistled and called, while, as if comprehending it all, the dog barked; but all was still, and in the hope of finding their hairy companion they now pressed steadily on, passing the tree laden still with a bright purple kind of berry, but there was no sign of Jack.
“He’ll return to savage life, safe,” said the major. “It is too much of a temptation to throw in his way. Why, Mark, if I were a monkey I think I should.”
“I don’t think he’d leave Bruff now,” replied Mark. “They’re such friends that they wouldn’t part, and I’m sure my dog wouldn’t go.”
He glanced down at Bruff as he spoke, and the dog barked at him, and raised his injured paw.
“Well, we shall see,” said the major, as they forced their way on. “There’s where we stopped to listen for birds,” he continued, “and there’s the tree upon which I hung the pigeons.”
“Where?” asked Mark.
“Yonder, straight before you. There, lad, fifty yards away.”
“But I can’t see any pigeons,” said Mark.
“Not near enough. Let’s get on, I’m growing hungry, and beginning to think of dinner, a cigar, a good rest, and a bathe in that delicious-looking sea. By the way, the clouds are gathering about the top of that mountain. I hope we shall have no storm to-night. Why, Mark, the pigeons are gone! I hung them upon that branch.”
Mark turned from gazing at the clouds, which seemed to be forming about the cone away to his right, and was obliged to confess that the pigeons were gone.
“Savage, or some animal,” said the major, peering cautiously round.
“Would it be a big bird—eagle or vulture?” said Mark. “I saw one fly over.”
“Might be,” replied the major. “I’m not naturalist enough to say; and if I was, I daren’t, Mark, for what a bird will do in one country it will not in another.”
Mark stared at him.
“Well, I mean this, Mark, my lad. At home, in England, the kingfishers sit on twigs over the streams, and dive into the water and catch fish. Here, in the East, numbers of them sit on twigs in the forest paths and catch beetles, so there’s no knowing what a bird of prey would do in a place like this.”
Just then they were close up to the tree, and Bruff set up a joyous barking, which was answered by the chattering of the monkey.
“Why, there’s Jack!” cried Mark.
“The rascal, he has got down my pigeons!” cried the major.
Just then a puff of feathers flew up in the air, and the two travellers stepped forward and simultaneously burst into a roar of laughter.
For there, in amongst the undergrowth, sat Jack, his hairy coat, head, arms, and legs covered with feathers, which formed quite a nest about him, and as they came up he chattered away loudly, and went on tearing the lavender plumage out of one of the great pigeons which lay in his lap, and scattering the soft down far and wide.
“Why, he must have seen the birds plucked yesterday,” said the major, wiping his eyes, so comical was the monkey’s seriously intent aspect, as he kept glancing up at them sharply, and then chattering and peering down at the half-denuded pigeon, his little black fingers nimbly twisting out the feathers, and his whole aspect suggestive of his being a cook in a tremendous hurry.
“There, come along,” continued the major; “pick up the birds, Mark.”
Easier said than done. There were three, but two, half-picked, had to be hunted out from the heap of feathers, and Jack objected to part with the third, holding on to it tightly till he was pressed back with the stock of the gun, after which the miserable half-picked birds were tied together by the legs and hung over the barrel.
They had no difficulty in finding the rest of the morning’s sport, and this done, the first being shouldered by the major, they walked as fast as the nature of the way would allow, back to the shore, unwillingly on Mark’s part, for there was always some brilliant bird or insect flitting across their path and inviting inspection.
But this inclination to stay was always checked by the major, who kept on bringing his companion back to the commonplace by uttering the one word, “Dinner!” and this sufficed.
Note 1. Attap, thatching made of the leaves of a palm—the nipah.
Chapter Twenty Seven.How Mark encountered a Savage.“We were beginning to think you long,” said the captain as they reached the cocoa-nut grove, having found that though there were signs of palm leaves and young trees having been cut by the mouth of the stream this had not been selected as the site of the huts.“We’ve been a long way,” said the major. “Not empty-handed, you see.”“Splendid,” cried the captain; “but you need not have stopped to pick them.”“Thereby hangs a tale,” said the major, laughing. “How’s Morgan?”“Much better, and sitting up. There, you see, we’ve not been idle.”He pointed to a large low hut formed in the cocoa-nut grove by utilising six growing trees as corners and centre-posts, and binding to these thin horizontal poles, freshly cut down for eaves and ridge. Others formed gables, being fixed by the sailors with their customary deftness, thin rattans being used as binding cords. Then other poles had been bound together for the roof, and over these an abundant thatching of palm leaves had been laid and laced on with rattan till there was a water-tight roof, and in addition one end was furnished with palm-leaf walls.“That will keep us dry if the rain comes,” said the captain, after due praise had been awarded for the energy displayed. “But now, quick: have a wash, and we’ll dine. Every one is hungry.”Mark’s eyes twinkled as he saw the preparations. Palm leaves were spread in two places, but the food supply was the same for all; and if they were going to feed as well during their stay on the island, they felt that they would not have much cause to complain.Food is so important a matter in our everyday life that, even without being sybarites, one may pause to give an account of the savage banquet prepared in the rock kitchen by the captain’s and major’s wives, aided by Mary O’Halloran, whilst the rest were busy hunting and building.There was another fish secured by Small, similar to the one Mark had caught, about two dozen little roast cockatoos, and an ample supply of baked shell-fish. These delicacies were supplemented by plenty of cocoa-nut milk and wild fruit, some of which was delicious.“I never had a better dinner in my life,” said the major. “It has been so good that I never once remembered our heavy fat Goura pigeons, which I had reckoned upon having for a treat.”“I think we ought to compliment the cooks,” said the captain. “Poor Morgan quite enjoyed his fish, and Brown says he didn’t know cockatoos could taste so good.”“I think we’ve fallen into a kind of Eden,” said Gregory pleasantly. “If we could find some tea-trees or coffee-bushes, and a wheat-field and windmill, we shouldn’t want anything more.”“Ah!” said the captain gravely; “we should want a great deal more than those to make up for the loss of civilisation; but let’s try and do our best under the circumstances.”“Why, we are doing it,” said Mrs O’Halloran with a smile.“True, madam; and I thank you for your brave, true womanly help, both for the wounded and for my men.”“Thank your wife too, captain,” said Mrs O’Halloran gravely.“She does not need it, madam,” said Captain Strong. “It is her duty.”That night passed quite peacefully, the watch hearing nothing of the strange roar. The next day busy hands were at work making a second hut for the men, every one working his best so as to be prepared for the tropical showers, which have a habit of coming on nearly daily; but this day broke gloriously fine, and palm leaves were cut and carried, bamboos discovered and cut down for poles and rafters, and the men worked with such good heart that the second hut towards afternoon began to assume shape.The ladies were as busy as ever, undertaking the nursing and cooking; but Morgan relieved them of half the former by getting up to seat himself under a shady tree and watch the progress made.Mark and the major were told off for their former task of finding provisions; and, nothing loth, they started in good time, choosing another route—that is to say, they struck off to the east—going beyond the cooking place among the rocks, meaning to see if any of the great grey pigeons were to be found in that direction by some other pass into the interior.Their walk was glorious; with the beautiful lagoon on one side, evidently crowded with fish, and the fringe of cocoa-nut trees on their left; while from time to time, as the groves opened, they obtained glimpses of the volcanic cone.Bruff and Jack took it as a matter of course that they were to belong to the foraging party, and trotted along over the sand, the one eagerly on the search for something that he might hunt, the other with his little restless eyes watching for fruit. But neither met with any reward.Picking out the firm sand where the tide had gone down the hunters found good walking, and were able to leave the encampment several miles behind without feeling any fatigue, but the game-bags which they had this time slung over their shoulders, remained empty, and the guns seemed to increase in weight.“I wish we could get right round and prove that this is an island,” said the major; “but we must not attempt it to-day. Are these cocoa-nut palms never coming to an end?”“Let’s go through them, and try to reach the foot of the mountain,” said Mark at last. “I want to get a supply of something to eat, but I should like to see the mountain close to.”“And go up it and peep in at the crater, eh?”“Indeed I should, sir.”“Ah, well! we’ll see about that; but work first, Mark. We must get a load of birds or a pig.”“Think there are pigs, sir?”“Can’t say. I haven’t seen a sign of one yet. If it is a part of some great island we may find deer.”They tramped on, hoping to find a stream, but another two miles were traversed before they came upon a rushing rivulet, gurgling down from among piled-up masses of blackish vesicular rock, which the major at once dubbed scoria.“Now for a good drink,” he said. “I’m thirsty;” and they both lay down to drink from a pool of the loveliest nature, so clear was the water, so beautiful the ferns and other growth that overhung.But at the first mouthful both rose, spitting it out, and ready to express their disgust.“Why, it’s bitter, and salt, and physicky as a mineral spring,” said the major.“And it’s quite hot,” said Mark. “Ugh! what stuff!”It was disappointing, for they were both suffering from thirst; but it was evident that to penetrate the jungle from where they stood would be next to impossible, so craggy and rocky was the ground, while, as after struggling on for about a couple of hundred yards, they found the water grown already so hot that it was almost too much for their hands, they concluded that if they persevered they would find it boiling—an interesting fact for a student of the wonders of nature, but an unsatisfactory matter for a thirsty man.“What a place for a botanist!” cried the major. “We could fill our bags with wonders; but a good patch of Indian corn would be the greatest discovery we could find now, for, Mark, my lad, we shall find that we want flour in some form.”“Is Indian corn likely to grow here?”“If some kind friend who has visited this shore has been good enough to plant some—not without.”They stood gazing for a few minutes at the wondrously fertile growth of the plants whose roots found their way to the warm stream, and whose leaves received the steamy moisture, and then climbed slowly back.“We must explore inland some day, Mark, and see if we can find a hot spring of good water fit to cook in. I must say I should not like my cabbage boiled in that.”“That’s better,” said Mark as they reached the sand once more, and stood panting.“Yes; the other’s ‘pad for the poots,’ as a Welsh friend of mine used to say. Now, then, forward to find fresh water and birds. We’ll go another mile, and if we don’t find a stream we must try for some fruit.”The dog trotted on a little ahead, and, to their great delight, they came to the end of the monotonous fringe of cocoa-nuts and found that quite a different class of vegetation came down close to the shore, which now grew more rocky, and it was not long before they were able to slake their thirst on the pleasant sub-acid fruit of a kind of passion-flower.A few hundred yards further and Bruff began to trot, breaking into a canter of two legs after one, and suddenly turned into the jungle, to come back barking.They soon reached the spot, to find that quite a fount of pure-looking water was welling up out of a rock basin, trickling over and losing itself in the sand, while upon a tree close at hand were at least a hundred tiny parrots not larger than sparrows, fluttering, piping, and whistling as they rifled the tree of its fruit.“Too small for food unless we were starving,” said the major. “We shall have to fill our bags with what answer here to cockles and mussels, Mark. We must not go home empty-handed.”“Shall I try the water first?” said Mark.“No need,” said the major, pointing to where, at a lesser pool, Bruff and Jack were slaking their thirst.The example set by the two animals was followed, and deep draughts taken of the delicious water, which was as cool and sweet as the other spring had been nauseous and hot.“Now, then; forward once more,” said the major. “Just one more mile, and then back, though I believe we could get round, for we must have come so that the huts are quite to the south. Yes; we’re travelling north-west now, and when we started we were going north-east.”“Hist! Look!” whispered Mark; and he pointed forward.“Phew!” whistled the major. “Down, Bruff! To heel!”The dog obeyed, and cocking their guns, and keeping as close to the trees as the rocky nature of the soil would allow, the two hunters approached the game Mark had pointed out.Strange-looking birds they were, each as big as a small turkey, and, provided that they were not of the gull tribe, promising to be an admirable addition to the pot.But though they advanced cautiously, neither the major nor Mark could get within shot, the birds taking alarm and scurrying over the sand rapidly.They tried again, taking shelter, going through all the manoeuvres of a stalker; but their quarry was too wary, and went off at a tremendous rate, but only to stop when well out of reach and begin digging and scratching in the sand somewhat after the fashion of common fowls.“It’s of no use,” said Mark at last, throwing himself down hot and exhausted after they had followed the tempting creatures for fully a mile.“No use!” said the major. “What, give up! Do you know what Lord Lytton says in Richelieu?”“No,” said Mark wearily; and then to himself—“and I don’t care.”“‘In the bright lexicon of youth there is no such word as fail.’”“But then Lord Lytton had not been out here hungry and thirsty, toiling after these sandy jack-o’-lanterns with a heavy gun,” said Mark.“Probably not,” said the major. “But, never mind: we may get a shot yet. One more steady try, and then we’ll go back.”“Oh, Major O’Halloran, what a man you are to walk!” said Mark, rising wearily.“Yes, my lad,” said the major smiling. “I belong to a marching regiment. Now, look here, Mark; I’m quite sure those birds would eat deliciously roasted, and that the ladies would each like a bit of the breast.”“Let’s try, then, once more,” said Mark; and they went on, with Bruff dutifully trotting behind waiting for the first shot and the fall of a bird.But no; as they advanced the birds still went on, running well out of range and stopping again to scratch and feed.There were about fifteen of them, and the more they kept ahead the more eager grew their stalkers, till after this had been going on for another half-hour Bruff could stand it no longer, but dashed off at full speed, barking furiously, with the result that instead of running off like the wind the birds stopped staring for a few seconds and then all took flight.“That’s done it!” cried the major angrily. “Hang that dog! No: look, Mark!”“Yes, we may get a shot now,” he cried; “they’re all in those trees.”“Well, keep close in, and we’ll have a try.”They had a couple of hundred yards to go to where Bruff stood barking furiously at the birds, which kept in the moderately high boughs staring stupidly down at him, and so intent upon the beast, so novel evidently to them, that the two hunters had a chance to get close up, and taking his time from the major, Mark fixed the quivering sight of his gun on one of the birds, and drew trigger just as the major fired twice.As the smoke blew away there was a whirring of wings and three heavy thuds upon the ground.Away went the birds, but only about fifty yards more, to settle again, Bruff keeping up with them, and again taking their attention by barking furiously.The manoeuvres of approaching were again successfully gone through, and this time the major whispered:“Loaded again?”“Yes.”“Then fire both barrels this time. Try and get a right and left. Fire!”Their pieces went off simultaneously the first time; then the major’s second barrel rang out, and Mark’s second directly afterwards, and by sheer luck—ill-luck for the birds—he brought down his first bird from the branch of the tree dead, and in his random flying shot winged one of the others so badly that it fell, and Bruff caught it before it had time to recover and race away.“Hurrah!” shouted the major as the diminished flock now flew inland over the jungle. “Seven birds, Mark: a load. And you said you couldn’t shoot! Why, it’s glorious!”“I’m sure it was accident, sir,” said Mark with his cheeks burning.“Then bless all such accidents say I, a hungry man!”“Yah!” came faintly from a distance.“What’s that?” cried the major.“Yah!” came again, or what sounded like it, for to their startled ears it was more like a savage yell.“Load quickly,” cried the major, setting the example. “Savages at last. Now, the birds and a quick retreat. Wonder how heavy they are; but save them I will if I have a stand to defend them, and send you back for help.”Mark caught up his heavy birds and ran back with the major to where the first they had shot lay, while from behind came another yell, and looking over his shoulder Mark saw that a spear-armed figure was coming rapidly in pursuit.
“We were beginning to think you long,” said the captain as they reached the cocoa-nut grove, having found that though there were signs of palm leaves and young trees having been cut by the mouth of the stream this had not been selected as the site of the huts.
“We’ve been a long way,” said the major. “Not empty-handed, you see.”
“Splendid,” cried the captain; “but you need not have stopped to pick them.”
“Thereby hangs a tale,” said the major, laughing. “How’s Morgan?”
“Much better, and sitting up. There, you see, we’ve not been idle.”
He pointed to a large low hut formed in the cocoa-nut grove by utilising six growing trees as corners and centre-posts, and binding to these thin horizontal poles, freshly cut down for eaves and ridge. Others formed gables, being fixed by the sailors with their customary deftness, thin rattans being used as binding cords. Then other poles had been bound together for the roof, and over these an abundant thatching of palm leaves had been laid and laced on with rattan till there was a water-tight roof, and in addition one end was furnished with palm-leaf walls.
“That will keep us dry if the rain comes,” said the captain, after due praise had been awarded for the energy displayed. “But now, quick: have a wash, and we’ll dine. Every one is hungry.”
Mark’s eyes twinkled as he saw the preparations. Palm leaves were spread in two places, but the food supply was the same for all; and if they were going to feed as well during their stay on the island, they felt that they would not have much cause to complain.
Food is so important a matter in our everyday life that, even without being sybarites, one may pause to give an account of the savage banquet prepared in the rock kitchen by the captain’s and major’s wives, aided by Mary O’Halloran, whilst the rest were busy hunting and building.
There was another fish secured by Small, similar to the one Mark had caught, about two dozen little roast cockatoos, and an ample supply of baked shell-fish. These delicacies were supplemented by plenty of cocoa-nut milk and wild fruit, some of which was delicious.
“I never had a better dinner in my life,” said the major. “It has been so good that I never once remembered our heavy fat Goura pigeons, which I had reckoned upon having for a treat.”
“I think we ought to compliment the cooks,” said the captain. “Poor Morgan quite enjoyed his fish, and Brown says he didn’t know cockatoos could taste so good.”
“I think we’ve fallen into a kind of Eden,” said Gregory pleasantly. “If we could find some tea-trees or coffee-bushes, and a wheat-field and windmill, we shouldn’t want anything more.”
“Ah!” said the captain gravely; “we should want a great deal more than those to make up for the loss of civilisation; but let’s try and do our best under the circumstances.”
“Why, we are doing it,” said Mrs O’Halloran with a smile.
“True, madam; and I thank you for your brave, true womanly help, both for the wounded and for my men.”
“Thank your wife too, captain,” said Mrs O’Halloran gravely.
“She does not need it, madam,” said Captain Strong. “It is her duty.”
That night passed quite peacefully, the watch hearing nothing of the strange roar. The next day busy hands were at work making a second hut for the men, every one working his best so as to be prepared for the tropical showers, which have a habit of coming on nearly daily; but this day broke gloriously fine, and palm leaves were cut and carried, bamboos discovered and cut down for poles and rafters, and the men worked with such good heart that the second hut towards afternoon began to assume shape.
The ladies were as busy as ever, undertaking the nursing and cooking; but Morgan relieved them of half the former by getting up to seat himself under a shady tree and watch the progress made.
Mark and the major were told off for their former task of finding provisions; and, nothing loth, they started in good time, choosing another route—that is to say, they struck off to the east—going beyond the cooking place among the rocks, meaning to see if any of the great grey pigeons were to be found in that direction by some other pass into the interior.
Their walk was glorious; with the beautiful lagoon on one side, evidently crowded with fish, and the fringe of cocoa-nut trees on their left; while from time to time, as the groves opened, they obtained glimpses of the volcanic cone.
Bruff and Jack took it as a matter of course that they were to belong to the foraging party, and trotted along over the sand, the one eagerly on the search for something that he might hunt, the other with his little restless eyes watching for fruit. But neither met with any reward.
Picking out the firm sand where the tide had gone down the hunters found good walking, and were able to leave the encampment several miles behind without feeling any fatigue, but the game-bags which they had this time slung over their shoulders, remained empty, and the guns seemed to increase in weight.
“I wish we could get right round and prove that this is an island,” said the major; “but we must not attempt it to-day. Are these cocoa-nut palms never coming to an end?”
“Let’s go through them, and try to reach the foot of the mountain,” said Mark at last. “I want to get a supply of something to eat, but I should like to see the mountain close to.”
“And go up it and peep in at the crater, eh?”
“Indeed I should, sir.”
“Ah, well! we’ll see about that; but work first, Mark. We must get a load of birds or a pig.”
“Think there are pigs, sir?”
“Can’t say. I haven’t seen a sign of one yet. If it is a part of some great island we may find deer.”
They tramped on, hoping to find a stream, but another two miles were traversed before they came upon a rushing rivulet, gurgling down from among piled-up masses of blackish vesicular rock, which the major at once dubbed scoria.
“Now for a good drink,” he said. “I’m thirsty;” and they both lay down to drink from a pool of the loveliest nature, so clear was the water, so beautiful the ferns and other growth that overhung.
But at the first mouthful both rose, spitting it out, and ready to express their disgust.
“Why, it’s bitter, and salt, and physicky as a mineral spring,” said the major.
“And it’s quite hot,” said Mark. “Ugh! what stuff!”
It was disappointing, for they were both suffering from thirst; but it was evident that to penetrate the jungle from where they stood would be next to impossible, so craggy and rocky was the ground, while, as after struggling on for about a couple of hundred yards, they found the water grown already so hot that it was almost too much for their hands, they concluded that if they persevered they would find it boiling—an interesting fact for a student of the wonders of nature, but an unsatisfactory matter for a thirsty man.
“What a place for a botanist!” cried the major. “We could fill our bags with wonders; but a good patch of Indian corn would be the greatest discovery we could find now, for, Mark, my lad, we shall find that we want flour in some form.”
“Is Indian corn likely to grow here?”
“If some kind friend who has visited this shore has been good enough to plant some—not without.”
They stood gazing for a few minutes at the wondrously fertile growth of the plants whose roots found their way to the warm stream, and whose leaves received the steamy moisture, and then climbed slowly back.
“We must explore inland some day, Mark, and see if we can find a hot spring of good water fit to cook in. I must say I should not like my cabbage boiled in that.”
“That’s better,” said Mark as they reached the sand once more, and stood panting.
“Yes; the other’s ‘pad for the poots,’ as a Welsh friend of mine used to say. Now, then, forward to find fresh water and birds. We’ll go another mile, and if we don’t find a stream we must try for some fruit.”
The dog trotted on a little ahead, and, to their great delight, they came to the end of the monotonous fringe of cocoa-nuts and found that quite a different class of vegetation came down close to the shore, which now grew more rocky, and it was not long before they were able to slake their thirst on the pleasant sub-acid fruit of a kind of passion-flower.
A few hundred yards further and Bruff began to trot, breaking into a canter of two legs after one, and suddenly turned into the jungle, to come back barking.
They soon reached the spot, to find that quite a fount of pure-looking water was welling up out of a rock basin, trickling over and losing itself in the sand, while upon a tree close at hand were at least a hundred tiny parrots not larger than sparrows, fluttering, piping, and whistling as they rifled the tree of its fruit.
“Too small for food unless we were starving,” said the major. “We shall have to fill our bags with what answer here to cockles and mussels, Mark. We must not go home empty-handed.”
“Shall I try the water first?” said Mark.
“No need,” said the major, pointing to where, at a lesser pool, Bruff and Jack were slaking their thirst.
The example set by the two animals was followed, and deep draughts taken of the delicious water, which was as cool and sweet as the other spring had been nauseous and hot.
“Now, then; forward once more,” said the major. “Just one more mile, and then back, though I believe we could get round, for we must have come so that the huts are quite to the south. Yes; we’re travelling north-west now, and when we started we were going north-east.”
“Hist! Look!” whispered Mark; and he pointed forward.
“Phew!” whistled the major. “Down, Bruff! To heel!”
The dog obeyed, and cocking their guns, and keeping as close to the trees as the rocky nature of the soil would allow, the two hunters approached the game Mark had pointed out.
Strange-looking birds they were, each as big as a small turkey, and, provided that they were not of the gull tribe, promising to be an admirable addition to the pot.
But though they advanced cautiously, neither the major nor Mark could get within shot, the birds taking alarm and scurrying over the sand rapidly.
They tried again, taking shelter, going through all the manoeuvres of a stalker; but their quarry was too wary, and went off at a tremendous rate, but only to stop when well out of reach and begin digging and scratching in the sand somewhat after the fashion of common fowls.
“It’s of no use,” said Mark at last, throwing himself down hot and exhausted after they had followed the tempting creatures for fully a mile.
“No use!” said the major. “What, give up! Do you know what Lord Lytton says in Richelieu?”
“No,” said Mark wearily; and then to himself—“and I don’t care.”
“‘In the bright lexicon of youth there is no such word as fail.’”
“But then Lord Lytton had not been out here hungry and thirsty, toiling after these sandy jack-o’-lanterns with a heavy gun,” said Mark.
“Probably not,” said the major. “But, never mind: we may get a shot yet. One more steady try, and then we’ll go back.”
“Oh, Major O’Halloran, what a man you are to walk!” said Mark, rising wearily.
“Yes, my lad,” said the major smiling. “I belong to a marching regiment. Now, look here, Mark; I’m quite sure those birds would eat deliciously roasted, and that the ladies would each like a bit of the breast.”
“Let’s try, then, once more,” said Mark; and they went on, with Bruff dutifully trotting behind waiting for the first shot and the fall of a bird.
But no; as they advanced the birds still went on, running well out of range and stopping again to scratch and feed.
There were about fifteen of them, and the more they kept ahead the more eager grew their stalkers, till after this had been going on for another half-hour Bruff could stand it no longer, but dashed off at full speed, barking furiously, with the result that instead of running off like the wind the birds stopped staring for a few seconds and then all took flight.
“That’s done it!” cried the major angrily. “Hang that dog! No: look, Mark!”
“Yes, we may get a shot now,” he cried; “they’re all in those trees.”
“Well, keep close in, and we’ll have a try.”
They had a couple of hundred yards to go to where Bruff stood barking furiously at the birds, which kept in the moderately high boughs staring stupidly down at him, and so intent upon the beast, so novel evidently to them, that the two hunters had a chance to get close up, and taking his time from the major, Mark fixed the quivering sight of his gun on one of the birds, and drew trigger just as the major fired twice.
As the smoke blew away there was a whirring of wings and three heavy thuds upon the ground.
Away went the birds, but only about fifty yards more, to settle again, Bruff keeping up with them, and again taking their attention by barking furiously.
The manoeuvres of approaching were again successfully gone through, and this time the major whispered:
“Loaded again?”
“Yes.”
“Then fire both barrels this time. Try and get a right and left. Fire!”
Their pieces went off simultaneously the first time; then the major’s second barrel rang out, and Mark’s second directly afterwards, and by sheer luck—ill-luck for the birds—he brought down his first bird from the branch of the tree dead, and in his random flying shot winged one of the others so badly that it fell, and Bruff caught it before it had time to recover and race away.
“Hurrah!” shouted the major as the diminished flock now flew inland over the jungle. “Seven birds, Mark: a load. And you said you couldn’t shoot! Why, it’s glorious!”
“I’m sure it was accident, sir,” said Mark with his cheeks burning.
“Then bless all such accidents say I, a hungry man!”
“Yah!” came faintly from a distance.
“What’s that?” cried the major.
“Yah!” came again, or what sounded like it, for to their startled ears it was more like a savage yell.
“Load quickly,” cried the major, setting the example. “Savages at last. Now, the birds and a quick retreat. Wonder how heavy they are; but save them I will if I have a stand to defend them, and send you back for help.”
Mark caught up his heavy birds and ran back with the major to where the first they had shot lay, while from behind came another yell, and looking over his shoulder Mark saw that a spear-armed figure was coming rapidly in pursuit.