Chapter Twenty One.I communicated my convictions to Ben, who still persisted in calling the tree a palm. How should I know what sort of a tree it was, since I had never seen one before? I told Ben of the book and the picture but he was still incredulous.“Well then,” said I, “I’ll tell you how we can prove whether I am right or no.”“How?” demanded Ben.“Why, if the tree bleeds it must be a dragon.”“Bleeds?” echoed Ben, “why, my boy, ain’t you mad? who e’er heard o’ a tree bleedin’?”“Run sap, I mean.”“Oh that be hanged, lad! Sure you know that any sort o’ tree ’ll run sap; ’ceptin’ it be a dead ’un.”“But not red sap!”“What! you think yon ere tree ’ud run red sap, do ye?”“I am almost sure of it—red as blood.”“Well, if it do then I’ll believe ’ee, my lad; but it are precious easy to try. Let’s go up to it, and gie it a prod with the knife, and then we’ll see what sort o’ sap it’s got in its ugly veins—for dang it, it are about the ugliest piece o’ growin’ timber I e’er set eyes on; ne’er a mast nor spar to be had out o’ it, I reckon. It sartinly are ugly enough to make a gallows of. Come on, my lad!”Ben started forward towards the tree, and I followed him. We did not walk particularly fast, as there was no need to be in a hurry. The tree was not likely to run away from us like the birds and beasts. There were no signs of motion about it; and it would have taken a strong wind to have stirred, either its leaves or branches. It had a look of great firmness, and more resembled cast-iron than a vegetable substance; but as we drew nearer, its forbidding aspect was to some extent relieved by the appearance of its flowers, the strong fragrance of which reached our nostrils from a great distance off.Immediately around the tree, and for several yards outwards, there was a bed of tall, sedge-looking grass. It was withered, and of a yellowish colour, not unlike a piece of standing wheat, but much taller. It appeared a little trampled and tossed, as if some heavy animal had been passing through it, and in one or two places had rolled in it. This might all very naturally be, in a country where large animals abound. The antelopes might have been there, resting themselves under the shade, and taking advantage of the fine grass to couch upon.Neither my companion nor I took any heed of these signs, but walked boldly up to the tree; and Ben, without more ado, drew his great jack-knife, and struck the blade forcibly into the bark.Whether there came out red juice or yellow juice, or any juice at all neither of us waited to see; for as if the stroke of the knife had been a signal, a huge animal leaped up out of the grass, not twenty feet from where we stood, and remained gazing at us. To our horror we saw that it was a lion! It needed no naturalist to recognise this fellow. The dun-coloured body, with dark, shaggy mane—the broad, full face, and wrinkled jaws—the fierce, yellow eye, and bristled, cat-like snout, were not to be mistaken.My companion and I had both seen lions in shows and menageries, as who has not? But even had we never looked on one before, it would have been all the same. A mere infant might recognise the terrible animal and point him out amidst all the beasts in the world.Ben and I were horror-struck—perfectly paralysed by the unexpected apparition; and remained so for some seconds—in fact, so long as the lion stood his ground. To our great joy that was not a long while. The enormous beast gazed at us a few seconds—apparently more in wonderment than anger—and then, uttering a low growl to express some slight displeasure at having his rest disturbed, he dropped his tail and turned sulkily away. And thus do lions generally behave at the approach of man—especially if they are not hungry, and be not assailed by the intruder.He moved off, however, but very slowly—at intervals crouching down and turning his head backward, as if “looking over his shoulder” to see whether we were following. We had no notion of such a thing. Not a foot did we intend to follow him, not even an inch. On the contrary, we had rather receded from our position, and placed the huge trunk of the tree between him and us. Of course this would have been no protection had he chosen to return and attack us, but, although he did not go as fast as we could have wished, he showed no signs of coming back and we began to recover confidence.We might have retreated upon the plain, but that would have been of no use, and very probably would have been the means of drawing the lion after us. We knew very well he could soon overtake us, and of course a blow apiece from his enormous paws would have knocked us into “smithereens,” or, as my companion more elegantly expressed it, “into the middle of next week.”It is quite probable that had this lion been let alone, he would have gone entirely away without molesting us. But was he not let alone. My companion was a bold, rash man—too bold and too rash upon that occasion. It occurred to him that the enemy was moving off too slowly; and fancying, in his foolish way, that a shot from “Queen Anne” might intimidate the brute and quicken his pace, he rested the piece upon one of the old leaf-marks of the tree, and, taking steady aim, banged away.Likely enough the shot hit the lion—for he was not yet fifty yards from the muzzle of the gun—but what effect could a load of snipe-shot produce upon the thick hide of an enormous brute like that?In the lion’s mind, however, it produced the very opposite effect to what my companion anticipated, for it neither caused him to run away or even quicken his pace, nor yet frightened him any way. On the contrary, almost simultaneously with the report, he uttered a loud scream, and, turning in his track, came bounding towards the tree!
I communicated my convictions to Ben, who still persisted in calling the tree a palm. How should I know what sort of a tree it was, since I had never seen one before? I told Ben of the book and the picture but he was still incredulous.
“Well then,” said I, “I’ll tell you how we can prove whether I am right or no.”
“How?” demanded Ben.
“Why, if the tree bleeds it must be a dragon.”
“Bleeds?” echoed Ben, “why, my boy, ain’t you mad? who e’er heard o’ a tree bleedin’?”
“Run sap, I mean.”
“Oh that be hanged, lad! Sure you know that any sort o’ tree ’ll run sap; ’ceptin’ it be a dead ’un.”
“But not red sap!”
“What! you think yon ere tree ’ud run red sap, do ye?”
“I am almost sure of it—red as blood.”
“Well, if it do then I’ll believe ’ee, my lad; but it are precious easy to try. Let’s go up to it, and gie it a prod with the knife, and then we’ll see what sort o’ sap it’s got in its ugly veins—for dang it, it are about the ugliest piece o’ growin’ timber I e’er set eyes on; ne’er a mast nor spar to be had out o’ it, I reckon. It sartinly are ugly enough to make a gallows of. Come on, my lad!”
Ben started forward towards the tree, and I followed him. We did not walk particularly fast, as there was no need to be in a hurry. The tree was not likely to run away from us like the birds and beasts. There were no signs of motion about it; and it would have taken a strong wind to have stirred, either its leaves or branches. It had a look of great firmness, and more resembled cast-iron than a vegetable substance; but as we drew nearer, its forbidding aspect was to some extent relieved by the appearance of its flowers, the strong fragrance of which reached our nostrils from a great distance off.
Immediately around the tree, and for several yards outwards, there was a bed of tall, sedge-looking grass. It was withered, and of a yellowish colour, not unlike a piece of standing wheat, but much taller. It appeared a little trampled and tossed, as if some heavy animal had been passing through it, and in one or two places had rolled in it. This might all very naturally be, in a country where large animals abound. The antelopes might have been there, resting themselves under the shade, and taking advantage of the fine grass to couch upon.
Neither my companion nor I took any heed of these signs, but walked boldly up to the tree; and Ben, without more ado, drew his great jack-knife, and struck the blade forcibly into the bark.
Whether there came out red juice or yellow juice, or any juice at all neither of us waited to see; for as if the stroke of the knife had been a signal, a huge animal leaped up out of the grass, not twenty feet from where we stood, and remained gazing at us. To our horror we saw that it was a lion! It needed no naturalist to recognise this fellow. The dun-coloured body, with dark, shaggy mane—the broad, full face, and wrinkled jaws—the fierce, yellow eye, and bristled, cat-like snout, were not to be mistaken.
My companion and I had both seen lions in shows and menageries, as who has not? But even had we never looked on one before, it would have been all the same. A mere infant might recognise the terrible animal and point him out amidst all the beasts in the world.
Ben and I were horror-struck—perfectly paralysed by the unexpected apparition; and remained so for some seconds—in fact, so long as the lion stood his ground. To our great joy that was not a long while. The enormous beast gazed at us a few seconds—apparently more in wonderment than anger—and then, uttering a low growl to express some slight displeasure at having his rest disturbed, he dropped his tail and turned sulkily away. And thus do lions generally behave at the approach of man—especially if they are not hungry, and be not assailed by the intruder.
He moved off, however, but very slowly—at intervals crouching down and turning his head backward, as if “looking over his shoulder” to see whether we were following. We had no notion of such a thing. Not a foot did we intend to follow him, not even an inch. On the contrary, we had rather receded from our position, and placed the huge trunk of the tree between him and us. Of course this would have been no protection had he chosen to return and attack us, but, although he did not go as fast as we could have wished, he showed no signs of coming back and we began to recover confidence.
We might have retreated upon the plain, but that would have been of no use, and very probably would have been the means of drawing the lion after us. We knew very well he could soon overtake us, and of course a blow apiece from his enormous paws would have knocked us into “smithereens,” or, as my companion more elegantly expressed it, “into the middle of next week.”
It is quite probable that had this lion been let alone, he would have gone entirely away without molesting us. But was he not let alone. My companion was a bold, rash man—too bold and too rash upon that occasion. It occurred to him that the enemy was moving off too slowly; and fancying, in his foolish way, that a shot from “Queen Anne” might intimidate the brute and quicken his pace, he rested the piece upon one of the old leaf-marks of the tree, and, taking steady aim, banged away.
Likely enough the shot hit the lion—for he was not yet fifty yards from the muzzle of the gun—but what effect could a load of snipe-shot produce upon the thick hide of an enormous brute like that?
In the lion’s mind, however, it produced the very opposite effect to what my companion anticipated, for it neither caused him to run away or even quicken his pace, nor yet frightened him any way. On the contrary, almost simultaneously with the report, he uttered a loud scream, and, turning in his track, came bounding towards the tree!
Chapter Twenty Two.No doubt in less than another minute Ben Brace and I would have ceased to live. I had made up my mind that both of us would be torn to pieces—and certainly this would have been the result had my companion not been a man of ready resources. But fortunately, he was so, and at that crisis conceived a means of escape from the danger that threatened us. Perhaps he had thought of it before. It is most probable he had, otherwise he would scarce have acted so imprudently as he had done—for nothing could have been more imprudent than firing at a lion upon an open plain with nothing but snipe-shot in the gun!It is likely, however, that Ben had though of his means of retreat before firing that shot, though what they were I could not imagine. We were upon the ground, with the thick trunk of a tree between us and the lion; but of course, that would be no protection since the beast saw us, and would soon come round to our side. How then were we to retreat? For my part I believed we should both be killed and devoured.Ben was of a different opinion, and before I could do more than give utterance to an exclamation of terror, he had caught me by the legs and hoisted me high above his shoulders into the air!“Now, lad,” shouted he, “lay hold of the branch and hoist yourself up. Quick!—quick! or the beast’ll be on us.”I at once divined his intention; and, without waiting to make reply, I seized one of the branches of the dragon-tree, and commenced drawing myself upward. The branch was just as high as I could reach with my hands—even when held up in the arms of the tall sailor—and it was no easy matter to raise my body up to it; but during the voyage I had learned to climb like a monkey, and, after some twisting and wriggling, I succeeded in gaining a lodgment among the limbs of the tree.Meanwhile Ben was as busy as myself in making the ascent. He had resigned his hold of me, as soon as he perceived that I caught the branch; and was now using all his energies, and all his craft too, to get out of the way of the lion. Unfortunately the limbs of the tree were too high for him to lay hold of, and he was compelled to resort to a different mode of climbing. Of course, the trunk was by far too thick for him to get his arms around it and climb by hugging—he might as readily have hugged a wall. Fortunately, however, the bark was full of irregularities—little knots and notches, the scars of the old leaf-marks, that had long ago fallen off, with some larger holes, where, perhaps, whole branches had been broken off by the wind. The quick eye of the sailor at once perceived the advantage of these marks—which would serve him as steps—and kicking off his shoes, he clutched the trunk both with fingers and toes, and commenced climbing upward like a cat.It was sharp work, and he was obliged to take a little time and make it sure. Had he lost balance and fallen back, he would not have had time to make a second attempt before the lion should arrive upon the ground; and, well knowing this, he held on with “teeth and toe-nail.”By good fortune I had now squared myself face downward upon the branch, and as the collar of Ben’s guernsey came within reach of my hand I was able to give him a help; so that the next moment he succeeded in getting hold of a limb, and swinging himself into the fork of the tree.It was a close shave, however; for just as Ben drew his dangling feet among the branches the lion reached the ground, and, bounding upwards, struck his paw fiercely against the trunk, causing the bark to fly off in large pieces. There was not three inches between the tips of his claws and the soles of Ben’s feet as this stroke was given; and had he succeeded in grasping the ankle of my companion, it would have been the last bit of climbing poor Brace would ever have made; for the paw of the lion is like a hand, and he could easily have dragged his victim back to the ground again. It was a narrow escape, therefore, but as Ben afterwards remarked, “an inch of a miss was as good as a mile,” and the sequel in this case proved the justice of the adage, for we were now safe among the branches where the lion could not possibly reach us.At the time, however, we were far from being satisfied upon this head, and for a long while entertained no very confident feeling of security. We both knew that lions cannot climb an ordinary tree. They have not the power of “hugging” with which some bears are gifted, and of course cannot ascend in that manner. Neither can they climb as cats do; for although the lion if neither more nor less than a great cat—the biggest of all cats—and is furnished with retractile claws, such as cats have, yet these last are usually so worn and blunted, that the king of beasts can make but little use of them in attempting to climb a tree. For this reason, tree-climbing is altogether out of his line, and he does not make any pretensions to the art; notwithstanding all this, he can rush a long way up the trunk by the mere strength of his elastic muscles, and particularly where the bark is rough on the surface, and the trunk large and firm as was that of the dragon-tree.No wonder, then, that our apprehensions continued; no wonder they increased when we saw the fierce brute crouch down at some paces distant from the trunk, and, spreading out his broad paws, deliberately set himself for a spring.Next moment he rushed forward about two lengths of his body, and then, bounding in a diagonal line, launched himself aloft. He must have leaped over ten feet in an upward direction—for his fore-paws struck the tree just under the forking of the branches—but to our great relief he was not able to retain his hold, and his huge body fell back to the ground.He was not discouraged by his failure; and, once more running outward, he turned and cowered for a second spring. This time he appeared more determined and certain of success. There was that expression in his hideous face, combined with the extreme of rage and fury. His lips were drawn back, and his white teeth and red frothy tongue were displayed in all their horrid nakedness; a hideous sight to behold. We trembled as we looked upon it.Another fierce growl—another rush forward—another bound—and before we had time to utter a word, we perceived the yellow paw of the lion spreadover the limb of the tree with his grinning muzzle and gleaming teeth close to our feet! In another instant the brute would have swung his body up, but my companion’s presence of mind did not forsake him at this crisis. Quick as thought was his action; and, before the lion had time to raise himself, the keen blade of the sailor’s knife had passed twice through the great paw,—inflicting at each stab a deep and bloody gash. At the same instant I had drawn the pistol, which I still carried in my belt, and fired as fair as I could in the face of the monster.Whether it was the knife or the pistol that produced the desired effect, I will not undertake to determine; but certainly an effect was produced by one or the other, or more likely both weapons deserve a share of the credit. Be this as it may, the effect was instantaneous; for the moment the shot was fired and the stabs were given, the lion dropped backward, and ran limping around the trunk of the tree, roaring and screaming in a voice that might have been heard at the distance of miles!From the manner in which he limped, it was evident that the wounds given by the knife were painful to him, and we could perceive by the blood upon his “countenance” that the shot, small as it was, had torn him considerably about the face.For a short time we were in hopes that after such a repulse he might take himself off, but we soon perceived that our hopes were fallacious; neither the stabs nor the shot had seriously injured him. They had only served to render him more furious and vengeful; and after tumbling about for a while, and angrily biting at his own bleeding paw, he returned once more to the attack, as before, endeavouring to spring up to the branches of the tree. I had reloaded the pistol. Ben was again ready with his blade; and, fixing ourselves firmly on our perch, we awaited the onset.Once more the lion bounded upward and launched himself against the trunk, but to our great joy we saw that he fell far short of his former leaps. Beyond a doubt his limb was disabled.Again and again he repeated the attempt, each time falling short as before. If fury could have availed, he would have succeeded; for he was now at the height of his rage, and making such a hideous combination of noises, that we could not hear our own voices when we spoke to each other.After several vain essays to reach us, the brute seemed to arrive at the conviction that the feat was beyond his powers, and he desisted from the attempt.But he had no intention of leaving the ground. On the contrary, we saw that he was determined to make us stand siege, for, to our great chagrin, we observed him trot a few paces from the trunk of the tree and crouch down in the grass—evidently with the intention of remaining there till we should be compelled to come down.
No doubt in less than another minute Ben Brace and I would have ceased to live. I had made up my mind that both of us would be torn to pieces—and certainly this would have been the result had my companion not been a man of ready resources. But fortunately, he was so, and at that crisis conceived a means of escape from the danger that threatened us. Perhaps he had thought of it before. It is most probable he had, otherwise he would scarce have acted so imprudently as he had done—for nothing could have been more imprudent than firing at a lion upon an open plain with nothing but snipe-shot in the gun!
It is likely, however, that Ben had though of his means of retreat before firing that shot, though what they were I could not imagine. We were upon the ground, with the thick trunk of a tree between us and the lion; but of course, that would be no protection since the beast saw us, and would soon come round to our side. How then were we to retreat? For my part I believed we should both be killed and devoured.
Ben was of a different opinion, and before I could do more than give utterance to an exclamation of terror, he had caught me by the legs and hoisted me high above his shoulders into the air!
“Now, lad,” shouted he, “lay hold of the branch and hoist yourself up. Quick!—quick! or the beast’ll be on us.”
I at once divined his intention; and, without waiting to make reply, I seized one of the branches of the dragon-tree, and commenced drawing myself upward. The branch was just as high as I could reach with my hands—even when held up in the arms of the tall sailor—and it was no easy matter to raise my body up to it; but during the voyage I had learned to climb like a monkey, and, after some twisting and wriggling, I succeeded in gaining a lodgment among the limbs of the tree.
Meanwhile Ben was as busy as myself in making the ascent. He had resigned his hold of me, as soon as he perceived that I caught the branch; and was now using all his energies, and all his craft too, to get out of the way of the lion. Unfortunately the limbs of the tree were too high for him to lay hold of, and he was compelled to resort to a different mode of climbing. Of course, the trunk was by far too thick for him to get his arms around it and climb by hugging—he might as readily have hugged a wall. Fortunately, however, the bark was full of irregularities—little knots and notches, the scars of the old leaf-marks, that had long ago fallen off, with some larger holes, where, perhaps, whole branches had been broken off by the wind. The quick eye of the sailor at once perceived the advantage of these marks—which would serve him as steps—and kicking off his shoes, he clutched the trunk both with fingers and toes, and commenced climbing upward like a cat.
It was sharp work, and he was obliged to take a little time and make it sure. Had he lost balance and fallen back, he would not have had time to make a second attempt before the lion should arrive upon the ground; and, well knowing this, he held on with “teeth and toe-nail.”
By good fortune I had now squared myself face downward upon the branch, and as the collar of Ben’s guernsey came within reach of my hand I was able to give him a help; so that the next moment he succeeded in getting hold of a limb, and swinging himself into the fork of the tree.
It was a close shave, however; for just as Ben drew his dangling feet among the branches the lion reached the ground, and, bounding upwards, struck his paw fiercely against the trunk, causing the bark to fly off in large pieces. There was not three inches between the tips of his claws and the soles of Ben’s feet as this stroke was given; and had he succeeded in grasping the ankle of my companion, it would have been the last bit of climbing poor Brace would ever have made; for the paw of the lion is like a hand, and he could easily have dragged his victim back to the ground again. It was a narrow escape, therefore, but as Ben afterwards remarked, “an inch of a miss was as good as a mile,” and the sequel in this case proved the justice of the adage, for we were now safe among the branches where the lion could not possibly reach us.
At the time, however, we were far from being satisfied upon this head, and for a long while entertained no very confident feeling of security. We both knew that lions cannot climb an ordinary tree. They have not the power of “hugging” with which some bears are gifted, and of course cannot ascend in that manner. Neither can they climb as cats do; for although the lion if neither more nor less than a great cat—the biggest of all cats—and is furnished with retractile claws, such as cats have, yet these last are usually so worn and blunted, that the king of beasts can make but little use of them in attempting to climb a tree. For this reason, tree-climbing is altogether out of his line, and he does not make any pretensions to the art; notwithstanding all this, he can rush a long way up the trunk by the mere strength of his elastic muscles, and particularly where the bark is rough on the surface, and the trunk large and firm as was that of the dragon-tree.
No wonder, then, that our apprehensions continued; no wonder they increased when we saw the fierce brute crouch down at some paces distant from the trunk, and, spreading out his broad paws, deliberately set himself for a spring.
Next moment he rushed forward about two lengths of his body, and then, bounding in a diagonal line, launched himself aloft. He must have leaped over ten feet in an upward direction—for his fore-paws struck the tree just under the forking of the branches—but to our great relief he was not able to retain his hold, and his huge body fell back to the ground.
He was not discouraged by his failure; and, once more running outward, he turned and cowered for a second spring. This time he appeared more determined and certain of success. There was that expression in his hideous face, combined with the extreme of rage and fury. His lips were drawn back, and his white teeth and red frothy tongue were displayed in all their horrid nakedness; a hideous sight to behold. We trembled as we looked upon it.
Another fierce growl—another rush forward—another bound—and before we had time to utter a word, we perceived the yellow paw of the lion spreadover the limb of the tree with his grinning muzzle and gleaming teeth close to our feet! In another instant the brute would have swung his body up, but my companion’s presence of mind did not forsake him at this crisis. Quick as thought was his action; and, before the lion had time to raise himself, the keen blade of the sailor’s knife had passed twice through the great paw,—inflicting at each stab a deep and bloody gash. At the same instant I had drawn the pistol, which I still carried in my belt, and fired as fair as I could in the face of the monster.
Whether it was the knife or the pistol that produced the desired effect, I will not undertake to determine; but certainly an effect was produced by one or the other, or more likely both weapons deserve a share of the credit. Be this as it may, the effect was instantaneous; for the moment the shot was fired and the stabs were given, the lion dropped backward, and ran limping around the trunk of the tree, roaring and screaming in a voice that might have been heard at the distance of miles!
From the manner in which he limped, it was evident that the wounds given by the knife were painful to him, and we could perceive by the blood upon his “countenance” that the shot, small as it was, had torn him considerably about the face.
For a short time we were in hopes that after such a repulse he might take himself off, but we soon perceived that our hopes were fallacious; neither the stabs nor the shot had seriously injured him. They had only served to render him more furious and vengeful; and after tumbling about for a while, and angrily biting at his own bleeding paw, he returned once more to the attack, as before, endeavouring to spring up to the branches of the tree. I had reloaded the pistol. Ben was again ready with his blade; and, fixing ourselves firmly on our perch, we awaited the onset.
Once more the lion bounded upward and launched himself against the trunk, but to our great joy we saw that he fell far short of his former leaps. Beyond a doubt his limb was disabled.
Again and again he repeated the attempt, each time falling short as before. If fury could have availed, he would have succeeded; for he was now at the height of his rage, and making such a hideous combination of noises, that we could not hear our own voices when we spoke to each other.
After several vain essays to reach us, the brute seemed to arrive at the conviction that the feat was beyond his powers, and he desisted from the attempt.
But he had no intention of leaving the ground. On the contrary, we saw that he was determined to make us stand siege, for, to our great chagrin, we observed him trot a few paces from the trunk of the tree and crouch down in the grass—evidently with the intention of remaining there till we should be compelled to come down.
Chapter Twenty Three.Of course my companion and I kept our places in the top of the tree; we could not do otherwise. Had we attempted to come down it would only have been to fling ourselves right into the jaws of the lion—who lay at just such a distance from the trunk that he could have reached us by a single bound, the moment we set foot upon the earth. There he lay or rather squatted, like a cat; though at intervals he rose and stretched his body into a crouching attitude, and lashed his sides with his tufted tail, and showed his teeth, and roared angrily. Then for some moments he would lie down again and lick his wounded paw—still growling while he did so, as though he was vowing revenge for the injury!When he saw that he had ceased to attempt climbing the tree, we were in hopes he would get tired of the attack and go off altogether. But those hopes gradually forsook us, as we observed the pertinacity with which he still continued to watch us. If either of us made a motion among the branches, he would instantly spring to his feet—as though he fancied we were about to descend and was determined to intercept us. This, of itself, proved that he had not the slightest intention of moving off from the ground, and convinced us that the siege was not to be raised with the consent of the besieger.We began to grow exceedingly apprehensive about our situation. Hitherto we had been terrified by the sudden attack of the lion, but these moments of terror were short-lived, and, on account of the excitement which accompanied them, we had neither time to reflect nor suffer; we had not time to feel despair, and in fact had not despaired of safety, even while the lion was using all his efforts to reach us, for we had the belief that he could not get up.Now, however, a new danger threatened us. Though we felt quite secure in our “roost” we could not remain there long. It was by no means comfortable, straddling the naked branch of a tree; but the comfort was a small consideration. We were both used to riding such a stock-horse, and as for Brace, he could have gone to sleep with only the flying-jib-boom between his legs, so that it was not the discomfort we cared about. There was something more serious than this to reflect upon, and that was the prospect of being afflicted by hunger and thirst. I need not say the prospect. As for hunger, we were not yet suffering for want of food; but already the sister appetite had begun to be felt, and keenly too. We had not tasted water since leaving the river, and any one who has ever made a march under the tropical sun of Africa knows that at every half-mile you feel the desire to drink. Both of us had been thirsty almost since the moment we parted with the boat, and I had been looking out for water ever since. We blamed ourselves for not having brought with us a canteen, or water-bottle, and we already paid for our negligence, or rather our ignorance—for it never entered into our minds that such a provision would be necessary, any more than if we had gone out for a day’s fowling into the fields about home.We had already been suffering from thirst, but now that we sat upon those bare branches, with not a bit of shade to screen us from the fierce rays of a noon-day’s sun—and a hot tropical sun at that—we began to feel the pangs of thirst in right earnest, and in a way I had never felt them before. Indeed, it was a most painful sensation, and I thought if it was to increase, or even continue much longer, it would kill me. My companion suffered also, though not so badly as I. He was more used to such extremities, and could better bear them.Perhaps had we been actually engaged in some work we should not have felt this misery so keenly; but we had nothing to do but balance our bodies upon the branches and calmly reflect. So much the worse. We were able to comprehend our situation, and fully understand its perilous nature.The prospect was far from cheering. Out of the tree we dared not go, else we should be eaten up by the lion. If we remained in the tree, we should become the victims either of thirst or hunger, or both.How were we to be relieved from this terrible alternative? Would the lion grow wearied with watching us, and wander away? There was not the least likelihood he would do so. All his movements indicated an opposite intention; and for our consolation, I now remembered having read of the implacable nature of this fierce brute when wounded or provoked—so far different from the generous disposition usually ascribed to him, and which certainly he often displays when not molested, or perhaps when not hungry.Whether our lion was hungry or not, we had no means of judging; but we knew he had been molested, and roughly handled too; his revengeful feelings had been roused to their highest pitch; and, therefore, whatever of vengeance was in his nature would now be exhibited. Beyond a doubt his ire was not going to cool down in a hurry. We might wait a long while before he would feel inclined to forgiveness. We had no hope from his mercy. Perhaps the night might produce a change. On this alone we rested our hopes.We never speculated on being rescued by any of our companions from thePandora. Though Brace had friends among them, they were not the sort of friends to trouble themselves much about what became of him. They might make a show of search, but there were twenty ways they could go, without hitting on the right one; and to find any one among these limitless forests would be a mere act of chance. We had not much hope of being rescued by them.What little hope we had from this source rested upon a singular belief. My companion suggested that thePandora’speople, on finding we did not return at night, might fancy we had deserted. In that case it was probable enough we might be searched for, and with sufficient zeal to ensure our being found!This was a singular conjecture, and both of us wished it might prove a correct one. Under this contingency there was a better prospect of our being relieved.By this time our thirst had become oppressive. Our throats were parched as though we had swallowed red-pepper, and our tongues could not produce the slightest moisture. Even the natural saliva had ceased to flow.While suffering thus, an idea occurred to my companion: I saw him with his knife make an incision in the bark of one of the branches. The point that had first led us to approach the great tree was now decided. Red sap flowed from the wound:—it was the “dragons’-blood!”In hopes of getting relief from this source, we both moistened our lips with the crimson-juice, and swallowed it as fast as it oozed out. Had we been better acquainted with the medical botany we should have let this liquor alone, for the dragons’-blood is one of the most noted of astringents. Alas! we soon discovered its qualities by experiment. In five minutes after, our tongues felt as if vitriol had been poured upon them, and our thirst increased to a degree of violence and fierceness that could no longer be borne. Deeply did we now repent what we had done; deeply did we rue the tasting of that blood-like sap. We might have endured for days, had we not swallowed those crimson drops; but already were we suffering as if days had passed since we had tasted water!Our thirst had suddenly increased, and still kept increasing, until the agony we endured was positively excruciating. I cannot describe it. Some idea may be had of its terrible nature when I assert that we actually talked of descending from the tree, and risking our lives in a knife-conflict with the lion, rather than endure it longer!
Of course my companion and I kept our places in the top of the tree; we could not do otherwise. Had we attempted to come down it would only have been to fling ourselves right into the jaws of the lion—who lay at just such a distance from the trunk that he could have reached us by a single bound, the moment we set foot upon the earth. There he lay or rather squatted, like a cat; though at intervals he rose and stretched his body into a crouching attitude, and lashed his sides with his tufted tail, and showed his teeth, and roared angrily. Then for some moments he would lie down again and lick his wounded paw—still growling while he did so, as though he was vowing revenge for the injury!
When he saw that he had ceased to attempt climbing the tree, we were in hopes he would get tired of the attack and go off altogether. But those hopes gradually forsook us, as we observed the pertinacity with which he still continued to watch us. If either of us made a motion among the branches, he would instantly spring to his feet—as though he fancied we were about to descend and was determined to intercept us. This, of itself, proved that he had not the slightest intention of moving off from the ground, and convinced us that the siege was not to be raised with the consent of the besieger.
We began to grow exceedingly apprehensive about our situation. Hitherto we had been terrified by the sudden attack of the lion, but these moments of terror were short-lived, and, on account of the excitement which accompanied them, we had neither time to reflect nor suffer; we had not time to feel despair, and in fact had not despaired of safety, even while the lion was using all his efforts to reach us, for we had the belief that he could not get up.
Now, however, a new danger threatened us. Though we felt quite secure in our “roost” we could not remain there long. It was by no means comfortable, straddling the naked branch of a tree; but the comfort was a small consideration. We were both used to riding such a stock-horse, and as for Brace, he could have gone to sleep with only the flying-jib-boom between his legs, so that it was not the discomfort we cared about. There was something more serious than this to reflect upon, and that was the prospect of being afflicted by hunger and thirst. I need not say the prospect. As for hunger, we were not yet suffering for want of food; but already the sister appetite had begun to be felt, and keenly too. We had not tasted water since leaving the river, and any one who has ever made a march under the tropical sun of Africa knows that at every half-mile you feel the desire to drink. Both of us had been thirsty almost since the moment we parted with the boat, and I had been looking out for water ever since. We blamed ourselves for not having brought with us a canteen, or water-bottle, and we already paid for our negligence, or rather our ignorance—for it never entered into our minds that such a provision would be necessary, any more than if we had gone out for a day’s fowling into the fields about home.
We had already been suffering from thirst, but now that we sat upon those bare branches, with not a bit of shade to screen us from the fierce rays of a noon-day’s sun—and a hot tropical sun at that—we began to feel the pangs of thirst in right earnest, and in a way I had never felt them before. Indeed, it was a most painful sensation, and I thought if it was to increase, or even continue much longer, it would kill me. My companion suffered also, though not so badly as I. He was more used to such extremities, and could better bear them.
Perhaps had we been actually engaged in some work we should not have felt this misery so keenly; but we had nothing to do but balance our bodies upon the branches and calmly reflect. So much the worse. We were able to comprehend our situation, and fully understand its perilous nature.
The prospect was far from cheering. Out of the tree we dared not go, else we should be eaten up by the lion. If we remained in the tree, we should become the victims either of thirst or hunger, or both.
How were we to be relieved from this terrible alternative? Would the lion grow wearied with watching us, and wander away? There was not the least likelihood he would do so. All his movements indicated an opposite intention; and for our consolation, I now remembered having read of the implacable nature of this fierce brute when wounded or provoked—so far different from the generous disposition usually ascribed to him, and which certainly he often displays when not molested, or perhaps when not hungry.
Whether our lion was hungry or not, we had no means of judging; but we knew he had been molested, and roughly handled too; his revengeful feelings had been roused to their highest pitch; and, therefore, whatever of vengeance was in his nature would now be exhibited. Beyond a doubt his ire was not going to cool down in a hurry. We might wait a long while before he would feel inclined to forgiveness. We had no hope from his mercy. Perhaps the night might produce a change. On this alone we rested our hopes.
We never speculated on being rescued by any of our companions from thePandora. Though Brace had friends among them, they were not the sort of friends to trouble themselves much about what became of him. They might make a show of search, but there were twenty ways they could go, without hitting on the right one; and to find any one among these limitless forests would be a mere act of chance. We had not much hope of being rescued by them.
What little hope we had from this source rested upon a singular belief. My companion suggested that thePandora’speople, on finding we did not return at night, might fancy we had deserted. In that case it was probable enough we might be searched for, and with sufficient zeal to ensure our being found!
This was a singular conjecture, and both of us wished it might prove a correct one. Under this contingency there was a better prospect of our being relieved.
By this time our thirst had become oppressive. Our throats were parched as though we had swallowed red-pepper, and our tongues could not produce the slightest moisture. Even the natural saliva had ceased to flow.
While suffering thus, an idea occurred to my companion: I saw him with his knife make an incision in the bark of one of the branches. The point that had first led us to approach the great tree was now decided. Red sap flowed from the wound:—it was the “dragons’-blood!”
In hopes of getting relief from this source, we both moistened our lips with the crimson-juice, and swallowed it as fast as it oozed out. Had we been better acquainted with the medical botany we should have let this liquor alone, for the dragons’-blood is one of the most noted of astringents. Alas! we soon discovered its qualities by experiment. In five minutes after, our tongues felt as if vitriol had been poured upon them, and our thirst increased to a degree of violence and fierceness that could no longer be borne. Deeply did we now repent what we had done; deeply did we rue the tasting of that blood-like sap. We might have endured for days, had we not swallowed those crimson drops; but already were we suffering as if days had passed since we had tasted water!
Our thirst had suddenly increased, and still kept increasing, until the agony we endured was positively excruciating. I cannot describe it. Some idea may be had of its terrible nature when I assert that we actually talked of descending from the tree, and risking our lives in a knife-conflict with the lion, rather than endure it longer!
Chapter Twenty Four.Yes; we actually talked of descending from the tree, and risking our lives in a knife-conflict with the lion!It is true it was a forlorn hope; but it is probable we should have attempted it in preference to enduring the terrible agony much longer. Fortunately we were not driven to this desperate alternative. At this crisis a happy idea came into the mind of my companion, and drove the thought of the knife-combat out of our heads.It will be remembered that we had with us a musket. The great “Queen Anne” must not be forgotten; though, for the time, it would seem as though we had forgotten it. That is not exactly the case. We remembered it well enough, for it was under our eyes, lying at the bottom of the tree—where Brace had thrown it in his eagerness to get out of the way of the lion; but it was out of our reach, and, moreover, being empty, we had never thought of its being of service to us. Even could we have regained possession of, and reloaded it, we knew that the snipe-shot would not kill the lion; and, therefore, we might load and fire till we had exhausted all our ammunition, without any other result than to render the brute more furious—if that could possibly be. For these reasons we had paid no attention to the “Queen Anne,” and there it lay right under us, apparently as useless as a bar of iron.While plotting about the means of defence and attack we might make use of in our intended final struggle, the “Queen Anne” once more came into our heads; and Brace hit upon a plan by which the great piece might serve us. In fact, there was a probability we might extricate ourselves by its aid, without the desperate conflict we had projected! and we only wondered the idea had not occurred to us before.This plan was to get hold of the gun and reload her, then provoke the lion in some way, so that he would renew his attempts to ascend the tree, and, when thus near, place the muzzle of the musket close to his head and fire the contents right into him. Even snipe-shot might do the work, if delivered at such close quarters.The first difficulty would be to get possession of the gun. She was lying under the tree, upon the same side where we had climbed up, and not three feet from the great trunk; but, though so near, it was evident that one or other of us must descend to the ground, before we could lay a finger upon her. Of course it would be impossible to do this without the risk—nay, the positive certainty—of being assailed by the lion. He lay only a dozen paces farther out, and, as already stated, continually kept his eyes upon us. A single bound would be enough, and there would be no chance of escaping him. How was the gun to be got at?I have said that it was evident one or other of us would have to descend; and, as this would be going directly to destruction, the idea of doing so was not entertained for a moment.Ben had fancied that he might “sling,” me down after the manner of monkeys, and that by this means we might get hold of the gun; but after examining the branches and calculating the distance, we saw that the height was too great, and the thing would be impossible.Just then another idea came to our aid—an idea of Ben’s conception—and that was to make a running noose on the end of a piece of cord, endeavour to get it round the gun, and then draw her up in the loop. This would be a safe plan, if we could only accomplish it.We had the cord—a sailor is rarely found wanting one. It was the same piece upon which the vulture had dangled; for Ben had unloosed it before pitching away his bird. It was both long enough and strong enough for the purpose, and could not have suited better if it had been chosen at a rope-factory. Ben knew how to make a loop, and a loop was soon made to his liking; and then the cord was let down slowly and gently, so as not to close the noose before it reached the ground. Guided by the adroit hand of the sailor, the loop at length rested upon the earth, just before the muzzle of the musket; and was then drawn slowly and smoothly along the grass. Fortunately, the barrel did not lie close to the surface, and the cord passed easily underneath it; but Ben was not satisfied until he had worked his loop nearly to the middle of both barrel and stock, and quite over one of the swivels. He then tightened the noose by a jerk—such only as a sailor could give—and the taut cord showed it was fast and secured. In another half-minute my companion held “Queen Anne” in his grasp!It was but the work of a few minutes to load her, but this was done with caution, as we feared to drop either the ammunition or the ramrod. Of course, had we lost either of these, the piece would have become useless. During all these proceedings, our antagonist had not remained silent. As he saw the musket ascending so mysteriously into the tree, he seemed to fancy that some conspiracy was meditated against him, and he had risen to his all-fours, and set up a loud growling.Ben had now finished loading, and only waited for the lion to approach the tree; but the brute showed no signs of coming nearer. He continued to growl and lash his tail angrily, but kept his ground.Perhaps a shot from the pistol might tempt him nearer; and my companion directed me to fire. I did so, aiming at the lion. Like enough the shot only tickled him; but it partially produced the desired effect; for, on receiving it, he made one bound forward and then stopped again—still continuing to roar, and strike his sides with his long, tufted tail.He was now within less than ten paces of the muzzle of the piece, and he was not going nearer at that time. This was evident; for, after remaining awhile upon all-fours, he squatted down upon his hips just like a cat. His broad breast was right towards us, and presented a most lurking mark to aim at.Ben was sorely tempted to level and pull trigger; but, still fearing that even at that close distance the snipe-shot would scatter and do no hurt, he held back.He had directed me to reload the pistol and fire again, and I was busy in doing so, when, all at once, my companion whispered me to desist. I looked at him to see what he wanted. I saw that some new purpose was in his mind. I saw him cautiously draw the huge iron ramrod from the thimbles, and then twisting a piece of oakum round its head, insert it into the barrel, where the oakum held it fast. I next saw him lower the barrel, and lay the butt to his shoulder. I saw him take aim, and soon after came the loud bang and the cloud of smoke, which filled the whole top of the tree, hiding both the earth and the sky from my sight.Though I could not for some time tell the effect of the shot—neither could Ben—on account of the thick smoke, our ears were gratified by the sounds that reached us from below. The voice of the lion seemed all at once to have changed its triumphant roaring to a tone that expressed agony and fear, and we were convinced that he was badly hurt. We could hear the whining, and snorting, and screaming, like that made by a cat in the agonies of death, but far hoarser and louder.All this lasted only a few seconds—while the sulphurous vapour clung around the tree—and just as this was wafted aside, and we could see the ground below, the noises ceased, and to our great joy we beheld the enormous brute stretched upon his side motionless and dead!We waited awhile, to be sure of this fact before descending from our safe perch; but as we watched the brute and saw that he stirred not, we at length felt assured, and leaped down to the earth.True enough, he was quite dead. The iron ramrod had done the business, and was still sticking half-buried in his breast—its point having penetrated to the heart.A royal lion was game enough in one day. So thought Ben; and, as we had no desire to procure a second one in the same way, we agreed that this should be the termination of our hunt.Ben, however, was not going to return without taking back some trophies of his hunter-skill; and, therefore, after we had obtained water to assuage our thirst, we returned to the spot, and under the shade of the great dragon-tree stripped the lion of his skin.With this trophy borne upon Ben’s shoulders, while I carried the “Queen Anne,” we wended our way toward thePandora.
Yes; we actually talked of descending from the tree, and risking our lives in a knife-conflict with the lion!
It is true it was a forlorn hope; but it is probable we should have attempted it in preference to enduring the terrible agony much longer. Fortunately we were not driven to this desperate alternative. At this crisis a happy idea came into the mind of my companion, and drove the thought of the knife-combat out of our heads.
It will be remembered that we had with us a musket. The great “Queen Anne” must not be forgotten; though, for the time, it would seem as though we had forgotten it. That is not exactly the case. We remembered it well enough, for it was under our eyes, lying at the bottom of the tree—where Brace had thrown it in his eagerness to get out of the way of the lion; but it was out of our reach, and, moreover, being empty, we had never thought of its being of service to us. Even could we have regained possession of, and reloaded it, we knew that the snipe-shot would not kill the lion; and, therefore, we might load and fire till we had exhausted all our ammunition, without any other result than to render the brute more furious—if that could possibly be. For these reasons we had paid no attention to the “Queen Anne,” and there it lay right under us, apparently as useless as a bar of iron.
While plotting about the means of defence and attack we might make use of in our intended final struggle, the “Queen Anne” once more came into our heads; and Brace hit upon a plan by which the great piece might serve us. In fact, there was a probability we might extricate ourselves by its aid, without the desperate conflict we had projected! and we only wondered the idea had not occurred to us before.
This plan was to get hold of the gun and reload her, then provoke the lion in some way, so that he would renew his attempts to ascend the tree, and, when thus near, place the muzzle of the musket close to his head and fire the contents right into him. Even snipe-shot might do the work, if delivered at such close quarters.
The first difficulty would be to get possession of the gun. She was lying under the tree, upon the same side where we had climbed up, and not three feet from the great trunk; but, though so near, it was evident that one or other of us must descend to the ground, before we could lay a finger upon her. Of course it would be impossible to do this without the risk—nay, the positive certainty—of being assailed by the lion. He lay only a dozen paces farther out, and, as already stated, continually kept his eyes upon us. A single bound would be enough, and there would be no chance of escaping him. How was the gun to be got at?
I have said that it was evident one or other of us would have to descend; and, as this would be going directly to destruction, the idea of doing so was not entertained for a moment.
Ben had fancied that he might “sling,” me down after the manner of monkeys, and that by this means we might get hold of the gun; but after examining the branches and calculating the distance, we saw that the height was too great, and the thing would be impossible.
Just then another idea came to our aid—an idea of Ben’s conception—and that was to make a running noose on the end of a piece of cord, endeavour to get it round the gun, and then draw her up in the loop. This would be a safe plan, if we could only accomplish it.
We had the cord—a sailor is rarely found wanting one. It was the same piece upon which the vulture had dangled; for Ben had unloosed it before pitching away his bird. It was both long enough and strong enough for the purpose, and could not have suited better if it had been chosen at a rope-factory. Ben knew how to make a loop, and a loop was soon made to his liking; and then the cord was let down slowly and gently, so as not to close the noose before it reached the ground. Guided by the adroit hand of the sailor, the loop at length rested upon the earth, just before the muzzle of the musket; and was then drawn slowly and smoothly along the grass. Fortunately, the barrel did not lie close to the surface, and the cord passed easily underneath it; but Ben was not satisfied until he had worked his loop nearly to the middle of both barrel and stock, and quite over one of the swivels. He then tightened the noose by a jerk—such only as a sailor could give—and the taut cord showed it was fast and secured. In another half-minute my companion held “Queen Anne” in his grasp!
It was but the work of a few minutes to load her, but this was done with caution, as we feared to drop either the ammunition or the ramrod. Of course, had we lost either of these, the piece would have become useless. During all these proceedings, our antagonist had not remained silent. As he saw the musket ascending so mysteriously into the tree, he seemed to fancy that some conspiracy was meditated against him, and he had risen to his all-fours, and set up a loud growling.
Ben had now finished loading, and only waited for the lion to approach the tree; but the brute showed no signs of coming nearer. He continued to growl and lash his tail angrily, but kept his ground.
Perhaps a shot from the pistol might tempt him nearer; and my companion directed me to fire. I did so, aiming at the lion. Like enough the shot only tickled him; but it partially produced the desired effect; for, on receiving it, he made one bound forward and then stopped again—still continuing to roar, and strike his sides with his long, tufted tail.
He was now within less than ten paces of the muzzle of the piece, and he was not going nearer at that time. This was evident; for, after remaining awhile upon all-fours, he squatted down upon his hips just like a cat. His broad breast was right towards us, and presented a most lurking mark to aim at.
Ben was sorely tempted to level and pull trigger; but, still fearing that even at that close distance the snipe-shot would scatter and do no hurt, he held back.
He had directed me to reload the pistol and fire again, and I was busy in doing so, when, all at once, my companion whispered me to desist. I looked at him to see what he wanted. I saw that some new purpose was in his mind. I saw him cautiously draw the huge iron ramrod from the thimbles, and then twisting a piece of oakum round its head, insert it into the barrel, where the oakum held it fast. I next saw him lower the barrel, and lay the butt to his shoulder. I saw him take aim, and soon after came the loud bang and the cloud of smoke, which filled the whole top of the tree, hiding both the earth and the sky from my sight.
Though I could not for some time tell the effect of the shot—neither could Ben—on account of the thick smoke, our ears were gratified by the sounds that reached us from below. The voice of the lion seemed all at once to have changed its triumphant roaring to a tone that expressed agony and fear, and we were convinced that he was badly hurt. We could hear the whining, and snorting, and screaming, like that made by a cat in the agonies of death, but far hoarser and louder.
All this lasted only a few seconds—while the sulphurous vapour clung around the tree—and just as this was wafted aside, and we could see the ground below, the noises ceased, and to our great joy we beheld the enormous brute stretched upon his side motionless and dead!
We waited awhile, to be sure of this fact before descending from our safe perch; but as we watched the brute and saw that he stirred not, we at length felt assured, and leaped down to the earth.
True enough, he was quite dead. The iron ramrod had done the business, and was still sticking half-buried in his breast—its point having penetrated to the heart.
A royal lion was game enough in one day. So thought Ben; and, as we had no desire to procure a second one in the same way, we agreed that this should be the termination of our hunt.
Ben, however, was not going to return without taking back some trophies of his hunter-skill; and, therefore, after we had obtained water to assuage our thirst, we returned to the spot, and under the shade of the great dragon-tree stripped the lion of his skin.
With this trophy borne upon Ben’s shoulders, while I carried the “Queen Anne,” we wended our way toward thePandora.
Chapter Twenty Five.It was the intention of Ben and myself to return direct to the barque. We were quite satisfied with our day’s hunting, and wanted no more game.We set out therefore in a direction, that as we thought would bring us back to the river.We had not gone far, however, when we began to fancy that we were going in the wrong course, and then we turned aside from it and took another.This new one we followed for more than a mile, but, as no river appeared, we believed we were now certainly going the wrong way, and once more turned back.After walking another mile or two, without coming to the river, we began to think we were lost. At all events we had certainly lost our way, and had not the slightest idea on what side of us lay the river, or the barque, or the barracoon of King Dingo Bingo.After resting a bit—for we had got quite tired, fagging backward and forward through the woods—we took a fresh start, and this time walked on for three miles or more in a straight course. It was all guess-work, however, and a bad guess it turned out to be; for, instead of getting into the low bottom lands that lay along the banks of the river, we found ourselves coming out into a hilly country, which was open and thinly timbered. We saw plenty of game on all sides—antelopes of several kinds—but we were now so anxious about our way, that we never thought of stopping to have a shot at them. At that moment we would rather have seen the royal-mast of thePandorathan the largest herd of antelopes in the world.One of the hills in advance of us appeared to be higher than the rest; and as it also appeared the nearest, Ben proposed we should continue on to its top. By so doing we should gain a view of the surrounding country, and would be likely to see the river, and perhaps the barque herself.Of course I made no objection—as I was entirely guided by my companion’s advice—and we at once set out for the hill.It appeared to be only a mile or two distant; but, to our great surprise, when we had walked a full mile it seemed no nearer than ever!But this was not the worst of it, for when we had walked another mile, we still appeared no nearer to the hill than when we had first started for it; and then a third mile was passed over, and the distance that intervened between us and the eminence was, to all appearance, but slightly diminished!Had it been left to me, I should have given up all hope of reaching that hill, and would have gone back as we had come; but my companion was a man of wonderful perseverance in anything he undertook, and now that he had started for the hill, he was determined that no halt should be made until we had got to the very summit of it—even though it should take us till sunset to accomplish the journey. So on we trudged, keeping the top of the hill in view, and facing straight for it all the while.It was a far longer journey than we had anticipated. It could not have been less than ten good English miles from the place where we had first observed it, to the highest part, though when starting for it, it looked only one! But such is the pureness of the atmosphere in some parts of the tropics, where there is no cloud in the sky and no mist over the earth, that any one accustomed to an English view is easily deceived.It was within an hour of sunset when Ben and I reached the summit of the hill, after a tramp of ten miles at least; but we were rewarded for our trouble by the splendid view we obtained, and particularly by the sight of the river, which ran along one side, and which stretched away from our position, like a belt of shining silver, till it met the white sea in the distance. We could just make out thePandorariding upon her anchor, and we thought we could distinguish the cabins and barracoons of King Dingo Bingo, peeping out from among the green trees. The barque looked no larger than a little boat, and although she appeared very near the river’s mouth, that was also an ocular deception, for we knew that she was more than a mile up stream.Of course the sight gave us joy—for we had really believed ourselves lost, and had been feeling very uneasy all the afternoon. Now, however, that we saw the bearings and course in which the river ran, we could easily make our way to it, and, by following its banks, would in time reach the place of our destination.One thing, however, was unpleasant enough. We should not be able to get back to thePandorathat night. We might get as far as the bank of the river before the sun would be quite gone down; but we saw that the country on both sides of the stream was covered with thick woods; and unless a path could be found it would be slow travelling through the timber, and after twilight it would be impossible to proceed. It appeared plain enough that we could not reach thePandorathat night, and we should have to spend the night in the woods.Since this was to be, Ben thought we might as well stay upon the hill, as go anywhere else. We might have gone down to the bank of the river—for it ran close to one side of the hill, perhaps not quite a mile from the bottom of the slope—and we at first thought of doing so; but upon reflection it seemed better for us to stay where we were. We should be in less danger from wild beasts by remaining upon the hill—upon which there was not much timber—than by going down into the thick woods. The banks of the river we knew to be the place where wild beasts most abounded, and the danger of being attacked by them would be much greater there. As to water, we could not be better off, for we had found a beautiful spring near the summit, and had already quenched our thirst at it. We did not need to go to the river, so far as that was concerned.The only thing of which we really stood in need, was something to eat. We had not a morsel of either biscuit or meat, and we had both become as hungry as hawks. There was not the slightest prospect of a supper, and we should have to go with empty stomachs until we could reach the barque—perhaps not before noon of the following day.We had grown so hungry that my companion now wished he had brought along with him a piece of the lion’s flesh, declaring he could have eaten a collop of it well enough. We had still with us the skin, but that was too tough for us, hungry as we were.We sat down near the spring, and began to consider what preparations we should make for passing the night. We thought it would be best to gather a quantity of sticks and make a roaring fire—not that we were afraid of the cold, for there was no such thing as cold. On the contrary, although it was near sundown, the air was still quite hot and sultry. Our object in talking about a fire was, in order to frighten off any wild beasts that might approach our sleeping-place during the night.While we talked we grew hungrier, and at length our stomachs became so craving that we could almost have eaten the grass! Fortune, however, proved kind to us, and saved us from becoming grass-eaters. Just as we were wondering what we could find to eat, we chanced to see a large bird stepping out of some trees into the open ground. It did not see us, for it was every moment coming nearer. It appeared to be browsing upon the grass, as it moved along; and thus busy seeking its own food, took no notice of anything else.Ben had reloaded the “Queen Anne,” after killing the lion. The ramrod had been crooked badly, but we had managed to get it straight again, so that it would serve; and in order to be prepared for anything, a fresh load had been rammed into the barrel.Seeing the great bird coming so near, we quietly lay down, so as to hide our bodies in the grass—while Ben placed himself behind a small bush, through which he protruded the long barrel of the musket.It seemed as if Providence had sent the bird for our supper; for the foolish creature walked straight on, until it was hardly a dozen yards from the muzzle of the “Queen Anne.” Just then Ben pulled the trigger; and, notwithstanding the smallness of the shot, the great bustard—for it proved to be a bustard—was rolled over on the grass, as dead as a nail in a door. So said Ben as he picked it up, and brought it into our camp.We now set to work upon the bird; and, after plucking, and cleaning it, we kindled a fire, and placed it in the blaze to roast. We might not have cooked it in the most elegant manner, and perhaps it was a little smoked; but if so, we did not notice this while eating it, for we both ate heartily, and thought it the most delicious morsel we had ever tasted. Certainly after the salt meat, to which we had been so long accustomed, a fresh bustard—which is one of the richest flavoured of game birds—could not be otherwise than a delicacy; and so much did we relish it, that before going to sleep we made a fresh onset upon the bird, and very nearly finished it, large as it was.We washed the supper down with a drink of cool water from the crystal spring; and then we began to consider where we should stretch our bodies for the night.
It was the intention of Ben and myself to return direct to the barque. We were quite satisfied with our day’s hunting, and wanted no more game.
We set out therefore in a direction, that as we thought would bring us back to the river.
We had not gone far, however, when we began to fancy that we were going in the wrong course, and then we turned aside from it and took another.
This new one we followed for more than a mile, but, as no river appeared, we believed we were now certainly going the wrong way, and once more turned back.
After walking another mile or two, without coming to the river, we began to think we were lost. At all events we had certainly lost our way, and had not the slightest idea on what side of us lay the river, or the barque, or the barracoon of King Dingo Bingo.
After resting a bit—for we had got quite tired, fagging backward and forward through the woods—we took a fresh start, and this time walked on for three miles or more in a straight course. It was all guess-work, however, and a bad guess it turned out to be; for, instead of getting into the low bottom lands that lay along the banks of the river, we found ourselves coming out into a hilly country, which was open and thinly timbered. We saw plenty of game on all sides—antelopes of several kinds—but we were now so anxious about our way, that we never thought of stopping to have a shot at them. At that moment we would rather have seen the royal-mast of thePandorathan the largest herd of antelopes in the world.
One of the hills in advance of us appeared to be higher than the rest; and as it also appeared the nearest, Ben proposed we should continue on to its top. By so doing we should gain a view of the surrounding country, and would be likely to see the river, and perhaps the barque herself.
Of course I made no objection—as I was entirely guided by my companion’s advice—and we at once set out for the hill.
It appeared to be only a mile or two distant; but, to our great surprise, when we had walked a full mile it seemed no nearer than ever!
But this was not the worst of it, for when we had walked another mile, we still appeared no nearer to the hill than when we had first started for it; and then a third mile was passed over, and the distance that intervened between us and the eminence was, to all appearance, but slightly diminished!
Had it been left to me, I should have given up all hope of reaching that hill, and would have gone back as we had come; but my companion was a man of wonderful perseverance in anything he undertook, and now that he had started for the hill, he was determined that no halt should be made until we had got to the very summit of it—even though it should take us till sunset to accomplish the journey. So on we trudged, keeping the top of the hill in view, and facing straight for it all the while.
It was a far longer journey than we had anticipated. It could not have been less than ten good English miles from the place where we had first observed it, to the highest part, though when starting for it, it looked only one! But such is the pureness of the atmosphere in some parts of the tropics, where there is no cloud in the sky and no mist over the earth, that any one accustomed to an English view is easily deceived.
It was within an hour of sunset when Ben and I reached the summit of the hill, after a tramp of ten miles at least; but we were rewarded for our trouble by the splendid view we obtained, and particularly by the sight of the river, which ran along one side, and which stretched away from our position, like a belt of shining silver, till it met the white sea in the distance. We could just make out thePandorariding upon her anchor, and we thought we could distinguish the cabins and barracoons of King Dingo Bingo, peeping out from among the green trees. The barque looked no larger than a little boat, and although she appeared very near the river’s mouth, that was also an ocular deception, for we knew that she was more than a mile up stream.
Of course the sight gave us joy—for we had really believed ourselves lost, and had been feeling very uneasy all the afternoon. Now, however, that we saw the bearings and course in which the river ran, we could easily make our way to it, and, by following its banks, would in time reach the place of our destination.
One thing, however, was unpleasant enough. We should not be able to get back to thePandorathat night. We might get as far as the bank of the river before the sun would be quite gone down; but we saw that the country on both sides of the stream was covered with thick woods; and unless a path could be found it would be slow travelling through the timber, and after twilight it would be impossible to proceed. It appeared plain enough that we could not reach thePandorathat night, and we should have to spend the night in the woods.
Since this was to be, Ben thought we might as well stay upon the hill, as go anywhere else. We might have gone down to the bank of the river—for it ran close to one side of the hill, perhaps not quite a mile from the bottom of the slope—and we at first thought of doing so; but upon reflection it seemed better for us to stay where we were. We should be in less danger from wild beasts by remaining upon the hill—upon which there was not much timber—than by going down into the thick woods. The banks of the river we knew to be the place where wild beasts most abounded, and the danger of being attacked by them would be much greater there. As to water, we could not be better off, for we had found a beautiful spring near the summit, and had already quenched our thirst at it. We did not need to go to the river, so far as that was concerned.
The only thing of which we really stood in need, was something to eat. We had not a morsel of either biscuit or meat, and we had both become as hungry as hawks. There was not the slightest prospect of a supper, and we should have to go with empty stomachs until we could reach the barque—perhaps not before noon of the following day.
We had grown so hungry that my companion now wished he had brought along with him a piece of the lion’s flesh, declaring he could have eaten a collop of it well enough. We had still with us the skin, but that was too tough for us, hungry as we were.
We sat down near the spring, and began to consider what preparations we should make for passing the night. We thought it would be best to gather a quantity of sticks and make a roaring fire—not that we were afraid of the cold, for there was no such thing as cold. On the contrary, although it was near sundown, the air was still quite hot and sultry. Our object in talking about a fire was, in order to frighten off any wild beasts that might approach our sleeping-place during the night.
While we talked we grew hungrier, and at length our stomachs became so craving that we could almost have eaten the grass! Fortune, however, proved kind to us, and saved us from becoming grass-eaters. Just as we were wondering what we could find to eat, we chanced to see a large bird stepping out of some trees into the open ground. It did not see us, for it was every moment coming nearer. It appeared to be browsing upon the grass, as it moved along; and thus busy seeking its own food, took no notice of anything else.
Ben had reloaded the “Queen Anne,” after killing the lion. The ramrod had been crooked badly, but we had managed to get it straight again, so that it would serve; and in order to be prepared for anything, a fresh load had been rammed into the barrel.
Seeing the great bird coming so near, we quietly lay down, so as to hide our bodies in the grass—while Ben placed himself behind a small bush, through which he protruded the long barrel of the musket.
It seemed as if Providence had sent the bird for our supper; for the foolish creature walked straight on, until it was hardly a dozen yards from the muzzle of the “Queen Anne.” Just then Ben pulled the trigger; and, notwithstanding the smallness of the shot, the great bustard—for it proved to be a bustard—was rolled over on the grass, as dead as a nail in a door. So said Ben as he picked it up, and brought it into our camp.
We now set to work upon the bird; and, after plucking, and cleaning it, we kindled a fire, and placed it in the blaze to roast. We might not have cooked it in the most elegant manner, and perhaps it was a little smoked; but if so, we did not notice this while eating it, for we both ate heartily, and thought it the most delicious morsel we had ever tasted. Certainly after the salt meat, to which we had been so long accustomed, a fresh bustard—which is one of the richest flavoured of game birds—could not be otherwise than a delicacy; and so much did we relish it, that before going to sleep we made a fresh onset upon the bird, and very nearly finished it, large as it was.
We washed the supper down with a drink of cool water from the crystal spring; and then we began to consider where we should stretch our bodies for the night.
Chapter Twenty Six.At first we were inclined to remain where we had cooked and eaten our supper. The water was convenient, and there was long bunch grass upon which we could rest very comfortably.But although it was then warm enough, and we might have gone to sleep without feeling any cold, we knew it would be different towards the middle of the night. We knew this from the experience we had already had of this part of the country—for notwithstanding the great heat of the sun during the day, at night there were heavy dews, and the air was often foggy and chill. Some nights on board the barque we had found it cold enough for all the blankets we could get. Perhaps it was not absolutely so cold as we fancied it, for at this time I knew nothing about the thermometer. It is like enough that we felt the cold of the night more keenly, on account of its contrast with the great heat of the day; and as we were usually at hard work, and perspiring all day long, of course our blood was not prepared for the change.That day had been a particularly hot one, and in walking over the palm-nuts, and toiling through thickets and other difficult places, we had been in a profuse perspiration all day long. As we had no blankets to cover us—nothing but our very lightest clothing—we would be likely to suffer during the night with the damp dew falling upon our bodies. True, we had the lion’s hide with us, but this, being fresh and still raw, would not greatly benefit us.Under these circumstances it occurred to us that we might as well take shelter under some tree, which, if it failed to warm, would at least protect us from the falling dew.We had already noticed a grove at some distance along the slope of the hill. It appeared to promise the very shelter we wanted, and taking up the gun, the lion-skin, what remained of the bustard, and some burning faggots to make a new fire out of, we proceeded in the direction of the grove.This grove appeared of that kind usually termed a coppice or copse—such as may be often observed in English parks. It was of a circular form, and covered about half an acre of ground. None of the timber was tall—not over thirty or forty feet in height, but as we drew nearer we could perceive that it was all of one sort. This we could tell by the leaves, which were very large and of a shining green colour. They were oblong, and each leaf was divided into five leaflets, that were placed in relation to each other like the fingers of a hand. Even the leaflets were like large entire leaves, and out of each bunch of leaves we could see that there grew a large white flower hanging upon a long pendulous flower-stalk with its top downward. These flowers gave the grove a very beautiful appearance—their splendid white corollas contrasting elegantly with the deep-green of the leaves.All these matters we noted as we drew nigh, for although the sun had gone down, there was still light enough to view objects at a considerable distance.We noticed nothing else about this little copse that appeared peculiar, until we had advanced close to its edge. We only observed that it was nicely rounded, just as if it belonged to some fine park and had been kept neatly trimmed by the pruning knife of the park-keeper, or some landscape gardener. Of course this was a peculiarity—considering that the grove grew in a wild uninhabited country, where no human hand ever interfered with it, as we supposed. But I had heard that such regularly formed copses are often met with in wild regions, both on the table plains of Southern Africa and the prairies of America, therefore there was nothing remarkable that they should be found in Central Africa as well.On this account we had scarce made any remark about the singularity of its shape, but approached it with no other intention than to obtain shelter under it. Its dense foliage, promising protection from dew, or even rain, if it should fall, appeared to invite us; and we were resolved to accept its proffered hospitality.It was only when we got very close to it, that we perceived the true nature of this singular grove—and then we noticed a peculiarity that astonished us. Instead of a grove covering nearly an acre of ground, as we had conjectured, you may fancy our surprise on perceiving that the hole copse consisted of but one tree!Sure enough there was only one tree, and it was the vast umbrageous head of leaves and flowers that we had mistaken for a whole grove!But such a tree was that! If we had been astonished by the dragon-tree, our astonishment was now more than doubled, on beholding the gigantic monarch of trees, that now spread widely before our eyes. The dragon-tree sank into a shrub in comparison with it.If I were to give the dimensions of this enormous vegetable, I should scarce be credited, but fortunately its giant proportions do not rest on my authority alone. Trees of a similar kind, and of the very same species, have been described by botanists, and therefore their vast size is well-known to the scientific world.The one discovered by Brace and myself had a trunk of full a hundred feet girth. I cannot speak exactly, as I had no measuring string, and it would have taken a pretty long cord to have gone round it: but Ben measured it carefully with his arms, and pronounced it to be “twenty-five fadoms.” Now Ben’s “fadoms” were good fathoms, for he was a long armed man; and, therefore I conclude that the trunk was at least a hundred feet in circumference. At the height of about a dozen feet from the ground the trunk forked into a number of great branches, each of which was like a tree of itself; and, in fact, some of them were far thicker than most trees of the forest. These branches stretched out for many yards—at first horizontally, but as they tapered towards a point, they began gradually to curve downwards, until their extreme ends—the topmost twigs with their leaves—quite touched the earth. It was for this reason we had not been able to see the main trunk as we approached. The foliage of the outer boughs concealed it from the view, and hence had we mistaken the single tree for a grove or coppice. It the more resembled this on account of its height; for, as already observed, its topmost branches did not exceed thirty or forty feet in clear altitude. It was therefore not the tallest tree in the world, though it was certainly one of the thickest.Now it so chanced that I knew what kind of tree it was—even to its name; my “wonder book” had not omitted to describe the vegetable curiosity. It was the greatbaobab.
At first we were inclined to remain where we had cooked and eaten our supper. The water was convenient, and there was long bunch grass upon which we could rest very comfortably.
But although it was then warm enough, and we might have gone to sleep without feeling any cold, we knew it would be different towards the middle of the night. We knew this from the experience we had already had of this part of the country—for notwithstanding the great heat of the sun during the day, at night there were heavy dews, and the air was often foggy and chill. Some nights on board the barque we had found it cold enough for all the blankets we could get. Perhaps it was not absolutely so cold as we fancied it, for at this time I knew nothing about the thermometer. It is like enough that we felt the cold of the night more keenly, on account of its contrast with the great heat of the day; and as we were usually at hard work, and perspiring all day long, of course our blood was not prepared for the change.
That day had been a particularly hot one, and in walking over the palm-nuts, and toiling through thickets and other difficult places, we had been in a profuse perspiration all day long. As we had no blankets to cover us—nothing but our very lightest clothing—we would be likely to suffer during the night with the damp dew falling upon our bodies. True, we had the lion’s hide with us, but this, being fresh and still raw, would not greatly benefit us.
Under these circumstances it occurred to us that we might as well take shelter under some tree, which, if it failed to warm, would at least protect us from the falling dew.
We had already noticed a grove at some distance along the slope of the hill. It appeared to promise the very shelter we wanted, and taking up the gun, the lion-skin, what remained of the bustard, and some burning faggots to make a new fire out of, we proceeded in the direction of the grove.
This grove appeared of that kind usually termed a coppice or copse—such as may be often observed in English parks. It was of a circular form, and covered about half an acre of ground. None of the timber was tall—not over thirty or forty feet in height, but as we drew nearer we could perceive that it was all of one sort. This we could tell by the leaves, which were very large and of a shining green colour. They were oblong, and each leaf was divided into five leaflets, that were placed in relation to each other like the fingers of a hand. Even the leaflets were like large entire leaves, and out of each bunch of leaves we could see that there grew a large white flower hanging upon a long pendulous flower-stalk with its top downward. These flowers gave the grove a very beautiful appearance—their splendid white corollas contrasting elegantly with the deep-green of the leaves.
All these matters we noted as we drew nigh, for although the sun had gone down, there was still light enough to view objects at a considerable distance.
We noticed nothing else about this little copse that appeared peculiar, until we had advanced close to its edge. We only observed that it was nicely rounded, just as if it belonged to some fine park and had been kept neatly trimmed by the pruning knife of the park-keeper, or some landscape gardener. Of course this was a peculiarity—considering that the grove grew in a wild uninhabited country, where no human hand ever interfered with it, as we supposed. But I had heard that such regularly formed copses are often met with in wild regions, both on the table plains of Southern Africa and the prairies of America, therefore there was nothing remarkable that they should be found in Central Africa as well.
On this account we had scarce made any remark about the singularity of its shape, but approached it with no other intention than to obtain shelter under it. Its dense foliage, promising protection from dew, or even rain, if it should fall, appeared to invite us; and we were resolved to accept its proffered hospitality.
It was only when we got very close to it, that we perceived the true nature of this singular grove—and then we noticed a peculiarity that astonished us. Instead of a grove covering nearly an acre of ground, as we had conjectured, you may fancy our surprise on perceiving that the hole copse consisted of but one tree!
Sure enough there was only one tree, and it was the vast umbrageous head of leaves and flowers that we had mistaken for a whole grove!
But such a tree was that! If we had been astonished by the dragon-tree, our astonishment was now more than doubled, on beholding the gigantic monarch of trees, that now spread widely before our eyes. The dragon-tree sank into a shrub in comparison with it.
If I were to give the dimensions of this enormous vegetable, I should scarce be credited, but fortunately its giant proportions do not rest on my authority alone. Trees of a similar kind, and of the very same species, have been described by botanists, and therefore their vast size is well-known to the scientific world.
The one discovered by Brace and myself had a trunk of full a hundred feet girth. I cannot speak exactly, as I had no measuring string, and it would have taken a pretty long cord to have gone round it: but Ben measured it carefully with his arms, and pronounced it to be “twenty-five fadoms.” Now Ben’s “fadoms” were good fathoms, for he was a long armed man; and, therefore I conclude that the trunk was at least a hundred feet in circumference. At the height of about a dozen feet from the ground the trunk forked into a number of great branches, each of which was like a tree of itself; and, in fact, some of them were far thicker than most trees of the forest. These branches stretched out for many yards—at first horizontally, but as they tapered towards a point, they began gradually to curve downwards, until their extreme ends—the topmost twigs with their leaves—quite touched the earth. It was for this reason we had not been able to see the main trunk as we approached. The foliage of the outer boughs concealed it from the view, and hence had we mistaken the single tree for a grove or coppice. It the more resembled this on account of its height; for, as already observed, its topmost branches did not exceed thirty or forty feet in clear altitude. It was therefore not the tallest tree in the world, though it was certainly one of the thickest.
Now it so chanced that I knew what kind of tree it was—even to its name; my “wonder book” had not omitted to describe the vegetable curiosity. It was the greatbaobab.
Chapter Twenty Seven.I knew that the tree had other names as well as baobab; that the negroes of Senegal call it the “monkey’s bread-tree,” the “sour gourd,” and “lalo plant,” and my book had been minute enough to give the botanical name, which isAdansonia—so called from a distinguished French botanist, of the name of Adanson, who, long ago, travelled through western Africa, and was the first to describe this wonderful tree. I even remembered Adanson’s description of it, and his statement, that he believed there were some baobab trees five thousand years old, or coeval with the creation of the world. He had himself measured some of them seventy-five feet in girth, and had heard of others that exceeded one hundred! This I could now believe. I remembered, moreover, that he had stated, that the fruit of the tree was a large oblong body, full nine inches long, of a dull greenish colour, and covered over the surface with a hoary down; that it was like a gourd, and when opened exhibited several cells, with hard shining seeds, immersed in a soft pulp; that out of this pulp, the natives, where the tree grew, manufactured an aciduous drink that was good for curing fevers; that the leaves when dried and bruised, were, by the same people, mixed with their food, to counteract too profuse perspiration; that moreover, the larger leaves are used for covering their huts, and out of the bark they manufactured a sort of cordage, and also a coarse kind of cloth, which the poorer people wore around their thighs, forming a covering that reached from the waist to the knees. Vessels, also, were procured from the outside shell of the fruit, which served in the same manner as those obtained from the gourd or calabash-tree.All these things did I remember at that moment, and intended to communicate them to my companion as soon as we had got fixed for the night; but as yet we had only arrived on the ground, and had learnt nothing more about the gigantic vegetable, than that it was all one single tree, for we could still make out the main trunk through the glimmer of the twilight. Of course the measurement made by Brace was an after performance, and was not done till long after we had arrived on the ground.Well, we had arrived by this wonderful tree; and stooping down, and entering under its branches, we saw at a glance it was the very place for us to pass the night in. A house could hardly have served us better; and as for room there was enough to have accommodated the crew of a three-decker. It hardly mattered where we lay down—as under its wide-spread canopy there was ample choice, and nowhere was the dew likely to disturb our slumbers.We were determined, however, to light a fire, for we were still in dread of the wild beasts. No wonder after such a day’s adventures.Though it was almost dark under the shadow of the tree, it was still twilight beyond, and there was yet light enough for us to collect fuel for our fire. So throwing down our lion-skin, and other impediments, we proceeded to gather the logs. At a short distance off, we found a quantity of dead timber, that would serve admirably for fuel, and three or four double armfuls would be sufficient.We were not slow in bringing them up; and, choosing a place under one of the great horizontal limbs, we built our camp fire. The limb was so thick and broad underneath, that it formed a roof of itself ample enough to shelter us from any rain that might fall, and the ground underneath was as dry as tinder, so that we had every prospect of getting a comfortable night’s rest.We built our fire at some distance from the main trunk; and as soon as it was fairly kindled, we gave over work, and sat down beside it.Ben had his clay pipe in his pocket; and, filling this with the narcotic weed, he set to smoking with great contentment. I was myself very happy. After my experience on board the barque, this free forest life was positively charming, and I thought I should like to continue it for ever. Though I did not join my companion in a smoke, I sat down opposite to him, and we both indulged in the pleasure of unrestrained conversation.I have said that, when we first entered under the shadow of the baobab, it was quite dark there—just as dark as night itself—and we could not see six feet beyond our noses in any direction but soon the fire blazing up, enabled us to note our new quarters more particularly. We could see above our heads the long egg-shaped fruit hanging down from among the large leaves, while strewed over the ground were many that had fallen from over-ripeness, and the shells of others that had opened, and shed their seeds, and were now dry and empty.All these things were noticed in a few seconds of time—just while the faggots were beginning to blaze; but our attention was called away from such observations, and concentrated upon a single object, which at once created within us an eager curiosity.This object was an odd appearance that presented itself on the trunk of the tree. Directly beyond the fire, but—as already stated—at some distance from it, rose the main trunk, like a vast wall. The bark was of a brownish grey colour, wrinkled and gnarled, and with many knots and inequalities over its surface. But in spite of this unevenness, as soon as the flames brightened up, we noticed four regular lines, or cracks, upon the trunk, meeting each other at right angles. These lines formed a parallelogram about three feet in length by two in breadth. The bottom line was about two feet above the surface of the ground; and the parallelogram itself was outlined lengthwise against the tree.As soon as we set eyes upon it, we saw that such a regularly formed figure could not have arisen from any natural cause—the bark could not have split itself into so perfect a shape. It was clear that the thing was artificial—that is, that it had been done by the hand of man. In fact, as we observed it more minutely, we could tell that this had been so; for the marks of a knife or some other cutting instrument were discernible in the wood—though the work had been done long ago, and the colour gave no indication of when it had been done. The lines were of the same dull grey as the natural cracks on other parts of the tree.Our curiosity being excited, my companion and I rose from the fire, and approached the great trunk to examine it. Had it been in an inhabited country we should have thought nothing of it—for then we should have fancied that some one had been cutting out figures in the bark of the tree for their amusement—perhaps some idle boys—as I have often done myself, and so had Ben, when he was an idle boy. But during all that day’s ramble we had met with no human being, nor had we seen either sign or track of one; and we were pretty certain, from what we had been told, that this part of the country was altogether without inhabitants. Therefore it was, that the figure cut upon the bark of the baobab surprised us—for this was a sign that human beings had been there before us—though it may have been ever so long before.We approached the trunk then to examine it more closely.As we came near, we observed that the lines were very deep—as if they had been cut into the wood—but beyond this there was nothing remarkable. There was no other carving, as we had expected,—nothing but this oblong figure, which had something of the shape of a small window or door. In fact, as we stood gazing at it, it suggested to us the idea of a little door that opened into the side of the tree, for the crack all round its edge looked black, as if we could see into some dark cavity beyond it.This idea occurred to me as I stood gazing at it, and Ben had a similar fancy.“Dang it, Will’m!” said he, stepping nearer to it, “it be a door, I believe,” and then, leaning forward, and striking it with his fist, he exclaimed: “Shiver my timbers, if ’tan’t a door! Listen, lad! d’ye hear that? it sounds as hollow as a empty cask!”Sure enough, the stroke of the sailor’s knuckles on the bark gave back a hollow report—quite unlike that which would have been made by striking the solidtrunk of a tree. Moreover, we saw that the part which had been struck shook under the blow. Beyond a doubt the tree was hollow, and the part that had attracted us was neither more or less than a door cut in its side.This point was at once settled; for Ben with another “shiver my timbers,” raised his foot, and bestowed a lusty kick upon the part that was loose. It instantly caved in, and exhibited to our astonished eyes a door in the side of the tree leading into a dark cavity beyond!Ben immediately ran back to the fire; and taking up several of the blazing faggots—and placing them side by side, so as to form a torch—returned with them to the trunk. Holding the torch before the mouth of the cavity, we peeped in, when a sight met our eyes that produced something more than astonishment—something very near akin to terror. We both shared this feeling; and my companion, though a man, and a very brave man, was quite as much terrified as I. In fact, I saw that his frame shook all over, and his hands trembled in such a manner, that several of the faggots fell from his fingers, and he appeared for some seconds to hesitate whether he would not fling the torch away and take to his heels!It is hardly to be wondered at, when one considers the strange sight that was revealed to our eyes. It would have tried the nerves of the boldest mortal that ever lived, to have looked into that dark tree-cave, without a previous knowledge of what was contained therein; and no wonder that Ben Brace uttered a wild exclamation, and stood shivering in speechless terror.Within the trunk of the tree was a chamber. It was of square form, about six or seven feet in length, breadth, and height. It was no natural cavity of decayed wood, but had evidently been hollowed out by the hands of men, not very exactly, but roughly hewn as if by an axe.Along the back a portion of the wood had been left, resembling a bench or banquette, and upon this bench were the objects that excited our terror. Three human forms were seated upon it, with their faces turned towards the entrance. They were sitting—as men ordinarily do when resting themselves—with their backs leaning against the rearmost wall of the chamber, and their arms hanging loosely by their sides—their knees bent, and their limbs somewhat stretched out towards the centre of the floor.There was no motion on the part of any of the three; for although they were human forms they were not living ones, nor yet were they dead bodies! No, they were neither living men nor dead men, and this added to our consternation on beholding them. Had they been alive, or only corpses, the sight would have been natural; but they were neither one nor the other. In their time they had been both; but it must have been a long while ago, for now they resembled neither!They were all three shrivelled dried up as mummies, but they were not mummies either. They more resembled skeletons encased in suits of black leather, that, although fitting tightly to their bodies, was nevertheless wrinkled and puckered around them. There was wool upon their crowns—they had evidently been negroes—and their eyes were still in their heads, though lustreless and dried up within the sockets like the rest of the flesh. One thing still preserved its lustre, and that was their teeth. The lips, shrivelled and drawn back, exposed these fully to view; and in the mouths of all three the double rows of teeth were shining like white ivory. These, contrasting with the sombre hue of their skins, and aided by the skeleton form of their heads, and the gaunt prominence of their jaws, produced an appearance that was hideous and unearthly in the extreme.No wonder my companion shivered when he saw them.
I knew that the tree had other names as well as baobab; that the negroes of Senegal call it the “monkey’s bread-tree,” the “sour gourd,” and “lalo plant,” and my book had been minute enough to give the botanical name, which isAdansonia—so called from a distinguished French botanist, of the name of Adanson, who, long ago, travelled through western Africa, and was the first to describe this wonderful tree. I even remembered Adanson’s description of it, and his statement, that he believed there were some baobab trees five thousand years old, or coeval with the creation of the world. He had himself measured some of them seventy-five feet in girth, and had heard of others that exceeded one hundred! This I could now believe. I remembered, moreover, that he had stated, that the fruit of the tree was a large oblong body, full nine inches long, of a dull greenish colour, and covered over the surface with a hoary down; that it was like a gourd, and when opened exhibited several cells, with hard shining seeds, immersed in a soft pulp; that out of this pulp, the natives, where the tree grew, manufactured an aciduous drink that was good for curing fevers; that the leaves when dried and bruised, were, by the same people, mixed with their food, to counteract too profuse perspiration; that moreover, the larger leaves are used for covering their huts, and out of the bark they manufactured a sort of cordage, and also a coarse kind of cloth, which the poorer people wore around their thighs, forming a covering that reached from the waist to the knees. Vessels, also, were procured from the outside shell of the fruit, which served in the same manner as those obtained from the gourd or calabash-tree.
All these things did I remember at that moment, and intended to communicate them to my companion as soon as we had got fixed for the night; but as yet we had only arrived on the ground, and had learnt nothing more about the gigantic vegetable, than that it was all one single tree, for we could still make out the main trunk through the glimmer of the twilight. Of course the measurement made by Brace was an after performance, and was not done till long after we had arrived on the ground.
Well, we had arrived by this wonderful tree; and stooping down, and entering under its branches, we saw at a glance it was the very place for us to pass the night in. A house could hardly have served us better; and as for room there was enough to have accommodated the crew of a three-decker. It hardly mattered where we lay down—as under its wide-spread canopy there was ample choice, and nowhere was the dew likely to disturb our slumbers.
We were determined, however, to light a fire, for we were still in dread of the wild beasts. No wonder after such a day’s adventures.
Though it was almost dark under the shadow of the tree, it was still twilight beyond, and there was yet light enough for us to collect fuel for our fire. So throwing down our lion-skin, and other impediments, we proceeded to gather the logs. At a short distance off, we found a quantity of dead timber, that would serve admirably for fuel, and three or four double armfuls would be sufficient.
We were not slow in bringing them up; and, choosing a place under one of the great horizontal limbs, we built our camp fire. The limb was so thick and broad underneath, that it formed a roof of itself ample enough to shelter us from any rain that might fall, and the ground underneath was as dry as tinder, so that we had every prospect of getting a comfortable night’s rest.
We built our fire at some distance from the main trunk; and as soon as it was fairly kindled, we gave over work, and sat down beside it.
Ben had his clay pipe in his pocket; and, filling this with the narcotic weed, he set to smoking with great contentment. I was myself very happy. After my experience on board the barque, this free forest life was positively charming, and I thought I should like to continue it for ever. Though I did not join my companion in a smoke, I sat down opposite to him, and we both indulged in the pleasure of unrestrained conversation.
I have said that, when we first entered under the shadow of the baobab, it was quite dark there—just as dark as night itself—and we could not see six feet beyond our noses in any direction but soon the fire blazing up, enabled us to note our new quarters more particularly. We could see above our heads the long egg-shaped fruit hanging down from among the large leaves, while strewed over the ground were many that had fallen from over-ripeness, and the shells of others that had opened, and shed their seeds, and were now dry and empty.
All these things were noticed in a few seconds of time—just while the faggots were beginning to blaze; but our attention was called away from such observations, and concentrated upon a single object, which at once created within us an eager curiosity.
This object was an odd appearance that presented itself on the trunk of the tree. Directly beyond the fire, but—as already stated—at some distance from it, rose the main trunk, like a vast wall. The bark was of a brownish grey colour, wrinkled and gnarled, and with many knots and inequalities over its surface. But in spite of this unevenness, as soon as the flames brightened up, we noticed four regular lines, or cracks, upon the trunk, meeting each other at right angles. These lines formed a parallelogram about three feet in length by two in breadth. The bottom line was about two feet above the surface of the ground; and the parallelogram itself was outlined lengthwise against the tree.
As soon as we set eyes upon it, we saw that such a regularly formed figure could not have arisen from any natural cause—the bark could not have split itself into so perfect a shape. It was clear that the thing was artificial—that is, that it had been done by the hand of man. In fact, as we observed it more minutely, we could tell that this had been so; for the marks of a knife or some other cutting instrument were discernible in the wood—though the work had been done long ago, and the colour gave no indication of when it had been done. The lines were of the same dull grey as the natural cracks on other parts of the tree.
Our curiosity being excited, my companion and I rose from the fire, and approached the great trunk to examine it. Had it been in an inhabited country we should have thought nothing of it—for then we should have fancied that some one had been cutting out figures in the bark of the tree for their amusement—perhaps some idle boys—as I have often done myself, and so had Ben, when he was an idle boy. But during all that day’s ramble we had met with no human being, nor had we seen either sign or track of one; and we were pretty certain, from what we had been told, that this part of the country was altogether without inhabitants. Therefore it was, that the figure cut upon the bark of the baobab surprised us—for this was a sign that human beings had been there before us—though it may have been ever so long before.
We approached the trunk then to examine it more closely.
As we came near, we observed that the lines were very deep—as if they had been cut into the wood—but beyond this there was nothing remarkable. There was no other carving, as we had expected,—nothing but this oblong figure, which had something of the shape of a small window or door. In fact, as we stood gazing at it, it suggested to us the idea of a little door that opened into the side of the tree, for the crack all round its edge looked black, as if we could see into some dark cavity beyond it.
This idea occurred to me as I stood gazing at it, and Ben had a similar fancy.
“Dang it, Will’m!” said he, stepping nearer to it, “it be a door, I believe,” and then, leaning forward, and striking it with his fist, he exclaimed: “Shiver my timbers, if ’tan’t a door! Listen, lad! d’ye hear that? it sounds as hollow as a empty cask!”
Sure enough, the stroke of the sailor’s knuckles on the bark gave back a hollow report—quite unlike that which would have been made by striking the solidtrunk of a tree. Moreover, we saw that the part which had been struck shook under the blow. Beyond a doubt the tree was hollow, and the part that had attracted us was neither more or less than a door cut in its side.
This point was at once settled; for Ben with another “shiver my timbers,” raised his foot, and bestowed a lusty kick upon the part that was loose. It instantly caved in, and exhibited to our astonished eyes a door in the side of the tree leading into a dark cavity beyond!
Ben immediately ran back to the fire; and taking up several of the blazing faggots—and placing them side by side, so as to form a torch—returned with them to the trunk. Holding the torch before the mouth of the cavity, we peeped in, when a sight met our eyes that produced something more than astonishment—something very near akin to terror. We both shared this feeling; and my companion, though a man, and a very brave man, was quite as much terrified as I. In fact, I saw that his frame shook all over, and his hands trembled in such a manner, that several of the faggots fell from his fingers, and he appeared for some seconds to hesitate whether he would not fling the torch away and take to his heels!
It is hardly to be wondered at, when one considers the strange sight that was revealed to our eyes. It would have tried the nerves of the boldest mortal that ever lived, to have looked into that dark tree-cave, without a previous knowledge of what was contained therein; and no wonder that Ben Brace uttered a wild exclamation, and stood shivering in speechless terror.
Within the trunk of the tree was a chamber. It was of square form, about six or seven feet in length, breadth, and height. It was no natural cavity of decayed wood, but had evidently been hollowed out by the hands of men, not very exactly, but roughly hewn as if by an axe.
Along the back a portion of the wood had been left, resembling a bench or banquette, and upon this bench were the objects that excited our terror. Three human forms were seated upon it, with their faces turned towards the entrance. They were sitting—as men ordinarily do when resting themselves—with their backs leaning against the rearmost wall of the chamber, and their arms hanging loosely by their sides—their knees bent, and their limbs somewhat stretched out towards the centre of the floor.
There was no motion on the part of any of the three; for although they were human forms they were not living ones, nor yet were they dead bodies! No, they were neither living men nor dead men, and this added to our consternation on beholding them. Had they been alive, or only corpses, the sight would have been natural; but they were neither one nor the other. In their time they had been both; but it must have been a long while ago, for now they resembled neither!
They were all three shrivelled dried up as mummies, but they were not mummies either. They more resembled skeletons encased in suits of black leather, that, although fitting tightly to their bodies, was nevertheless wrinkled and puckered around them. There was wool upon their crowns—they had evidently been negroes—and their eyes were still in their heads, though lustreless and dried up within the sockets like the rest of the flesh. One thing still preserved its lustre, and that was their teeth. The lips, shrivelled and drawn back, exposed these fully to view; and in the mouths of all three the double rows of teeth were shining like white ivory. These, contrasting with the sombre hue of their skins, and aided by the skeleton form of their heads, and the gaunt prominence of their jaws, produced an appearance that was hideous and unearthly in the extreme.
No wonder my companion shivered when he saw them.