The Coral Island:

A Tale of the Pacific Ocean

Preface

I was a boy when I went through the wonderful adventures
herein set down. With the memory of my boyish feelings
strong upon me, I present my book specially to boys, in the
earnest hope that they may derive valuable information, much
pleasure, great profit, and unbounded amusement from its
pages.

One word more. If there is any boy or man who loves to
be melancholy and morose, and who cannot enter with kindly
sympathy into the regions of fun, let me seriously advise him to
shut my book and put it away. It is not meant for him.

RALPH ROVER

CHAPTER I.

The beginning—My early life and character—I thirst
for adventure in foreign lands and go to sea.

Roving has always been, and still is, my ruling passion, the
joy of my heart, the very sunshine of my existence. In
childhood, in boyhood, and in man’s estate, I have been a
rover; not a mere rambler among the woody glens and upon the
hill-tops of my own native land, but an enthusiastic rover
throughout the length and breadth of the wide wide world.

It was a wild, black night of howling storm, the night in
which I was born on the foaming bosom of the broad Atlantic
Ocean. My father was a sea-captain; my grandfather was a
sea-captain; my great-grandfather had been a marine. Nobody
could tell positively what occupation his father had
followed; but my dear mother used to assert that he had been a
midshipman, whose grandfather, on the mother’s side, had
been an admiral in the royal navy. At anyrate we knew that,
as far back as our family could be traced, it had been intimately
connected with the great watery waste. Indeed this was the
case on both sides of the house; for my mother always went to sea
with my father on his long voyages, and so spent the greater part
of her life upon the water.

Thus it was, I suppose, that I came to inherit a roving
disposition. Soon after I was born, my father, being old,
retired from a seafaring life, purchased a small cottage in a
fishing village on the west coast of England, and settled down to
spend the evening of his life on the shores of that sea which had
for so many years been his home. It was not long after this
that I began to show the roving spirit that dwelt within
me. For some time past my infant legs had been gaining
strength, so that I came to be dissatisfied with rubbing the skin
off my chubby knees by walking on them, and made many attempts to
stand up and walk like a man; all of which attempts, however,
resulted in my sitting down violently and in sudden
surprise. One day I took advantage of my dear
mother’s absence to make another effort; and, to my joy, I
actually succeeded in reaching the doorstep, over which I tumbled
into a pool of muddy water that lay before my father’s
cottage door. Ah, how vividly I remember the horror of my
poor mother when she found me sweltering in the mud amongst a
group of cackling ducks, and the tenderness with which she
stripped off my dripping clothes and washed my dirty little
body! From this time forth my rambles became more frequent,
and, as I grew older, more distant, until at last I had wandered
far and near on the shore and in the woods around our humble
dwelling, and did not rest content until my father bound me
apprentice to a coasting vessel, and let me go to sea.

For some years I was happy in visiting the sea-ports, and in
coasting along the shores of my native land. My Christian
name was Ralph, and my comrades added to this the name of Rover,
in consequence of the passion which I always evinced for
travelling. Rover was not my real name, but as I never
received any other I came at last to answer to it as naturally as
to my proper name; and, as it is not a bad one, I see no good
reason why I should not introduce myself to the reader as Ralph
Rover. My shipmates were kind, good-natured fellows, and
they and I got on very well together. They did, indeed,
very frequently make game of and banter me, but not unkindly; and
I overheard them sometimes saying that Ralph Rover was a
“queer, old-fashioned fellow.” This, I must
confess, surprised me much, and I pondered the saying long, but
could come at no satisfactory conclusion as to that wherein my
old-fashionedness lay. It is true I was a quiet lad, and
seldom spoke except when spoken to. Moreover, I never could
understand the jokes of my companions even when they were
explained to me: which dulness in apprehension occasioned me much
grief; however, I tried to make up for it by smiling and looking
pleased when I observed that they were laughing at some witticism
which I had failed to detect. I was also very fond of
inquiring into the nature of things and their causes, and often
fell into fits of abstraction while thus engaged in my
mind. But in all this I saw nothing that did not seem to be
exceedingly natural, and could by no means understand why my
comrades should call me “an old-fashioned
fellow.”

Now, while engaged in the coasting trade, I fell in with many
seamen who had travelled to almost every quarter of the globe;
and I freely confess that my heart glowed ardently within me as
they recounted their wild adventures in foreign lands,—the
dreadful storms they had weathered, the appalling dangers they
had escaped, the wonderful creatures they had seen both on the
land and in the sea, and the interesting lands and strange people
they had visited. But of all the places of which they told
me, none captivated and charmed my imagination so much as the
Coral Islands of the Southern Seas. They told me of
thousands of beautiful fertile islands that had been formed by a
small creature called the coral insect, where summer reigned
nearly all the year round,—where the trees were laden with
a constant harvest of luxuriant fruit,—where the climate
was almost perpetually delightful,—yet where, strange to
say, men were wild, bloodthirsty savages, excepting in those
favoured isles to which the gospel of our Saviour had been
conveyed. These exciting accounts had so great an effect
upon my mind, that, when I reached the age of fifteen, I resolved
to make a voyage to the South Seas.

I had no little difficulty at first in prevailing on my dear
parents to let me go; but when I urged on my father that he would
never have become a great captain had he remained in the coasting
trade, he saw the truth of what I said, and gave his
consent. My dear mother, seeing that my father had made up
his mind, no longer offered opposition to my wishes.
“But oh, Ralph,” she said, on the day I bade her
adieu, “come back soon to us, my dear boy, for we are
getting old now, Ralph, and may not have many years to
live.”

I will not take up my reader’s time with a minute
account of all that occurred before I took my final leave of my
dear parents. Suffice it to say, that my father placed me
under the charge of an old mess-mate of his own, a merchant
captain, who was on the point of sailing to the South Seas in his
own ship, the Arrow. My mother gave me her blessing and a
small Bible; and her last request was, that I would never forget
to read a chapter every day, and say my prayers; which I
promised, with tears in my eyes, that I would certainly do.

Soon afterwards I went on board the Arrow, which was a fine
large ship, and set sail for the islands of the Pacific
Ocean.

CHAPTER II.

The departure—The sea—My companions—Some
account of the wonderful sights we saw on the great deep—A
dreadful storm and a frightful wreck.

It was a bright, beautiful, warm day when our ship spread her
canvass to the breeze, and sailed for the regions of the
south. Oh, how my heart bounded with delight as I listened
to the merry chorus of the sailors, while they hauled at the
ropes and got in the anchor! The captain shouted—the
men ran to obey—the noble ship bent over to the breeze, and
the shore gradually faded from my view, while I stood looking on
with a kind of feeling that the whole was a delightful dream.

The first thing that struck me as being different from
anything I had yet seen during my short career on the sea, was
the hoisting of the anchor on deck, and lashing it firmly down
with ropes, as if we had now bid adieu to the land for ever, and
would require its services no more.

“There, lass,” cried a broad-shouldered jack-tar,
giving the fluke of the anchor a hearty slap with his hand after
the housing was completed—“there, lass, take a good
nap now, for we shan’t ask you to kiss the mud again for
many a long day to come!”

And so it was. That anchor did not “kiss the
mud” for many long days afterwards; and when at last it
did, it was for the last time!

There were a number of boys in the ship, but two of them were
my special favourites. Jack Martin was a tall, strapping,
broad-shouldered youth of eighteen, with a handsome,
good-humoured, firm face. He had had a good education, was
clever and hearty and lion-like in his actions, but mild and
quiet in disposition. Jack was a general favourite, and had
a peculiar fondness for me. My other companion was Peterkin
Gay. He was little, quick, funny, decidedly mischievous,
and about fourteen years old. But Peterkin’s mischief
was almost always harmless, else he could not have been so much
beloved as he was.

“Hallo! youngster,” cried Jack Martin, giving me a
slap on the shoulder, the day I joined the ship, “come
below and I’ll show you your berth. You and I are to
be mess-mates, and I think we shall be good friends, for I like
the look o’ you.”

Jack was right. He and I and Peterkin afterwards became
the best and stanchest friends that ever tossed together on the
stormy waves.

I shall say little about the first part of our voyage.
We had the usual amount of rough weather and calm; also we saw
many strange fish rolling in the sea, and I was greatly delighted
one day by seeing a shoal of flying fish dart out of the water
and skim through the air about a foot above the surface.
They were pursued by dolphins, which feed on them, and one
flying-fish in its terror flew over the ship, struck on the
rigging, and fell upon the deck. Its wings were just fins
elongated, and we found that they could never fly far at a time,
and never mounted into the air like birds, but skimmed along the
surface of the sea. Jack and I had it for dinner, and found
it remarkably good.

When we approached Cape Horn, at the southern extremity of
America, the weather became very cold and stormy, and the sailors
began to tell stories about the furious gales and the dangers of
that terrible cape.

“Cape Horn,” said one, “is the most horrible
headland I ever doubled. I’ve sailed round it twice
already, and both times the ship was a’most blow’d
out o’ the water.”

“An’ I’ve been round it once,” said
another, “an’ that time the sails were split, and the
ropes frozen in the blocks, so that they wouldn’t work, and
we wos all but lost.”

“An’ I’ve been round it five times,”
cried a third, “an’ every time wos wuss than another,
the gales wos so tree-mendous!”

“And I’ve been round it no times at all,”
cried Peterkin, with an impudent wink of his eye,
“an’ that time I wos blow’d inside
out!”

Nevertheless, we passed the dreaded cape without much rough
weather, and, in the course of a few weeks afterwards, were
sailing gently, before a warm tropical breeze, over the Pacific
Ocean. Thus we proceeded on our voyage, sometimes bounding
merrily before a fair breeze, at other times floating calmly on
the glassy wave and fishing for the curious inhabitants of the
deep,—all of which, although the sailors thought little of
them, were strange, and interesting, and very wonderful to
me.

At last we came among the Coral Islands of the Pacific, and I
shall never forget the delight with which I gazed,—when we
chanced to pass one,—at the pure, white, dazzling shores,
and the verdant palm-trees, which looked bright and beautiful in
the sunshine. And often did we three long to be landed on
one, imagining that we should certainly find perfect happiness
there! Our wish was granted sooner than we expected.

One night, soon after we entered the tropics, an awful storm
burst upon our ship. The first squall of wind carried away
two of our masts; and left only the foremast standing. Even
this, however, was more than enough, for we did not dare to hoist
a rag of sail on it. For five days the tempest raged in all
its fury. Everything was swept off the decks except one
small boat. The steersman was lashed to the wheel, lest he
should be washed away, and we all gave ourselves up for
lost. The captain said that he had no idea where we were,
as we had been blown far out of our course; and we feared much
that we might get among the dangerous coral reefs which are so
numerous in the Pacific. At day-break on the sixth morning
of the gale we saw land ahead. It was an island encircled
by a reef of coral on which the waves broke in fury. There
was calm water within this reef, but we could only see one narrow
opening into it. For this opening we steered, but, ere we
reached it, a tremendous wave broke on our stern, tore the rudder
completely off, and left us at the mercy of the winds and
waves.

“It’s all over with us now, lads,” said the
captain to the men; “get the boat ready to launch; we shall
be on the rocks in less than half an hour.”

The men obeyed in gloomy silence, for they felt that there was
little hope of so small a boat living in such a sea.

“Come boys,” said Jack Martin, in a grave tone, to
me and Peterkin, as we stood on the quarterdeck awaiting our
fate;—“Come boys, we three shall stick
together. You see it is impossible that the little boat can
reach the shore, crowded with men. It will be sure to
upset, so I mean rather to trust myself to a large oar. I see
through the telescope that the ship will strike at the tail of
the reef, where the waves break into the quiet water inside; so,
if we manage to cling to the oar till it is driven over the
breakers, we may perhaps gain the shore. What say you; will
you join me?”

We gladly agreed to follow Jack, for he inspired us with
confidence, although I could perceive, by the sad tone of his
voice, that he had little hope; and, indeed, when I looked at the
white waves that lashed the reef and boiled against the rocks as
if in fury, I felt that there was but a step between us and
death. My heart sank within me; but at that moment my
thoughts turned to my beloved mother, and I remembered those
words, which were among the last that she said to
me—“Ralph, my dearest child, always remember in the
hour of danger to look to your Lord and Saviour Jesus
Christ. He alone is both able and willing to save your body
and your soul.” So I felt much comforted when I
thought thereon.

The ship was now very near the rocks. The men were ready
with the boat, and the captain beside them giving orders, when a
tremendous wave came towards us. We three ran towards the
bow to lay hold of our oar, and had barely reached it when the
wave fell on the deck with a crash like thunder. At the
same moment the ship struck, the foremast broke off close to the
deck and went over the side, carrying the boat and men along with
it. Our oar got entangled with the wreck, and Jack seized
an axe to cut it free, but, owing to the motion of the ship, he
missed the cordage and struck the axe deep into the oar.
Another wave, however, washed it clear of the wreck. We all
seized hold of it, and the next instant we were struggling in the
wild sea. The last thing I saw was the boat whirling in the
surf, and all the sailors tossed into the foaming waves.
Then I became insensible.

On recovering from my swoon, I found myself lying on a bank of
soft grass, under the shelter of an overhanging rock, with
Peterkin on his knees by my side, tenderly bathing my temples
with water, and endeavouring to stop the blood that flowed from a
wound in my forehead.

CHAPTER III.

The Coral Island—Our first cogitations after landing,
and the result of them—We conclude that the island is
uninhabited.

There is a strange and peculiar sensation experienced in
recovering from a state of insensibility, which is almost
indescribable; a sort of dreamy, confused consciousness; a
half-waking half-sleeping condition, accompanied with a feeling
of weariness, which, however, is by no means disagreeable.
As I slowly recovered and heard the voice of Peterkin inquiring
whether I felt better, I thought that I must have overslept
myself, and should be sent to the mast-head for being lazy; but
before I could leap up in haste, the thought seemed to vanish
suddenly away, and I fancied that I must have been ill.
Then a balmy breeze fanned my cheek, and I thought of home, and
the garden at the back of my father’s cottage, with its
luxuriant flowers, and the sweet-scented honey-suckle that my
dear mother trained so carefully upon the trellised porch.
But the roaring of the surf put these delightful thoughts to
flight, and I was back again at sea, watching the dolphins and
the flying-fish, and reefing topsails off the wild and stormy
Cape Horn. Gradually the roar of the surf became louder and
more distinct. I thought of being wrecked far far away from
my native land, and slowly opened my eyes to meet those of my
companion Jack, who, with a look of intense anxiety, was gazing
into my face.

“Speak to us, my dear Ralph,” whispered Jack,
tenderly, “are you better now?”

I smiled and looked up, saying, “Better; why, what do
you mean, Jack? I’m quite well.”

“Then what are you shamming for, and frightening us in
this way?” said Peterkin, smiling through his tears; for
the poor boy had been really under the impression that I was
dying.

I now raised myself on my elbow, and putting my hand to my
forehead, found that it had been cut pretty severely, and that I
had lost a good deal of blood.

“Come, come, Ralph,” said Jack, pressing me gently
backward, “lie down, my boy; you’re not right
yet. Wet your lips with this water, it’s cool and
clear as crystal. I got it from a spring close at
hand. There now, don’t say a word, hold your
tongue,” said he, seeing me about to speak.
“I’ll tell you all about it, but you must not utter a
syllable till you have rested well.”

“Oh! don’t stop him from speaking, Jack,”
said Peterkin, who, now that his fears for my safety were
removed, busied himself in erecting a shelter of broken branches
in order to protect me from the wind; which, however, was almost
unnecessary, for the rock beside which I had been laid completely
broke the force of the gale. “Let him speak, Jack;
it’s a comfort to hear that he’s alive, after lying
there stiff and white and sulky for a whole hour, just like an
Egyptian mummy. Never saw such a fellow as you are, Ralph;
always up to mischief. You’ve almost knocked out all
my teeth and more than half choked me, and now you go shamming
dead! It’s very wicked of you, indeed it
is.”

While Peterkin ran on in this style, my faculties became quite
clear again, and I began to understand my position.
“What do you mean by saying I half choked you,
Peterkin?” said I.

“What do I mean? Is English not your mother
tongue, or do you want me to repeat it in French, by way of
making it clearer? Don’t you
remember—”

“I remember nothing,” said I, interrupting him,
“after we were thrown into the sea.”

“Hush, Peterkin,” said Jack, “you’re
exciting Ralph with your nonsense. I’ll explain it to
you. You recollect that after the ship struck, we three
sprang over the bow into the sea; well, I noticed that the oar
struck your head and gave you that cut on the brow, which nearly
stunned you, so that you grasped Peterkin round the neck without
knowing apparently what you were about. In doing so you
pushed the telescope,—which you clung to as if it had been
your life,—against Peterkin’s mouth—”

“Pushed it against his mouth!” interrupted
Peterkin, “say crammed it down his throat. Why,
there’s a distinct mark of the brass rim on the back of my
gullet at this moment!”

“Well, well, be that as it may,” continued Jack,
“you clung to him, Ralph, till I feared you really would
choke him; but I saw that he had a good hold of the oar, so I
exerted myself to the utmost to push you towards the shore, which
we luckily reached without much trouble, for the water inside the
reef is quite calm.”

“But the captain and crew, what of them?” I
inquired anxiously.

Jack shook his head.

“Are they lost?”

“No, they are not lost, I hope, but I fear there is not
much chance of their being saved. The ship struck at the
very tail of the island on which we are cast. When the boat
was tossed into the sea it fortunately did not upset, although it
shipped a good deal of water, and all the men managed to scramble
into it; but before they could get the oars out the gale carried
them past the point and away to leeward of the island.
After we landed I saw them endeavouring to pull towards us, but
as they had only one pair of oars out of the eight that belong to
the boat, and as the wind was blowing right in their teeth, they
gradually lost ground. Then I saw them put about and hoist
some sort of sail,—a blanket, I fancy, for it was too small
for the boat,—and in half an hour they were out of
sight.”

“Poor fellows,” I murmured sorrowfully.

“But the more I think about it, I’ve better hope
of them,” continued Jack, in a more cheerful tone.
“You see, Ralph, I’ve read a great deal about these
South Sea Islands, and I know that in many places they are
scattered about in thousands over the sea, so they’re
almost sure to fall in with one of them before long.”

“I’m sure I hope so,” said Peterkin,
earnestly. “But what has become of the wreck,
Jack? I saw you clambering up the rocks there while I was
watching Ralph. Did you say she had gone to
pieces?”

“No, she has not gone to pieces, but she has gone to the
bottom,” replied Jack. “As I said before, she
struck on the tail of the island and stove in her bow, but the
next breaker swung her clear, and she floated away to
leeward. The poor fellows in the boat made a hard struggle
to reach her, but long before they came near her she filled and
went down. It was after she foundered that I saw them
trying to pull to the island.”

There was a long silence after Jack ceased speaking, and I
have no doubt that each was revolving in his mind our
extraordinary position. For my part I cannot say that my
reflections were very agreeable. I knew that we were on an
island, for Jack had said so, but whether it was inhabited or not
I did not know. If it should be inhabited, I felt certain,
from all I had heard of South Sea Islanders, that we should be
roasted alive and eaten. If it should turn out to be
uninhabited, I fancied that we should be starved to death.
“Oh!” thought I, “if the ship had only stuck on
the rocks we might have done pretty well, for we could have
obtained provisions from her, and tools to enable us to build a
shelter, but now—alas! alas! we are lost!”
These last words I uttered aloud in my distress.

“Lost! Ralph?” exclaimed Jack, while a smile
overspread his hearty countenance. “Saved, you should have
said. Your cogitations seem to have taken a wrong road, and
led you to a wrong conclusion.”

“Do you know what conclusion I have come
to?” said Peterkin. “I have made up my mind
that it’s capital,—first rate,—the best thing
that ever happened to us, and the most splendid prospect that
ever lay before three jolly young tars. We’ve got an
island all to ourselves. We’ll take possession in the
name of the king; we’ll go and enter the service of its
black inhabitants. Of course we’ll rise, naturally,
to the top of affairs. White men always do in savage
countries. You shall be king, Jack; Ralph, prime minister,
and I shall be—”

“The court jester,” interrupted Jack.

“No,” retorted Peterkin, “I’ll have no
title at all. I shall merely accept a highly responsible
situation under government, for you see, Jack, I’m fond of
having an enormous salary and nothing to do.”

“But suppose there are no natives?”

“Then we’ll build a charming villa, and plant a
lovely garden round it, stuck all full of the most splendiferous
tropical flowers, and we’ll farm the land, plant, sow,
reap, eat, sleep, and be merry.”

“But to be serious,” said Jack, assuming a grave
expression of countenance, which I observed always had the effect
of checking Peterkin’s disposition to make fun of
everything, “we are really in rather an uncomfortable
position. If this is a desert island, we shall have to live
very much like the wild beasts, for we have not a tool of any
kind, not even a knife.”

“Yes, we have that,” said Peterkin,
fumbling in his trousers pocket, from which he drew forth a small
penknife with only one blade, and that was broken.

“Well, that’s better than nothing; but
come,” said Jack, rising, “we are wasting our time in
talking instead of doing. You seem well
enough to walk now, Ralph, let us see what we have got in our
pockets, and then let us climb some hill and ascertain what sort
of island we have been cast upon, for, whether good or bad, it
seems likely to be our home for some time to come.”

CHAPTER IV.

We examine into our personal property, and make a happy
discovery—Our island described—Jack proves himself to
be learned and sagacious above his fellows—Curious
discoveries—Natural lemonade!

We now seated ourselves upon a rock and began to examine into
our personal property. When we reached the shore, after
being wrecked, my companions had taken off part of their clothes
and spread them out in the sun to dry, for, although the gale was
raging fiercely, there was not a single cloud in the bright
sky. They had also stripped off most part of my wet clothes
and spread them also on the rocks. Having resumed our
garments, we now searched all our pockets with the utmost care,
and laid their contents out on a flat stone before us; and, now
that our minds were fully alive to our condition, it was with no
little anxiety that we turned our several pockets inside out, in
order that nothing might escape us. When all was collected
together we found that our worldly goods consisted of the
following articles:—

First, A small penknife with a single blade broken off about
the middle and very rusty, besides having two or three notches on
its edge. (Peterkin said of this, with his usual
pleasantry, that it would do for a saw as well as a knife, which
was a great advantage.) Second, An old German-silver
pencil-case without any lead in it. Third, A piece of
whip-cord about six yards long. Fourth, A sailmaker’s
needle of a small size. Fifth, A ship’s telescope,
which I happened to have in my hand at the time the ship struck,
and which I had clung to firmly all the time I was in the
water. Indeed it was with difficulty that Jack got it out
of my grasp when I was lying insensible on the shore. I
cannot understand why I kept such a firm hold of this
telescope. They say that a drowning man will clutch at a
straw. Perhaps it may have been some such feeling in me,
for I did not know that it was in my hand at the time we were
wrecked. However, we felt some pleasure in having it with
us now, although we did not see that it could be of much use to
us, as the glass at the small end was broken to pieces. Our
sixth article was a brass ring which Jack always wore on his
little finger. I never understood why he wore it, for Jack
was not vain of his appearance, and did not seem to care for
ornaments of any kind. Peterkin said “it was in
memory of the girl he left behind him!” But as he
never spoke of this girl to either of us, I am inclined to think
that Peterkin was either jesting or mistaken. In addition
to these articles we had a little bit of tinder, and the clothes
on our backs. These last were as follows:—

Each of us had on a pair of stout canvass trousers, and a pair
of sailors’ thick shoes. Jack wore a red flannel
shirt, a blue jacket, and a red Kilmarnock bonnet or night-cap,
besides a pair of worsted socks, and a cotton
pocket-handkerchief, with sixteen portraits of Lord Nelson
printed on it, and a union Jack in the middle. Peterkin had
on a striped flannel shirt,—which he wore outside his
trousers, and belted round his waist, after the manner of a
tunic,—and a round black straw hat. He had no jacket,
having thrown it off just before we were cast into the sea; but
this was not of much consequence, as the climate of the island
proved to be extremely mild; so much so, indeed, that Jack and I
often preferred to go about without our jackets. Peterkin
had also a pair of white cotton socks, and a blue handkerchief
with white spots all over it. My own costume consisted of a
blue flannel shirt, a blue jacket, a black cap, and a pair of
worsted socks, besides the shoes and canvass trousers already
mentioned. This was all we had, and besides these things we
had nothing else; but, when we thought of the danger from which
we had escaped, and how much worse off we might have been had the
ship struck on the reef during the night, we felt very thankful
that we were possessed of so much, although, I must confess, we
sometimes wished that we had had a little more.

While we were examining these things, and talking about them,
Jack suddenly started and exclaimed—

“The oar! we have forgotten the oar.”

“What good will that do us?” said Peterkin;
“there’s wood enough on the island to make a thousand
oars.”

“Ay, lad,” replied Jack, “but there’s
a bit of hoop iron at the end of it, and that may be of much use
to us.”

“Very true,” said I, “let us go fetch
it;” and with that we all three rose and hastened down to
the beach. I still felt a little weak from loss of blood,
so that my companions soon began to leave me behind; but Jack
perceived this, and, with his usual considerate good nature,
turned back to help me. This was now the first time that I
had looked well about me since landing, as the spot where I had
been laid was covered with thick bushes which almost hid the
country from our view. As we now emerged from among these
and walked down the sandy beach together, I cast my eyes about,
and, truly, my heart glowed within me and my spirits rose at the
beautiful prospect which I beheld on every side. The gale
had suddenly died away, just as if it had blown furiously till it
dashed our ship upon the rocks, and had nothing more to do after
accomplishing that. The island on which we stood was hilly,
and covered almost everywhere with the most beautiful and richly
coloured trees, bushes, and shrubs, none of which I knew the
names of at that time, except, indeed, the cocoa-nut palms, which
I recognised at once from the many pictures that I had seen of
them before I left home. A sandy beach of dazzling
whiteness lined this bright green shore, and upon it there fell a
gentle ripple of the sea. This last astonished me much, for
I recollected that at home the sea used to fall in huge billows
on the shore long after a storm had subsided. But on
casting my glance out to sea the cause became apparent.
About a mile distant from the shore I saw the great billows of
the ocean rolling like a green wall, and falling with a long,
loud roar, upon a low coral reef, where they were dashed into
white foam and flung up in clouds of spray. This spray
sometimes flew exceedingly high, and, every here and there, a
beautiful rainbow was formed for a moment among the falling
drops. We afterwards found that this coral reef extended
quite round the island, and formed a natural breakwater to
it. Beyond this the sea rose and tossed violently from the
effects of the storm; but between the reef and the shore it was
as calm and as smooth as a pond.

My heart was filled with more delight than I can express at
sight of so many glorious objects, and my thoughts turned
suddenly to the contemplation of the Creator of them all. I
mention this the more gladly, because at that time, I am ashamed
to say, I very seldom thought of my Creator, although I was
constantly surrounded by the most beautiful and wonderful of His
works. I observed from the expression of my
companion’s countenance that he too derived much joy from
the splendid scenery, which was all the more agreeable to us
after our long voyage on the salt sea. There, the breeze
was fresh and cold, but here it was delightfully mild; and, when
a puff blew off the land, it came laden with the most exquisite
perfume that can be imagined. While we thus gazed, we were
startled by a loud “Huzza!” from Peterkin, and, on
looking towards the edge of the sea, we saw him capering and
jumping about like a monkey, and ever and anon tugging with all
his might at something that lay upon the shore.

“What an odd fellow he is, to be sure,” said Jack,
taking me by the arm and hurrying forward; “come, let us
hasten to see what it is.”

“Here it is, boys, hurrah! come along. Just what
we want,” cried Peterkin, as we drew near, still tugging
with all his power. “First rate; just the very
ticket!”

I need scarcely say to my readers that my companion Peterkin
was in the habit of using very remarkable and peculiar
phrases. And I am free to confess that I did not well
understand the meaning of some of them,—such, for instance,
as “the very ticket;” but I think it my duty to
recount everything relating to my adventures with a strict regard
to truthfulness in as far as my memory serves me; so I write, as
nearly as possible, the exact words that my companions
spoke. I often asked Peterkin to explain what he meant by
“ticket,” but he always answered me by going into
fits of laughter. However, by observing the occasions on
which he used it, I came to understand that it meant to show that
something was remarkably good, or fortunate.

On coming up we found that Peterkin was vainly endeavouring to
pull the axe out of the oar, into which, it will be remembered,
Jack struck it while endeavouring to cut away the cordage among
which it had become entangled at the bow of the ship.
Fortunately for us the axe had remained fast in the oar, and even
now, all Peterkin’s strength could not draw it out of the
cut.

“Ah! that is capital indeed,” cried Jack, at the
same time giving the axe a wrench that plucked it out of the
tough wood. “How fortunate this is! It will be
of more value to us than a hundred knives, and the edge is quite
new and sharp.”

“I’ll answer for the toughness of the handle at
any rate,” cried Peterkin; “my arms are nearly pulled
out of the sockets. But see here, our luck is great.
There is iron on the blade.” He pointed to a piece of
hoop iron, as he spoke, which had been nailed round the blade of
the oar to prevent it from splitting.

This also was a fortunate discovery. Jack went down on
his knees, and with the edge of the axe began carefully to force
out the nails. But as they were firmly fixed in, and the
operation blunted our axe, we carried the oar up with us to the
place where we had left the rest of our things, intending to burn
the wood away from the iron at a more convenient time.

“Now, lads,” said Jack, after we had laid it on
the stone which contained our little all, “I propose that
we should go to the tail of the island, where the ship struck,
which is only a quarter of a mile off, and see if anything else
has been thrown ashore. I don’t expect anything, but
it is well to see. When we get back here it will be time to
have our supper and prepare our beds.”

“Agreed!” cried Peterkin and I together, as,
indeed, we would have agreed to any proposal that Jack made; for,
besides his being older and much stronger and taller than either
of us, he was a very clever fellow, and I think would have
induced people much older than himself to choose him for their
leader, especially if they required to be led on a bold
enterprise.

Now, as we hastened along the white beach, which shone so
brightly in the rays of the setting sun that our eyes were quite
dazzled by its glare, it suddenly came into Peterkin’s head
that we had nothing to eat except the wild berries which grew in
profusion at our feet.

“What shall we do, Jack?” said he, with a rueful
look; “perhaps they may be poisonous!”

“No fear,” replied Jack, confidently; “I
have observed that a few of them are not unlike some of the
berries that grow wild on our own native hills. Besides, I
saw one or two strange birds eating them just a few minutes ago,
and what won’t kill the birds won’t kill us.
But look up there, Peterkin,” continued Jack, pointing to
the branched head of a cocoa-nut palm. “There are
nuts for us in all stages.”

“So there are!” cried Peterkin, who being of a
very unobservant nature had been too much taken up with other
things to notice anything so high above his head as the fruit of
a palm tree. But, whatever faults my young comrade had, he
could not be blamed for want of activity or animal spirits.
Indeed, the nuts had scarcely been pointed out to him when he
bounded up the tall stem of the tree like a squirrel, and, in a
few minutes, returned with three nuts, each as large as a
man’s fist.

“You had better keep them till we return,” said
Jack. “Let us finish our work before
eating.”

“So be it, captain, go ahead,” cried Peterkin,
thrusting the nuts into his trousers pocket. “In fact
I don’t want to eat just now, but I would give a good deal
for a drink. Oh that I could find a spring! but I
don’t see the smallest sign of one hereabouts. I say,
Jack, how does it happen that you seem to be up to
everything? You have told us the names of half-a-dozen
trees already, and yet you say that you were never in the South
Seas before.”

“I’m not up to everything, Peterkin, as
you’ll find out ere long,” replied Jack, with a
smile; “but I have been a great reader of books of travel
and adventure all my life, and that has put me up to a good many
things that you are, perhaps, not acquainted with.”

“Oh, Jack, that’s all humbug. If you begin
to lay everything to the credit of books, I’ll quite lose
my opinion of you,” cried Peterkin, with a look of
contempt. “I’ve seen a lot o’ fellows
that were always poring over books, and when they came to
try to do anything, they were no better than
baboons!”

“You are quite right,” retorted Jack; “and I
have seen a lot of fellows who never looked into books at all,
who knew nothing about anything except the things they had
actually seen, and very little they knew even about these.
Indeed, some were so ignorant that they did not know that
cocoa-nuts grew on cocoa-nut trees!”

I could not refrain from laughing at this rebuke, for there
was much truth in it, as to Peterkin’s ignorance.

“Humph! maybe you’re right,” answered
Peterkin; “but I would not give tuppence for a man
of books, if he had nothing else in him.”

“Neither would I,” said Jack; “but
that’s no reason why you should run books down, or think
less of me for having read them. Suppose, now, Peterkin,
that you wanted to build a ship, and I were to give you a long
and particular account of the way to do it, would not that be
very useful?”

“No doubt of it,” said Peterkin, laughing.

“And suppose I were to write the account in a letter
instead of telling you in words, would that be less
useful?”

“Well—no, perhaps not.”

“Well, suppose I were to print it, and send it to you in
the form of a book, would it not be as good and useful as
ever?”

“Oh, bother! Jack, you’re a philosopher, and
that’s worse than anything!” cried Peterkin, with a
look of pretended horror.

“Very well, Peterkin, we shall see,” returned
Jack, halting under the shade of a cocoa-nut tree.
“You said you were thirsty just a minute ago; now, jump up
that tree and bring down a nut,—not a ripe one, bring a
green, unripe one.”

Peterkin looked surprised, but, seeing that Jack was in
earnest, he obeyed.

“Now, cut a hole in it with your penknife, and clap it
to your mouth, old fellow,” said Jack.

Peterkin did as he was directed, and we both burst into
uncontrollable laughter at the changes that instantly passed over
his expressive countenance. No sooner had he put the nut to
his mouth, and thrown back his head in order to catch what came
out of it, than his eyes opened to twice their ordinary size with
astonishment, while his throat moved vigorously in the act of
swallowing. Then a smile and look of intense delight
overspread his face, except, indeed, the mouth, which, being
firmly fixed to the hole in the nut, could not take part in the
expression; but he endeavoured to make up for this by winking at
us excessively with his right eye. At length he stopped,
and, drawing a long breath, exclaimed—

“Nectar! perfect nectar! I say, Jack, you’re
a Briton—the best fellow I ever met in my life. Only
taste that!” said he, turning to me and holding the nut to
my mouth. I immediately drank, and certainly I was much
surprised at the delightful liquid that flowed copiously down my
throat. It was extremely cool, and had a sweet taste,
mingled with acid; in fact, it was the likest thing to lemonade I
ever tasted, and was most grateful and refreshing. I handed
the nut to Jack, who, after tasting it, said, “Now,
Peterkin, you unbeliever, I never saw or tasted a cocoa nut in my
life before, except those sold in shops at home; but I once read
that the green nuts contain that stuff, and you see it is
true!”

“And pray,” asked Peterkin, “what sort of
‘stuff’ does the ripe nut contain?”

“A hollow kernel,” answered Jack, “with a
liquid like milk in it; but it does not satisfy thirst so well as
hunger. It is very wholesome food I believe.”

“Meat and drink on the same tree!” cried Peterkin;
“washing in the sea, lodging on the ground,—and all
for nothing! My dear boys, we’re set up for life; it
must be the ancient Paradise,—hurrah!” and Peterkin
tossed his straw hat in the air, and ran along the beach
hallooing like a madman with delight.

We afterwards found, however, that these lovely islands were
very unlike Paradise in many things. But more of this in
its proper place.

We had now come to the point of rocks on which the ship had
struck, but did not find a single article, although we searched
carefully among the coral rocks, which at this place jutted out
so far as nearly to join the reef that encircled the
island. Just as we were about to return, however, we saw
something black floating in a little cove that had escaped our
observation. Running forward, we drew it from the water,
and found it to be a long thick leather boot, such as fishermen
at home wear; and a few paces farther on we picked up its
fellow. We at once recognised these as having belonged to
our captain, for he had worn them during the whole of the storm,
in order to guard his legs from the waves and spray that
constantly washed over our decks. My first thought on
seeing them was that our dear captain had been drowned; but Jack
soon put my mind more at rest on that point, by saying that if
the captain had been drowned with the boots on, he would
certainly have been washed ashore along with them, and that he
had no doubt whatever he had kicked them off while in the sea,
that he might swim more easily.

Peterkin immediately put them on, but they were so large that,
as Jack said, they would have done for boots, trousers, and vest
too. I also tried them, but, although I was long enough in
the legs for them, they were much too large in the feet for me;
so we handed them to Jack, who was anxious to make me keep them,
but as they fitted his large limbs and feet as if they had been
made for him, I would not hear of it, so he consented at last to
use them. I may remark, however, that Jack did not use them
often, as they were extremely heavy.

It was beginning to grow dark when we returned to our
encampment; so we put off our visit to the top of a hill till
next day, and employed the light that yet remained to us in
cutting down a quantity of boughs and the broad leaves of a tree,
of which none of us knew the name. With these we erected a
sort of rustic bower, in which we meant to pass the night.
There was no absolute necessity for this, because the air of our
island was so genial and balmy that we could have slept quite
well without any shelter; but we were so little used to sleeping
in the open air, that we did not quite relish the idea of lying
down without any covering over us: besides, our bower would
shelter us from the night dews or rain, if any should happen to
fall. Having strewed the floor with leaves and dry grass,
we bethought ourselves of supper.

But it now occurred to us, for the first time, that we had no
means of making a fire.

“Now, there’s a fix!—what shall we
do?” said Peterkin, while we both turned our eyes to Jack,
to whom we always looked in our difficulties. Jack seemed
not a little perplexed.

“There are flints enough, no doubt, on the beach,”
said he, “but they are of no use at all without a
steel. However, we must try.” So saying, he
went to the beach, and soon returned with two flints. On
one of these he placed the tinder, and endeavoured to ignite it;
but it was with great difficulty that a very small spark was
struck out of the flints, and the tinder, being a bad, hard
piece, would not catch. He then tried the bit of hoop iron,
which would not strike fire at all; and after that the back of
the axe, with no better success. During all these trials
Peterkin sat with his hands in his pockets, gazing with a most
melancholy visage at our comrade, his face growing longer and
more miserable at each successive failure.

“Oh dear!” he sighed, “I would not care a
button for the cooking of our victuals,—perhaps they
don’t need it,—but it’s so dismal to eat
one’s supper in the dark, and we have had such a capital
day, that it’s a pity to finish off in this glum
style. Oh, I have it!” he cried, starting up;
“the spy-glass,—the big glass at the end is a
burning-glass!”

“You forget that we have no sun,” said I.

Peterkin was silent. In his sudden recollection of the
telescope he had quite overlooked the absence of the sun.

“Ah, boys, I’ve got it now!” exclaimed Jack,
rising and cutting a branch from a neighbouring bush, which be
stripped of its leaves. “I recollect seeing this done
once at home. Hand me the bit of whip-cord.”
With the cord and branch Jack soon formed a bow. Then he
cut a piece, about three inches long, off the end of a dead
branch, which he pointed at the two ends. Round this he
passed the cord of the bow, and placed one end against his chest,
which was protected from its point by a chip of wood; the other
point he placed against the bit of tinder, and then began to saw
vigorously with the bow, just as a blacksmith does with his drill
while boring a hole in a piece of iron. In a few seconds
the tinder began to smoke; in less than a minute it caught fire;
and in less than a quarter of an hour we were drinking our
lemonade and eating cocoa nuts round a fire that would have
roasted an entire sheep, while the smoke, flames, and sparks,
flew up among the broad leaves of the overhanging palm trees, and
cast a warm glow upon our leafy bower.

That night the starry sky looked down through the gently
rustling trees upon our slumbers, and the distant roaring of the
surf upon the coral reef was our lullaby.

CHAPTER V.

Morning, and cogitations connected therewith—We
luxuriate in the sea, try our diving powers, and make enchanting
excursions among the coral groves at the bottom of the
ocean—The wonders of the deep enlarged upon.

What a joyful thing it is to awaken, on a fresh glorious
morning, and find the rising sun staring into your face with
dazzling brilliancy!—to see the birds twittering in the
bushes, and to hear the murmuring of a rill, or the soft hissing
ripples as they fall upon the sea-shore! At any time and in
any place such sights and sounds are most charming, but more
especially are they so when one awakens to them, for the first
time, in a novel and romantic situation, with the soft sweet air
of a tropical climate mingling with the fresh smell of the sea,
and stirring the strange leaves that flutter overhead and around
one, or ruffling the plumage of the stranger birds that fly
inquiringly around, as if to demand what business we have to
intrude uninvited on their domains. When I awoke on the
morning after the shipwreck, I found myself in this most
delightful condition; and, as I lay on my back upon my bed of
leaves, gazing up through the branches of the cocoa-nut trees
into the clear blue sky, and watched the few fleecy clouds that
passed slowly across it, my heart expanded more and more with an
exulting gladness, the like of which I had never felt
before. While I meditated, my thoughts again turned to the
great and kind Creator of this beautiful world, as they had done
on the previous day, when I first beheld the sea and the coral
reef, with the mighty waves dashing over it into the calm waters
of the lagoon.

While thus meditating, I naturally bethought me of my Bible,
for I had faithfully kept the promise, which I gave at parting to
my beloved mother, that I would read it every morning; and it was
with a feeling of dismay that I remembered I had left it in the
ship. I was much troubled about this. However, I
consoled myself with reflecting that I could keep the second part
of my promise to her, namely, that I should never omit to say my
prayers. So I rose quietly, lest I should disturb my
companions, who were still asleep, and stepped aside into the
bushes for this purpose.

On my return I found them still slumbering, so I again lay
down to think over our situation. Just at that moment I was
attracted by the sight of a very small parrot, which Jack
afterwards told me was called a paroquet. It was seated on
a twig that overhung Peterkin’s head, and I was speedily
lost in admiration of its bright green plumage, which was mingled
with other gay colours. While I looked I observed that the
bird turned its head slowly from side to side and looked
downwards, first with the one eye, and then with the other.
On glancing downwards I observed that Peterkin’s mouth was
wide open, and that this remarkable bird was looking into
it. Peterkin used to say that I had not an atom of fun in
my composition, and that I never could understand a joke.
In regard to the latter, perhaps he was right; yet I think that,
when they were explained to me, I understood jokes as well as
most people: but in regard to the former he must certainly have
been wrong, for this bird seemed to me to be extremely funny; and
I could not help thinking that, if it should happen to faint, or
slip its foot, and fall off the twig into Peterkin’s mouth,
he would perhaps think it funny too! Suddenly the paroquet
bent down its head and uttered a loud scream in his face.
This awoke him, and, with a cry of surprise, he started up, while
the foolish bird flew precipitately away.

“Oh you monster!” cried Peterkin, shaking his fist
at the bird. Then he yawned and rubbed his eyes, and asked
what o’clock it was.

I smiled at this question, and answered that, as our watches
were at the bottom of the sea, I could not tell, but it was a
little past sunrise.

Peterkin now began to remember where we were. As he
looked up into the bright sky, and snuffed the scented air, his
eyes glistened with delight, and he uttered a faint
“hurrah!” and yawned again. Then he gazed
slowly round, till, observing the calm sea through an opening in
the bushes, he started suddenly up as if he had received an
electric shock, uttered a vehement shout, flung off his garments,
and, rushing over the white sands, plunged into the water.
The cry awoke Jack, who rose on his elbow with a look of grave
surprise; but this was followed by a quiet smile of intelligence
on seeing Peterkin in the water. With an energy that he
only gave way to in moments of excitement, Jack bounded to his
feet, threw off his clothes, shook back his hair, and with a
lion-like spring, dashed over the sands and plunged into the sea
with such force as quite to envelop Peterkin in a shower of
spray. Jack was a remarkably good swimmer and diver, so
that after his plunge we saw no sign of him for nearly a minute;
after which he suddenly emerged, with a cry of joy, a good many
yards out from the shore. My spirits were so much raised by
seeing all this that I, too, hastily threw off my garments and
endeavoured to imitate Jack’s vigorous bound; but I was so
awkward that my foot caught on a stump, and I fell to the ground;
then I slipped on a stone while running over the mud, and nearly
fell again, much to the amusement of Peterkin, who laughed
heartily, and called me a “slow coach,” while Jack
cried out, “Come along, Ralph, and I’ll help
you.” However, when I got into the water I managed
very well, for I was really a good swimmer, and diver too.
I could not, indeed, equal Jack, who was superior to any
Englishman I ever saw, but I infinitely surpassed Peterkin, who
could only swim a little, and could not dive at all.

While Peterkin enjoyed himself in the shallow water and in
running along the beach, Jack and I swam out into the deep water,
and occasionally dived for stones. I shall never forget my
surprise and delight on first beholding the bottom of the
sea. As I have before stated, the water within the reef was
as calm as a pond; and, as there was no wind, it was quite clear,
from the surface to the bottom, so that we could see down easily
even at a depth of twenty or thirty yards. When Jack and I
dived in shallower water, we expected to have found sand and
stones, instead of which we found ourselves in what appeared
really to be an enchanted garden. The whole of the bottom
of the lagoon, as we called the calm water within the reef, was
covered with coral of every shape, size, and hue. Some
portions were formed like large mushrooms; others appeared like
the brain of a man, having stalks or necks attached to them; but
the most common kind was a species of branching coral, and some
portions were of a lovely pale pink colour, others pure
white. Among this there grew large quantities of sea-weed
of the richest hues imaginable, and of the most graceful forms;
while innumerable fishes—blue, red, yellow, green, and
striped—sported in and out amongst the flower-beds of this
submarine garden, and did not appear to be at all afraid of our
approaching them.

On darting to the surface for breath, after our first dive,
Jack and I rose close to each other.

“Did you ever in your life, Ralph, see anything so
lovely?” said Jack, as he flung the spray from his
hair.

“Never,” I replied. “It appears to me
like fairy realms. I can scarcely believe that we are not
dreaming.”

“Dreaming!” cried Jack, “do you know, Ralph,
I’m half tempted to think that we really are
dreaming. But if so, I am resolved to make the most of it,
and dream another dive; so here goes,—down again, my
boy!”

We took the second dive together, and kept beside each other
while under water; and I was greatly surprised to find that we
could keep down much longer than I ever recollect having done in
our own seas at home. I believe that this was owing to the
heat of the water, which was so warm that we afterwards found we
could remain in it for two and three hours at a time without
feeling any unpleasant effects such as we used to experience in
the sea at home. When Jack reached the bottom, he grasped
the coral stems, and crept along on his hands and knees, peeping
under the sea-weed and among the rocks. I observed him also
pick up one or two large oysters, and retain them in his grasp,
as if he meant to take them up with him, so I also gathered a
few. Suddenly he made a grasp at a fish with blue and
yellow stripes on its back, and actually touched its tail, but
did not catch it. At this he turned towards me and
attempted to smile; but no sooner had he done so than he sprang
like an arrow to the surface, where, on following him, I found
him gasping and coughing, and spitting water from his
mouth. In a few minutes he recovered, and we both turned to
swim ashore.

“I declare, Ralph,” said he, “that I
actually tried to laugh under water.”

“So I saw,” I replied; “and I observed that
you very nearly caught that fish by the tail. It would have
done capitally for breakfast if you had.”

“Breakfast enough here,” said he, holding up the
oysters, as we landed and ran up the beach.
“Hallo! Peterkin, here you are, boy. Split open
these fellows while Ralph and I put on our clothes.
They’ll agree with the cocoa nuts excellently, I have no
doubt.”

Peterkin, who was already dressed, took the oysters, and
opened them with the edge of our axe, exclaiming, “Now,
that is capital. There’s nothing I’m so
fond of.”

“Ah! that’s lucky,” remarked Jack.
“I’ll be able to keep you in good order now, Master
Peterkin. You know you can’t dive any better than a
cat. So, sir, whenever you behave ill, you shall have no
oysters for breakfast.”

“I’m very glad that our prospect of breakfast is
so good,” said I, “for I’m very
hungry.”

“Here, then, stop your mouth with that, Ralph,”
said Peterkin, holding a large oyster to my lips. I opened
my mouth and swallowed it in silence, and really it was
remarkably good.

We now set ourselves earnestly about our preparations for
spending the day. We had no difficulty with the fire this
morning, as our burning-glass was an admirable one; and while we
roasted a few oysters and ate our cocoa nuts, we held a long,
animated conversation about our plans for the future. What
those plans were, and how we carried them into effect, the reader
shall see hereafter.

CHAPTER VI.

An excursion into the interior, in which we make many valuable
and interesting discoveries—We get a dreadful
fright—The bread-fruit tree—Wonderful peculiarity of
some of the fruit trees—Signs of former inhabitants.

Our first care, after breakfast, was to place the few articles
we possessed in the crevice of a rock at the farther end of a
small cave which we discovered near our encampment. This
cave, we hoped, might be useful to us afterwards as a
store-house. Then we cut two large clubs off a species of
very hard tree which grew near at hand. One of these was
given to Peterkin, the other to me, and Jack armed himself with
the axe. We took these precautions because we purposed to
make an excursion to the top of the mountains of the interior, in
order to obtain a better view of our island. Of course we
knew not what dangers might befall us by the way, so thought it
best to be prepared.

Having completed our arrangements and carefully extinguished
our fire, we sallied forth and walked a short distance along the
sea-beach, till we came to the entrance of a valley, through
which flowed the rivulet before mentioned. Here we turned
our backs on the sea and struck into the interior.

The prospect that burst upon our view on entering the valley
was truly splendid. On either side of us there was a gentle
rise in the land, which thus formed two ridges about a mile apart
on each side of the valley. These ridges,—which, as
well as the low grounds between them, were covered with trees and
shrubs of the most luxuriant kind—continued to recede
inland for about two miles, when they joined the foot of a small
mountain. This hill rose rather abruptly from the head of
the valley, and was likewise entirely covered even to the top
with trees, except on one particular spot near the left shoulder,
where was a bare and rocky place of a broken and savage
character. Beyond this hill we could not see, and we
therefore directed our course up the banks of the rivulet towards
the foot of it, intending to climb to the top, should that be
possible, as, indeed, we had no doubt it was.

Jack, being the wisest and boldest among us, took the lead,
carrying the axe on his shoulder. Peterkin, with his
enormous club, came second, as he said he should like to be in a
position to defend me if any danger should threaten. I
brought up the rear, but, having been more taken up with the
wonderful and curious things I saw at starting than with thoughts
of possible danger, I had very foolishly left my club behind
me. Although, as I have said the trees and bushes were very
luxuriant, they were not so thickly crowded together as to hinder
our progress among them. We were able to wind in and out,
and to follow the banks of the stream quite easily, although, it
is true, the height and thickness of the foliage prevented us
from seeing far ahead. But sometimes a jutting-out rock on
the hill sides afforded us a position whence we could enjoy the
romantic view and mark our progress towards the foot of the
hill. I was particularly struck, during the walk, with the
richness of the undergrowth in most places, and recognised many
berries and plants that resembled those of my native land,
especially a tall, elegantly-formed fern, which emitted an
agreeable perfume. There were several kinds of flowers,
too, but I did not see so many of these as I should have expected
in such a climate. We also saw a great variety of small
birds of bright plumage, and many paroquets similar to the one
that awoke Peterkin so rudely in the morning.

Thus we advanced to the foot of the hill without encountering
anything to alarm us, except, indeed, once, when we were passing
close under a part of the hill which was hidden from our view by
the broad leaves of the banana trees, which grew in great
luxuriance in that part. Jack was just preparing to force
his way through this thicket, when we were startled and arrested
by a strange pattering or rumbling sound, which appeared to us
quite different from any of the sounds we had heard during the
previous part of our walk.

“Hallo!” cried Peterkin, stopping short and
grasping his club with both hands, “what’s
that?”

Neither of us replied; but Jack seized his axe in his right
hand, while with the other he pushed aside the broad leaves and
endeavoured to peer amongst them.

“I can see nothing,” he said, after a short
pause.

“I think it—”

Again the rumbling sound came, louder than before, and we all
sprang back and stood on the defensive. For myself, having
forgotten my club, and not having taken the precaution to cut
another, I buttoned my jacket, doubled my fists, and threw myself
into a boxing attitude. I must say, however, that I felt
somewhat uneasy; and my companions afterwards confessed that
their thoughts at this moment had been instantly filled with all
they had ever heard or read of wild beasts and savages,
torturings at the stake, roastings alive, and such like horrible
things. Suddenly the pattering noise increased with tenfold
violence. It was followed by a fearful crash among the
bushes, which was rapidly repeated, as if some gigantic animal
were bounding towards us. In another moment an enormous
rock came crashing through the shrubbery, followed by a cloud of
dust and small stones, flew close past the spot where we stood,
carrying bushes and young trees along with it.

“Pooh! is that all?” exclaimed Peterkin, wiping
the perspiration off his forehead. “Why, I thought it
was all the wild men and beasts in the South Sea Islands
galloping on in one grand charge to sweep us off the face of the
earth, instead of a mere stone tumbling down the mountain
side.”

“Nevertheless,” remarked Jack, “if that same
stone had hit any of us, it would have rendered the charge you
speak of quite unnecessary, Peterkin.”

This was true, and I felt very thankful for our escape.
On examining the spot more narrowly, we found that it lay close
to the foot of a very rugged precipice, from which stones of
various sizes were always tumbling at intervals. Indeed,
the numerous fragments lying scattered all around might have
suggested the cause of the sound, had we not been too suddenly
alarmed to think of anything.

We now resumed our journey, resolving that, in our future
excursions into the interior, we would be careful to avoid this
dangerous precipice.

Soon afterwards we arrived at the foot of the hill and
prepared to ascend it. Here Jack made a discovery which
caused us all very great joy. This was a tree of a
remarkably beautiful appearance, which Jack confidently declared
to be the celebrated bread-fruit tree.

“Is it celebrated?” inquired Peterkin, with a look
of great simplicity.

“It is,” replied Jack

“That’s odd, now,” rejoined Peterkin;
“never heard of it before.”

“Then it’s not so celebrated as I thought it
was,” returned Jack, quietly squeezing Peterkin’s hat
over his eyes; “but listen, you ignorant boobie! and hear
of it now.”

Peterkin re-adjusted his hat, and was soon listening with as
much interest as myself, while Jack told us that this tree is one
of the most valuable in the islands of the south; that it bears
two, sometimes three, crops of fruit in the year; that the fruit
is very like wheaten bread in appearance, and that it constitutes
the principal food of many of the islanders.

“So,” said Peterkin, “we seem to have
everything ready prepared to our hands in this wonderful
island,—lemonade ready bottled in nuts, and loaf-bread
growing on the trees!”

Peterkin, as usual, was jesting; nevertheless, it is a curious
fact that he spoke almost the literal truth.
“Moreover,” continued Jack, “the bread-fruit
tree affords a capital gum, which serves the natives for pitching
their canoes; the bark of the young branches is made by them into
cloth; and of the wood, which is durable and of a good colour,
they build their houses. So you see, lads, that we have no
lack of material here to make us comfortable, if we are only
clever enough to use it.”

“But are you sure that that’s it?” asked
Peterkin.

“Quite sure,” replied Jack; “for I was
particularly interested in the account I once read of it, and I
remember the description well. I am sorry, however, that I
have forgotten the descriptions of many other trees which I am
sure we have seen to-day, if we could but recognise them.
So you see, Peterkin, I’m not up to everything
yet.”

“Never mind, Jack,” said Peterkin, with a grave,
patronizing expression of countenance, patting his tall companion
on the shoulder,—“never mind, Jack; you know a good
deal for your age. You’re a clever boy, sir,—a
promising young man; and if you only go on as you have begun,
sir, you will—”

The end of this speech was suddenly cut short by Jack tripping
up Peterkin’s heels and tumbling him into a mass of thick
shrubs, where, finding himself comfortable, he lay still basking
in the sunshine, while Jack and I examined the bread-tree.

We were much struck with the deep, rich green colour of its
broad leaves, which were twelve or eighteen inches long, deeply
indented, and of a glossy smoothness, like the laurel. The
fruit, with which it was loaded, was nearly round, and appeared
to be about six inches in diameter, with a rough rind, marked
with lozenge-shaped divisions. It was of various colours,
from light pea-green to brown and rich yellow. Jack said
that the yellow was the ripe fruit. We afterwards found
that most of the fruit-trees on the island were evergreens, and
that we might, when we wished, pluck the blossom and the ripe
fruit from the same tree. Such a wonderful difference from
the trees of our own country surprised us not a little. The
bark of the tree was rough and light-coloured; the trunk was
about two feet in diameter, and it appeared to be twenty feet
high, being quite destitute of branches up to that height, where
it branched off into a beautiful and umbrageous head. We
noticed that the fruit hung in clusters of twos and threes on the
branches; but as we were anxious to get to the top of the hill,
we refrained from attempting to pluck any at that time.

Our hearts were now very much cheered by our good fortune, and
it was with light and active steps that we clambered up the steep
sides of the hill. On reaching the summit, a new, and if
possible a grander, prospect met our gaze. We found that
this was not the highest part of the island, but that another
hill lay beyond, with a wide valley between it and the one on
which we stood. This valley, like the first, was also full
of rich trees, some dark and some light green, some heavy and
thick in foliage, and others light, feathery, and graceful, while
the beautiful blossoms on many of them threw a sort of rainbow
tint over all, and gave to the valley the appearance of a garden
of flowers. Among these we recognised many of the
bread-fruit trees, laden with yellow fruit, and also a great many
cocoa-nut palms. After gazing our fill we pushed down the
hill side, crossed the valley, and soon began to ascend the
second mountain. It was clothed with trees nearly to the
top, but the summit was bare, and in some places broken.

While on our way up we came to an object which filled us with
much interest. This was the stump of a tree that had
evidently been cut down with an axe! So, then, we were not
the first who had viewed this beautiful isle. The hand of
man had been at work there before us. It now began to recur
to us again that perhaps the island was inhabited, although we
had not seen any traces of man until now; but a second glance at
the stump convinced us that we had not more reason to think so
now than formerly; for the surface of the wood was quite decayed,
and partly covered with fungus and green matter, so that it must
have been cut many years ago.

“Perhaps,” said Peterkin, “some ship or
other has touched here long ago for wood, and only taken one
tree.”

We did not think this likely, however, because, in such
circumstances, the crew of a ship would cut wood of small size,
and near the shore, whereas this was a large tree and stood near
the top of the mountain. In fact it was the highest large
tree on the mountain, all above it being wood of very recent
growth.

“I can’t understand it,” said Jack,
scratching the surface of the stump with his axe. “I
can only suppose that the savages have been here and cut it for
some purpose known only to themselves. But, hallo! what
have we here?”

As he spoke, Jack began carefully to scrape away the moss and
fungus from the stump, and soon laid bare three distinct traces
of marks, as if some inscription or initials had been cut
thereon. But although the traces were distinct, beyond all
doubt, the exact form of the letters could not be made out.
Jack thought they looked like J. S. but we could not be
certain. They had apparently been carelessly cut, and long
exposure to the weather had so broken them up that we could not
make out what they were. We were exceedingly perplexed at
this discovery, and stayed a long time at the place conjecturing
what these marks could have been, but without avail; so, as the
day was advancing, we left it and quickly reached the top of the
mountain.

We found this to be the highest point of the island, and from
it we saw our kingdom lying, as it were, like a map around
us. As I have always thought it impossible to get a thing
properly into one’s understanding without comprehending it,
I shall beg the reader’s patience for a little while I
describe our island, thus, shortly:—

It consisted of two mountains; the one we guessed at 500 feet;
the other, on which we stood, at 1000. Between these lay a
rich, beautiful valley, as already said. This valley
crossed the island from one end to the other, being high in the
middle and sloping on each side towards the sea. The large
mountain sloped, on the side farthest from where we had been
wrecked, gradually towards the sea; but although, when viewed at
a glance, it had thus a regular sloping appearance, a more
careful observation showed that it was broken up into a multitude
of very small vales, or rather dells and glens, intermingled with
little rugged spots and small but abrupt precipices here and
there, with rivulets tumbling over their edges and wandering down
the slopes in little white streams, sometimes glistening among
the broad leaves of the bread-fruit and cocoa-nut trees, or hid
altogether beneath the rich underwood. At the base of this
mountain lay a narrow bright green plain or meadow, which
terminated abruptly at the shore. On the other side of the
island, whence we had come, stood the smaller hill, at the foot
of which diverged three valleys; one being that which we had
ascended, with a smaller vale on each side of it, and separated
from it by the two ridges before mentioned. In these
smaller valleys there were no streams, but they were clothed with
the same luxuriant vegetation.

The diameter of the island seemed to be about ten miles, and,
as it was almost circular in form, its circumference must have
been thirty miles;—perhaps a little more, if allowance be
made for the numerous bays and indentations of the shore.
The entire island was belted by a beach of pure white sand, on
which laved the gentle ripples of the lagoon. We now also
observed that the coral reef completely encircled the island; but
it varied its distance from it here and there, in some places
being a mile from the beach, in others, a few hundred yards, but
the average distance was half a mile. The reef lay very
low, and the spray of the surf broke quite over it in many
places. This surf never ceased its roar, for, however calm
the weather might be, there is always a gentle swaying motion in
the great Pacific, which, although scarce noticeable out at sea,
reaches the shore at last in a huge billow. The water
within the lagoon, as before said, was perfectly still.
There were three narrow openings in the reef; one opposite each
end of the valley which I have described as crossing the island;
the other opposite our own valley, which we afterwards named the
Valley of the Wreck. At each of these openings the reef
rose into two small green islets, covered with bushes and having
one or two cocoa-nut palms on each. These islets were very
singular, and appeared as if planted expressly for the purpose of
marking the channel into the lagoon. Our captain was making
for one of these openings the day we were wrecked, and would have
reached it too, I doubt not, had not the rudder been torn
away. Within the lagoon were several pretty, low coral
islands, just opposite our encampment; and, immediately beyond
these, out at sea, lay about a dozen other islands, at various
distances, from half a mile to ten miles; all of them, as far as
we could discern, smaller than ours and apparently
uninhabited. They seemed to be low coral islands, raised
but little above the sea, yet covered with cocoa-nut trees.

All this we noted, and a great deal more, while we sat on the
top of the mountain. After we had satisfied ourselves we
prepared to return; but here again we discovered traces of the
presence of man. These were a pole or staff and one or two
pieces of wood which had been squared with an axe. All of
these were, however, very much decayed, and they had evidently
not been touched for many years.

Full of these discoveries we returned to our encampment.
On the way we fell in with the traces of some four-footed animal,
but whether old or of recent date none of us were able to
guess. This also tended to raise our hopes of obtaining
some animal food on the island, so we reached home in good
spirits, quite prepared for supper, and highly satisfied with our
excursion.

After much discussion, in which Peterkin took the lead, we
came to the conclusion that the island was uninhabited, and went
to bed.

CHAPTER VII.

Jack’s ingenuity—We get into difficulties about
fishing, and get out of them by a method which gives us a cold
bath—Horrible encounter with a shark.

For several days after the excursion related in the last
chapter we did not wander far from our encampment, but gave
ourselves up to forming plans for the future and making our
present abode comfortable.

There were various causes that induced this state of
comparative inaction. In the first place, although
everything around us was so delightful, and we could without
difficulty obtain all that we required for our bodily comfort, we
did not quite like the idea of settling down here for the rest of
our lives, far away from our friends and our native land.
To set energetically about preparations for a permanent residence
seemed so like making up our minds to saying adieu to home and
friends for ever, that we tacitly shrank from it and put off our
preparations, for one reason and another, as long as we
could. Then there was a little uncertainty still as to
there being natives on the island, and we entertained a kind of
faint hope that a ship might come and take us off. But as
day after day passed, and neither savages nor ships appeared, we
gave up all hope of an early deliverance and set diligently to
work at our homestead.

During this time, however, we had not been altogether
idle. We made several experiments in cooking the cocoa-nut,
most of which did not improve it. Then we removed our
goods, and took up our abode in the cave, but found the change so
bad that we returned gladly to the bower. Besides this we
bathed very frequently, and talked a great deal; at least Jack
and Peterkin did,—I listened. Among other useful
things, Jack, who was ever the most active and diligent,
converted about three inches of the hoop-iron into an excellent
knife. First he beat it quite flat with the axe. Then
he made a rude handle, and tied the hoop-iron to it with our
piece of whip-cord, and ground it to an edge on a piece of
sand-stone. When it was finished he used it to shape a
better handle, to which he fixed it with a strip of his cotton
handkerchief;—in which operation he had, as Peterkin
pointed out, torn off one of Lord Nelson’s noses.
However, the whip-cord, thus set free, was used by Peterkin as a
fishing line. He merely tied a piece of oyster to the end
of it. This the fish were allowed to swallow, and then they
were pulled quickly ashore. But as the line was very short
and we had no boat, the fish we caught were exceedingly
small.

One day Peterkin came up from the beach, where he had been
angling, and said in a very cross tone, “I’ll tell
you what, Jack, I’m not going to be humbugged with catching
such contemptible things any longer. I want you to swim out
with me on your back, and let me fish in deep water!”

“Dear me, Peterkin,” replied Jack, “I had no
idea you were taking the thing so much to heart, else I would
have got you out of that difficulty long ago. Let me
see,”—and Jack looked down at a piece of timber on
which he had been labouring, with a peculiar gaze of abstraction,
which he always assumed when trying to invent or discover
anything.

“What say you to building a boat?” he inquired,
looking up hastily.

“Take far too long,” was the reply;
“can’t be bothered waiting. I want to begin at
once!”

Again Jack considered. “I have it!” he
cried. “We’ll fell a large tree and launch the
trunk of it in the water, so that when you want to fish
you’ve nothing to do but to swim out to it.”

“Would not a small raft do better?” said I.

“Much better; but we have no ropes to bind it together
with. Perhaps we may find something hereafter that will do
as well, but, in the meantime, let us try the tree.”

This was agreed on, so we started off to a spot not far
distant, where we knew of a tree that would suit us, which grew
near the water’s edge. As soon as we reached it Jack
threw off his coat, and, wielding the axe with his sturdy arms,
hacked and hewed at it for a quarter of an hour without
stopping. Then he paused, and, while he sat down to rest, I
continued the work. Then Peterkin made a vigorous attack on
it, so that when Jack renewed his powerful blows, a few minutes
cutting brought it down with a terrible crash.

“Hurrah! now for it,” cried Jack; “let us
off with its head.”

So saying he began to cut through the stem again, at about six
yards from the thick end. This done, he cut three strong,
short poles or levers from the stout branches, with which to roll
the log down the beach into the sea; for, as it was nearly two
feet thick at the large end, we could not move it without such
helps. With the levers, however, we rolled it slowly into
the sea.

Having been thus successful in launching our vessel, we next
shaped the levers into rude oars or paddles, and then attempted
to embark. This was easy enough to do; but, after seating
ourselves astride the log, it was with the utmost difficulty we
kept it from rolling round and plunging us into the water.
Not that we minded that much; but we preferred, if possible, to
fish in dry clothes. To be sure, our trousers were
necessarily wet, as our legs were dangling in the water on each
side of the log; but, as they could be easily dried, we did not
care. After half an hour’s practice, we became expert
enough to keep our balance pretty steadily. Then Peterkin
laid down his paddle, and having baited his line with a whole
oyster, dropt it into deep water.

“Now, then, Jack,” said he, “be cautious;
steer clear o’ that sea-weed. There; that’s it;
gently, now, gently. I see a fellow at least a foot long
down there, coming to—ha! that’s it! Oh!
bother, he’s off.”

“Did he bite?” said Jack, urging the log onwards a
little with his paddle.

“Bite? ay! He took it into his mouth, but the
moment I began to haul he opened his jaws and let it out
again.”

“Let him swallow it next time,” said Jack,
laughing at the melancholy expression of Peterkin’s
visage.

“There he’s again,” cried Peterkin, his eyes
flashing with excitement. “Look out! Now
then! No! Yes! No! Why, the brute
won’t swallow it!”

“Try to haul him up by the mouth, then,” cried
Jack. “Do it gently.”

A heavy sigh and a look of blank despair showed that poor
Peterkin had tried and failed again.

“Never mind, lad,” said Jack, in a voice of
sympathy; “we’ll move on, and offer it to some other
fish.” So saying, Jack plied his paddle; but scarcely
had he moved from the spot, when a fish with an enormous head and
a little body darted from under a rock and swallowed the bait at
once.

“Got him this time,—that’s a fact!”
cried Peterkin, hauling in the line. “He’s
swallowed the bait right down to his tail, I declare. Oh
what a thumper!”

As the fish came struggling to the surface, we leaned forward
to see it, and overbalanced the log. Peterkin threw his
arms round the fish’s neck; and, in another instant, we
were all floundering in the water!

A shout of laughter burst from us as we rose to the surface
like three drowned rats, and seized hold of the log. We
soon recovered our position, and sat more warily, while Peterkin
secured the fish, which had well-nigh escaped in the midst of our
struggles. It was little worth having, however; but, as
Peterkin remarked, it was better than the smouts he had been
catching for the last two or three days; so we laid it on the log
before us, and having re-baited the line, dropt it in again for
another.

Now, while we were thus intent upon our sport, our attention
was suddenly attracted by a ripple on the sea, just a few yards
away from us. Peterkin shouted to us to paddle in that
direction, as he thought it was a big fish, and we might have a
chance of catching it. But Jack, instead of complying,
said, in a deep, earnest tone of voice, which I never before
heard him use,—

“Haul up your line, Peterkin; seize your paddle;
quick,—it’s a shark!”

The horror with which we heard this may well be imagined, for
it must be remembered that our legs were hanging down in the
water, and we could not venture to pull them up without upsetting
the log. Peterkin instantly hauled up the line; and,
grasping his paddle, exerted himself to the utmost, while we also
did our best to make for shore. But we were a good way off,
and the log being, as I have before said, very heavy, moved but
slowly through the water. We now saw the shark quite
distinctly swimming round and round us, its sharp fin every now
and then protruding above the water. From its active and
unsteady motions, Jack knew it was making up its mind to attack
us, so he urged us vehemently to paddle for our lives, while he
himself set us the example. Suddenly he shouted “Look
out!—there he comes!” and in a second we saw the
monstrous fish dive close under us, and turn half over on his
side. But we all made a great commotion with our paddles,
which no doubt frightened it away for that time, as we saw it
immediately after circling round us as before.

“Throw the fish to him,” cried Jack, in a quick,
suppressed voice; “we’ll make the shore in time yet
if we can keep him off for a few minutes.”

Peterkin stopped one instant to obey the command, and then
plied his paddle again with all his might. No sooner had
the fish fallen on the water than we observed the shark to
sink. In another second we saw its white breast rising; for
sharks always turn over on their sides when about to seize their
prey, their mouths being not at the point of their heads like
those of other fish, but, as it were, under their chins. In
another moment his snout rose above the water,—his wide
jaws, armed with a terrific double row of teeth, appeared.
The dead fish was engulfed, and the shark sank out of
sight. But Jack was mistaken in supposing that it would be
satisfied. In a very few minutes it returned to us, and its
quick motions led us to fear that it would attack us at once.

“Stop paddling,” cried Jack suddenly.
“I see it coming up behind us. Now, obey my orders
quickly. Our lives may depend on it Ralph. Peterkin,
do your best to balance the log. Don’t look
out for the shark. Don’t glance behind you. Do
nothing but balance the log.”

Peterkin and I instantly did as we were ordered, being only
too glad to do anything that afforded us a chance or a hope of
escape, for we had implicit confidence in Jack’s courage
and wisdom. For a few seconds, that seemed long minutes to
my mind, we sat thus silently; but I could not resist glancing
backward, despite the orders to the contrary. On doing so,
I saw Jack sitting rigid like a statue, with his paddle raised,
his lips compressed, and his eye-brows bent over his eyes, which
glared savagely from beneath them down into the water. I
also saw the shark, to my horror, quite close under the log, in
the act of darting towards Jack’s foot. I could
scarce suppress a cry on beholding this. In another moment
the shark rose. Jack drew his leg suddenly from the water,
and threw it over the log. The monster’s snout rubbed
against the log as it passed, and revealed its hideous jaws, into
which Jack instantly plunged the paddle, and thrust it down its
throat. So violent was the act that Jack rose to his feet
in performing it; the log was thereby rolled completely over, and
we were once more plunged into the water. We all rose,
spluttering and gasping, in a moment.

“Now then, strike out for shore,” cried
Jack. “Here, Peterkin, catch hold of my collar, and
kick out with a will.”

Peterkin did as he was desired, and Jack struck out with such
force that he cut through the water like a boat; while I, being
free from all encumbrance, succeeded in keeping up with
him. As we had by this time drawn pretty near to the shore,
a few minutes more sufficed to carry us into shallow water; and,
finally, we landed in safety, though very much exhausted, and not
a little frightened by our terrible adventure.

CHAPTER VIII.

The beauties of the bottom of the sea tempt Peterkin to
dive—How he did it—More difficulties
overcome—The water garden—Curious creatures of the
sea—The tank—Candles missed very much, and the
candle-nut tree discovered—Wonderful account of
Peterkin’s first voyage—Cloth found growing on a
tree—A plan projected, and arms prepared for offence and
defence—A dreadful cry.

Our encounter with the shark was the first great danger that
had befallen us since landing on this island, and we felt very
seriously affected by it, especially when we considered that we
had so often unwittingly incurred the same danger before while
bathing. We were now forced to take to fishing again in the
shallow water, until we should succeed in constructing a
raft. What troubled us most, however, was, that we were
compelled to forego our morning swimming excursions. We
did, indeed, continue to enjoy our bathe in the shallow water,
but Jack and I found that one great source of our enjoyment was
gone, when we could no longer dive down among the beautiful coral
groves at the bottom of the lagoon. We had come to be so
fond of this exercise, and to take such an interest in watching
the formations of coral and the gambols of the many beautiful
fish amongst the forests of red and green sea-weeds, that we had
become quite familiar with the appearance of the fish and the
localities that they chiefly haunted. We had also become
expert divers. But we made it a rule never to stay long
under water at a time. Jack told me that to do so often was
bad for the lungs, and, instead of affording us enjoyment, would
ere long do us a serious injury. So we never stayed at the
bottom as long as we might have done, but came up frequently to
the top for fresh air, and dived down again immediately.
Sometimes, when Jack happened to be in a humorous frame, he would
seat himself at the bottom of the sea on one of the brain corals,
as if he were seated on a large paddock-stool, and then make
faces at me, in order, if possible, to make me laugh under
water. At first, when he took me unawares, he nearly
succeeded, and I had to shoot to the surface in order to laugh;
but afterwards I became aware of his intentions, and, being
naturally of a grave disposition, I had no difficulty in
restraining myself. I used often to wonder how poor
Peterkin would have liked to be with us; and he sometimes
expressed much regret at being unable to join us. I used to
do my best to gratify him, poor fellow, by relating all the
wonders that we saw; but this, instead of satisfying, seemed only
to whet his curiosity the more, so one day we prevailed on him to
try to go down with us. But, although a brave boy in every
other way, Peterkin was very nervous in the water, and it was
with difficulty we got him to consent to be taken down, for he
could never have managed to push himself down to the bottom
without assistance. But no sooner had we pulled him down a
yard or so into the deep clear water, than he began to struggle
and kick violently, so we were forced to let him go, when he rose
out of the water like a cork, gave a loud gasp and a frightful
roar, and struck out for the land with the utmost possible
haste.

Now, all this pleasure we were to forego, and when we thought
thereon, Jack and I felt very much depressed in our
spirits. I could see, also, that Peterkin grieved and
sympathized with us, for, when talking about this matter, he
refrained from jesting and bantering us upon it.

As, however, a man’s difficulties usually set him upon
devising methods to overcome them, whereby he often discovers
better things than those he may have lost, so this our difficulty
induced us to think of searching for a large pool among the
rocks, where the water should be deep enough for diving yet so
surrounded by rocks as to prevent sharks from getting at
us. And such a pool we afterwards found, which proved to be
very much better than our most sanguine hopes anticipated.
It was situated not more than ten minutes’ walk from our
camp, and was in the form of a small deep bay or basin, the
entrance to which, besides being narrow, was so shallow that no
fish so large as a shark could get in, at least not unless he
should be a remarkably thin one.

Inside of this basin, which we called our Water Garden, the
coral formations were much more wonderful, and the sea-weed
plants far more lovely and vividly coloured, than in the lagoon
itself. And the water was so clear and still, that,
although very deep, you could see the minutest object at the
bottom. Besides this, there was a ledge of rock which
overhung the basin at its deepest part, from which we could dive
pleasantly and whereon Peterkin could sit and see not only all
the wonders I had described to him, but also see Jack and me
creeping amongst the marine shrubbery at the bottom, like,
as—he expressed it,—“two great white
sea-monsters.” During these excursions of ours to the
bottom of the sea, we began to get an insight into the manners
and customs of its inhabitants, and to make discoveries of
wonderful things, the like of which we never before
conceived. Among other things, we were deeply interested
with the operations of the little coral insect which, I was
informed by Jack, is supposed to have entirely constructed many
of the numerous islands in Pacific Ocean. And, certainly,
when we considered the great reef which these insects had formed
round the island on which we were cast, and observed their
ceaseless activity in building their myriad cells, it did at
first seem as if this might be true; but then, again, when I
looked at the mountains of the island, and reflected that there
were thousands of such, many of them much higher, in the South
Seas, I doubted that there must be some mistake here. But
more of this hereafter.

I also became much taken up with the manners and appearance of
the anemones, and star-fish, and crabs, and sea-urchins, and
such-like creatures; and was not content with watching those I
saw during my dives in the Water Garden, but I must needs scoop
out a hole in the coral rock close to it, which I filled with
salt water, and stocked with sundry specimens of anemones and
shell-fish, in order to watch more closely how they were in the
habit of passing their time. Our burning-glass also now
became a great treasure to me, as it enabled me to magnify, and
so to perceive more clearly the forms and actions of these
curious creatures of the deep.

Having now got ourselves into a very comfortable condition, we
began to talk of a project which we had long had in
contemplation,—namely, to travel entirely round the island;
in order, first, to ascertain whether it contained any other
productions which might be useful to us; and, second, to see
whether there might be any place more convenient and suitable for
our permanent residence than that on which we were now
encamped. Not that we were in any degree dissatisfied with
it; on the contrary, we entertained quite a home-feeling to our
bower and its neighbourhood; but if a better place did exist,
there was no reason why we should not make use of it. At
any rate, it would be well to know of its existence.

We had much earnest talk over this matter. But Jack
proposed that, before undertaking such an excursion, we should
supply ourselves with good defensive arms, for, as we intended
not only to go round all the shore, but to ascend most of the
valleys, before returning home, we should be likely to meet in
with, he would not say dangers, but, at least, with everything
that existed on the island, whatever that might be.

“Besides,” said Jack, “it won’t do for
us to live on cocoa-nuts and oysters always. No doubt they
are very excellent in their way, but I think a little animal
food, now and then, would be agreeable as well as good for us;
and as there are many small birds among the trees, some of which
are probably very good to eat, I think it would be a capital plan
to make bows and arrows, with which we could easily knock them
over.”

“First rate!” cried Peterkin. “You
will make the bows, Jack, and I’ll try my hand at the
arrows. The fact is, I’m quite tired of throwing
stones at the birds. I began the very day we landed, I
think, and have persevered up to the present time, but I’ve
never hit anything yet.”

“You forget,” said I, “you hit me one day on
the shin.”

“Ah, true,” replied Peterkin, “and a
precious shindy you kicked up in consequence. But you were
at least four yards away from the impudent paroquet I aimed at;
so you see what a horribly bad shot I am.”

“But,” said I, “Jack, you cannot make three
bows and arrows before to-morrow, and would it not be a pity to
waste time, now that we have made up our minds to go on this
expedition? Suppose that you make one bow and arrow for
yourself, and we can take our clubs?”

“That’s true, Ralph. The day is pretty far
advanced, and I doubt if I can make even one bow before
dark. To be sure I might work by fire-light, after the sun
goes down.”

We had, up to this time, been in the habit of going to bed
with the sun, as we had no pressing call to work o’ nights;
and, indeed, our work during the day was usually hard
enough,—what between fishing, and improving our bower, and
diving in the Water Garden, and rambling in the woods; so that,
when night came, we were usually very glad to retire to our
beds. But now that we had a desire to work at night, we
felt a wish for candles.

“Won’t a good blazing fire give you light
enough?” inquired Peterkin.

“Yes,” replied Jack, “quite enough; but then
it will give us a great deal more than enough of heat in this
warm climate of ours.”

“True,” said Peterkin; “I forgot that.
It would roast us.”

“Well, as you’re always doing that at any
rate,” remarked Jack, “we could scarcely call it a
change. But the fact is, I’ve been thinking over this
subject before. There is a certain nut growing in these
islands which is called the candle-nut, because the natives use
it instead of candles, and I know all about it, and how to
prepare it for burning—”

“Then why don’t you do it?” interrupted
Peterkin. “Why have you kept us in the dark so long,
you vile philosopher?”

“Because,” said Jack, “I have not seen the
tree yet, and I’m not sure that I should know either the
tree or the nuts if I did see them. You see, I forget the
description.”

“Ah! that’s just the way with me,” said
Peterkin with a deep sigh. “I never could keep in my
mind for half an hour the few descriptions I ever attempted to
remember. The very first voyage I ever made was caused by
my mistaking a description, or forgetting it, which is the same
thing. And a horrible voyage it was. I had to fight
with the captain the whole way out, and made the homeward voyage
by swimming!”

“Come, Peterkin,” said I, “you can’t
get even me to believe that.”

“Perhaps not, but it’s true,
notwithstanding,” returned Peterkin, pretending to be hurt
at my doubting his word.

“Let us hear how it happened,” said Jack, while a
good-natured smile overspread his face.

“Well, you must know,” began Peterkin, “that
the very day before I went to sea, I was greatly taken up with a
game at hockey, which I was playing with my old school-fellows
for the last time before leaving them. You see I was young
then, Ralph.” Peterkin gazed, in an abstracted and
melancholy manner, out to sea! “Well, in the midst of
the game, my uncle, who had taken all the bother and trouble of
getting me bound ’prentice and rigged out, came and took me
aside, and told me that he was called suddenly away from home,
and would not be able to see me aboard, as he had intended.
‘However,’ said he, ‘the captain knows you are
coming, so that’s not of much consequence; but as
you’ll have to find the ship yourself, you must remember
her name and description. D’ye hear,
boy?’ I certainly did hear, but I’m afraid I
did not understand, for my mind was so taken up with the game,
which I saw my side was losing, that I began to grow impatient,
and the moment my uncle finished his description of the ship, and
bade me good-bye, I bolted back to my game, with only a confused
idea of three masts, and a green painted tafferel, and a gilt
figure-head of Hercules with his club at the bow. Next day
I was so much cast down with everybody saying good-bye, and a lot
o’ my female friends cryin’ horribly over me, that I
did not start for the harbour, where the ship was lying among a
thousand others, till it was almost too late. So I had to
run the whole way. When I reached the pier, there were so
many masts, and so much confusion, that I felt quite
humblebumbled in my faculties. ‘Now,’ said I to
myself, ‘Peterkin, you’re in a fix.’ Then
I fancied I saw a gilt figure-head and three masts, belonging to
a ship just about to start; so I darted on board, but speedily
jumped on shore again, when I found that two of the masts
belonged to another vessel, and the figurehead to a third!
At last I caught sight of what I made sure was it,—a fine
large vessel just casting off her moorings. The tafferel
was green. Three masts,—yes, that must be
it,—and the gilt figure-head of Hercules. To be sure
it had a three-pronged pitchfork in its hand instead of a club;
but that might be my uncle’s mistake; or perhaps Hercules
sometimes varied his weapons. ‘Cast off!’
roared a voice from the quarter-deck. ‘Hold
on!’ cried I, rushing frantically through the crowd.
‘Hold on! hold on!’ repeated some of the bystanders,
while the men at the ropes delayed for a minute. This threw
the captain into a frightful rage; for some of his friends had
come down to see him off, and having his orders contradicted so
flatly was too much for him. However, the delay was
sufficient. I took a race and a good leap; the ropes were
cast off; the steam-tug gave a puff, and we started.
Suddenly the captain was up to me: ‘Where did you come
from, you scamp, and what do you want here?’

“‘Please, sir,’ said I, touching my cap,
‘I’m you’re new ’prentice come
aboard.’

“‘New ’Prentice,’ said he, stamping,
‘I’ve got no new ’prentice. My boys are
all aboard already. This is a trick, you young
blackguard. You’ve run away, you have;’ and the
captain stamped about the deck and swore dreadfully; for, you
see, the thought of having to stop the ship and lower a boat and
lose half an hour, all for the slake of sending a small boy
ashore, seemed to make him very angry. Besides, it was
blowin’ fresh outside the harbour, so that, to have let the
steamer alongside to put me into it was no easy job. Just
as we were passing the pier-head, where several boats were rowing
into harbour, the captain came up to me,—

“‘You’ve run away, you blackguard,’ he
said, giving me a box on the ear.

“‘No I haven’t,’ said I, angrily; for
the box was by no means a light one.

“Hark’ee, boy, can you swim?’

“‘Yes,’ said I.

“‘Then do it,’ and, seizing me by my
trousers and the nape of my neck, he tossed me over the side into
the sea. The fellows in the boats at the end of the pier,
backed their oars on seeing this; but observing that I could
swim, they allowed me to make the best of my way to the
pier-head. So, you see, Ralph, that I really did swim my
first homeward voyage.”

Jack laughed and patted Peterkin on the shoulder.
“But tell us about the candle-nut tree,” said I;
“you were talking about it.”

“Very true,” said Jack, “but I fear I can
remember little about it. I believe the nut is about the
size of a walnut; and I think that the leaves are white, but I am
not sure.”

“Eh! ha! hum!” exclaimed Peterkin, “I saw a
tree answering to that description this very day.”

“Did you?” cried Jack. “Is it far from
this?”

“No, not half a mile.”

“Then lead me to it,” said Jack, seizing his
axe.

In a few minutes we were all three pushing through the
underwood of the forest, headed by Peterkin.

We soon came to the tree in question, which, after Jack had
closely examined it, we concluded must be the candle-nut
tree. Its leaves were of a beautiful silvery white, and
formed a fine contrast to the dark-green foliage of the
surrounding trees. We immediately filled our pockets with
the nuts, after which Jack said,—

“Now, Peterkin, climb that cocoa-nut tree and cut me one
of the long branches.”

This was soon done, but it cost some trouble, for the stem was
very high, and as Peterkin usually pulled nuts from the younger
trees, he was not much accustomed to climbing the high
ones. The leaf or branch was a very large one, and we were
surprised at its size and strength. Viewed from a little
distance, the cocoa-nut tree seems to be a tall, straight stem,
without a single branch except at the top, where there is a tuft
of feathery-looking leaves, that seem to wave like soft plumes in
the wind. But when we saw one of these leaves or branches
at our feet, we found it to be a strong stalk, about fifteen feet
long, with a number of narrow, pointed leaflets ranged
alternately on each side. But what seemed to us the most
wonderful thing about it was a curious substance resembling
cloth, which was wrapped round the thick end of the stalk, where
it had been cut from the tree. Peterkin told us that he had
the greatest difficulty in separating the branch from the stem,
on account of this substance, as it was wrapped quite round the
tree, and, he observed, round all the other branches, thus
forming a strong support to the large leaves while exposed to
high winds. When I call this substance cloth I do not
exaggerate. Indeed, with regard to all the things I saw
during my eventful career in the South Seas, I have been
exceedingly careful not to exaggerate, or in any way to mislead
or deceive my readers. This cloth, I say, was remarkably
like to coarse brown cotton cloth. It had a seam or fibre
down the centre of it, from which diverged other fibres, about
the size of a bristle. There were two layers of these
fibres, very long and tough, the one layer crossing the other
obliquely, and the whole was cemented together with a still finer
fibrous and adhesive substance. When we regarded it
attentively, we could with difficulty believe that it had not
been woven by human hands. This remarkable piece of cloth
we stripped carefully off, and found it to be above two feet
long, by a foot broad, and we carried it home with us as a great
prize.

Jack now took one of the leaflets, and, cutting out the
central spine or stalk, hurried back with it to our camp.
Having made a small fire, he baked the nuts slightly, and then
pealed off the husks. After this he wished to bore a hole
in them, which, not having anything better at hand at the time,
he did with the point of our useless pencil-case. Then he
strung them on the cocoa-nut spine, and on putting a light to the
topmost nut, we found to our joy that it burned with a clear,
beautiful flame; upon seeing which, Peterkin sprang up and danced
round the fire for at least five minutes in the excess of his
satisfaction.

“Now lads,” said Jack, extinguishing our candle,
the sun will set in an hour, so we have no time to lose.
“I shall go and cut a young tree to make my bow out of, and
you had better each of you go and select good strong sticks for
clubs, and we’ll set to work at them after dark.”

So saying he shouldered his axe and went off, followed by
Peterkin, while I took up the piece of newly discovered cloth,
and fell to examining its structure. So engrossed was I in
this that I was still sitting in the same attitude and occupation
when my companions returned.

“I told you so!” cried Peterkin, with a loud
laugh. “Oh, Ralph, you’re incorrigible.
See, there’s a club for you. I was sure, when we left
you looking at that bit of stuff, that we would find you poring
over it when we came back, so I just cut a club for you as well
as for myself.”

“Thank you, Peterkin,” said I. “It was
kind of you to do that, instead of scolding me for a lazy fellow,
as I confess I deserve.”

“Oh! as to that,” returned Peterkin,
“I’ll blow you up yet, if you wish it—only it
would be of no use if I did, for you’re a perfect
mule!”

As it was now getting dark we lighted our candle, and placing
it in a holder made of two crossing branches, inside of our
bower, we seated ourselves on our leafy beds and began to
work.

“I intend to appropriate the bow for my own use,”
said Jack, chipping the piece of wood he had brought with his
axe. “I used to be a pretty fair shot once. But
what’s that you’re doing?” he added, looking at
Peterkin, who had drawn the end of a long pole into the tent, and
was endeavouring to fit a small piece of the hoop-iron to the end
of it.

“I’m going to enlist into the Lancers,”
answered Peterkin. “You see, Jack, I find the club
rather an unwieldy instrument for my delicately-formed muscles,
and I flatter myself I shall do more execution with a
spear.”

“Well, if length constitutes power,” said Jack,
“you’ll certainly be invincible.”

The pole which Peterkin had cut was full twelve feet long,
being a very strong but light and tough young tree, which merely
required thinning at the butt to be a serviceable weapon.

“That’s a very good idea,” said I.

“Which—this?” inquired Peterkin, pointing to
the spear.

“Yes;” I replied.

“Humph!” said he; “you’d find it a
pretty tough and matter-of-fact idea, if you had it stuck through
your gizzard, old boy!”

“I mean the idea of making it is a good one,” said
I, laughing. “And, now I think of it, I’ll
change my plan, too. I don’t think much of a club, so
I’ll make me a sling out of this piece of cloth. I
used to be very fond of slinging, ever since I read of David
slaying Goliath the Philistine, and I was once thought to be
expert at it.”

So I set to work to manufacture a sling. For a long time
we all worked very busily without speaking. At length
Peterkin looked up: “I say, Jack, I’m sorry to say I
must apply to you for another strip of your handkerchief, to tie
on this rascally head with. It’s pretty well torn at
any rate, so you won’t miss it.”

Jack proceeded to comply with this request when Peterkin
suddenly laid his hand on his arm and arrested him.

“Hist, man,” said he, “be tender; you should
never be needlessly cruel if you can help it. Do try to
shave past Lord Nelson’s mouth without tearing it, if
possible! Thanks. There are plenty more handkerchiefs
on the cocoa-nut trees.”

Poor Peterkin! with what pleasant feelings I recall and record
his jests and humorous sayings now!

While we were thus engaged, we were startled by a distant but
most strange and horrible cry. It seemed to come from the
sea, but was so far away that we could not clearly distinguish
its precise direction. Rushing out of our bower, we
hastened down to the beach and stayed to listen. Again it
came quite loud and distinct on the night air,—a prolonged,
hideous cry, something like the braying of an ass. The moon
had risen, and we could see the islands in and beyond the lagoon
quite plainly, but there was no object visible to account for
such a cry. A strong gust of wind was blowing from the
point whence the sound came, but this died away while we were
gazing out to sea.

“What can it be?” said Peterkin, in a low whisper,
while we all involuntarily crept closer to each other.

“Do you know,” said Jack, “I have heard that
mysterious sound twice before, but never so loud as
to-night. Indeed it was so faint that I thought I must have
merely fancied it, so, as I did not wish to alarm you, I said
nothing about it.”

We listened for a long time for the sound again, but as it did
not come, we returned to the bower and resumed our work.

“Very strange,” said Peterkin, quite
gravely. “Do you believe in ghosts, Ralph?”

“No,” I answered, “I do not.
Nevertheless I must confess that strange, unaccountable sounds,
such as we have just heard, make me feel a little
uneasy.”

“What say you to it, Jack?”

“I neither believe in ghosts nor feel uneasy,” he
replied. “I never saw a ghost myself, and I never met
with any one who had; and I have generally found that strange and
unaccountable things have almost always been accounted for, and
found to be quite simple, on close examination. I certainly
can’t imagine what that sound is; but I’m
quite sure I shall find out before long,—and if it’s
a ghost I’ll—”

“Eat it,” cried Peterkin.

“Yes, I’ll eat it! Now, then, my bow and two
arrows are finished; so if you’re ready we had better turn
in.”

By this time Peterkin had thinned down his spear and tied an
iron point very cleverly to the end of it; I had formed a sling,
the lines of which were composed of thin strips of the cocoa-nut
cloth, plaited; and Jack had made a stout bow, nearly five feet
long, with two arrows, feathered with two or three large plumes
which some bird had dropt. They had no barbs, but Jack said
that if arrows were well feathered, they did not require iron
points, but would fly quite well if merely sharpened at the
point; which I did not know before.

“A feathered arrow without a barb,” said he,
“is a good weapon, but a barbed arrow without feathers is
utterly useless.”

The string of the bow was formed of our piece of whip-cord,
part of which, as he did not like to cut it, was rolled round the
bow.

Although thus prepared for a start on the morrow, we thought
it wise to exercise ourselves a little in the use of our weapons
before starting, so we spent the whole of the next day in
practising. And it was well we did so, for we found that
our arms were very imperfect, and that we were far from perfect
in the use of them. First, Jack found that the bow was much
too strong, and he had to thin it. Also the spear was much
too heavy, and so had to be reduced in thickness, although
nothing would induce Peterkin to have it shortened. My
sling answered very well, but I had fallen so much out of
practice that my first stone knocked off Peterkin’s hat,
and narrowly missed making a second Goliath of him.
However, after having spent the whole day in diligent practice,
we began to find some of our former expertness returning—at
least Jack and I did. As for Peterkin, being naturally a
neat-handed boy, he soon handled his spear well, and could run
full tilt at a cocoa nut, and hit it with great precision once
out of every five times.

But I feel satisfied that we owed much of our rapid success to
the unflagging energy of Jack, who insisted that, since we had
made him Captain, we should obey him; and he kept us at work from
morning till night, perseveringly, at the same thing.
Peterkin wished very much to run about and stick his spear into
everything he passed; but Jack put up a cocoa nut, and would not
let him leave off running at that for a moment, except when he
wanted to rest. We laughed at Jack for this, but we were
both convinced that it did us much good.

That night we examined and repaired our arms ere we lay down
to rest, although we were much fatigued, in order that we might
be in readiness to set out on our expedition at daylight on the
following morning.

CHAPTER IX.

Prepare for a journey round the island—Sagacious
reflections—Mysterious appearances and startling
occurrences.

Scarcely had the sun shot its first ray across the bosom of
the broad Pacific, when Jack sprang to his feet, and, hallooing
in Peterkin’s ear to awaken him, ran down the beach to take
his customary dip in the sea. We did not, as was our wont,
bathe that morning in our Water Garden, but, in order to save
time, refreshed ourselves in the shallow water just opposite the
bower. Our breakfast was also despatched without loss of
time, and in less than an hour afterwards all our preparations
for the journey were completed.

In addition to his ordinary dress, Jack tied a belt of
cocoa-nut cloth round his waist, into which he thrust the
axe. I was also advised to put on a belt and carry a short
cudgel or bludgeon in it; for, as Jack truly remarked, the sling
would be of little use if we should chance to come to close
quarters with any wild animal. As for Peterkin,
notwithstanding that he carried such a long, and I must add,
frightful-looking spear over his shoulder, we could not prevail
on him to leave his club behind; “for,” said he,
“a spear at close quarters is not worth a
button.” I must say that it seemed to me that the
club was, to use his own style of language, not worth a
button-hole; for it was all knotted over at the head, something
like the club which I remember to have observed in picture-books
of Jack the Giant Killer, besides being so heavy that he required
to grasp it with both hands in order to wield it at all.
However, he took it with him, and, in this manner we set out upon
our travels.

We did not consider it necessary to carry any food with us, as
we knew that wherever we went we should be certain to fall in
with cocoa-nut trees; having which, we were amply supplied, as
Peterkin said, with meat and drink and
pocket-handkerchiefs! I took the precaution, however, to
put the burning-glass into my pocket, lest we should want
fire.

The morning was exceeding lovely. It was one of that
very still and peaceful sort which made the few noises that we
heard seem to be quiet noises. I know no other way
of expressing this idea. Noises which so far from
interrupting the universal tranquillity of earth, sea, and
sky—rather tended to reveal to us how quiet the world
around us really was. Such sounds as I refer to were, the
peculiarly melancholy—yet, it seemed to me,
cheerful—plaint of sea-birds floating on the glassy water,
or sailing in the sky, also the subdued twittering of little
birds among the bushes, the faint ripples on the beach, and the
solemn boom of the surf upon the distant coral reef. We
felt very glad in our hearts as we walked along the sands side by
side. For my part, I felt so deeply overjoyed, that I was
surprised at my own sensations, and fell into a reverie upon the
causes of happiness. I came to the conclusion that a state
of profound peace and repose, both in regard to outward objects
and within the soul, is the happiest condition in which man can
be placed; for, although I had many a time been most joyful and
happy when engaged in bustling, energetic, active pursuits or
amusements, I never found that such joy or satisfaction was so
deep or so pleasant to reflect upon as that which I now
experienced. And I was the more confirmed in this opinion
when I observed, and, indeed, was told by himself, that
Peterkin’s happiness was also very great; yet he did not
express this by dancing, as was his wont, nor did he give so much
as a single shout, but walked quietly between us with his eye
sparkling, and a joyful smile upon his countenance. My
reader must not suppose that I thought all this in the clear and
methodical manner in which I have set it down here. These
thoughts did, indeed, pass through my mind, but they did so in a
very confused and indefinite manner, for I was young at that
time, and not much given to deep reflections. Neither did I
consider that the peace whereof I write is not to be found in
this world—at least in its perfection, although I have
since learned that by religion a man may attain to a very great
degree of it.

I have said that Peterkin walked along the sands between
us. We had two ways of walking together about our
island. When we travelled through the woods, we always did
so in single file, as by this method we advanced with greater
facility, the one treading in the other’s footsteps.
In such cases Jack always took the lead, Peterkin followed, and I
brought up the rear. But when we travelled along the sands,
which extended almost in an unbroken line of glistening white
round the island, we marched abreast, as we found this method
more sociable, and every way more pleasant. Jack, being the
tallest, walked next the sea, and Peterkin marched between us, as
by this arrangement either of us could talk to him or he to us,
while if Jack and I happened to wish to converse together, we
could conveniently do so over Peterkin’s head.
Peterkin used to say, in reference to this arrangement, that had
he been as tall as either of us, our order of march might have
been the same, for, as Jack often used to scold him for letting
everything we said to him pass in at one ear and out at the
other, his head could of course form no interruption to our
discourse.

We were now fairly started. Half a mile’s walk
conveyed us round a bend in the land which shut out our bower
from view, and for some time we advanced at a brisk pace without
speaking, though our eyes were not idle, but noted everything, in
the woods, on the shore, or in the sea, that was
interesting. After passing the ridge of land that formed
one side of our valley—the Valley of the Wreck—we
beheld another small vale lying before us in all the luxuriant
loveliness of tropical vegetation. We had, indeed, seen it
before from the mountain-top, but we had no idea that it would
turn out to be so much more lovely when we were close to
it. We were about to commence the exploration of this
valley, when Peterkin stopped us, and directed our attention to a
very remarkable appearance in advance along the shore.

“What’s yon, think you?” said he, levelling
his spear, as if he expected an immediate attack from the object
in question, though it was full half a mile distant.

As he spoke, there appeared a white column above the rocks, as
if of steam or spray. It rose upwards to a height of
several feet, and then disappeared. Had this been near the
sea, we would not have been so greatly surprised, as it might in
that case have been the surf, for at this part of the coast the
coral reef approached so near to the island that in some parts it
almost joined it. There was therefore no lagoon between,
and the heavy surf of the ocean beat almost up to the
rocks. But this white column appeared about fifty yards
inland. The rocks at the place were rugged, and they
stretched across the sandy beach into the sea. Scarce had
we ceased expressing our surprise at this sight, when another
column flew upwards for a few seconds, not far from the spot
where the first had been seen, and disappeared; and so, at long
irregular intervals, these strange sights recurred. We were
now quite sure that the columns were watery or composed of spray,
but what caused them we could not guess, so we determined to go
and see.

In a few minutes we gained the spot, which was very rugged and
precipitous, and, moreover, quite damp with the falling of the
spray. We had much ado to pass over dry-shod. The
ground also was full of holes here and there. Now, while we
stood anxiously waiting for the re-appearance of these
water-spouts, we heard a low, rumbling sound near us, which
quickly increased to a gargling and hissing noise, and a moment
afterwards a thick spout of water burst upwards from a hole in
the rock, and spouted into the air with much violence, and so
close to where Jack and I were standing that it nearly touched
us. We sprang to one side, but not before a cloud of spray
descended, and drenched us both to the skin.

Peterkin, who was standing farther off, escaped with a few
drops, and burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter on
beholding our miserable plight.

“Mind your eye!” he shouted eagerly, “there
goes another!” The words were scarcely out of his
mouth when there came up a spout from another hole, which served
us exactly in the same manner as before.

Peterkin now shrieked with laughter; but his merriment was
abruptly put a stop to by the gurgling noise occurring close to
where he stood.

“Where’ll it spout this time, I wonder?” he
said, looking about with some anxiety, and preparing to
run. Suddenly there came a loud hiss or snort; a fierce
spout of water burst up between Peterkin’s legs, blew him
off his feet, enveloped him in its spray, and hurled him to the
ground. He fell with so much violence that we feared he
must have broken some of his bones, and ran anxiously to his
assistance; but fortunately he had fallen on a clump of tangled
herbage, in which he lay sprawling in a most deplorable
condition.

It was now our turn to laugh; but as we were not yet quite
sure that he was unhurt, and as we knew not when or where the
next spout might arise, we assisted him hastily to jump up and
hurry from the spot.

I may here add, that although I am quite certain that the
spout of water was very strong, and that it blew Peterkin
completely off his legs, I am not quite certain of the exact
height to which it lifted him, being somewhat startled by the
event, and blinded partially by the spray, so that my power of
observation was somewhat impaired for the moment.

“What’s to be done now?” inquired Peterkin
ruefully.

“Make a fire, lad, and dry ourselves,” replied
Jack.

“And here is material ready to our hand,” said I,
picking up a dried branch of a tree, as we hurried up to the
woods.

In about an hour after this mishap our clothes were again
dried. While they were hanging up before the fire, we
walked down to the beach, and soon observed that these curious
spouts took place immediately after the fall of a huge wave,
never before it; and, moreover, that the spouts did not take
place excepting when the billow was an extremely large one.
From this we concluded that there must be a subterraneous channel
in the rock into which the water was driven by the larger waves,
and finding no way of escape except through these small holes,
was thus forced up violently through them. At any rate, we
could not conceive any other reason for these strange
water-spouts, and as this seemed a very simple and probable one,
we forthwith adopted it.

“I say, Ralph, what’s that in the water? is it a
shark?” said Jack, just as we were about to quit the
place.

I immediately ran to the overhanging ledge of rock, from which
he was looking down into the sea, and bent over it. There I
saw a very faint pale object of a greenish colour, which seemed
to move slightly while I looked at it.

“It’s like a fish of some sort,” said I.

“Hallo, Peterkin!” cried Jack, “fetch your
spear; here’s work for it.”

But when we tried to reach the object, the spear proved to be
too short.

“There, now,” said Peterkin with a sneer,
“you were always telling me it was too long.”

Jack now drove the spear forcibly towards the object, and let
go his hold; but, although it seemed to be well aimed, he must
have missed, for the handle soon rose again; and when the spear
was drawn up, there was the pale green object in exactly the same
spot, slowly moving its tail.

“Very odd,” said Jack.

But although it was undoubtedly very odd, and, although Jack
and all of us plunged the spear at it repeatedly, we could
neither hit it nor drive it away, so we were compelled to
continue our journey without discovering what it was. I was
very much perplexed at this strange appearance in the water, and
could not get it out of my mind for a long time afterwards.
However, I quieted myself by resolving that I would pay a visit
to it again at some more convenient season.

CHAPTER X.

Make discovery of many excellent roots and fruits—The
resources of the Coral Island gradually unfolded—The
banian-tree—Another tree which is supported by natural
planks—Water-fowl found—A very remarkable discovery,
and a very peculiar murder—We luxuriate on the fat of the
land.

Our examination of the little valley proved to be altogether
most satisfactory. We found in it not only similar trees to
those we had already seen in our own valley, but also one or two
others of a different species. We had also the satisfaction
of discovering a peculiar vegetable, which Jack concluded must
certainly be that of which he had read as being very common among
the South Sea islanders, and which was named taro.
Also we found a large supply of yams, and another root like a
potato in appearance. As these were all quite new to us, we
regarded our lot as a most fortunate one, in being thus cast on
an island which was so prolific and so well stored with all the
necessaries of life. Long afterwards we found out that this
island of ours was no better in these respects than thousands of
other islands in those seas. Indeed, many of them were much
richer and more productive; but that did not render us the less
grateful for our present good fortune. We each put one of
these roots in our pocket, intending to use them for our supper;
of which more hereafter. We also saw many beautiful birds
here, and traces of some four-footed animal again.
Meanwhile the sun began to descend, so we returned to the shore,
and pushed on round the spouting rocks into the next
valley. This was that valley of which I have spoken as
running across the entire island. It was by far the largest
and most beautiful that we had yet looked upon. Here were
trees of every shape and size and hue which it is possible to
conceive of, many of which we had not seen in the other valleys;
for, the stream in this valley being larger, and the mould much
richer than in the Valley of the Wreck, it was clothed with a
more luxuriant growth of trees and plants. Some trees were
dark glossy green, others of a rich and warm hue, contrasting
well with those of a pale light green, which were everywhere
abundant. Among these we recognised the broad dark heads of
the bread-fruit, with its golden fruit; the pure, silvery foliage
of the candle-nut, and several species which bore a strong
resemblance to the pine; while here and there, in groups and in
single trees, rose the tall forms of the cocoa-nut palms,
spreading abroad, and waving their graceful plumes high above all
the rest, as if they were a superior race of stately giants
keeping guard over these luxuriant forests. Oh! it was a
most enchanting scene, and I thanked God for having created such
delightful spots for the use of man.

Now, while we were gazing around us in silent admiration, Jack
uttered an exclamation of surprise, and, pointing to an object a
little to one side of us, said,—

“That’s a banian-tree.”

“And what’s a banian-tree?” inquired
Peterkin, as we walked towards it.

“A very curious one, as you shall see presently,”
replied Jack. “It is called the aoa here, if I
recollect rightly, and has a wonderful peculiarity about
it. What an enormous one it is, to be sure.”

“It!” repeated Peterkin; “why, there
are dozens of banians here! What do you mean by talking bad
grammar? Is your philosophy deserting you, Jack?”

“There is but one tree here of this kind,”
returned Jack, “as you will perceive if you will examine
it.” And, sure enough, we did find that what we had
supposed was a forest of trees was in reality only one. Its
bark was of a light colour, and had a shining appearance, the
leaves being lance-shaped, small, and of a beautiful
pea-green. But the wonderful thing about it was, that the
branches, which grew out from the stem horizontally, sent down
long shoots or fibres to the ground, which, taking root, had
themselves become trees, and were covered with bark like the tree
itself. Many of these fibres had descended from the
branches at various distances, and thus supported them on natural
pillars, some of which were so large and strong, that it was not
easy at first to distinguish the offspring from the parent
stem. The fibres were of all sizes and in all states of
advancement, from the pillars we have just mentioned to small
cords which hung down and were about to take root, and thin brown
threads still far from the ground, which swayed about with every
motion of wind. In short, it seemed to us that, if there
were only space afforded to it, this single tree would at length
cover the whole island.

Shortly after this we came upon another remarkable tree,
which, as its peculiar formation afterwards proved extremely
useful to us, merits description. It was a splendid
chestnut, but its proper name Jack did not know. However,
there were quantities of fine nuts upon it, some of which we put
in our pockets. But its stem was the wonderful part of
it. It rose to about twelve feet without a branch, and was
not of great thickness; on the contrary, it was remarkably
slender for the size of the tree; but, to make up for this, there
were four or five wonderful projections in this stem, which I
cannot better describe than by asking the reader to suppose that
five planks of two inches thick and three feet broad had been
placed round the trunk of the tree, with their edges
closely fixed to it, from the ground up to the branches, and that
these planks had been covered over with the bark of the tree and
incorporated with it. In short, they were just natural
buttresses, without which the stem could not have supported its
heavy and umbrageous top. We found these chestnuts to be
very numerous. They grew chiefly on the banks of the
stream, and were of all sizes.

While we were examining a small tree of this kind, Jack
chipped a piece off a buttress with his axe, and found the wood
to be firm and easily cut. He then struck the axe into it
with all his force, and very soon split it off close to the tree,
first, however, having cut it across transversely above and
below. By this means he satisfied himself that we could now
obtain short planks, as it were all ready sawn, of any size and
thickness that we desired; which was a very great discovery
indeed, perhaps the most important we had yet made.

We now wended our way back to the coast, intending to encamp
near the beach, as we found that the mosquitoes were troublesome
in the forest. On our way we could not help admiring the
birds which flew and chirped around us. Among them we
observed a pretty kind of paroquet, with a green body, a blue
head, and a red breast; also a few beautiful turtledoves, and
several flocks of wood-pigeons. The hues of many of these
birds were extremely vivid,—bright green, blue, and
scarlet, being the prevailing tints. We made several
attempts throughout the day to bring down one of these, both with
the bow and the sling,—not for mere sport, but to ascertain
whether they were good for food. But we invariably missed,
although once or twice we were very near hitting. As
evening drew on, however, a flock of pigeons flew past. I
slung a stone into the midst of them at a venture, and had the
good fortune to kill one. We were startled, soon after, by
a loud whistling noise above our heads; and on looking up, saw a
flock of wild ducks making for the coast. We watched these,
and, observing where they alighted, followed them up until we
came upon a most lovely blue lake, not more than two hundred
yards long, imbosomed in verdant trees. Its placid surface,
which reflected every leaf and stem, as if in a mirror, was
covered with various species of wild ducks, feeding among the
sedges and broad-leaved water-plants which floated on it, while
numerous birds like water-hens ran to and fro most busily on its
margin. These all with one accord flew tumultuously away
the instant we made our appearance. While walking along the
margin we observed fish in the water, but of what sort we could
not tell.

Now, as we neared the shore, Jack and I said we would go a
little out of our way to see if we could procure one of those
ducks; so, directing Peterkin to go straight to the shore and
kindle a fire, we separated, promising to rejoin him
speedily. But we did not find the ducks, although we made a
diligent search for half an hour. We were about to retrace
our steps, when we were arrested by one of the strangest sights
that we had yet beheld.

Just in front of us, at the distance of about ten yards, grew
a superb tree, which certainly was the largest we had yet seen on
the island. Its trunk was at least five feet in diameter,
with a smooth gray bark; above this the spreading branches were
clothed with light green leaves, amid which were clusters of
bright yellow fruit, so numerous as to weigh down the boughs with
their great weight. This fruit seemed to be of the plum
species, of an oblong form, and a good deal larger than the
magnum bonum plum. The ground at the foot of this tree was
thickly strewn with the fallen fruit, in the midst of which lay
sleeping, in every possible attitude, at least twenty hogs of all
ages and sizes, apparently quite surfeited with a recent
banquet.

Jack and I could scarce restrain our laughter as we gazed at
these coarse, fat, ill-looking animals, while they lay groaning
and snoring heavily amid the remains of their supper.

“Now, Ralph,” said Jack, in a low whisper,
“put a stone in your sling,—a good big one,—and
let fly at that fat fellow with his back toward you.
I’ll try to put an arrow into yon little pig.”

“Don’t you think we had better put them up
first?” I whispered; “it seems cruel to kill them
while asleep.”

“If I wanted sport, Ralph, I would certainly set
them up; but as we only want pork, we’ll let them
lie. Besides, we’re not sure of killing them; so,
fire away.”

Thus admonished, I slung my stone with so good aim that it
went bang against the hog’s flank as if against the head of
a drum; but it had no other effect than that of causing the
animal to start to its feet, with a frightful yell of surprise,
and scamper away. At the same instant Jack’s bow
twanged, and the arrow pinned the little pig to the ground by the
ear.

“I’ve missed, after all,” cried Jack,
darting forward with uplifted axe, while the little pig uttered a
loud squeal, tore the arrow from the ground, and ran away with
it, along with the whole drove, into the bushes and disappeared,
though we heard them screaming long afterwards in the
distance.

“That’s very provoking, now,” said Jack,
rubbing the point of his nose.

“Very,” I replied, stroking my chin.

“Well, we must make haste and rejoin Peterkin,”
said Jack. “It’s getting late.”
And, without further remark, we threaded our way quickly through
the woods towards the shore.

When we reached it, we found wood laid out, the fire lighted
and beginning to kindle up, with other signs of preparation for
our encampment, but Peterkin was nowhere to be found. We
wondered very much at this; but Jack suggested that he might have
gone to fetch water; so he gave a shout to let him know that we
had arrived, and sat down upon a rock, while I threw off my
jacket and seized the axe, intending to split up one or two
billets of wood. But I had scarce moved from the spot when,
in the distance, we heard a most appalling shriek, which was
followed up by a chorus of yells from the hogs, and a loud
“hurrah!”

“I do believe,” said I, “that Peterkin has
met with the hogs.”

“When Greek meets Greek,” said Jack,
soliloquizing, “then comes the tug of—”

“Hurrah!” shouted Peterkin in the distance.

We turned hastily towards the direction whence the sound came,
and soon descried Peterkin walking along the beach towards us
with a little pig transfixed on the end of his long spear!

“Well done, my boy!” exclaimed Jack, slapping him
on the shoulder when he came up, “you’re the best
shot amongst us.”

“Look here Jack!” cried Peterkin, as he disengaged
the animal from his spear. “Do you recognise that
hole?” said he, pointing to the pig’s ear; “and
are you familiar with this arrow, eh?”

“Well, I declare!” said Jack.

“Of course you do,” interrupted Peterkin;
“but, pray, restrain your declarations at this time, and
let’s have supper, for I’m uncommonly hungry, I can
tell you; and it’s no joke to charge a whole herd of swine
with their great-grandmother bristling like a giant porcupine at
the head of them!”

We now set about preparing supper; and, truly, a good display
of viands we made, when all was laid out on a flat rock in the
light of the blazing fire. There was, first of all, the
little pig; then there was the taro-root, and the yam, and the
potato, and six plums; and, lastly, the wood-pigeon. To
these Peterkin added a bit of sugar-cane, which he had cut from a
little patch of that plant which he had found not long after
separating from us; “and,” said he, “the patch
was somewhat in a square form, which convinces me it must have
been planted by man.”

“Very likely,” replied Jack. “From all
we have seen, I’m inclined to think that some of the
savages must have dwelt here long ago.”

We found no small difficulty in making up our minds how we
were to cook the pig. None of us had ever cut up one
before, and we did not know exactly how to begin; besides, we had
nothing but the axe to do it with, our knife having been
forgotten. At last Jack started up and said,—

“Don’t let us waste more time talking about it,
boys. Hold it up, Peterkin. There, lay the hind leg
on this block of wood, so;” and he cut it off, with a large
portion of the haunch, at a single blow of the axe.
“Now the other,—that’s it.” And
having thus cut off the two hind legs, he made several deep
gashes in them, thrust a sharp-pointed stick through each, and
stuck them up before the blaze to roast. The wood-pigeon
was then split open, quite flat, washed clean in salt water, and
treated in a similar manner. While these were cooking, we
scraped a hole in the sand and ashes under the fire, into which
we put our vegetables, and covered them up.

The taro-root was of an oval shape, about ten inches long and
four or five thick. It was of a mottled-gray colour, and
had a thick rind. We found it somewhat like an Irish
potato, and exceedingly good. The yam was roundish, and had
a rough brown skin. It was very sweet and
well-flavoured. The potato, we were surprised to find, was
quite sweet and exceedingly palatable, as also were the plums;
and, indeed, the pork and pigeon too, when we came to taste
them. Altogether this was decidedly the most luxurious
supper we had enjoyed for many a day; and Jack said it was
out-of-sight better than we ever got on board ship; and Peterkin
said he feared that if we should remain long on the island he
would infallibly become a glutton or an epicure: whereat Jack
remarked that he need not fear that, for he was both
already! And so, having eaten our fill, not forgetting to
finish off with a plum, we laid ourselves comfortably down to
sleep upon a couch of branches under the overhanging ledge of a
coral rock.

CHAPTER XI.

Effects of over-eating, and reflections thereon—Humble
advice regarding cold water—The “horrible cry”
accounted for—The curious birds called
penguins—Peculiarity of the cocoa nut palm—Questions
on the formation of coral islands—Mysterious
footsteps—Strange discoveries and sad sights.

When we awoke on the following morning, we found that the sun
was already a good way above the horizon, so I came to the
conclusion that a heavy supper is not conducive to early
rising. Nevertheless, we felt remarkably strong and well,
and much disposed to have our breakfast. First, however, we
had our customary morning bathe, which refreshed us greatly.

I have often wondered very much in after years that the
inhabitants of my own dear land did not make more frequent use of
this most charming element, water. I mean in the way of
cold bathing. Of course, I have perceived that it is not
convenient for them to go into the sea or the rivers in winter,
as we used to do on the Coral Island; but then, I knew from
experience that a large washing-tub and a sponge do form a most
pleasant substitute. The feelings of freshness, of
cleanliness, of vigour, and extreme hilarity, that always
followed my bathes in the sea, and even, when in England, my
ablutions in the wash-tub, were so delightful, that I would
sooner have gone without my breakfast than without my bathe in
cold water. My readers will forgive me for asking whether
they are in the habit of bathing thus every morning; and if they
answer “No,” they will pardon me for recommending
them to begin at once. Of late years, since retiring from
the stirring life of adventure which I have led so long in
foreign climes, I have heard of a system called the
cold-water-cure. Now, I do not know much about that system,
so I do not mean to uphold it, neither do I intend to run it
down. Perhaps, in reference to it, I may just hint that
there may be too much of a good thing. I know not; but of
this I am quite certain, that there may also be too little of a
good thing; and the great delight I have had in cold bathing
during the course of my adventurous career inclines me to think
that it is better to risk taking too much than to content
one’s self with too little. Such is my opinion,
derived from much experience; but I put it before my readers with
the utmost diffidence and with profound modesty, knowing that it
may possibly jar with their feelings of confidence in their own
ability to know and judge as to what is best and fittest in
reference to their own affairs. But, to return from this
digression, for which I humbly crave forgiveness.

We had not advanced on our journey much above a mile or so,
and were just beginning to feel the pleasant glow that usually
accompanies vigorous exercise, when, on turning a point that
revealed to us a new and beautiful cluster of islands, we were
suddenly arrested by the appalling cry which had so alarmed us a
few nights before. But this time we were by no means so
much alarmed as on the previous occasion, because, whereas at
that time it was night, now it was day; and I have always found,
though I am unable to account for it, that daylight banishes many
of the fears that are apt to assail us in the dark.

On hearing the sound, Peterkin instantly threw forward his
spear.

“Now, what can it be?” said he, looking round at
Jack. “I tell you what it is, if we are to go on
being pulled up in a constant state of horror and astonishment,
as we have been for the last week, the sooner we’re out
o’ this island the better, notwithstanding the yams and
lemonade, and pork and plums!”

Peterkin’s remark was followed by a repetition of the
cry, louder than before.

“It comes from one of these islands,” said
Jack.

“It must be the ghost of a jackass, then,” said
Peterkin, “for I never heard anything so like.”

We all turned our eyes towards the cluster of islands, where,
on the largest, we observed curious objects moving on the
shore.

“Soldiers they are,—that’s flat!”
cried Peterkin, gazing at them in the utmost amazement.

And, in truth, Peterkin’s remark seemed to me to be
correct; for, at the distance from which we saw them, they
appeared to be an army of soldiers. There they stood, rank
and file, in lines and in squares, marching and countermarching,
with blue coats and white trousers. While we were looking
at them, the dreadful cry came again over the water, and Peterkin
suggested that it must be a regiment sent out to massacre the
natives in cold blood. At this remark Jack laughed and
said,—

“Why, Peterkin, they are penguins!”

“Penguins?” repeated Peterkin.

“Ay, penguins, Peterkin, penguins,—nothing more or
less than big sea-birds, as you shall see one of these days, when
we pay them a visit in our boat, which I mean to set about
building the moment we return to our bower.”

“So, then, our dreadful yelling ghosts and our murdering
army of soldiers,” remarked Peterkin, “have dwindled
down to penguins,—big sea-birds! Very good.
Then I propose that we continue our journey as fast as possible,
lest our island should be converted into a dream before we get
completely round it.”

Now, as we continued on our way, I pondered much over this new
discovery, and the singular appearance of these birds, of which
Jack could only give us a very slight and vague account; and I
began to long to commence to our boat, in order that we might go
and inspect them more narrowly. But by degrees these
thoughts left me, and I began to be much taken up again with the
interesting peculiarities of the country which we were passing
through.

The second night we passed in a manner somewhat similar to the
first, at about two-thirds of the way round the island, as we
calculated, and we hoped to sleep on the night following at our
bower. I will not here note so particularly all that we
said and saw during the course of this second day, as we did not
make any further discoveries of great importance. The shore
along which we travelled, and the various parts of the woods
through which we passed, were similar to those which have been
already treated of. There were one or two observations that
we made, however, and these were as follows:—

We saw that, while many of the large fruit-bearing trees grew
only in the valleys, and some of them only near the banks of the
streams, where the soil was peculiarly rich, the cocoa-nut palm
grew in every place whatsoever,—not only on the hill sides,
but also on the sea shore, and even, as has been already stated,
on the coral reef itself, where the soil, if we may use the name,
was nothing better than loose sand mingled with broken shells and
coral rock. So near to the sea, too, did this useful tree
grow, that in many places its roots were washed by the spray from
the breakers. Yet we found the trees growing thus on the
sands to be quite as luxuriant as those growing in the valleys,
and the fruit as good and refreshing also. Besides this, I
noticed that, on the summit of the high mountain, which we once
more ascended at a different point from our first ascent, were
found abundance of shells and broken coral formations, which Jack
and I agreed proved either that this island must have once been
under the sea, or that the sea must once have been above the
island. In other words, that as shells and coral could not
possibly climb to the mountain top, they must have been washed
upon it while the mountain top was on a level with the sea.
We pondered this very much; and we put to ourselves the question,
“What raised the island to its present height above the
sea?” But to this we could by no means give to
ourselves a satisfactory reply. Jack thought it might have
been blown up by a volcano; and Peterkin said he thought it must
have jumped up of its own accord! We also noticed, what had
escaped us before, that the solid rocks of which the island was
formed were quite different from the live coral rocks on the
shore, where the wonderful little insects were continually
working. They seemed, indeed, to be of the same
material,—a substance like limestone; but, while the coral
rocks were quite full of minute cells in which the insects lived,
the other rocks inland were hard and solid, without the
appearance of cells at all. Our thoughts and conversations
on this subject were sometimes so profound that Peterkin said we
should certainly get drowned in them at last, even although we
were such good divers! Nevertheless we did not allow his
pleasantry on this and similar points to deter us from making our
notes and observations as we went along.

We found several more droves of hogs in the woods, but
abstained from killing any of them, having more than sufficient
for our present necessities. We saw also many of their
foot-prints in this neighbourhood. Among these we also
observed the footprints of a smaller animal, which we examined
with much care, but could form no certain opinion as to
them. Peterkin thought they were those of a little dog, but
Jack and I thought differently. We became very curious on
this matter, the more so that we observed these foot-prints to
lie scattered about in one locality, as if the animal which had
made them was wandering round about in a very irregular manner,
and without any object in view. Early in the forenoon of
our third day we observed these footprints to be much more
numerous than ever, and in one particular spot they diverged off
into the woods in a regular beaten track, which was, however, so
closely beset with bushes, that we pushed through it with
difficulty. We had now become so anxious to find out what
animal this was, and where it went to, that we determined to
follow the track, and, if possible, clear up the mystery.
Peterkin said, in a bantering tone, that he was sure it would be
cleared up as usual in some frightfully simple way, and prove to
be no mystery at all!

The beaten track seemed much too large to have been formed by
the animal itself, and we concluded that some larger animal had
made it, and that the smaller one made use of it. But
everywhere the creeping plants and tangled bushes crossed our
path, so that we forced our way along with some difficulty.
Suddenly, as we came upon an open space, we heard a faint cry,
and observed a black animal standing in the track before us.

“A wild-cat!” cried Jack, fitting an arrow to his
bow, and discharging it so hastily that he missed the animal, and
hit the earth about half a foot to one side of it. To our
surprise the wild-cat did not fly, but walked slowly towards the
arrow, and snuffed at it.

“That’s the most comical wild-cat I ever
saw!” cried Jack.

“It’s a tame wild-cat, I think,” said
Peterkin, levelling his spear to make a charge.

“Stop!” cried I, laying my hand on his shoulder;
“I do believe the poor beast is blind. See, it
strikes against the branches as it walks along. It must be
a very old one;” and I hastened towards it.

“Only think,” said Peterkin, with a suppressed
laugh, “of a superannuated wild-cat!”

We now found that the poor cat was not only blind, or nearly
so, but extremely deaf, as it did not hear our footsteps until we
were quite close behind it. Then it sprang round, and,
putting up its back and tail, while the black hair stood all on
end, uttered a hoarse mew and a fuff.

“Poor thing,” said Peterkin, gently extending his
hand, and endeavouring to pat the cat’s head.
“Poor pussy; chee, chee, chee; puss, puss, puss; cheetie
pussy!”

No sooner did the cat hear these sounds than all signs of
anger fled, and, advancing eagerly to Peterkin, it allowed itself
to be stroked, and rubbed itself against his legs, purring loudly
all the time, and showing every symptom of the most extreme
delight.

“It’s no more a wild cat than I am!” cried
Peterkin, taking it in his arms. “It’s quite
tame. Poor pussy, cheetie pussy!”

We now crowded around Peterkin, and were not a little
surprised, and, to say truth, a good deal affected, by the sight
of the poor animal’s excessive joy. It rubbed its
head against Peterkin’s cheek, licked his chin, and thrust
its head almost violently into his neck, while it purred more
loudly than I ever heard a cat purr before, and appeared to be so
much overpowered by its feelings, that it occasionally mewed and
purred almost in the same breath. Such demonstrations of
joy and affection led us at once to conclude that this poor cat
must have known man before, and we conjectured that it had been
left either accidentally or by design on the island many years
ago, and was now evincing its extreme joy at meeting once more
with human beings. While we were fondling the cat and
talking about it, Jack glanced round the open space in the midst
of which we stood.

“Hallo!” exclaimed he; “this looks something
like a clearing. The axe has been at work here. Just
look at these tree-stumps.”

We now turned to examine these, and, without doubt, we found
trees that had been cut down here and there, also stumps and
broken branches; all of which, however, were completely covered
over with moss, and bore evidence of having been in this
condition for some years. No human foot-prints were to be
seen, either on the track or among the bushes; but those of the
cat were found everywhere. We now determined to follow up
the track as far as it went, and Peterkin put the cat down; but
it seemed to be so weak, and mewed so very pitifully, that he
took it up again and carried it in his arms, where, in a few
minutes, it fell sound asleep.

About ten yards farther on, the felled trees became more
numerous, and the track, diverging to the right, followed for a
short space the banks of a stream. Suddenly we came to a
spot where once must have been a rude bridge, the stones of which
were scattered in the stream, and those on each bank entirely
covered over with moss. In silent surprise and expectancy
we continued to advance, and, a few yards farther on, beheld,
under the shelter of some bread-fruit trees, a small hut or
cottage. I cannot hope to convey to my readers a very
correct idea of the feelings that affected us on witnessing this
unexpected sight. We stood for a long time in silent
wonder, for there was a deep and most melancholy stillness about
the place that quite overpowered us; and when we did at length
speak, it was in subdued whispers, as if we were surrounded by
some awful or supernatural influence. Even Peterkin’s
voice, usually so quick and lively on all occasions, was hushed
now; for there was a dreariness about this silent, lonely,
uninhabited cottage,—so strange in its appearance, so far
away from the usual dwellings of man, so old, decayed, and
deserted in its aspect,—that fell upon our spirits like a
thick cloud, and blotted out as with a pall the cheerful sunshine
that had filled us since the commencement of our tour round the
island.

The hut or cottage was rude and simple in its
construction. It was not more than twelve feet long by ten
feet broad, and about seven or eight feet high. It had one
window, or rather a small frame in which a window might, perhaps,
once have been, but which was now empty. The door was
exceedingly low, and formed of rough boards, and the roof was
covered with broad cocoa-nut and plantain leaves. But every
part of it was in a state of the utmost decay. Moss and
green matter grew in spots all over it. The woodwork was
quite perforated with holes; the roof had nearly fallen in, and
appeared to be prevented from doing so altogether by the thick
matting of creeping-plants and the interlaced branches which
years of neglect had allowed to cover it almost entirely; while
the thick, luxuriant branches of the bread-fruit and other trees
spread above it, and flung a deep, sombre shadow over the spot,
as if to guard it from the heat and the light of day. We
conversed long and in whispers about this strange habitation ere
we ventured to approach it; and when at length we did so it was,
at least on my part, with feelings of awe.

At first Jack endeavoured to peep in at the window, but from
the deep shadow of the trees already mentioned, and the gloom
within, he could not clearly discern objects; so we lifted the
latch and pushed open the door. We observed that the latch
was made of iron, and almost eaten away with rust. In the
like condition were also the hinges, which creaked as the door
swung back. On entering, we stood still and gazed around
us, while we were much impressed with the dreary stillness of the
room. But what we saw there surprised and shocked us not a
little. There was no furniture in the apartment save a
little wooden stool and an iron pot, the latter almost eaten
through with rust. In the corner farthest from the door was
a low bedstead, on which lay two skeletons, imbedded in a little
heap of dry dust. With beating hearts we went forward to
examine them. One was the skeleton of a man, the other that
of a dog, which was extended close beside that of the man, with
its head resting on his bosom

Now we were very much concerned about this discovery, and
could scarce refrain from tears on beholding these sad
remains. After some time, we began to talk about what we
had seen, and to examine in and around the hut, in order to
discover some clue to the name or history of this poor man, who
had thus died in solitude, with none to mourn his loss save his
cat and his faithful dog. But we found
nothing,—neither a book nor a scrap of paper. We
found, however, the decayed remnants of what appeared to have
been clothing, and an old axe. But none of these things
bore marks of any kind; and, indeed, they were so much decayed as
to convince us that they had lain in the condition in which we
found them for many years.

This discovery now accounted to us for the tree stump at the
top of the mountain with the initials cut on it; also for the
patch of sugar-cane and other traces of man which we had met with
in the course of our rambles over the island. And we were
much saddened by the reflection that the lot of this poor
wanderer might possibly be our own, after many years’
residence on the island, unless we should be rescued by the visit
of some vessel or the arrival of natives. Having no clue
whatever to account for the presence of this poor human being in
such a lonely spot, we fell to conjecturing what could have
brought him there. I was inclined to think that he must
have been a shipwrecked sailor, whose vessel had been lost here,
and all the crew been drowned except himself and his dog and
cat. But Jack thought it more likely that he had run away
from his vessel, and had taken the dog and cat to keep him
company. We were also much occupied in our minds with the
wonderful difference between the cat and the dog. For here
we saw that while the one perished, like a loving friend, by its
master’s side, with its head resting on his bosom, the
other had sought to sustain itself by prowling abroad in the
forest, and had lived in solitude to a good old age.
However, we did not conclude from this that the cat was destitute
of affection, for we could not forget its emotions on first
meeting with us; but we saw from this, that the dog had a great
deal more of generous love in its nature than the cat, because it
not only found it impossible to live after the death of its
master, but it must needs, when it came to die, crawl to his side
and rest its head upon his lifeless breast.

While we were thinking on these things, and examining into
everything about the room, we were attracted by an exclamation
from Peterkin.

“I say, Jack,” said he, “here is something
that will be of use to us.”

“What is it?” said Jack, hastening across the
room.

“An old pistol,” replied Peterkin, holding up the
weapon, which he had just pulled from under a heap of broken wood
and rubbish that lay in a corner.

“That, indeed, might have been useful,” said Jack,
examining it, “if we had any powder; but I suspect the bow
and the sling will prove more serviceable.”

“True, I forgot that,” said Peterkin; “but
we may as well take it with us, for the flint will serve to
strike fire with when the sun does not shine.”

After having spent more than an hour at this place without
discovering anything of further interest, Peterkin took up the
old cat, which had lain very contentedly asleep on the stool
whereon he had placed it, and we prepared to take our
departure. In leaving the hut, Jack stumbled heavily
against the door-post, which was so much decayed as to break
across, and the whole fabric of the hut seemed ready to tumble
about our ears. This put into our heads that we might as
well pull it down, and so form a mound over the skeleton.
Jack, therefore, with his axe, cut down the other door-post,
which, when it was done, brought the whole hut in ruins to the
ground, and thus formed a grave to the bones of the poor recluse
and his dog. Then we left the spot, having brought away the
iron pot, the pistol, and the old axe, as they might be of much
use to us hereafter.

During the rest of this day we pursued our journey, and
examined the other end of the large valley, which we found to be
so much alike to the parts already described, that I shall not
recount the particulars of what we saw in this place. I
may, however, remark, that we did not quite recover our former
cheerful spirits until we arrived at our bower, which we did late
in the evening, and found everything just in the same condition
as we had left it three days before.

CHAPTER XII.

Something wrong with the tank—Jack’s wisdom and
Peterkin’s impertinence—Wonderful behaviour of a
crab—Good wishes for those who dwell far from the
sea—Jack commences to build a little boat.

Rest is sweet as well for the body as for the mind.
During my long experience, amid the vicissitudes of a chequered
life, I have found that periods of profound rest at certain
intervals, in addition to the ordinary hours of repose, are
necessary to the wellbeing of man. And the nature as well
as the period of this rest varies, according to the different
temperaments of individuals, and the peculiar circumstances in
which they may chance to be placed. To those who work with
their minds, bodily labour is rest. To those who labour
with the body, deep sleep is rest. To the downcast, the
weary, and the sorrowful, joy and peace are rest. Nay,
further, I think that to the gay, the frivolous, the reckless,
when sated with pleasures that cannot last, even sorrow proves to
be rest of a kind, although, perchance, it were better that I
should call it relief than rest. There is, indeed, but one
class of men to whom rest is denied. There is no rest to
the wicked. At this I do but hint, however, as I treat not
of that rest which is spiritual, but, more particularly, of that
which applies to the mind and to the body.

Of this rest we stood much in need on our return home, and we
found it exceedingly sweet, when we indulged in it, after
completing the journey just related. It had not, indeed,
been a very long journey, nevertheless we had pursued it so
diligently that our frames were not a little prostrated.
Our minds were also very much exhausted in consequence of the
many surprises, frequent alarms, and much profound thought, to
which they had been subjected; so that when we lay down on the
night of our return under the shelter of the bower, we fell
immediately into very deep repose. I can state this with
much certainty, for Jack afterwards admitted the fact, and
Peterkin, although he stoutly denied it, I heard snoring loudly
at least two minutes after lying down. In this condition we
remained all night and the whole of the following day without
awaking once, or so much as moving our positions. When we
did awake it was near sunset, and we were all in such a state of
lassitude that we merely rose to swallow a mouthful of
food. As Peterkin remarked, in the midst of a yawn, we took
breakfast at tea-time, and then went to bed again, where we lay
till the following forenoon.

After this we arose very greatly refreshed, but much alarmed
lest we had lost count of a day. I say we were much alarmed
on this head, for we had carefully kept count of the days since
we were cast upon our island, in order that we might remember the
Sabbath-day, which day we had hitherto with one accord kept as a
day of rest, and refrained from all work whatsoever.
However, on considering the subject, we all three entertained the
same opinion as to how long we had slept, and so our minds were
put at ease.

We now hastened to our Water Garden to enjoy a bathe, and to
see how did the animals which I had placed in the tank. We
found the garden more charming, pelucid, and inviting than ever,
and Jack and I plunged into its depth, and gambolled among its
radiant coral groves; while Peterkin wallowed at the surface, and
tried occasionally to kick us as we passed below. Having
dressed, I then hastened to the tank; but what was my surprise
and grief to find nearly all the animals dead, and the water in a
putrid condition! I was greatly distressed at this, and
wondered what could be the cause of it.

“Why, you precious humbug,” said Peterkin, coming
up to me, “how could you expect it to be otherwise?
When fishes are accustomed to live in the Pacific Ocean, how can
you expect them to exist in a hole like that?”

“Indeed, Peterkin,” I replied, “there seems
to be truth in what you say. Nevertheless, now I think of
it, there must be some error in your reasoning; for, if I put in
but a few very small animals, they will bear the same proportion
to this pond that the millions of fish bear to the
ocean.”

“I say, Jack,” cried Peterkin, waving his hand,
“come here, like a good fellow. Ralph is actually
talking philosophy. Do come to our assistance, for
he’s out o’ sight beyond me already!”

“What’s the matter?” inquired Jack, coming
up, while he endeavoured to scrub his long hair dry with a towel
of cocoa-nut cloth.

I repeated my thoughts to Jack, who, I was happy to find,
quite agreed with me. “Your best plan,” he
said, “will be to put very few animals at first into your
tank, and add more as you find it will bear them. And look
here,” he added, pointing to the sides of the tank, which,
for the space of two inches above the water-level, were incrusted
with salt, “you must carry your philosophy a little
farther, Ralph. That water has evaporated so much that it
is too salt for anything to live in. You will require to
add fresh water now and then, in order to keep it at the
same degree of saltness as the sea.”

“Very true, Jack, that never struck me before,”
said I.

“And, now I think of it,” continued Jack,
“it seems to me that the surest way of arranging your tank
so as to get it to keep pure and in good condition, will be to
imitate the ocean in it. In fact make it a miniature
Pacific. I don’t see how you can hope to succeed
unless you do that.”

“Most true,” said I, pondering what my companion
said. “But I fear that that will be very
difficult.”

“Not at all,” cried Jack, rolling his towel up
into a ball, and throwing it into the face of Peterkin, who had
been grinning and winking at him during the last five
minutes. “Not at all. Look here. There is
water of a certain saltness in the sea; well, fill your tank with
sea water, and keep it at that saltness by marking the height at
which the water stands on the sides. When it evaporates a
little, pour in fresh water from the brook till it comes
up to the mark, and then it will be right, for the salt does not
evaporate with the water. Then, there’s lots of
sea-weed in the sea;—well, go and get one or two bits of
sea-weed, and put them into your tank. Of course the weed
must be alive, and growing to little stones; or you can chip a
bit off the rocks with the weed sticking to it. Then, if
you like, you can throw a little sand and gravel into your tank,
and the thing’s complete.”

“Nay, not quite,” said Peterkin, who had been
gravely attentive to this off-hand advice, “not quite; you
must first make three little men to dive in it before it can be
said to be perfect, and that would be rather difficult, I fear,
for two of them would require to be philosophers. But
hallo! what’s this? I say, Ralph, look here.
There’s one o’ your crabs up to something
uncommon. It’s performing the most remarkable
operation for a crab I ever saw,—taking off its coat, I do
believe, before going to bed!”

We hastily stooped over the tank, and certainly were not a
little amused at the conduct of one of the crabs which still
survived it companions. It was one of the common small
crabs, like to those that are found running about everywhere on
the coasts of England. While we gazed at it, we observed
its back to split away from the lower part of its body, and out
of the gap thus formed came a soft lump which moved and writhed
unceasingly. This lump continued to increase in size until
it appeared like a bunch of crab’s legs: and, indeed, such
it proved in a very few minutes to be; for the points of the toes
were at length extricated from this hole in its back, the legs
spread out, the body followed, and the crab walked away quite
entire, even to the points of its nipper-claws, leaving a
perfectly entire shell behind it, so that, when we looked, it
seemed as though there were two complete crabs instead of
one!

“Well!” exclaimed Peterkin, drawing a long breath,
“I’ve heard of a man jumping out of his skin
and sitting down in his skeleton in order to cool himself, but I
never expected to see a crab do it!”

We were, in truth, much amazed at this spectacle, and the more
so when we observed that the new crab was larger than the crab
that it came out of. It was also quite soft, but by next
morning its skin had hardened into a good shell. We came
thus to know that crabs grow in this way, and not by the growing
of their shells, as we had always thought before we saw this
wonderful operation.

Now I considered well the advice which Jack had given me about
preparing my tank, and the more I thought of it, the more I came
to regard it as very sound and worthy of being acted on. So
I forthwith put his plan in execution, and found it to answer
excellently well, indeed much beyond my expectation; for I found
that after a little experience had taught me the proper
proportion of sea-weed and animals to put into a certain amount
of water, the tank needed no farther attendance; and, moreover, I
did not require ever afterwards to renew or change the sea-water,
but only to add a very little fresh water from the brook, now and
then, as the other evaporated. I therefore concluded that
if I had been suddenly conveyed, along with my tank, into some
region where there was no salt sea at all, my little sea and my
sea-fish would have continued to thrive and to prosper
notwithstanding. This made me greatly to desire that those
people in the world who live far inland might know of my
wonderful tank, and, by having materials like to those of which
it was made conveyed to them, thus be enabled to watch the habits
of those most mysterious animals that reside in the sea, and
examine with their own eyes the wonders of the great deep.

For many days after this, while Peterkin and Jack were busily
employed in building a little boat out of the curious natural
planks of the chestnut tree, I spent much of my time in examining
with the burning-glass the marvellous operations that were
constantly going on in my tank. Here I saw those anemones
which cling, like little red, yellow, and green blobs of jelly,
to the rocks, put forth, as it were, a multitude of arms and wait
till little fish or other small animalcules unwarily touched
them, when they would instantly seize them, fold arm after arm
around their victims, and so engulf them in their stomachs.
Here I saw the ceaseless working of those little coral insects
whose efforts have encrusted the islands of the Pacific with vast
rocks, and surrounded them with enormous reefs. And I
observed that many of these insects, though extremely minute,
were very beautiful, coming out of their holes in a circle of
fine threads, and having the form of a shuttle-cock. Here I
saw curious little barnacles opening a hole in their backs and
constantly putting out a thin feathery hand, with which, I doubt
not, they dragged their food into their mouths. Here, also,
I saw those crabs which have shells only on the front of their
bodies, but no shell whatever on their remarkably tender tails,
so that, in order to find a protection to them, they thrust them
into the empty shells of wilks, or some such fish, and when they
grow too big for one, change into another. But, most
curious of all, I saw an animal which had the wonderful power,
when it became ill, of casting its stomach and its teeth away
from it, and getting an entirely new set in the course of a few
months! All this I saw, and a great deal more, by means of
my tank and my burning-glass, but I refrain from setting down
more particulars here, as I have still much to tell of the
adventures that befell us while we remained on this island.

CHAPTER XIII.

Notable discovery at the spouting cliffs—The mysterious
green monster explained—We are thrown into unutterable
terror by the idea that Jack is drowned—The Diamond
Cave.

“Come, Jack,” cried Peterkin, one morning about
three weeks after our return from our long excursion,
“let’s be jolly to-day, and do something
vigorous. I’m quite tired of hammering and hammering,
hewing and screwing, cutting and butting, at that little boat of
ours, that seems as hard to build as Noah’s ark; let us go
on an excursion to the mountain top, or have a hunt after the
wild ducks, or make a dash at the pigs. I’m quite
flat—flat as bad ginger-beer—flat as a pancake; in
fact, I want something to rouse me, to toss me up, as it
were. Eh! what do you say to it?”

“Well,” answered Jack, throwing down the axe with
which he was just about to proceed towards the boat, “if
that’s what you want, I would recommend you to make an
excursion to the water-spouts; the last one we had to do with
tossed you up a considerable height, perhaps the next will send
you higher, who knows, if you’re at all reasonable or
moderate in your expectations!”

“Jack, my dear boy,” said Peterkin, gravely,
“you are really becoming too fond of jesting.
It’s a thing I don’t at all approve of, and if you
don’t give it up, I fear that, for our mutual good, we
shall have to part.”

“Well, then, Peterkin,” replied Jack, with a
smile, “what would you have?”

“Have?” said Peterkin, “I would have
nothing. I didn’t say I wanted to have; I said
that I wanted to do.”

“By the by,” said I, interrupting their
conversation, “I am reminded by this that we have not yet
discovered the nature of yon curious appearance that we saw near
the water-spouts, on our journey round the island. Perhaps
it would be well to go for that purpose.”

“Humph!” ejaculated Peterkin, “I know the
nature of it well enough.”

“What was it?” said I.

“It was of a mysterious nature to be sure!”
said he, with a wave of his hand, while he rose from the log on
which he had been sitting, and buckled on his belt, into which he
thrust his enormous club.

“Well then, let us away to the water-spouts,”
cried Jack, going up to the bower for his bow and arrows;
“and bring your spear, Peterkin. It may be
useful.”

We now, having made up our minds to examine into this matter,
sallied forth eagerly in the direction of the water-spout rocks,
which, as I have before mentioned, were not far from our present
place of abode. On arriving there we hastened down to the
edge of the rocks, and gazed over into the sea, where we observed
the pale-green object still distinctly visible, moving its tail
slowly to and fro in the water.

“Most remarkable!” said Jack.

“Exceedingly curious,” said I.

“Beats everything!” said Peterkin.

“Now, Jack,” he added, “you made such a poor
figure in your last attempt to stick that object, that I would
advise you to let me try it. If it has got a heart at all,
I’ll engage to send my spear right through the core of it;
if it hasn’t got a heart, I’ll send it through the
spot where its heart ought to be.”

“Fire away, then, my boy,” replied Jack with a
laugh.

Peterkin immediately took the spear, poised it for a second or
two above his head, then darted it like an arrow into the
sea. Down it went straight into the centre of the green
object, passed quite through it, and came up immediately
afterwards, pure and unsullied, while the mysterious tail moved
quietly as before!

“Now,” said Peterkin, gravely, “that brute
is a heartless monster; I’ll have nothing more to do with
it.”

“I’m pretty sure now,” said Jack,
“that it is merely a phosphoric light; but I must say
I’m puzzled at its staying always in that exact
spot.”

I also was much puzzled, and inclined to think with Jack that
it must be phosphoric light; of which luminous appearance we had
seen much while on our voyage to these seas.
“But,” said I, “there is nothing to hinder us
from diving down to it, now that we are sure it is not a
shark.”

“True,” returned Jack, stripping off his clothes;
“I’ll go down, Ralph, as I’m better at diving
than you are. Now then, Peterkin, out o’ the
road!” Jack stepped forward, joined his hands above
his head, bent over the rocks, and plunged into the sea.
For a second or two the spray caused by his dive hid him from
view, then the water became still, and we saw him swimming far
down in the midst of the green object. Suddenly he sank
below it, and vanished altogether from our sight! We gazed
anxiously down at the spot where he had disappeared, for nearly a
minute, expecting every moment to see him rise again for breath;
but fully a minute passed, and still he did not reappear.
Two minutes passed! and then a flood of alarm rushed in upon my
soul, when I considered that during all my acquaintance with him,
Jack had never stayed underwater more than a minute at a time;
indeed seldom so long.

“Oh, Peterkin!” I said, in a voice that trembled
with increasing anxiety, “something has happened. It
is more than three minutes now!” But Peterkin did not
answer and I observed that he was gazing down into the water with
a look of intense fear mingled with anxiety, while his face was
overspread with a deadly paleness. Suddenly he sprang to
his feet and rushed about in a frantic state, wringing his hands,
and exclaiming, “Oh, Jack, Jack! he is gone! It must
have been a shark, and he is gone for ever!”

For the next five minutes I know not what I did. The
intensity of my feelings almost bereft me of my senses. But
I was recalled to myself by Peterkin seizing me by the shoulder
and staring wildly into my face, while he exclaimed,
“Ralph! Ralph! perhaps he has only fainted. Dive for
him, Ralph!”

It seemed strange that this did not occur to me sooner.
In a moment I rushed to the edge of the rocks, and, without
waiting to throw off my garments, was on the point to spring into
the waves, when I observed something black rising up through the
green object. In another moment Jack’s head rose to
the surface, and he gave a wild shout, flinging back the spray
from his locks, as was his wont after a dive. Now we were
almost as much amazed at seeing him reappear, well and strong, as
we had been at first at his non-appearance; for, to the best of
our judgment, he had been nearly ten minutes under water, perhaps
longer, and it required no exertion of our reason to convince us
that this was utterly impossible for mortal man to do and retain
his strength and faculties. It was therefore with a feeling
akin to superstitious awe that I held down my hand and assisted
him to clamber up the steep rocks. But no such feeling
affected Peterkin. No sooner did Jack gain the rocks and
seat himself on one, panting for breath, than he threw his arms
round his neck, and burst into a flood of tears. “Oh,
Jack, Jack!” said he, “where were you? What
kept you so long?”

After a few moments Peterkin became composed enough to sit
still and listen to Jack’s explanation, although he could
not restrain himself from attempting to wink every two minutes at
me, in order to express his joy at Jack’s safety. I
say he attempted to wink, but I am bound to add that he did not
succeed, for his eyes were so much swollen with weeping, that his
frequent attempts only resulted in a series of violent and
altogether idiotical contortions of the face, that were very far
from expressing what he intended. However, I knew what the
poor fellow meant by it, so I smiled to him in return, and
endeavoured to make believe that he was winking.

“Now, lads,” said Jack, when we were composed
enough to listen to him, “yon green object is not a shark;
it is a stream of light issuing from a cave in the rocks.
Just after I made my dive, I observed that this light came from
the side of the rock above which we are now sitting; so I struck
out for it, and saw an opening into some place or other that
appeared to be luminous within. For one instant I paused to
think whether I ought to venture. Then I made up my mind,
and dashed into it. For you see, Peterkin, although I take
some time to tell this, it happened in the space of a few
seconds, so that I knew I had wind enough in me to serve to bring
me out o’ the hole and up to the surface again. Well,
I was just on the point of turning,—for I began to feel a
little uncomfortable in such a place,—when it seemed to me
as if there was a faint light right above me. I darted
upwards, and found my head out of water. This relieved me
greatly, for I now felt that I could take in air enough to enable
me to return the way I came. Then it all at once occurred
to me that I might not be able to find the way out again; but, on
glancing downwards, my mind was put quite at rest by seeing the
green light below me streaming into the cave, just like the light
that we had seen streaming out of it, only what I now saw was
much brighter.

“At first I could scarcely see anything as I gazed
around me, it was so dark; but gradually my eyes became
accustomed to it, and I found that I was in a huge cave, part of
the walls of which I observed on each side of me. The
ceiling just above me was also visible, and I fancied that I
could perceive beautiful glittering objects there, but the
farther end of the cave was shrouded in darkness. While I
was looking around me in great wonder, it came into my head that
you two would think I was drowned; so I plunged down through the
passage again in a great hurry, rose to the surface,
and—here I am!”

When Jack concluded his recital of what he had seen in this
remarkable cave, I could not rest satisfied till I had dived down
to see it; which I did, but found it so dark, as Jack had said,
that I could scarcely see anything. When I returned, we had
a long conversation about it, during which I observed that
Peterkin had a most lugubrious expression on his countenance.

“What’s the matter, Peterkin?” said I.

“The matter?” he replied. “It’s
all very well for you two to be talking away like mermaids about
the wonders of this cave, but you know I must be content to hear
about it, while you are enjoying yourselves down there like mad
dolphins. It’s really too bad.”

“I’m very sorry for you, Peterkin, indeed I
am,” said Jack, “but we cannot help you. If you
would only learn to dive—”

“Learn to fly, you might as well say!” retorted
Peterkin, in a very sulky tone.

“If you would only consent to keep still,” said I,
“we would take you down with us in ten seconds.”

“Hum!” returned Peterkin; “suppose a
salamander was to propose to you ‘only to keep
still,’ and he would carry you through a blazing fire in a
few seconds, what would you say?”

We both laughed and shook our heads, for it was evident that
nothing was to be made of Peterkin in the water. But we
could not rest satisfied till we had seen more of this cave; so,
after further consultation, Jack and I determined to try if we
could take down a torch with us, and set fire to it in the
cavern. This we found to be an undertaking of no small
difficulty; but we accomplished it at last by the following
means:—First, we made a torch of a very inflammable nature
out of the bark of a certain tree, which we cut into strips, and,
after twisting, cemented together with a kind of resin or gum,
which we also obtained from another tree; neither of which trees,
however, was known by name to Jack. This, when prepared, we
wrapped up in a great number of plies of cocoa-nut cloth, so that
we were confident it could not get wet during the short time it
should be under water. Then we took a small piece of the
tinder, which we had carefully treasured up lest we should
require it, as before said, when the sun should fail us; also, we
rolled up some dry grass and a few chips, which, with a little
bow and drill, like those described before, we made into another
bundle, and wrapped it up in cocoa-nut cloth. When all was
ready we laid aside our garments, with the exception of our
trousers, which, as we did not know what rough scraping against
the rocks we might be subjected to, we kept on.

Then we advanced to the edge of the rocks, Jack carrying one
bundle, with the torch; I the other, with the things for
producing fire.

“Now don’t weary for us, Peterkin, should we be
gone some time,” said Jack; “we’ll be sure to
return in half-an-hour at the very latest, however interesting
the cave should be, that we may relieve your mind.”

“Farewell!” said Peterkin, coming up to us with a
look of deep but pretended solemnity, while he shook hands and
kissed each of us on the cheek. “Farewell! and while
you are gone I shall repose my weary limbs under the shelter of
this bush, and meditate on the changefulness of all things
earthly, with special reference to the forsaken condition of a
poor ship-wrecked sailor boy!” So saying, Peterkin
waved his hand, turned from us, and cast himself upon the ground
with a look of melancholy resignation, which was so well feigned,
that I would have thought it genuine had he not accompanied it
with a gentle wink. We both laughed, and, springing from
the rocks together, plunged head first into the sea.

We gained the interior of the submarine cave without
difficulty, and, on emerging from the waves, supported ourselves
for some time by treading-water, while we held the two bundles
above our heads. This we did in order to let our eyes
become accustomed to the obscurity. Then, when we could see
sufficiently, we swam to a shelving rock, and landed in
safety. Having wrung the water from our trousers, and dried
ourselves as well as we could under the circumstances, we
proceeded to ignite the torch. This we accomplished without
difficulty in a few minutes; and no sooner did it flare up than
we were struck dumb with the wonderful objects that were revealed
to our gaze. The roof of the cavern just above us seemed to
be about ten feet high, but grew higher as it receded into the
distance, until it was lost in darkness. It seemed to be
made of coral, and was supported by massive columns of the same
material. Immense icicles (as they appeared to us) hung
from it in various places. These, however, were formed, not
of ice, but of a species of limestone, which seemed to flow in a
liquid form towards the point of each, where it became
solid. A good many drops fell, however, to the rock below,
and these formed little cones, which rose to meet the points
above. Some of them had already met, and thus we saw how
the pillars were formed, which at first seemed to us as if they
had been placed there by some human architect to support the
roof. As we advanced farther in, we saw that the floor was
composed of the same material as the pillars; and it presented
the curious appearance of ripples, such as are formed on water
when gently ruffled by the wind. There were several
openings on either hand in the walls, that seemed to lead into
other caverns; but these we did not explore at this time.
We also observed that the ceiling was curiously marked in many
places, as if it were the fret-work of a noble cathedral; and the
walls, as well as the roof, sparkled in the light of our torch,
and threw back gleams and flashes, as if they were covered with
precious stones. Although we proceeded far into this
cavern, we did not come to the end of it; and we were obliged to
return more speedily than we would otherwise have done, as our
torch was nearly expended. We did not observe any openings
in the roof, or any indications of places whereby light might
enter; but near the entrance to the cavern stood an immense mass
of pure white coral rock, which caught and threw back the little
light that found an entrance through the cave’s mouth, and
thus produced, we conjectured, the pale-green object which had
first attracted our attention. We concluded, also, that the
reflecting power of this rock was that which gave forth the dim
light that faintly illumined the first part of the cave.

Before diving through the passage again we extinguished the
small piece of our torch that remained, and left it in a dry
spot; conceiving that we might possibly stand in need of it, if
at any future time we should chance to wet our torch while diving
into the cavern. As we stood for a few minutes after it was
out, waiting till our eyes became accustomed to the gloom, we
could not help remarking the deep, intense stillness and the
unutterable gloom of all around us; and, as I thought of the
stupendous dome above, and the countless gems that had sparkled
in the torch-light a few minutes before, it came into my mind to
consider how strange it is that God should make such wonderful
and exquisitely beautiful works never to be seen at all, except,
indeed, by chance visitors such as ourselves.

I afterwards found that there were many such caverns among the
islands of the South Seas, some of them larger and more beautiful
than the one I have just described.

“Now, Ralph, are you ready?” said Jack, in a low
voice, that seemed to echo up into the dome above.

“Quite ready.”

“Come along, then,” said he; and, plunging off the
ledge of the rock into the water, we dived through the narrow
entrance. In a few seconds we were panting on the rocks
above, and receiving the congratulations of our friend
Peterkin.

CHAPTER XIV.

Strange peculiarity of the tides—Also of the
twilight—Peterkin’s remarkable conduct in embracing a
little pig and killing a big sow—Sage remarks on
jesting—Also on love.

It was quite a relief to us to breathe the pure air and to
enjoy the glad sunshine after our long ramble in the Diamond
Cave, as we named it; for, although we did not stay more than
half an hour away, it seemed to us much longer. While we
were dressing, and during our walk home, we did our best to
satisfy the curiosity of poor Peterkin, who seemed to regret,
with lively sincerity, his inability to dive.

There was no help for it, however, so we condoled with him as
we best could. Had there been any great rise or fall in the
tide of these seas, we might perhaps have found it possible to
take him down with us at low water; but as the tide never rose or
fell more than eighteen inches or two feet, this was
impossible.

This peculiarity of the tide—its slight rise and
fall—had not attracted our observation till some time after
our residence on the island. Neither had we observed
another curious circumstance until we had been some time
there. This was the fact, that the tide rose and fell with
constant regularity, instead of being affected by the changes of
the moon as in our own country, and as it is in most other parts
of the world,—at least in all those parts with which I am
acquainted. Every day and every night, at twelve
o’clock precisely, the tide is at the full; and at six
o’clock every morning and evening it is ebb. I can
speak with much confidence on this singular circumstance, as we
took particular note of it, and never found it to alter. Of
course, I must admit, we had to guess the hour of twelve
midnight, and I think we could do this pretty correctly; but in
regard to twelve noon we are quite positive, because we easily
found the highest point that the sun reached in the sky by
placing ourselves at a certain spot whence we observed the sharp
summit of a cliff resting against the sky, just where the sun
passed.

Jack and I were surprised that we had not noticed this the
first few days of our residence here, and could only account for
it by our being so much taken up with the more obvious wonders of
our novel situation. I have since learned, however, that
this want of observation is a sad and very common infirmity of
human nature, there being hundreds of persons before whose eyes
the most wonderful things are passing every day, who nevertheless
are totally ignorant of them. I therefore have to record my
sympathy with such persons, and to recommend to them a course of
conduct which I have now for a long time myself
adopted,—namely, the habit of forcing my attention upon
all things that go on around me, and of taking some degree
of interest in them, whether I feel it naturally or not. I
suggest this the more earnestly, though humbly, because I have
very frequently come to know that my indifference to a thing has
generally been caused by my ignorance in regard to it.

We had much serious conversation on this subject of the tides;
and Jack told us, in his own quiet, philosophical way, that these
tides did great good to the world in many ways, particularly in
the way of cleansing the shores of the land, and carrying off the
filth that was constantly poured into the sea there-from; which,
Peterkin suggested, was remarkably tidy of it to do.
Poor Peterkin could never let slip an opportunity to joke,
however inopportune it might be: which at first we found rather a
disagreeable propensity, as it often interrupted the flow of very
agreeable conversation; and, indeed, I cannot too strongly record
my disapprobation of this tendency in general: but we became so
used to it at last that we found it no interruption whatever;
indeed, strange to say, we came to feel that it was a necessary
part of our enjoyment (such is the force of habit), and found the
sudden outbursts of mirth, resulting from his humorous
disposition, quite natural and refreshing to us in the midst of
our more serious conversations. But I must not misrepresent
Peterkin. We often found, to our surprise, that he knew
many things which we did not; and I also observed that those
things which he learned from experience were never
forgotten. From all these things I came at length to
understand that things very opposite and dissimilar in
themselves, when united, do make an agreeable whole; as, for
example, we three on this our island, although most unlike in
many things, when united, made a trio so harmonious that I
question if there ever met before such an agreeable
triumvirate. There was, indeed, no note of discord whatever
in the symphony we played together on that sweet Coral Island;
and I am now persuaded that this was owing to our having been all
tuned to the same key, namely, that of love! Yes, we
loved one another with much fervency while we lived on that
island; and, for the matter of that, we love each other
still.

And while I am on this subject, or rather the subject that
just preceded it—namely, the tides—I may here remark
on another curious natural phenomenon. We found that there
was little or no twilight in this island. We had a distinct
remembrance of the charming long twilight at home, which some
people think the most delightful part of the day, though for my
part I have always preferred sunrise; and when we first landed,
we used to sit down on some rocky point or eminence, at the close
of our day’s work, to enjoy the evening breeze; but no
sooner had the sun sunk below the horizon than all became
suddenly dark. This rendered it necessary that we should
watch the sun when we happened to be out hunting, for to be
suddenly left in the dark while in the woods was very perplexing,
as, although the stars shone with great beauty and brilliancy,
they could not pierce through the thick umbrageous boughs that
interlaced above our heads.

But, to return: After having told all we could to Peterkin
about the Diamond Cave under Spouting Cliff, as we named the
locality, we were wending our way rapidly homewards, when a grunt
and a squeal were borne down by the land breeze to our ears.

“That’s the ticket!” was Peterkin’s
remarkable exclamation, as he started convulsively, and levelled
his spear.

“Hist!” cried Jack; “these are your friends,
Peterkin. They must have come over expressly to pay you a
friendly visit, for it is the first time we have seen them on
this side the island.”

“Come along!” cried Peterkin, hurrying towards the
wood, while Jack and I followed, smiling at his impatience.

Another grunt and half a dozen squeals, much louder than
before, came down the valley. At this time we were just
opposite the small vale which lay between the Valley of the Wreck
and Spouting Cliff.

“I say, Peterkin,” cried Jack, in a hoarse
whisper.

“Well, what is’t?”

“Stay a bit, man. These grunters are just up there
on the hill side. If you go and stand with Ralph in the lee
of yon cliff, I’ll cut round behind and drive them through
the gorge, so that you’ll have a better chance of picking
out a good one. Now, mind you pitch into a fat young pig,
Peterkin,” added Jack, as he sprang into the bushes.

“Won’t I, just!” said Peterkin, licking his
lips, as we took our station beside the cliff. “I
feel quite a tender affection for young pigs in my heart.
Perhaps it would be more correct to say in my
s—.”

“There they come!” cried I, as a terrific yell
from Jack sent the whole herd screaming down the hill. Now,
Peterkin, being unable to hold back, crept a short way up a very
steep grassy mound, in order to get a better view of the hogs
before they came up; and just as he raised his head above its
summit, two little pigs, which had outrun their companions,
rushed over the top with the utmost precipitation. One of
these brushed close past Peterkin’s ear; the other, unable
to arrest its headlong flight, went, as Peterkin himself
afterwards expressed it, “bash” into his arms with a
sudden squeal, which was caused more by the force of the blow
than the will of the animal, and both of them rolled violently
down to the foot of the mound. No sooner was this reached
than the little pig recovered its feet, tossed up its tail, and
fled shrieking from the spot. But I slang a large stone
after it, which, being fortunately well aimed, hit it behind the
ear, and felled it to the earth.

“Capital, Ralph! that’s your sort!” cried
Peterkin, who, to my surprise and great relief, had risen to his
feet. Apparently unhurt, though much dishevelled, he rushed
franticly towards the gorge, which the yells of the hogs told us
they were now approaching. I had made up my mind that I
would abstain from killing another, as, if Peterkin should be
successful, two were more than sufficient for our wants at the
present time. Suddenly they all burst forth,—two or
three little round ones in advance, and an enormous old sow with
a drove of hogs at her heels.

“Now, Peterkin,” said I, “there’s a
nice little fat one; just spear it.”

But Peterkin did not move; he allowed it to pass
unharmed. I looked at him in surprise, and saw that his
lips were compressed and his eyebrows knitted, as if he were
about to fight with some awful enemy.

“What is it?” I inquired, with some
trepidation.

Suddenly he levelled his spear, darted forward, and, with a
yell that nearly froze the blood in my veins, stabbed the old sow
to the heart. Nay, so vigorously was it done that the spear
went in at one side and came out at the other!

“Oh, Peterkin!” said I, going up to him,
“what have you done?”

“Done? I’ve killed their
great-great-grandmother, that’s all,” said he,
looking with a somewhat awe-struck expression at the transfixed
animal.

“Hallo! what’s this?” said Jack, as he came
up. “Why, Peterkin, you must be fond of a tough
chop. If you mean to eat this old hog, she’ll try
your jaws, I warrant. What possessed you to stick
her, Peterkin?”

“Why, the fact is I want a pair of shoes.”

“What have your shoes to do with the old hog?’
said I, smiling.

“My present shoes have certainly nothing to do with
her,” replied Peterkin; “nevertheless she will have a
good deal to do with my future shoes. The fact is, when I
saw you floor that pig so neatly, Ralph, it struck me that there
was little use in killing another. Then I remembered all at
once that I had long wanted some leather or tough substance to
make shoes of, and this old grandmother seemed so tough that I
just made up my mind to stick her, and you see I’ve done
it!”

“That you certainly have, Peterkin,” said Jack, as
he was examining the transfixed animal.

We now considered how we were to carry our game home, for,
although the distance was short, the hog was very heavy. At
length we hit on the plan of tying its four feet together, and
passing the spear handle between them. Jack took one end on
his shoulder, I took the other on mine, and Peterkin carried the
small pig.

Thus we returned in triumph to our bower, laden, as Peterkin
remarked, with the glorious spoils of a noble hunt. As he
afterwards spoke in similarly glowing terms in reference to the
supper that followed, there is every reason to believe that we
retired that night to our leafy beds in a high state of
satisfaction.

CHAPTER XV.

Boat-building extraordinary—Peterkin tries his hand at
cookery and fails most signally—The boat
finished—Curious conversation with the cat, and other
matters.

For many days after this Jack applied himself with unremitting
assiduity to the construction of our boat, which at length began
to look somewhat like one. But those only who have had the
thing to do can entertain a right idea of the difficulty involved
in such an undertaking, with no other implements than an axe, a
bit of hoop-iron, a sail-needle, and a broken pen-knife.
But Jack did it. He was of, that disposition which
will not be conquered. When he believed himself to
be acting rightly, he overcame all obstacles. I have seen
Jack, when doubtful whether what he was about to do were right or
wrong, as timid and vacillating as a little girl,—and I
honour him for it!

As this boat was a curiosity in its way, a few words here
relative to the manner of its construction may not be amiss.

I have already mentioned the chestnut tree with its wonderful
buttresses or planks. This tree, then, furnished us with
the chief part of our material. First of all Jack sought
out a limb of a tree of such a form and size as, while it should
form the keel a bend at either end should form the stem and stern
posts. Such a piece, however, was not easy to obtain, but
at last he procured it, by rooting up a small tree which had a
branch growing at the proper angle about ten feet up its stem,
with two strong roots growing in such a form as enabled him to
make a flat-sterned boat. This placed, he procured three
branching roots of suitable size, which he fitted to the keel at
equal distances, thus forming three strong ribs. Now, the
squaring and shaping of these, and the cutting of the grooves in
the keel, was an easy enough matter, as it was all work for the
axe, in the use of which Jack was become wonderfully expert; but
it was quite a different affair when he came to nailing the ribs
to the keel, for we had no instrument capable of boring a large
hole, and no nails to fasten them with. We were, indeed,
much perplexed here; but Jack at length devised an instrument
that served very well. He took the remainder of our
hoop-iron and beat it into the form of a pipe or cylinder, about
as thick as a man’s finger. This he did by means of
our axe and the old rusty axe we had found at the house of the
poor man at the other side of the island. This, when made
red hot, bored slowly though the timbers; and, the better to
retain the heat, Jack shut up one end of it and filled it with
sand. True, the work was very slowly done, but it mattered
not—we had little else to do. Two holes were bored in
each timber, about an inch and a half apart, and also down into
the keel, but not quite through. Into these were placed
stout pegs made of a tree called iron-wood; and, when they were
hammered well home, the timbers were as firmly fixed as if they
had been nailed with iron. The gunwales, which were very
stout, were fixed in a similar manner. But, besides the
wooden nails, they were firmly lashed to the stem and stern posts
and ribs by means of a species of cordage which we had contrived
to make out of the fibrous husk of the cocoa nut. This husk
was very tough, and when a number of the threads were joined
together they formed excellent cordage. At first we tied
the different lengths together, but this was such a clumsy and
awkward complication of knots, that we contrived, by careful
interlacing of the ends together before twisting, to make good
cordage of any size or length we chose. Of course it cost
us much time and infinite labour, but Jack kept up our spirits
when we grew weary, and so all that we required was at last
constructed.

Planks were now cut off the chestnut trees of about an inch
thick. These were dressed with the axe,—but clumsily,
for an axe is ill adapted for such work. Five of these
planks on each side were sufficient, and we formed the boat in a
very rounded, barrel-like shape, in order to have as little
twisting of the planks as possible; for, although we could easily
bend them, we could not easily twist them. Having no nails
to rivet the planks with, we threw aside the ordinary fashion of
boat building and adopted one of our own. The planks were
therefore placed on each other’s edges, and sewed together
with the tough cordage already mentioned. They were also
thus sewed to the stem, the stern, and the keel. Each
stitch or tie was six inches apart, and was formed thus: Three
holes were bored in the upper plank and three in the
lower,—the holes being above each other, that is, in a
vertical line. Through these holes the cord was passed,
and, when tied, formed a powerful stitch of three ply.
Besides this, we placed between the edges of the planks, layers
of cocoa-nut fibre, which, as it swelled when wetted, would, we
hoped, make our little vessel water-tight. But in order
further to secure this end, we collected a large quantity of
pitch from the bread-fruit tree, with which, when boiled in our
old iron pot, we payed the whole of the inside of the boat, and,
while it was yet hot, placed large pieces of cocoa-nut cloth on
it, and then gave it another coat above that. Thus the
interior was covered with a tough water-tight material; while the
exterior, being uncovered, and so exposed to the swelling action
of the water, was we hoped, likely to keep the boat quite
dry. I may add that our hopes were not disappointed.

While Jack was thus engaged, Peterkin and I sometimes assisted
him, but, as our assistance was not much required, we more
frequently went a-hunting on the extensive mud-flats at the
entrance of the long valley which lay nearest to our bower.
Here we found large flocks of ducks of various kinds, some of
them bearing so much resemblance to the wild ducks of our own
country that I think they must have been the same. On these
occasions we took the bow and the sling, with both of which we
were often successful, though I must confess I was the least
so. Our suppers were thus pleasantly varied, and sometimes
we had such a profusion spread out before us that we frequently
knew not with which of the dainties to begin.

I must also add, that the poor old cat which we had brought
home had always a liberal share of our good things, and so well
was it looked after, especially by Peterkin, that it recovered
much of its former strength, and seemed to improve in sight as
well as hearing.

The large flat stone, or rock of coral, which stood just in
front of the entrance to our bower, was our table. On this
rock we had spread out the few articles we possessed the day we
were shipwrecked; and on the same rock, during many a day
afterwards, we spread out the bountiful supply with which we had
been blessed on our Coral Island. Sometimes we sat down at
this table to a feast consisting of hot rolls,—as Peterkin
called the newly baked bread fruit,—a roast pig, roast
duck, boiled and roasted yams, cocoa nuts, taro, and sweet
potatoes; which we followed up with a dessert of plums, apples,
and plantains,—the last being a large-sized and delightful
fruit, which grew on a large shrub or tree not more than twelve
feet high, with light-green leaves of enormous length and
breadth. These luxurious feasts were usually washed down
with cocoa-nut lemonade.

Occasionally Peterkin tried to devise some new
dish,—“a conglomerate,” as he used to say; but
these generally turned out such atrocious compounds that he was
ultimately induced to give up his attempts in extreme
disgust. Not forgetting, however, to point out to Jack that
his failure was a direct contradiction to the proverb which he,
Jack, was constantly thrusting down his throat, namely, that
“where there’s a will there’s a
way.” For he had a great will to become a cook, but
could by no means find a way to accomplish that end.

One day, while Peterkin and I were seated beside our table on
which dinner was spread, Jack came up from the beach, and,
flinging down his axe, exclaimed,—

“There, lads, the boat’s finished at last! so
we’ve nothing to do now but shape two pair of oars, and
then we may put to sea as soon as we like.”

This piece of news threw us into a state of great joy; for
although we were aware that the boat had been gradually getting
near its completion, it had taken so long that we did not expect
it to be quite ready for at least two or three weeks. But
Jack had wrought hard and said nothing, in order to surprise
us.

“My dear fellow,” cried Peterkin,
“you’re a perfect trump. But why did you not
tell us it was so nearly ready? won’t we have a jolly sail
to-morrow? eh?”

“Don’t talk so much, Peterkin,” said Jack;
“and, pray, hand me a bit of that pig.”

“Certainly, my dear,” cried Peterkin, seizing the
axe; “what part will you have? a leg, or a wing, or a piece
of the breast; which?”

“A hind leg, if you please,” answered Jack;
“and, pray, be so good as to include the tail.”

“With all my heart,” said Peterkin, exchanging the
axe for his hoop-iron knife, with which he cut off the desired
portion. “I’m only too glad, my dear boy, to
see that your appetite is so wholesale; and there’s no
chance whatever of its dwindling down into re-tail again, at
least in so far as this pig is concerned. Ralph, lad, why
don’t you laugh?—eh?” he added turning suddenly
to me with a severe look of inquiry.

“Laugh?” said I; “what at, Peterkin? why
should I laugh?”

Both Jack and Peterkin answered this inquiry by themselves
laughing so immoderately that I was induced to believe I had
missed noticing some good joke, so I begged that it might be
explained to me; but as this only produced repeated roars of
laughter, I smiled and helped myself to another slice of
plantain.

“Well, but,” continued Peterkin, “I was
talking of a sail to-morrow. Can’t we have one,
Jack?”

“No,” replied Jack, “we can’t have a
sail, but I hope we shall have a row, as I intend to work hard at
the oars this afternoon, and, if we can’t get them finished
by sunset we’ll light our candle-nuts, and turn them out of
hands before we turn into bed.”

“Very good,” said Peterkin, tossing a lump of pork
to the cat, who received it with a mew of satisfaction.
“I’ll help you, if I can.”

“Afterwards,” continued Jack, “we will make
a sail out of the cocoa-nut cloth, and rig up a mast, and then we
shall be able to sail to some of the other islands, and visit our
old friends the penguins.”

The prospect of being so soon in a position to extend our
observations to the other islands, and enjoy a sail over the
beautiful sea, afforded us much delight, and, after dinner, we
set about making the oars in good earnest. Jack went into
the woods and blocked them roughly out with the axe, and I
smoothed them down with the knife, while Peterkin remained in the
bower, spinning, or, rather, twisting some strong thick cordage
with which to fasten them to the boat.

We worked hard and rapidly, so that, when the sun went down,
Jack and I returned to the bower with four stout oars, which
required little to be done to them save a slight degree of
polishing with the knife. As we drew near we were suddenly
arrested by the sound of a voice! We were not a little
surprised at this—indeed I may almost say
alarmed—for, although Peterkin was undoubtedly fond of
talking, we had never, up to this time, found him talking to
himself. We listened intently, and still heard the sound of
a voice as if in conversation. Jack motioned me to be
silent, and, advancing to the bower on tip-toe, we peeped in.

The sight that met our gaze was certainly not a little
amusing. On the top of a log which we sometimes used as a
table, sat the black cat, with a very demure expression on its
countenance; and in front of it, sitting on the ground, with his
legs extended on either side of the log, was Peterkin. At
the moment we saw him he was gazing intently into the cat’s
face, with his nose about four inches from it,—his hands
being thrust into his breeches pockets.

“Cat,” said Peterkin, turning his head a little on
one side, “I love you!”

There was a pause, as if Peterkin awaited a reply to this
affectionate declaration but the cat said nothing.

“Do you hear me?” cried Peterkin, sharply.
“I love you—I do. Don’t you love
me?”

To this touching appeal the cat said “Mew,”
faintly.

“Ah! that’s right. You’re a jolly old
rascal. Why did you not speak at once? eh?” and
Peterkin put forward his mouth and kissed the cat on the
nose!

“Yes,” continued Peterkin, after a pause, “I
love you. D’you think I’d say so if I
didn’t, you black villain? I love you because
I’ve got to take care of you, and to look after you, and to
think about you, and to see that you don’t
die—”

“Mew, me-a-w!” said the cat.

“Very good,” continued Peterkin, “quite
true, I have no doubt; but you’ve no right to interrupt me,
sir. Hold your tongue till I have done speaking.
Moreover, cat, I love you because you came to me the first time
you ever saw me, and didn’t seem to be afraid, and appeared
to be fond of me, though you didn’t know that I
wasn’t going to kill you. Now, that was brave, that
was bold, and very jolly, old boy, and I love you for it—I
do!”

Again there was a pause of a few minutes, during which the cat
looked placid, and Peterkin dropped his eyes upon its toes as if
in contemplation. Suddenly he looked up.

“Well, cat, what are you thinking about now? won’t
speak? eh? Now, tell me; don’t you think it’s a
monstrous shame that these two scoundrels, Jack and Ralph, should
keep us waiting for our supper so long?”

Here the cat arose, put up its back and stretched itself;
yawned slightly, and licked the point of Peterkin’s
nose!

“Just so, old boy, you’re a clever fellow,—I
really do believe the brute understands me!” said Peterkin,
while a broad grin overspread his face, as he drew back and
surveyed the cat.

At this point Jack burst into a loud fit of laughter.
The cat uttered an angry fuff and fled, while Peterkin sprang up
and exclaimed,—

“Bad luck to you, Jack! you’ve nearly made the
heart jump out of my body, you have.”

“Perhaps I have,” replied Jack, laughing, as we
entered the bower, “but, as I don’t intend to keep
you or the cat any longer from your supper, I hope that
you’ll both forgive me.”

Peterkin endeavoured to turn this affair off with a laugh, but
I observed that he blushed very deeply at the time we discovered
ourselves, and he did not seem to relish any allusion to the
subject afterwards; so we refrained from remarking on it ever
after,—though it tickled us not a little at the time.

After supper we retired to rest and to dream of wonderful
adventures in our little boat, and distant voyages upon the
sea.

CHAPTER XVI.

The boat launched—We visit the coral reef—The
great breaker that never goes down—Coral insects—The
way in which coral islands are made—The boat’s
sail—We tax our ingenuity to form fish-hooks—Some of
the fish we saw—And a monstrous whale—Wonderful
shower of little fish—Water-spouts.

It was a bright, clear, beautiful morning, when we first
launched our little boat and rowed out upon the placid waters of
the lagoon. Not a breath of wind ruffled the surface of the
deep. Not a cloud spotted the deep blue sky. Not a
sound that was discordant broke the stillness of the morning,
although there were many sounds, sweet, tiny, and melodious, that
mingled in the universal harmony of nature. The sun was
just rising from the Pacific’s ample bosom and tipping the
mountain tops with a red glow. The sea was shining like a
sheet of glass, yet heaving with the long deep swell that, all
the world round, indicates the life of ocean; and the bright
sea-weeds and the brilliant corals shone in the depths of that
pellucid water, as we rowed over it, like rare and precious
gems. Oh! it was a sight fitted to stir the soul of man to
its profoundest depths, and, if he owned a heart at all, to lift
that heart in adoration and gratitude to the great Creator of
this magnificent and glorious universe.

At first, in the strength of our delight, we rowed hither and
thither without aim or object. But after the effervescence
of our spirits was abated, we began to look about us and to
consider what we should do.

“I vote that we row to the reef,” cried
Peterkin.

“And I vote that we visit the islands within the
lagoon,” said I.

“And I vote we do both,” cried Jack, “so
pull away, boys.”

As I have already said, we had made four oars, but our boat
was so small that only two were necessary. The extra pair
were reserved in case any accident should happen to the
others. It was therefore only needful that two of us should
row, while the third steered, by means of an oar, and relieved
the rowers occasionally.

First we landed on one of the small islands and ran all over
it, but saw nothing worthy of particular notice. Then we
landed on a larger island, on which were growing a few cocoa-nut
trees. Not having eaten anything that morning, we gathered
a few of the nuts and breakfasted. After this we pulled
straight out to sea and landed on the coral reef.

This was indeed a novel and interesting sight to us. We
had now been so long on shore that we had almost forgotten the
appearance of breakers, for there were none within the lagoon;
but now, as we stood beside the foam-crested billow of the open
sea, all the enthusiasm of the sailor was awakened in our
breasts; and, as we gazed on the wide-spread ruin of that single
magnificent breaker that burst in thunder at our feet, we forgot
the Coral Island behind us; we forgot our bower and the calm
repose of the scented woods; we forgot all that had passed during
the last few months, and remembered nothing but the storms, the
calms, the fresh breezes and the surging billows of the open
sea.

This huge, ceaseless breaker, to which I have so often
alluded, was a much larger and more sublime object than we had at
all imagined it to be. It rose many yards above the level
of the sea, and could be seen approaching at some distance from
the reef. Slowly and majestically it came on, acquiring
greater volume and velocity as it advanced, until it assumed the
form of a clear watery arch, which sparkled in the bright
sun. On it came with resistless and solemn
majesty,—the upper edge lipped gently over, and it fell
with a roar that seemed as though the heart of Ocean were broken
in the crash of tumultuous water, while the foam-clad coral reef
appeared to tremble beneath the mighty shock!

We gazed long and wonderingly at this great sight, and it was
with difficulty we could tear ourselves away from it. As I
have once before mentioned, this wave broke in many places over
the reef and scattered some of its spray into the lagoon, but in
most places the reef was sufficiently broad and elevated to
receive and check its entire force. In many places the
coral rocks were covered with vegetation,—the beginning, as
it appeared to us, of future islands. Thus, on this reef,
we came to perceive how most of the small islands of those seas
are formed. On one part we saw the spray of the breaker
washing over the rocks, and millions of little, active, busy
creatures continuing the work of building up this living
rampart. At another place, which was just a little too high
for the waves to wash over it, the coral insects were all dead;
for we found that they never did their work above water.
They had faithfully completed the mighty work which their Creator
had given them to do, and they were now all dead. Again, in
other spots the ceaseless lashing of the sea had broken the dead
coral in pieces, and cast it up in the form of sand. Here
sea-birds had alighted, little pieces of sea-weed and stray bits
of wood had been washed up, seeds of plants had been carried by
the wind and a few lovely blades of bright green had already
sprung up, which, when they died, would increase the size and
fertility of these emeralds of Ocean. At other places these
islets had grown apace, and were shaded by one or two cocoa-nut
trees, which grew, literally, in the sand, and were constantly
washed by the ocean spray; yet, as I have before remarked, their
fruit was most refreshing and sweet to our taste.

Again at this time Jack and I pondered the formation of the
large coral islands. We could now understand how the low
ones were formed, but the larger islands cost us much
consideration, yet we could arrive at no certain conclusion on
the subject.

Having satisfied our curiosity and enjoyed ourselves during
the whole day, in our little boat, we returned, somewhat wearied,
and, withal, rather hungry, to our bower.

“Now,” said Jack, “as our boat answers so
well, we will get a mast and sail made immediately.”

“So we will,” cried Peterkin, as we all assisted
to drag the boat above high-water mark; “we’ll light
our candle and set about it this very night. Hurrah, my
boys, pull away!”

As we dragged our boat, we observed that she grated heavily on
her keel; and, as the sands were in this place mingled with
broken coral rocks, we saw portions of the wood being scraped
off.

“Hallo!” cried Jack, on seeing this.
“That won’t do. Our keel will be worn off in no
time at this rate.”

“So it will,” said I, pondering deeply as to how
this might be prevented. But I am not of a mechanical turn,
naturally, so I could conceive no remedy save that of putting a
plate of iron on the keel, but as we had no iron I knew not what
was to be done. “It seems to me, Jack,” I
added, “that it is impossible to prevent the keel being
worn off thus.”

“Impossible!” cried Peterkin, “my dear
Ralph, you are mistaken, there is nothing so
easy—”

“How?” I inquired, in some surprise.

“Why, by not using the boat at all!” replied
Peterkin.

“Hold your impudent tongue, Peterkin,” said Jack,
as he shouldered the oars, “come along with me and
I’ll give you work to do. In the first place, you
will go and collect cocoa-nut fibre, and set to work to make
sewing twine with it—”

“Please, captain,” interrupted Peterkin,
“I’ve got lots of it made already,—more than
enough, as a little friend of mine used to be in the habit of
saying every day after dinner.”

“Very well,” continued Jack; “then
you’ll help Ralph to collect cocoa-nut cloth, and cut it
into shape, after which we’ll make a sail of it.
I’ll see to getting the mast and the gearing; so
let’s to work.”

And to work we went right busily, so that in three days from
that time we had set up a mast and sail, with the necessary
rigging, in our little boat. The sail was not, indeed, very
handsome to look at, as it was formed of a number of oblong
patches of cloth; but we had sewed it well by means of our
sail-needle, so that it was strong, which was the chief
point. Jack had also overcome the difficulty about the
keel, by pinning to it a false keel. This was a
piece of tough wood, of the same length and width as the real
keel, and about five inches deep. He made it of this depth
because the boat would be thereby rendered not only much more
safe, but more able to beat against the wind; which, in a sea
where the trade-winds blow so long and so steadily in one
direction, was a matter of great importance. This piece of
wood was pegged very firmly to the keel; and we now launched our
boat with the satisfaction of knowing that when the false keel
should be scraped off we could easily put on another; whereas,
should the real keel have been scraped away, we could not have
renewed it without taking our boat to pieces, which Peterkin said
made his “marrow quake to think upon.”

The mast and sail answered excellently; and we now sailed
about in the lagoon with great delight, and examined with much
interest the appearance of our island from a distance.
Also, we gazed into the depths of the water, and watched for
hours the gambols of the curious and bright-coloured fish among
the corals and sea-weed. Peterkin also made a fishing line,
and Jack constructed a number of hooks, some of which were very
good, others remarkably bad. Some of these hooks were made
of iron-wood, which did pretty well, the wood being extremely
hard, and Jack made them very thick and large. Fish there
are not particular. Some of the crooked bones in fish-heads
also answered for this purpose pretty well. But that which
formed our best and most serviceable hook was the brass
finger-ring belonging to Jack. It gave him not a little
trouble to manufacture it. First he cut it with the axe;
then twisted it into the form of a hook. The barb took him
several hours to cut. He did it by means of constant sawing
with the broken pen-knife. As for the point, an
hour’s rubbing on a piece of sandstone made an excellent
one.

It would be a matter of much time and labour to describe the
appearance of the multitudes of fish that were day after day
drawn into our boat by means of the brass hook. Peterkin
always caught them,—for we observed that he derived much
pleasure from fishing,—while Jack and I found ample
amusement in looking on, also in gazing down at the coral groves,
and in baiting the hook. Among the fish that we saw, but
did not catch, were porpoises and sword-fish, whales and
sharks. The porpoises came frequently into our lagoon in
shoals, and amused us not a little by their bold leaps into the
air, and their playful gambols in the sea. The sword-fish
were wonderful creatures; some of them apparently ten feet in
length, with an ivory spear, six or eight feet long, projecting
from their noses. We often saw them darting after other
fish, and no doubt they sometimes killed them with their ivory
swords. Jack remembered having heard once of a sword-fish
attacking a ship,—which seemed strange indeed; but, as they
are often in the habit of attacking whales, perhaps it mistook
the ship for one. This sword-fish ran against the vessel
with such force, that it drove its sword quite through the thick
planks; and when the ship arrived in harbour, long afterwards,
the sword was found still sticking in it!

Sharks did not often appear; but we took care never again to
bathe in deep water without leaving one of our number in the boat
to give us warning, if he should see a shark approaching.
As for the whales, they never came into our lagoon, but we
frequently saw them spouting in the deep water beyond the
reef. I shall never forget my surprise the first day I saw
one of these huge monsters close to me. We had been
rambling about on the reef during the morning, and were about to
re-embark in our little boat, to return home, when a loud blowing
sound caused us to wheel rapidly round. We were just in
time to see a shower of spray falling, and the flukes or tail of
some monstrous fish disappear in the sea a few hundred yards
off. We waited some time to see if he would rise
again. As we stood, the sea seemed to open up at our very
feet; an immense spout of water was sent with a snort high into
the air, and the huge blunt head of a sperm whale arose before
us. It was so large that it could easily have taken our
little boat, along with ourselves, into its mouth! It
plunged slowly back into the sea, like a large ship foundering,
and struck the water with its tail so forcibly as to cause a
sound like a cannon shot. We also saw a great number of
flying fish, although we caught none; and we noticed that they
never flew out of the water except when followed by their bitter
foe, the dolphin, from whom they thus endeavoured to
escape. But of all the fish that we saw, none surprised us
so much as those that we used to find in shallow pools after a
shower of rain; and this not on account of their appearance, for
they were ordinary-looking and very small, but on account of
their having descended in a shower of rain! We could
account for them in no other way, because the pools in which we
found these fish were quite dry before the shower, and at some
distance above high-water mark. Jack, however, suggested a
cause which seemed to me very probable. We used often to
see water-spouts in the sea. A water-spout is a whirling
body of water, which rises from the sea like a sharp-pointed
pillar. After rising a good way, it is met by a long
tongue, which comes down from the clouds; and when the two have
joined, they look something like an hour-glass. The
water-spout is then carried by the wind, sometimes gently,
sometimes with violence, over the sea, sometimes up into the
clouds, and then, bursting asunder, it descends in a
deluge. This often happens over the land as well as over
the sea; and it sometimes does much damage, but frequently it
passes gently away. Now, Jack thought that the little fish
might perhaps have been carried up in a water-spout, and so sent
down again in a shower of rain. But we could not be certain
as to this point; yet we thought it likely.

During these delightful fishing and boating excursions we
caught a good many eels, which we found to be very good to
eat. We also found turtles among the coral rocks, and made
excellent soup in our iron kettle. Moreover, we discovered
many shrimps and prawns, so that we had no lack of variety in our
food; and, indeed, we never passed a week without making some new
and interesting discovery of some sort or other, either on the
land or in the sea.

CHAPTER XVII.

A monster wave and its consequences—The boat lost and
found—Peterkin’s terrible accident—Supplies of
food for a voyage in the boat—We visit Penguin Island, and
are amazed beyond measure—Account of the penguins.

One day, not long after our little boat was finished, we were
sitting on the rocks at Spouting Cliff, and talking of an
excursion which we intended to make to Penguin Island the next
day.

“You see,” said Peterkin, “it might be all
very well for a stupid fellow like me to remain here and leave
the penguins alone, but it would be quite inconsistent with your
characters as philosophers to remain any longer in ignorance of
the habits and customs of these birds; so the sooner we go the
better.”

“Very true,” said I; “there is nothing I
desire so much as to have a closer inspection of them.”

“And I think,” said Jack, “that you had
better remain at home, Peterkin, to take care of the cat; for
I’m sure the hogs will be at it in your absence, out of
revenge for your killing their great-grandmother so
recklessly.”

“Stay at home?” cried Peterkin; “my dear
fellow, you would certainly lose your way, or get upset, if I
were not there to take care of you.”

“Ah, true,” said Jack, gravely, “that did
not occur to me; no doubt you must go. Our boat does
require a good deal of ballast; and all that you say, Peterkin,
carries so much weight with it, that we won’t need stones
if you go.”

Now, while my companions were talking, a notable event
occurred, which, as it is not generally known, I shall be
particular in recording here.

While we were talking, as I have said, we noticed a dark line,
like a low cloud or fog-bank, on the seaward horizon. The
day was a fine one, though cloudy, and a gentle breeze was
blowing, but the sea was not rougher, or the breaker on the reef
higher, than usual. At first we thought that this looked
like a thunder-cloud; and, as we had had a good deal of broken
weather of late, accompanied by occasional peals of thunder, we
supposed that a storm must be approaching. Gradually,
however, this line seemed to draw nearer, without spreading up
over the sky, as would certainly have been the case if it had
been a storm-cloud. Still nearer it came, and soon we saw
that it was moving swiftly towards the island; but there was no
sound till it reached the islands out at sea. As it passed
these islands, we observed, with no little anxiety, that a cloud
of white foam encircled them, and burst in spray into the air: it
was accompanied by a loud roar. This led us to conjecture
that the approaching object was an enormous wave of the sea; but
we had no idea how large it was till it came near to
ourselves. When it approached the outer reef, however, we
were awe-struck with its unusual magnitude; and we sprang to our
feet, and clambered hastily up to the highest point of the
precipice, under an indefinable feeling of fear.

I have said before that the reef opposite Spouting Cliff was
very near to the shore, while, just in front of the bower, it was
at a considerable distance out to sea. Owing to this
formation, the wave reached the reef at the latter point before
it struck at the foot of Spouting Cliff. The instant it
touched the reef we became aware, for the first time, of its
awful magnitude. It burst completely over the reef at all
points, with a roar that seemed louder to me than thunder; and
this roar continued for some seconds, while the wave rolled
gradually along towards the cliff on which we stood. As its
crest reared before us, we felt that we were in great danger, and
turned to flee; but we were too late. With a crash that
seemed to shake the solid rocks the gigantic billow fell, and
instantly the spouting-holes sent up a gush of water-spouts with
such force that they shrieked on issuing from their narrow
vents. It seemed to us as if the earth had been blown up
with water. We were stunned and confused by the shock, and
so drenched and blinded with spray, that we knew not for a few
moments whither to flee for shelter. At length we all three
gained an eminence beyond the reach of the water; but what a
scene of devastation met our gaze as we looked along the
shore! This enormous wave not only burst over the reef, but
continued its way across the lagoon, and fell on the sandy beach
of the island with such force that passed completely over it and
dashed into the woods, levelling the smaller trees and bushes in
its headlong course!

On seeing this, Jack said he feared our bower must have been
swept away, and that the boat, which was on the beach, must have
been utterly destroyed. Our hearts sank within us as we
thought of this, and we hastened round through the woods towards
our home. On reaching it we found, to our great relief of
mind, that the force of the wave had been expended just before
reaching the bower; but the entrance to it was almost blocked up
by the torn-up bushes and tangled heaps of sea-weed. Having
satisfied ourselves as to the bower, we hurried to the spot where
the boat had been left; but no boat was there! The spot on
which it had stood was vacant, and no sign of it could we see on
looking around us.

“It may have been washed up into the woods,” said
Jack, hurrying up the beach as he spoke. Still, no boat was
to be seen, and we were about to give ourselves over to despair,
when Peterkin called to Jack and said,—

“Jack, my friend, you were once so exceedingly sagacious
and wise as to make me acquainted with the fact that cocoa nuts
grow upon trees; will you now be so good as to inform me what
sort of fruit that is growing on the top of yonder bush? for I
confess to being ignorant, or, at least, doubtful on the
point.”

We looked towards the bush indicated, and there, to our
surprise, beheld our little boat snugly nestled among the
leaves! We were very much overjoyed at this, for we would
have suffered any loss rather than the loss of our boat. We
found that the wave had actually borne the boat on its crest from
the beach into the woods, and there launched it into the heart of
this bush; which was extremely fortunate, for had it been tossed
against a rock or a tree, it would have been dashed to pieces,
whereas it had not received the smallest injury. It was no
easy matter, however, to get it out of the bush and down to the
sea again. This cost us two days of hard labour to
accomplish.

We had also much ado to clear away the rubbish from before the
bower, and spent nearly a week in constant labour ere we got the
neighbourhood to look as clean and orderly as before; for the
uprooted bushes and sea-weed that lay on the beach formed a more
dreadfully confused-looking mass than one who had not seen the
place after the inundation could conceive.

Before leaving the subject I may mention, for the sake of
those who interest themselves in the curious natural phenomena of
our world, that this gigantic wave occurs regularly on some of
the islands of the Pacific, once, and sometimes twice in the
year. I heard this stated by the missionaries during my
career in those seas. They could not tell me whether it
visited all of the islands, but I was certainly assured that it
occurred periodically in some of them.

After we had got our home put to rights and cleared of the
debris of the inundation, we again turned our thoughts to
paying the penguins a visit. The boat was therefore
overhauled and a few repairs done. Then we prepared a
supply of provisions, for we intended to be absent at least a
night or two, perhaps longer. This took us some time to do,
for while Jack was busy with the boat, Peterkin was sent into the
woods to spear a hog or two, and had to search long, sometimes,
ere he found them. Peterkin was usually sent on this
errand, when we wanted a pork chop (which was not seldom),
because he was so active, and could run so wonderfully fast that
he found no difficulty in overtaking the hogs; but, being
dreadfully reckless, he almost invariably tumbled over stumps and
stones in the course of his wild chase, and seldom returned home
without having knocked the skin off his shins. Once,
indeed, a more serious accident happened to him. He had
been out all morning alone and did not return at the usual time
to dinner. We wondered at this, for Peterkin was always
very punctual at the dinner hour. As supper-time drew near
we began to be anxious about him, and at length sallied forth to
search the woods. For a long time we sought in vain, but a
little before dark we came upon the tracks of the hogs, which we
followed up until we came to the brow of a rather steep bank or
precipice. Looking over this we beheld Peterkin lying in a
state of insensibility at the foot, with his cheek resting on the
snout of a little pig, which was pinned to the earth by the
spear! We were dreadfully alarmed, but hastened to bathe
his forehead with water, and had soon the satisfaction of seeing
him revive. After we had carried him home he related to as
how the thing had happened.

“You must know,” said he, “I walked about
all the forenoon, till I was as tired as an old donkey, without
seeing a single grunter, not so much as a track of one; but, as I
was determined not to return empty-handed, I resolved to go
without my dinner and—”

“What!” exclaimed Jack, “did you
really resolve to do that?”

“Now, Jack, hold your tongue,” returned Peterkin;
“I say that I resolved to forego my dinner and to push to
the head of the small valley, where I felt pretty sure of
discovering the hogs. I soon found that I was on the right
scent, for I had scarcely walked half a mile in the direction of
the small plum tree we found there the other day, when a squeak
fell on my ear. ‘Ho, ho,’ said I, ‘there
you go, my boys;’ and I hurried up the glen. I soon
started them, and singling out a fat pig, ran tilt at him.
In a few seconds I was up with him, and stuck my spear right
through his dumpy body. Just as I did so, I saw that we
were on the edge of a precipice, whether high or low I knew not,
but I had been running at such a pace that I could not stop, so
the pig and I gave a howl in concert and went plunging over
together. I remembered nothing more after that, till I came
to my senses and found you bathing my temples, and Ralph wringing
his hands over me.”

But although Peterkin was often unfortunate, in the way of
getting tumbles, he was successful on the present occasion in
hunting, and returned before evening with three very nice little
hogs. I, also, was successful in my visit to the mud-flats,
where I killed several ducks. So that, when we launched and
loaded our boat at sunrise the following morning, we found our
store of provisions to be more than sufficient. Part had
been cooked the night before, and, on taking note of the
different items, we found the account to stand thus:—

10 Bread-fruits, (two baked, eight unbaked.)

20 Yams, (six roasted, the rest raw.)

6 Taro roots.

50 Fine large plums.

6 Cocoa nuts, ripe.

6 Ditto green, (for drinking.)

4 Large ducks and two small ones, raw.

3 Cold roast pigs, with stuffing.

I may here remark that the stuffing had been devised by
Peterkin specially for the occasion. He kept the manner of
its compounding a profound secret, so I cannot tell what it was;
but I can say, with much confidence, that we found it to be
atrociously bad, and, after the first tasting, scraped it
carefully out and threw it overboard. We calculated that
this supply would last us for several days, but we afterwards
found that it was much more than we required, especially in
regard to the cocoa nuts, of which we found large supplies
wherever we went. However, as Peterkin remarked, it was
better to have too much than too little, as we knew not to what
straits we might be put during our voyage.

It was a very calm sunny morning when we launched forth and
rowed over the lagoon towards the outlet in the reef, and passed
between the two green islets that guard the entrance. We
experienced some difficulty and no little danger in passing the
surf of the breaker, and shipped a good deal of water in the
attempt; but, once past the billow, we found ourselves floating
placidly on the long oily swell that rose and fell slowly as it
rolled over the wide ocean.

Penguin Island lay on the other side of our own island, at
about a mile beyond the outer reef, and we calculated that it
must be at least twenty miles distant by the way we should have
to go. We might, indeed, have shortened the way by coasting
round our island inside of the lagoon, and going out at the
passage in the reef nearly opposite to Penguin Island, but we
preferred to go by the open sea; first, because it was more
adventurous; and, secondly, because we should have the pleasure
of again feeling the motion of the deep, which we all loved very
much, not being liable to sea sickness.

“I wish we had a breeze,” said Jack.

“So do I,” cried Peterkin, resting on his oar and
wiping his heated brow; “pulling is hard work. Oh
dear, if we could only catch a hundred or two of these gulls, tie
them to the boat with long strings, and make them fly as we want
them, how capital it would be!”

“Or bore a hole through a shark’s tail, and reeve
a rope through it, eh?” remarked Jack. “But, I
say, it seems that my wish is going to be granted, for here comes
a breeze. Ship your oar, Peterkin. Up with the mast,
Ralph; I’ll see to the sail. Mind your helm; look out
for squalls!”

This last speech was caused by the sudden appearance of a dark
blue line on the horizon, which, in an incredibly short space of
time, swept down on us, lashing up the sea in white foam as it
went. We presented the stern of the boat to its first
violence, and, in a few seconds, it moderated into a steady
breeze, to which we spread our sail and flew merrily over the
waves. Although the breeze died away soon afterwards, it
had been so stiff while it lasted, that we were carried over the
greater part of our way before it fell calm again; so that, when
the flapping of the sail against the mast told us that it was
time to resume the oars, we were not much more than a mile from
Penguin Island.

“There go the soldiers!” cried Peterkin as we came
in sight of it; “how spruce their white trousers look, this
morning! I wonder if they will receive us kindly.
D’you think they are hospitable, Jack?”

“Don’t talk, Peterkin, but pull away, and you
shall see shortly.”

As we drew near to the island we were much amused by the
manoeuvres and appearance of these strange birds. They
seemed to be of different species, for some had crests on their
heads while others had none, and while some were about the size
of a goose others appeared nearly as large as a swan. We
also saw a huge albatross soaring above the heads of the
penguins. It was followed and surrounded by numerous flocks
of sea-gulls. Having approached to within a few yards of
the island, which was a low rock, with no other vegetation on it
than a few bushes, we lay on our oars and gazed at the birds with
surprise and pleasure, they returning our gaze with
interest. We now saw that their soldier-like appearance was
owing to the stiff, erect manner in which they sat on their short
legs,—“Bolt-up-right,” as Peterkin expressed
it. They had black heads, long sharp beaks, white breasts,
and bluish backs. Their wings were so short that they
looked more like the fins of a fish, and, indeed, we soon saw
that they used them for the purpose of swimming under
water. There were no quills on these wings, but a sort of
scaly feathers; which also thickly covered their bodies.
Their legs were short, and placed so far back that the birds,
while on land, were obliged to stand quite upright in order to
keep their balance; but in the water they floated like other
water-fowl. At first we were so stunned with the clamour
which they and other sea-birds kept up around us, that we knew
not which way to look,—for they covered the rocks in
thousands; but, as we continued to gaze, we observed several
quadrupeds (as we thought) walking in the midst of the
penguins.

“Pull in a bit,” cried Peterkin, “and
let’s see what these are. They must be fond of noisy
company, to consort with such creatures.”

To our surprise we found that these were no other than
penguins which had gone down on all fours, and were crawling
among the bushes on their feet and wings, just like
quadrupeds. Suddenly one big old bird, that had been
sitting on a point very near to us, gazing in mute astonishment,
became alarmed, and, scuttling down the rocks, plumped or fell,
rather than ran, into the sea. It dived in a moment, and, a
few seconds afterwards, came out of the water far a-head, with
such a spring, and such a dive back into the sea again, that we
could scarcely believe it was not a fish that had leaped in
sport.

“That beats everything,” said Peterkin, rubbing
his nose, and screwing up his face with an expression of
exasperated amazement. “I’ve heard of a thing
being neither fish, flesh, nor fowl, but I never did expect to
live to see a brute that was all three together,—at
once—in one! But look there!” he continued,
pointing with a look of resignation to the shore, “look
there! there’s no end to it. What has that
brute got under its tail?”

We turned to look in the direction pointed out, and there saw
a penguin walking slowly and very sedately along the shore with
an egg under its tail. There were several others, we
observed, burdened in the same way; and we found afterwards that
these were a species of penguins that always carried their eggs
so. Indeed, they had a most convenient cavity for the
purpose, just between the tail and the legs. We were very
much impressed with the regularity and order of this
colony. The island seemed to be apportioned out into
squares, of which each penguin possessed one, and sat in stiff
solemnity in the middle of it, or took a slow march up and down
the spaces between. Some were hatching their eggs, but
others were feeding their young ones in a manner that caused us
to laugh not a little. The mother stood on a mound or
raised rock, while the young one stood patiently below her on the
ground. Suddenly the mother raised her head and uttered a
series of the most discordant cackling sounds.

“She’s going to choke,” cried Peterkin.

But this was not the case, although, I confess, she looked
like it. In a few seconds she put down her head and opened
her mouth, into which the young one thrust its beak and seemed to
suck something from her throat. Then the cackling was
renewed, the sucking continued, and so the operation of feeding
was carried on till the young one was satisfied; but what she fed
her little one with, we could not tell.

“Now, just look yonder!” said Peterkin, in an
excited tone; “if that isn’t the most abominable
piece of maternal deception I ever saw. That rascally old
lady penguin has just pitched her young one into the sea, and
there’s another about to follow her example.”

This indeed seemed to be the cue, for, on the top of a steep
rock close to the edge of the sea, we observed an old penguin
endeavouring to entice her young one into the water; but the
young one seemed very unwilling to go, and, notwithstanding the
enticements of its mother, moved very slowly towards her.
At last she went gently behind the young bird and pushed it a
little towards the water, but with great tenderness, as much as
to say, ‘Don’t be afraid, darling! I
won’t hurt you, my pet!’ but no sooner did she get it
to the edge of the rock, where it stood looking pensively down at
the sea, than she gave it a sudden and violent push, sending it
headlong down the slope into the water, where its mother left it
to scramble ashore as it best could. We observed many of
them employed in doing this, and we came to the conclusion that
this is the way in which old penguins teach their children to
swim.

Scarcely had we finished making our remarks on this, when we
were startled by about a dozen of the old birds hopping in the
most clumsy and ludicrous manner towards the sea. The
beach, here, was a sloping rock, and when they came to it, some
of them succeeded in hopping down in safety, but others lost
their balance and rolled and scrambled down the slope in the most
helpless manner. The instant they reached the water,
however, they seemed to be in their proper element. They
dived and bounded out of it and into it again with the utmost
agility; and so, diving and bounding and spluttering, for they
could not fly, they went rapidly out to sea.

On seeing this, Peterkin turned with a grave face to us and
said, “It’s my opinion that these birds are all
stark, staring mad, and that this is an enchanted island. I
therefore propose that we should either put about ship and fly in
terror from the spot, or land valorously on the island, and sell
our lives as dearly as we can.”

“I vote for landing, so pull in, lads,” said Jack,
giving a stroke with his oar that made the boat spin. In a
few seconds we ran the boat into a little creek where we made her
fast to a projecting piece of coral, and, running up the beach,
entered the ranks of the penguins armed with our cudgels and our
spear. We were greatly surprised to find that, instead of
attacking us or showing signs of fear at our approach, these
curious birds did not move from their places until we laid hands
on them, and merely turned their eyes on us in solemn, stupid
wonder as we passed. There was one old penguin, however,
that began to walk slowly toward the sea, and Peterkin took it
into his head that he would try to interrupt its progress, so he
ran between it and the sea and brandished his cudgel in its
face. But this proved to be a resolute old bird. It
would not retreat; nay, more, it would not cease to advance, but
battled with Peterkin bravely and drove him before it until it
reached the sea. Had Peterkin used his club he could easily
have felled it, no doubt; but, as he had no wish to do so cruel
an act merely out of sport, he let the bird escape.

We spent fully three hours on this island in watching the
habits of these curious birds, and, when we finally left them, we
all three concluded, after much consultation, that they were the
most wonderful creatures we had ever seen; and further, we
thought it probable that they were the most wonderful creatures
in the world!

CHAPTER XVIII.

An awful storm and its consequences—Narrow
escape—A rock proves a sure foundation—A fearful
night and a bright morning—Deliverance from danger.

It was evening before we left the island of the
penguins. As we had made up our minds to encamp for the
night on a small island, whereon grew a few cocoa-nut trees,
which was about two miles off, we lay to our oars with some
energy. But a danger was in store for us which we had not
anticipated. The wind, which had carried us so quickly to
Penguin Island, freshened as evening drew on, to a stiff breeze,
and, before we had made half the distance to the small island, it
became a regular gale. Although it was not so directly
against us as to prevent our rowing in the course we wished to
go, yet it checked us very much; and although the force of the
sea was somewhat broken by the island, the waves soon began to
rise, and to roll their broken crests against our small craft, so
that she began to take in water, and we had much ado to keep
ourselves afloat. At last the wind and sea together became
so violent that we found it impossible to make the island, so
Jack suddenly put the head of the boat round and ordered Peterkin
and me to hoist a corner of the sail, intending to run back to
Penguin Island.

“We shall at least have the shelter of the
bushes,” he said, as the boat flew before the wind,
“and the penguins will keep us company.”

As Jack spoke, the wind suddenly shifted, and blew so much
against us that we were forced to hoist more of the sail in order
to beat up for the island, being by this change thrown much to
leeward of it. What made matters worse was, that the gale
came in squalls, so that we were more than once nearly upset.

“Stand by, both of you,” cried Jack, in a quick,
earnest tone; “be ready to dowse the sail. I very
much fear we won’t make the island after all.”

Peterkin and I were so much in the habit of trusting
everything to Jack that we had fallen into the way of not
considering things, especially such things as were under
Jack’s care. We had, therefore, never doubted for a
moment that all was going well, so that it was with no little
anxiety that we heard him make the above remark. However,
we had no time for question or surmise, for, at the moment he
spoke, a heavy squall was bearing down upon us, and, as we were
then flying with our lee gunwale dipping occasionally under the
waves, it was evident that we should have to lower our sail
altogether. In a few seconds the squall struck the boat,
but Peterkin and I had the sail down in a moment, so that it did
not upset us; but, when it was past, we were more than half full
of water. This I soon baled out, while Peterkin again
hoisted a corner of the sail; but the evil which Jack had feared
came upon us. We found it quite impossible to make Penguin
Island. The gale carried us quickly past it towards the
open sea, and the terrible truth flashed upon us that we should
be swept out and left to perish miserably in a small boat in the
midst of the wide ocean.

This idea was forced very strongly upon us because we saw
nothing in the direction whither the wind was blowing us save the
raging billows of the sea; and, indeed, we trembled as we gazed
around us, for we were now beyond the shelter of the islands, and
it seemed as though any of the huge billows, which curled over in
masses of foam, might swallow us up in a moment. The water,
also, began to wash in over our sides, and I had to keep
constantly baling, for Jack could not quit the helm nor Peterkin
the sail for an instant, without endangering our lives. In
the midst of this distress Jack uttered an exclamation of hope,
and pointed towards a low island or rock which lay directly
ahead. It had been hitherto unobserved, owing to the dark
clouds that obscured the sky and the blinding spray that seemed
to fill the whole atmosphere.

As we neared this rock we observed that it was quite destitute
of trees and verdure, and so low that the sea broke completely
over it. In fact it was nothing more than the summit of one
of the coral formations, which rose only a few feet above the
level of the water, and was, in stormy weather, all but
invisible. Over this island the waves were breaking in the
utmost fury, and our hearts sank within us as we saw that there
was not a spot where we could thrust our little boat without its
being dashed to pieces.

“Show a little bit more sail,” cried Jack, as we
swept past the weather side of the rock with fearful speed.

“Ay, ay,” answered Peterkin, hoisting about a foot
more of our sail.

Little though the addition was it caused the boat to lie over
and creak so loudly, as we cleft the foaming waves, that I
expected to be upset every instant; and I blamed Jack in my heart
for his rashness. But I did him injustice, for, although
during two seconds the water rushed in-board in a torrent, he
succeeded in steering us sharply round to the leeward side of the
rock, where the water was comparatively calm, and the force of
the breeze broken.

“Out your oars now, lads; that’s well done.
Give way!” We obeyed instantly. The oars
splashed into the waves together. One good hearty pull, and
we were floating in a comparatively calm creek that was so narrow
as to be barely able to admit our boat. Here we were in
perfect safety, and, as we leaped on shore and fastened our cable
to the rocks, I thanked God in my heart for our deliverance from
so great danger. But, although I have said we were now in
safety, I suspect that few of my readers would have envied our
position. It is true we had no lack of food, but we were
drenched to the skin; the sea was foaming round us and the spray
flying over our heads, so that we were completely enveloped, as
it were, in water; the spot on which we had landed was not more
than twelve yards in diameter, and from this spot we could not
move without the risk of being swept away by the storm. At
the upper end of the creek was a small hollow or cave in the
rock, which sheltered us from the fury of the winds and waves;
and as the rock extended in a sort of ledge over our heads, it
prevented the spray from falling upon us.

“Why,” said Peterkin, beginning to feel cheery
again, “it seems to me that we have got into a
mermaid’s cave, for there is nothing but water all round
us; and as for earth or sky, they are things of the
past.”

Peterkin’s idea was not inappropriate, for, what with
the sea roaring in white foam up to our very feet, and the spray
flying in white sheets continually over our heads, and the water
dripping heavily from the ledge above like a curtain in front of
our cave, it did seem to us very much more like being below than
above water.

“Now, boys,” cried Jack, “bestir yourselves,
and let’s make ourselves comfortable. Toss out our
provisions, Peterkin; and here, Ralph, lend a hand to haul up the
boat. Look sharp.”

“Ay, ay, captain,” we cried, as we hastened to
obey, much cheered by the hearty manner of our comrade.

Fortunately the cave, although not very deep, was quite dry,
so that we succeeded in making ourselves much more comfortable
than could have been expected. We landed our provisions,
wrung the water out of our garments, spread our sail below us for
a carpet, and, after having eaten a hearty meal, began to feel
quite cheerful. But as night drew on, our spirits sank
again, for with the daylight all evidence of our security
vanished away. We could no longer see the firm rock on
which we lay, while we were stunned with the violence of the
tempest that raged around us. The night grew pitchy dark,
as it advanced, so that we could not see our hands when we held
them up before our eyes, and were obliged to feel each other
occasionally to make sure that we were safe, for the storm at
last became so terrible that it was difficult to make our voices
audible. A slight variation of the wind, as we supposed,
caused a few drops of spray ever and anon to blow into our faces;
and the eddy of the sea, in its mad boiling, washed up into our
little creek until it reached our feet and threatened to tear
away our boat. In order to prevent this latter calamity, we
hauled the boat farther up and held the cable in our hands.
Occasional flashes of lightning shone with a ghastly glare
through the watery curtains around us, and lent additional horror
to the scene. Yet we longed for those dismal flashes, for
they were less appalling than the thick blackness that succeeded
them. Crashing peals of thunder seemed to tear the skies in
twain, and fell upon our ears through the wild yelling of the
hurricane as if it had been but a gentle summer breeze; while the
billows burst upon the weather side of the island until we
fancied that the solid rock was giving way, and, in our agony, we
clung to the bare ground, expecting every moment to be whirled
away and whelmed in the black howling sea! Oh! it was a
night of terrible anxiety, and no one can conceive the feelings
of intense gratitude and relief with which we at last saw the
dawn of day break through the vapory mists around us.

For three days and three nights we remained on this rock,
while the storm continued to rage with unabated fury. On
the morning of the fourth day it suddenly ceased, and the wind
fell altogether; but the waves still ran so high that we did not
dare to put off in our boat. During the greater part of
this period we scarcely slept above a few minutes at a time, but
on the third night we slept soundly and awoke early on the fourth
morning to find the sea very much down, and the sun shining
brightly again in the clear blue sky.

It was with light hearts that we launched forth once more in
our little boat and steered away for our island home, which, we
were overjoyed to find, was quite visible on the horizon, for we
had feared that we had been blown out of sight of it
altogether. As it was a dead calm we had to row during the
greater part of the day; but towards the afternoon a fair breeze
sprang up, which enabled us to hoist our sail. We soon
passed Penguin Island, and the other island which we had failed
to reach on the day the storm commenced; but as we had still
enough of provisions, and were anxious to get home, we did not
land, to the great disappointment of Peterkin, who seemed to
entertain quite an affection for the penguins.

Although the breeze was pretty fresh for several hours, we did
not reach the outer reef of our island till night-fall, and
before we had sailed more than a hundred yards into the lagoon,
the wind died away altogether, so that we had to take to our oars
again. It was late and the moon and stars were shining
brightly when we arrived opposite the bower and leaped upon the
strand. So glad were we to be safe back again on our
beloved island, that we scarcely took time to drag the boat a
short way up the beach, and then ran up to see that all was right
at the bower. I must confess, however, that my joy was
mingled with a vague sort of fear lest our home had been visited
and destroyed during our absence; but on reaching it we found
everything just as it had been left, and the poor black cat
curled up, sound asleep, on the coral table in front of our
humble dwelling.

CHAPTER XIX.

Shoemaking—The even tenor of our way suddenly
interrupted—An unexpected visit and an appalling
battle—We all become warriors, and Jack proves himself be a
hero.

For many months after this we continued to live on our island
in uninterrupted harmony and happiness. Sometimes we went
out a-fishing in the lagoon, and sometimes went a-hunting in the
woods, or ascended to the mountain top, by way of variety,
although Peterkin always asserted that we went for the purpose of
hailing any ship that might chance to heave in sight. But I
am certain that none of us wished to be delivered from our
captivity, for we were extremely happy, and Peterkin used to say
that as we were very young we should not feel the loss of a year
or two. Peterkin, as I have said before, was thirteen years
of age, Jack eighteen, and I fifteen. But Jack was very
tall, strong, and manly for his age, and might easily have been
mistaken for twenty.

The climate was so beautiful that it seemed to be a perpetual
summer, and as many of the fruit-trees continued to bear fruit
and blossom all the year round, we never wanted for a plentiful
supply of food. The hogs, too, seemed rather to increase
than diminish, although Peterkin was very frequent in his attacks
on them with his spear. If at any time we failed in finding
a drove, we had only to pay a visit to the plum-tree before
mentioned, where we always found a large family of them asleep
under its branches.

We employed ourselves very busily during this time in making
various garments of cocoa-nut cloth, as those with which we had
landed were beginning to be very ragged. Peterkin also
succeeded in making excellent shoes out of the skin of the old
hog, in the following manner:—He first cut a piece of the
hide, of an oblong form, a few inches longer than his foot.
This he soaked in water, and, while it was wet, he sewed up one
end of it, so as to form a rough imitation of that part of the
heel of a shoe where the seam is. This done, he bored a row
of holes all round the edge of the piece of skin, through which a
tough line was passed. Into the sewed-up part of this shoe
he thrust his heel, then, drawing the string tight, the edges
rose up and overlapped his foot all round. It is true there
were a great many ill-looking puckers in these shoes, but we
found them very serviceable notwithstanding, and Jack came at
last to prefer them to his long boots. We ago made various
other useful articles, which added to our comfort, and once or
twice spoke of building us a house, but we had so great an
affection for the bower, and, withal, found it so serviceable,
that we determined not to leave it, nor to attempt the building
of a house, which, in such a climate, might turn out to be rather
disagreeable than useful.

We often examined the pistol that we had found in the house on
the other side of the island, and Peterkin wished much that we
had powder and shot, as it would render pig-killing much easier;
but, after all, we had become so expert in the use of our sling
and bow and spear, that we were independent of more deadly
weapons.

Diving in the Water Garden also continued to afford us as much
pleasure as ever; and Peterkin began to be a little more expert
in the water from constant practice. As for Jack and I, we
began to feel as if water were our native element, and revelled
in it with so much confidence and comfort that Peterkin said he
feared we would turn into fish some day, and swim off and leave
him; adding, that he had been for a long time observing that Jack
was becoming more and more like a shark every day.
Whereupon Jack remarked, that if he, Peterkin, were changed into
a fish, he would certainly turn into nothing better or bigger
than a shrimp. Poor Peterkin did not envy us our delightful
excursions under water, except, indeed, when Jack would dive down
to the bottom of the Water Garden, sit down on a rock and look up
and make faces at him. Peterkin did feel envious then, and
often said he would give anything to be able to do that. I
was much amused when Peterkin said this; for if he could only
have seen his own face when he happened to take a short dive, he
would have seen that Jack’s was far surpassed by it.
The great difference being, however, that Jack made faces on
purpose—Peterkin couldn’t help it!

Now, while we were engaged with these occupations and
amusements, an event occurred one day which was as unexpected as
it was exceedingly alarming and very horrible.

Jack and I were sitting, as we were often wont to do, on the
rocks at Spouting Cliff, and Peterkin was wringing the water from
his garments, having recently fallen by accident into the
sea,—a thing he was constantly doing,—when our
attention was suddenly arrested by two objects which appeared on
the horizon.

“What are yon, think you?” I said, addressing
Jack.

“I can’t imagine,” answered he;
“I’ve noticed them for some time, and fancied they
were black sea-gulls, but the more I look at them the more I feel
convinced they are much larger than gulls.”

“They seem to be coming towards us,” said I.

“Hallo! what’s wrong?” inquired Peterkin,
coming up.

“Look there,” said Jack.

“Whales!” cried Peterkin, shading his eyes with
his hand. “No! eh! can they be boats,
Jack?”

Our hearts beat with excitement at the very thought of seeing
human faces again.

“I think you are about right, Peterkin;—but they
seem to me to move strangely for boats,” said Jack, in a
low tone, as if he were talking to himself.

I noticed that a shade of anxiety crossed Jack’s
countenance as he gazed long and intently at the two objects,
which were now nearing us fast. At last he sprang to his
feet. “They are canoes, Ralph! whether war-canoes or
not I cannot tell, but this I know, that all the natives of the
South Sea Islands are fierce cannibals, and they have little
respect for strangers. We must hide if they land here,
which I earnestly hope they will not do.”

I was greatly alarmed at Jack’s speech, but I confess I
thought less of what he said than of the earnest, anxious manner
in which he said it, and it was with very uncomfortable feelings
that Peterkin and I followed him quickly into the woods.

“How unfortunate,” said I, as we gained the
shelter of the bushes, “that we have forgotten our
arms.”

“It matters not,” said Jack; “here are clubs
enough and to spare.” As he spoke, he laid his hand
on a bundle of stout poles of various sizes, which
Peterkin’s ever-busy hands had formed, during our frequent
visits to the cliff, for no other purpose, apparently, than that
of having something to do.

We each selected a stout club according to our several tastes,
and lay down behind a rock, whence we could see the canoes
approach, without ourselves being seen. At first we made an
occasional remark on their appearance, but after they entered the
lagoon, and drew near the beach, we ceased to speak, and gazed
with intense interest at the scene before us.

We now observed that the foremost canoe was being chased by
the other, and that it contained a few women and children, as
well as men,—perhaps forty souls altogether; while the
canoe which pursued it contained only men. They seemed to
be about the same in number, but were better armed, and had the
appearance of being a war party. Both crews were paddling
with all their might, and it seemed as if the pursuers exerted
themselves to overtake the natives ere they could land. In
this, however, they failed. The foremost canoe made for the
beach close beneath the rocks behind which we were
concealed. Their short paddles flashed like meteors in the
water, and sent up a constant shower of spray. The foam
curled from the prow, and the eyes of the rowers glistened in
their black faces as they strained every muscle of their naked
bodies; nor did they relax their efforts till the canoe struck
the beach with a violent shock; then, with a shout of defiance,
the whole party sprang, as if by magic, from the canoe to the
shore. Three women, two of whom carried infants in their
arms, rushed into the woods; and the men crowded to the
water’s edge, with stones in their hands, spears levelled,
and clubs brandished, to resist the landing of their enemies.

The distance between the two canoes had been about half a
mile, and, at the great speed they were going, this was soon
passed. As the pursuers neared the shore, no sign of fear
or hesitation was noticeable. On they came like a wild
charger,—received but recked not of a shower of
stones. The canoe struck, and, with a yell that seemed to
issue from the throats of incarnate fiends, they leaped into the
water, and drove their enemies up the beach.

The battle that immediately ensued was frightful to
behold. Most of the men wielded clubs of enormous size and
curious shapes, with which they dashed out each other’s
brains. As they were almost entirely naked, and had to
bound, stoop, leap, and run, in their terrible hand-to-hand
encounters, they looked more like demons than human beings.
I felt my heart grow sick at the sight of this bloody battle, and
would fain have turned away, but a species of fascination seemed
to hold me down and glue my eyes upon the combatants. I
observed that the attacking party was led by a most extraordinary
being, who, from his size and peculiarity, I concluded was a
chief. His hair was frizzed out to an enormous extent, so
that it resembled a large turban. It was of a light-yellow
hue, which surprised me much, for the man’s body was as
black as coal, and I felt convinced that the hair must have been
dyed. He was tattooed from head to foot; and his face,
besides being tattooed, was besmeared with red paint, and
streaked with white. Altogether, with his yellow
turban-like hair, his Herculean black frame, his glittering eyes
and white teeth, he seemed the most terrible monster I ever
beheld. He was very active in the fight, and had already
killed four men.

Suddenly the yellow-haired chief was attacked by a man quite
as strong and large as himself. He flourished a heavy club
something like an eagle’s beak at the point. For a
second or two these giants eyed each other warily, moving round
and round, as if to catch each other at a disadvantage, but
seeing that nothing was to be gained by this caution, and that
the loss of time might effectually turn the tide of battle either
way, they apparently made up their minds to attack at the same
instant, for, with a wild shout and simultaneous spring, they
swung their heavy clubs, which met with a loud report.
Suddenly the yellow-haired savage tripped, his enemy sprang
forward, the ponderous club was swung, but it did not descend,
for at that moment the savage was felled to the ground by a stone
from the hand of one who had witnessed his chief’s
danger. This was the turning-point in the battle. The
savages who landed first turned and fled towards the bush, on
seeing the fall of their chief. But not one escaped.
They were all overtaken and felled to the earth. I saw,
however, that they were not all killed. Indeed, their
enemies, now that they were conquered, seemed anxious to take
them alive; and they succeeded in securing fifteen, whom they
bound hand and foot with cords, and, carrying them up into the
woods, laid them down among the bushes. Here they left
them, for what purpose I knew not, and returned to the scene of
the late battle, where the remnant of the party were bathing
their wounds.

Out of the forty blacks that composed the attacking party,
only twenty-eight remained alive, two of whom were sent into the
bush to hunt for the women and children. Of the other
party, as I have said, only ten survived, and these were lying
bound and helpless on the grass.

Jack and Peterkin and I now looked at each other, and
whispered our fears that the savages might clamber up the rocks
to search for fresh water, and so discover our place of
concealment; but we were so much interested in watching their
movements that we agreed to remain where we were; and, indeed, we
could not easily have risen without exposing ourselves to
detection. One of the savages now went up to the wood and
soon returned with a bundle of fire-wood, and we were not a
little surprised to see him set fire to it by the very same means
used by Jack the time we made our first fire,—namely, with
the bow and drill. When the fire was kindled, two of the
party went again to the woods and returned with one of the bound
men. A dreadful feeling of horror crept over my heart, as
the thought flashed upon me that they were going to burn their
enemies. As they bore him to the fire my feelings almost
overpowered me. I gasped for breath, and seizing my club,
endeavoured to spring to my feet; but Jack’s powerful arm
pinned me to the earth. Next moment one of the savages
raised his club, and fractured the wretched creature’s
skull. He must have died instantly, and, strange though it
may seem, I confess to a feeling of relief when the deed was
done, because I now knew that the poor savage could not be burned
alive. Scarcely had his limbs ceased to quiver when the
monsters cut slices of flesh from his body, and, after roasting
them slightly over the fire, devoured them.

Suddenly there arose a cry from the woods, and, in a few
seconds, the two savages hastened towards the fire dragging the
three women and their two infants along with them. One of
those women was much younger than her companions, and we were
struck with the modesty of her demeanour and the gentle
expression of her face, which, although she had the flattish nose
and thick lips of the others, was of a light-brown colour, and we
conjectured that she must be of a different race. She and
her companions wore short petticoats and a kind of tippet on
their shoulders. Their hair was jet black, but instead of
being long, was short and curly,—though not
woolly—somewhat like the hair of a young boy. While
we gazed with interest and some anxiety at these poor creatures,
the big chief advanced to one of the elder females and laid his
hand upon the child. But the mother shrank from him, and
clasping the little one to her bosom, uttered a wail of
fear. With a savage laugh, the chief tore the child from
her arms and tossed it into the sea. A low groan burst from
Jack’s lips as we witnessed this atrocious act and heard
the mother’s shriek, as she fell insensible on the
sand. The rippling waves rolled the child on the beach, as
if they refused to be a party in such a foul murder, and we could
observe that the little one still lived.

The young girl was now brought forward, and the chief
addressed her; but although we heard his voice, and even the
words distinctly, of course we could not understand what he
said. The girl made no answer to his fierce questions, and
we saw by the way in which he pointed to the fire that he
threatened her life.

“Peterkin,” said Jack in a hoarse whisper,
“have you got your knife?”

“Yes,” replied Peterkin, whose face was pale as
death.

“That will do. Listen to me, and do my bidding
quick. Here is the small knife, Ralph. Fly both of
you through the bush, cut the cords that bind the prisoners and
set them free. There! quick, ere it be too
late.” Jack sprang up, and seized a heavy but short
bludgeon, while his strong frame trembled with emotion, and large
drops rolled down his forehead.

At this moment the man who had butchered the savage a few
minutes before advanced towards the girl with his heavy
club. Jack uttered a yell that rang like a death-shriek
among the rocks. With one bound he leaped over a precipice
full fifteen feet high, and, before the savages had recovered
from their surprise, was in the midst of them; while Peterkin and
I dashed through the bushes towards the prisoners. With one
blow of his staff Jack felled the man with the club, then,
turning round with a look of fury, he rushed upon the big chief
with the yellow hair. Had the blow which Jack aimed at his
head taken effect, the huge savage would have needed no second
stroke; but he was agile as a cat, and avoided it by springing to
one side, while, at the same time, he swung his ponderous club at
the head of his foe. It was now Jack’s turn to leap
aside, and well was it for him that the first outburst of his
blind fury was over, else he had become an easy prey to his
gigantic antagonist; but Jack was cool now. He darted his
blows rapidly and well, and the superiority of his light weapon
was strikingly proved in this combat, for while he could easily
evade the blows of the chief’s heavy club, the chief could
not so easily evade those of his light one. Nevertheless,
so quick was he, and so frightfully did he fling about the mighty
weapon, that, although Jack struck him almost every blow, the
strokes had to be delivered so quickly that they wanted force to
be very effectual.

It was lucky for Jack that the other savages considered the
success of their chief in this encounter to be so certain that
they refrained from interfering. Had they doubted it, they
would have probably ended the matter at once by felling
him. But they contented themselves with awaiting the
issue.

The force which the chief expended in wielding his club now
began to be apparent. His movements became slower, his
breath hissed through his clenched teeth, and the surprised
savages drew nearer in order to render assistance. Jack
observed this movement. He felt that his fate was sealed,
and resolved to cast his life upon the next blow. The
chiefs club was again about to descend on his head. He
might have evaded it easily, but instead of doing so, he suddenly
shortened his grasp of his own club, rushed in under the blow,
struck his adversary right between the eyes with all his force
and fell to the earth, crushed beneath the senseless body of the
chief. A dozen clubs flew high in air ready to descend on
the head of Jack, but they hesitated a moment, for the massive
body of the chief completely covered him. That moment saved
his life. Ere the savages could tear the chief’s body
away, seven of their number fell prostrate beneath the clubs of
the prisoners whom Peterkin and I had set free, and two others
fell under our own hand. We could never have accomplished
this had not our enemies been so engrossed with the fight between
Jack and their chief that they had failed to observe us until we
were upon them. They still out-numbered our party by three,
but we were flushed with victory while they were taken by
surprise and dispirited by the fall of their chief.
Moreover, they were awe-struck by the sweeping fury of Jack, who
seemed to have lost his senses altogether, and had no sooner
shaken himself free of the chief’s body than he rushed into
the midst of them, and in three blows equalized our
numbers. Peterkin and I flew to the rescue, the savages
followed us, and, in less than ten minutes, the whole of our
opponents were knocked down or made prisoners, bound hand and
foot, and extended side by side upon the sea shore.

CHAPTER XX.

Intercourse with the savages—Cannibalism
prevented—The slain are buried and the survivors depart,
leaving us again alone on our Coral Island.

After the battle was over, the savages crowded round us and
gazed at us in surprise, while they continued to pour upon us a
flood of questions, which, being wholly unintelligible, of course
we could not answer. However, by way of putting an end to
it, Jack took the chief (who had recovered from the effects of
his wound) by the hand and shook it warmly. No sooner did
the blacks see that this was meant to express good-will than they
shook hands with us all round. After this ceremony was gone
through Jack went up to the girl, who had never once moved from
the rock where she had been left, but had continued an eager
spectator of all that had passed. He made signs to her to
follow him and then, taking the chief by the hand, was about to
conduct him to the bower when his eye fell on the poor infant
which had been thrown into the sea and was still lying on the
shore. Dropping the chief’s hand he hastened towards
it, and, to his great joy, found it to be still alive. We
also found that the mother was beginning to recover slowly.

“Here, get out o’ the way,” said Jack,
pushing us aside, as we stooped over the poor woman and
endeavoured to restore her, “I’ll soon bring her
round.” So saying, he placed the infant on her bosom
and laid its warm cheek on hers. The effect was
wonderful. The woman opened her eyes, felt the child,
looked at it, and with a cry of joy clasped it in her arms, at
the same time endeavouring to rise, for the purpose, apparently,
of rushing into the woods.

“There, that’s all right,” said Jack, once
more taking the chief by the hand. “Now Ralph and
Peterkin, make the women and these fellows follow me to the
bower. Well entertain them as hospitably as we
can.”

In a few minutes the savages were all seated on the ground in
front of the bower making a hearty meal off a cold roast pig,
several ducks, and a variety of cold fish, together with an
unlimited supply of cocoa-nuts, bread-fruits, yams, taro, and
plums; with all of which they seemed to be quite familiar and
perfectly satisfied.

Meanwhile, we three being thoroughly knocked up with our
day’s work, took a good draught of cocoa-nut lemonade, and
throwing ourselves on our beds fell fast asleep. The
savages it seems followed our example, and in half-an-hour the
whole camp was buried in repose.

How long we slept I cannot tell, but this I know, that when we
lay down the sun was setting and when we awoke it was high in the
heavens. I awoke Jack, who started up in surprise, being
unable at first to comprehend our situation. “Now,
then,” said he, springing up, “let’s see after
breakfast. Hallo! Peterkin, lazy fellow, how long do
you mean to lie there?”

Peterkin yawned heavily. “Well!” said he,
opening his eyes and looking up after some trouble, “if it
isn’t to-morrow morning, and me thinking it was to-day all
this time. Hallo! Venus, where did you come from? you
seem tolerably at home, any how. Bah! might as well speak
to the cat as to you—better, in fact, for it understands
me, and you don’t.”

This remark was called forth by the sight of one of the
elderly females, who had seated herself on the rock in front of
the bower, and, having placed her child at her feet, was busily
engaged in devouring the remains of a roast pig.

By this time the natives outside were all astir, and breakfast
in an advanced state of preparation. During the course of
it we made sundry attempts to converse with the natives by signs,
but without effect. At last we hit upon a plan of
discovering their names. Jack pointed to his breast and said
“Jack,” very distinctly; then he pointed to Peterkin
and to me, repeating our names at the same time. Then he
pointed to himself again, and said “Jack,” and laying
his finger on the breast of the chief, looked inquiringly into
his face. The chief instantly understood him and said
“Tararo,” twice, distinctly. Jack repeated it
after him, and the chief, nodding his head approvingly, said
“Chuck.” On hearing which, Peterkin exploded
with laughter; but Jack turned and with a frown rebuked him,
saying, “I must look even more indignantly at you than I
feel, Peterkin, you rascal, for these fellows don’t like to
be laughed at.” Then turning towards the youngest of
the women, who was seated at the door of the bower, he pointed to
her; whereupon the chief said, “Avatea;” and pointing
towards the sun, raised his finger slowly towards the zenith,
where it remained steadily for a minute or two.

“What can that mean, I wonder,” said Jack, looking
puzzled.

“Perhaps,” said Peterkin, “the chief means
she is an angel come down to stay here for a while. If so,
she’s an uncommonly black one!”

We did not feel quite satisfied with this explanation, so Jack
went up to her and said, “Avatea.” The woman
smiled sadly, and nodded her head, at the same time pointing to
her breast and then to the sun, in the same manner as the chief
had done. We were much puzzled to know what this could
signify, but as there was no way of solving our difficulty we
were obliged to rest content.

Jack now made signs to the natives to follow him, and, taking
up his axe, he led them to the place where the battle had been
fought. Here we found the prisoners, who had passed the
night on the beach having been totally forgotten by us, as our
minds had been full of our guests, and were ultimately overcome
by sleep. They did not seem the worse for their exposure,
however, as we judged by the hearty appetite with which they
devoured the breakfast that was soon after given to them.
Jack then began to dig a hole in the sand, and, after working a
few seconds, he pointed to it and to the dead bodies that lay
exposed on the beach. The natives immediately perceived
what he wanted, and, running for their paddles, dug a hole in the
course of half an hour that was quite large enough to contain all
the bodies of the slain. When it was finished they tossed
their dead enemies into it with so much indifference that we felt
assured they would not have put themselves to this trouble had we
not asked them to do so. The body of the yellow-haired
chief was the last thrown in. This wretched man would have
recovered from the blow with which Jack felled him, and, indeed,
he did endeavour to rise during the melee that followed his fall,
but one of his enemies, happening to notice the action, dealt him
a blow with his club that killed him on the spot.

While they were about to throw the sand over this chief, one
of the savages stooped over him, and with a knife, made
apparently of stone, cut a large slice of flesh from his
thigh. We knew at once that he intended to make use of this
for food, and could not repress a cry of horror and disgust.

“Come, come, you blackguard,” cried Jack, starting
up and seizing the man by the arm, “pitch that into the
hole. Do you hear?”

The savage of course did not understand the command, but he
perfectly understood the look of disgust with which Jack regarded
the flesh, and his fierce gaze as he pointed towards the
hole. Nevertheless he did not obey. Jack instantly
turned to Tararo and made signs to him to enforce
obedience. The chief seemed to understand the appeal, for
he stepped forward, raised his club, and was on the point of
dashing out the brains of his offending subject, when Jack sprang
forward and caught his uplifted arm.

“Stop!” he shouted, “you blockhead, I
don’t want you to kill the man.” He then
pointed again to the flesh and to the hole. The chief
uttered a few words, which had the desired effect; for the man
threw the flesh into the hole, which was immediately filled
up. This man was of a morose, sulky disposition, and,
during all the time he remained on the island, regarded us,
especially Jack, with a scowling visage. His name, we
found, was Mahine.

The next three or four days were spent by the savages in
mending their canoe, which had been damaged by the violent shock
it had sustained on striking the shore. This canoe was a
very curious structure. It was about thirty feet long, and
had a high towering stern. The timbers, of which it was
partly composed, were fastened much in the same way as those of
our little boat were put together; but the part that seemed most
curious to us was a sort of out-rigger, or long plank, which was
attached to the body of the canoe by means of two stout cross
beams. These beams kept the plank parallel with the canoe,
but not in contact with it, for it floated in the water with an
open space between; thus forming a sort of double canoe.
This we found was intended to prevent the upsetting of the canoe,
which was so narrow that it could not have maintained an upright
position without the out-rigger. We could not help
wondering both at the ingenuity and the clumsiness of this
contrivance.

When the canoe was ready, we assisted the natives to carry the
prisoners into it, and helped them to load it with provisions and
fruit. Peterkin also went to the plum-tree for the purpose
of making a special onslaught upon the hogs, and killed no less
than six of them. These we baked and presented to our
friends on the day of their departure. On that day Tararo
made a great many energetic signs to us, which, after much
consideration, we came to understand were proposals that we
should go away with him to his island; but, having no desire to
do so, we shook our heads very decidedly. However, we
consoled him by presenting him with our rusty axe, which we
thought we could spare, having the excellent one which had been
so providentially washed ashore to us the day we were
wrecked. We also gave him a piece of wood with our names
carved on it, and a piece of string to hang it round his neck as
an ornament.

In a few minutes more we were all assembled on the
beach. Being unable to speak to the savages, we went
through the ceremony of shaking hands, and expected they would
depart; but, before doing so, Tararo went up to Jack and rubbed
noses with him, after which he did the same with Peterkin and
me! Seeing that this was their mode of salutation, we
determined to conform to their custom, so we rubbed noses
heartily with the whole party, women and all! The only
disagreeable part of the process was, when we came to rub noses
with Mahine, and Peterkin afterwards said, that when he saw his
wolfish eyes glaring so close to his face, he felt much more
inclined to bang than to rub his nose. Avatea
was the last to take leave of us, and we experienced a feeling of
real sorrow when she approached to bid us farewell. Besides
her modest air and gentle manners she was the only one of the
party who exhibited the smallest sign of regret at parting from
us. Going up to Jack, she put out her flat little nose to
be rubbed, and thereafter paid the same compliment to Peterkin
and me.

An hour later the canoe was out of sight, and we, with an
indefinable feeling of sadness creeping round our hearts, were
seated in silence beneath the shadow of our bower, meditating on
the wonderful events of the last few days.

CHAPTER XXI.

Sagacious and moral remarks in regard to life—A
sail!—An unexpected salute—The end of the black
cat—A terrible dive—An incautious proceeding and a
frightful catastrophe.

Life is a strange compound. Peterkin used to say of it,
that it beat a druggist’s shop all to sticks; for, whereas
the first is a compound of good and bad, the other is a horrible
compound of all that is utterly detestable. And indeed the
more I consider it the more I am struck with the strange mixture
of good and evil that exists not only in the material earth but
in our own natures. In our own Coral Island we had
experienced every variety of good that a bountiful Creator could
heap on us. Yet on the night of the storm we had seen how
almost, in our case,—and altogether, no doubt, in the case
of others less fortunate—all this good might be swept away
for ever. We had seen the rich fruit-trees waving in the
soft air, the tender herbs shooting upwards under the benign
influence of the bright sun; and, the next day, we had seen these
good and beautiful trees and plants uprooted by the hurricane,
crushed and hurled to the ground in destructive
devastation. We had lived for many months in a clime for
the most part so beautiful, that we had often wondered whether
Adam and Eve had found Eden more sweet; and we had seen the quiet
solitudes of our paradise suddenly broken in upon by ferocious
savages, and the white sands stained with blood and strewed with
lifeless forms; yet, among these cannibals, we had seen many
symptoms of a kindly nature. I pondered these things much,
and, while I considered them, there recurred to my memory those
words which I had read in my Bible,—the works of God are
wonderful, and his ways past finding out.

After these poor savages had left us, we used to hold long and
frequent conversations about them, and I noticed that
Peterkin’s manner was now much altered. He did not,
indeed, jest less heartily than before, but he did so less
frequently, and often there was a tone of deep seriousness in his
manner, if not in his words, which made him seem to Jack and me
as if he had grown two years older within a few days. But
indeed I was not surprised at this, when I reflected on the awful
realities which we had witnessed so lately. We could by no
means shake off a tendency to gloom for several weeks afterwards;
but, as time wore away, our usual good spirits returned somewhat,
and we began to think of the visit of the savages with feelings
akin to those with which we recall a terrible dream.

One day we were all enjoying ourselves in the Water Garden,
preparatory to going on a fishing excursion; for Peterkin had
kept us in such constant supply of hogs that we had become quite
tired of pork, and desired a change. Peterkin was sunning
himself on the ledge of rock, while we were creeping among the
rocks below. Happening to look up, I observed Peterkin
cutting the most extraordinary capers and making violent
gesticulations for us to come up; so I gave Jack a push, and rose
immediately.

“A sail! a sail! Ralph, look! Jack, away on
the horizon there, just over the entrance to the lagoon!”
cried Peterkin, as we scrambled up the rocks.

“So it is, and a schooner, too!” said Jack, as he
proceeded hastily to dress.

Our hearts were thrown into a terrible flutter by this
discovery, for if it should touch at our island we had no doubt
the captain would be happy to give us a passage to some of the
civilized islands, where we could find a ship sailing for
England, or some other part of Europe. Home, with all its
associations, rushed in upon my heart like a flood, and, much
though I loved the Coral Island and the bower which had now been
our home so long, I felt that I could have quitted all at that
moment without a sigh. With joyful anticipations we
hastened to the highest point of rock near our dwelling, and
awaited the arrival of the vessel, for we now perceived that she
was making straight for the island, under a steady breeze.

In less than an hour she was close to the reef, where she
rounded to, and backed her topsails in order to survey the
coast. Seeing this, and fearing that they might not
perceive us, we all three waved pieces of cocoa-nut cloth in the
air, and soon had the satisfaction of seeing them beginning to
lower a boat and bustle about the decks as if they meant to
land. Suddenly a flag was run up to the peak, a little
cloud of white smoke rose from the schooner’s side, and,
before we could guess their intentions, a cannon-shot came
crashing through the bushes, carried away several cocoa-nut trees
in its passage, and burst in atoms against the cliff a few yards
below the spot on which we stood.

With feelings of terror we now observed that the flag at the
schooner’s peak was black, with a Death’s head and
cross bones upon it. As we gazed at each other in blank
amazement, the word “pirate” escaped our lips
simultaneously.

“What is to be done?” cried Peterkin, as we
observed a boat shoot from the vessel’s side, and make for
the entrance of the reef. “If they take us off the
island, it will either be to throw us overboard for sport, or to
make pirates of us.”

I did not reply, but looked at Jack, as being our only
resource in this emergency. He stood with folded arms, and
his eyes fixed with a grave, anxious expression on the
ground. “There is but one hope,” said he,
turning with a sad expression of countenance to Peterkin;
“perhaps, after all, we may not have to resort to it.
If these villains are anxious to take us, they will soon overrun
the whole island. But come, follow me.”

Stopping abruptly in his speech, Jack bounded into the woods,
and led us by a circuitous route to Spouting Cliff. Here he
halted, and, advancing cautiously to the rocks, glanced over
their edge. We were soon by his side, and saw the boat,
which was crowded with armed men, just touching the shore.
In an instant the crew landed, formed line, and rushed up to our
bower.

In a few seconds we saw them hurrying back to the boat, one of
them swinging the poor cat round his head by the tail. On
reaching the water’s edge, he tossed it far into the sea,
and joined his companions, who appeared to be holding a hasty
council.

“You see what we may expect,” said Jack
bitterly. “The man who will wantonly kill a poor
brute for sport will think little of murdering a
fellow-creature. Now, boys, we have but one chance
left,—the Diamond Cave.”

“The Diamond Cave!” cried Peterkin, “then my
chance is a poor one, for I could not dive into it if all the
pirates on the Pacific were at my heels.”

“Nay, but,” said I, “we will take you down,
Peterkin, if you will only trust us.”

As I spoke, we observed the pirates scatter over the beach,
and radiate, as if from a centre, towards the woods and along
shore.

“Now, Peterkin,” said Jack, in a solemn tone,
“you must make up your mind to do it, or we must make up
our minds to die in your company.”

“Oh, Jack, my dear friend,” cried Peterkin,
turning pale, “leave me; I don’t believe
they’ll think it worth while to kill me. Go, you and
Ralph, and dive into the cave.”

“That will not I,” answered Jack quietly, while he
picked up a stout cudgel from the ground. “So now,
Ralph, we must prepare to meet these fellows. Their motto
is, ‘No quarter.’ If we can manage to floor
those coming in this direction, we may escape into the woods for
a while.”

“There are five of them,” said I; “we have
no chance.”

“Come, then,” cried Peterkin, starting up, and
grasping Jack convulsively by the arm, “let us dive; I will
go.”

Those who are not naturally expert in the water know well the
feelings of horror that overwhelm them, when in it, at the bare
idea of being held down, even for a few seconds,—that
spasmodic, involuntary recoil from compulsory immersion which has
no connection whatever with cowardice; and they will understand
the amount of resolution that it required in Peterkin to allow
himself to be dragged down to a depth of ten feet, and then,
through a narrow tunnel, into an almost pitch-dark cavern.
But there was no alternative. The pirates had already
caught sight of us, and were now within a short distance of the
rocks.

Jack and I seized Peterkin by the arms.

“Now, keep quite still, no struggling,” said Jack,
“or we are lost.”

Peterkin made no reply, but the stern gravity of his marble
features, and the tension of his muscles, satisfied us that he
had fully made up his mind to go through with it. Just as
the pirates gained the foot of the rocks, which hid us for a
moment from their view, we bent over the sea, and plunged down
together head foremost. Peterkin behaved like a hero.
He floated passively between us like a log of wood, and we passed
the tunnel and rose into the cave in a shorter space of time than
I had ever done it before.

Peterkin drew a long, deep breath on reaching the surface; and
in a few seconds we were all standing on the ledge of rock in
safety. Jack now searched for the tinder and torch, which
always lay in the cave. He soon found them, and, lighting
the torch, revealed to Peterkin’s wondering gaze the
marvels of the place. But we were too wet to waste much
time in looking about us. Our first care was to take off
our clothes, and wring them as dry as we could. This done,
we proceeded to examine into the state of our larder, for, as
Jack truly remarked, there was no knowing how long the pirates
might remain on the island.

“Perhaps,” said Peterkin, “they may take it
into their heads to stop here altogether, and so we shall be
buried alive in this place.”

“Don’t you think, Peterkin, that it’s the
nearest thing to being drowned alive that you ever felt?”
said Jack with a smile. “But I’ve no fear of
that. These villains never stay long on shore. The
sea is their home, so you may depend upon it that they
won’t stay more than a day or two at the
furthest.”

We now began to make arrangements for spending the night in
the cavern. At various periods Jack and I had conveyed
cocoa nuts and other fruits, besides rolls of cocoa-nut cloth, to
this submarine cave, partly for amusement, and partly from a
feeling that we might possibly be driven one day to take shelter
here from the savages. Little did we imagine that the first
savages who would drive us into it would be white savages,
perhaps our own countrymen. We found the cocoa-nuts in good
condition, and the cooked yams, but the bread-fruits were
spoiled. We also found the cloth where we had left it; and,
on opening it out, there proved to be sufficient to make a bed;
which was important, as the rock was damp. Having collected
it all together, we spread out our bed, placed our torch in the
midst of us, and ate our supper. It was indeed a strange
chamber to feast in; and we could not help remarking on the cold,
ghastly appearance of the walls, and the black water at our side,
with the thick darkness beyond, and the sullen sound of the drops
that fell at long intervals from the roof of the cavern into the
still water; and the strong contrast between all this and our bed
and supper, which, with our faces, were lit up with the deep red
flame of the torch.

We sat long over our meal, talking together in subdued voices,
for we did not like the dismal echoes that rang through the vault
above when we happened to raise them. At last the faint
light that came through the opening died away, warning us that it
was night and time for rest. We therefore put out our torch
and lay down to sleep.

On awaking, it was some time ere we could collect our
faculties so as to remember where we were, and we were in much
uncertainty as to whether it was early or late. We saw by
the faint light that it was day, but could not guess at the hour;
so Jack proposed that he should dive out and reconnoitre.

“No, Jack,” said I, “do you rest here.
You’ve had enough to do during the last few days.
Rest yourself now, and take care of Peterkin, while I go out to
see what the pirates are about. I’ll be very careful
not to expose myself, and I’ll bring you word again in a
short time.”

“Very well, Ralph,” answered Jack, “please
yourself, but don’t be long; and if you’ll take my
advice you’ll go in your clothes, for I would like to have
some fresh cocoa nuts, and climbing trees without clothes is
uncomfortable, to say the least of it.”

“The pirates will be sure to keep a sharp
lookout,” said Peterkin, “so, pray, be
careful.”

“No fear,” said I; “good-bye.”

“Good-bye,” answered my comrades.

And while the words were yet sounding in my ears, I plunged
into the water, and in a few seconds found myself in the open
air. On rising, I was careful to come up gently and to
breathe softly, while I kept close in beside the rocks; but, as I
observed no one near me, I crept slowly out, and ascended the
cliff a step at a time, till I obtained a full view of the
shore. No pirates were to be seen,—even their boat
was gone; but as it was possible they might have hidden
themselves, I did not venture too boldly forward. Then it
occurred to me to look out to sea, when, to my surprise, I saw
the pirate schooner sailing away almost hull-down on the
horizon! On seeing this I uttered a shout of joy.
Then my first impulse was to dive back to tell my companions the
good news; but I checked myself, and ran to the top of the cliff,
in order to make sure that the vessel I saw was indeed the pirate
schooner. I looked long and anxiously at her, and, giving
vent to a deep sigh of relief, said aloud, “Yes, there she
goes; the villains have been baulked of their prey this time at
least.”

“Not so sure of that!” said a deep voice at my
side; while, at the same moment, a heavy hand grasped my
shoulder, and held it as if in a vice.

CHAPTER XXII.

I fall into the hands of pirates—How they treated me,
and what I said to them—The result of the whole ending in a
melancholy separation and in a most unexpected gift.

My heart seemed to leap into my throat at the words; and,
turning round, I beheld a man of immense stature, and fierce
aspect regarding me with a smile of contempt. He was a
white man,—that is to say, he was a man of European blood,
though his face, from long exposure to the weather, was deeply
bronzed. His dress was that of a common seaman, except that
he had on a Greek skull-cap, and wore a broad shawl of the
richest silk round his waist. In this shawl were placed two
pair of pistols and a heavy cutlass. He wore a beard and
moustache, which, like the locks on his head, were short, curly,
and sprinkled with gray hairs.

“So, youngster,” he said, with a sardonic smile,
while I felt his grasp tighten on my shoulder, “the
villains have been baulked of their prey, have they? We
shall see, we shall see. Now, you whelp, look
yonder.” As he spoke, the pirate uttered a shrill
whistle. In a second or two it was answered, and the
pirate-boat rowed round the point at the Water Garden, and came
rapidly towards us. “Now, go, make a fire on that
point; and hark’ee, youngster, if you try to run away,
I’ll send a quick and sure messenger after you,” and
he pointed significantly at his pistols.

I obeyed in silence, and as I happened to have the
burning-glass in my pocket, a fire was speedily kindled, and a
thick smoke ascended into the air. It had scarcely appeared
for two minutes when the boom of a gun rolled over the sea, and,
looking up, I saw that the schooner was making for the island
again. It now flashed across me that this was a ruse on the
part of the pirates, and that they had sent their vessel away,
knowing that it would lead us to suppose that they had left
altogether. But there was no use of regret now. I was
completely in their power, so I stood helplessly beside the
pirate watching the crew of the boat as they landed on the
beach. For an instant I contemplated rushing over the cliff
into the sea, but this I saw I could not now accomplish, as some
of the men were already between me and the water.

There was a good deal of jesting at the success of their
scheme, as the crew ascended the rocks and addressed the man who
had captured me by the title of captain. They were a
ferocious set of men, with shaggy beards and scowling
brows. All of them were armed with cutlasses and pistols,
and their costumes were, with trifling variations, similar to
that of the captain. As I looked from one to the other, and
observed the low, scowling brows, that never unbent, even when
the men laughed, and the mean, rascally expression that sat on
each face, I felt that my life hung by a hair.

“But where are the other cubs?” cried one of the
men, with an oath that made me shudder. “I’ll
swear to it there were three, at least, if not more.”

“You hear what he says, whelp; where are the other
dogs?” said the captain.

“If you mean my companions,” said I, in a low
voice, “I won’t tell you.”

A loud laugh burst from the crew at this answer.

The pirate captain looked at me in surprise. Then
drawing a pistol from his belt, he cocked it and said,
“Now, youngster, listen to me. I’ve no time to
waste here. If you don’t tell me all you know,
I’ll blow your brains out! Where are your
comrades?”

For an instant I hesitated, not knowing what to do in this
extremity. Suddenly a thought occurred to me.

“Villain,” said I, shaking my clenched fist in his
face, “to blow my brains out would make short work of me,
and be soon over. Death by drowning is as sure, and the
agony prolonged, yet, I tell you to your face, if you were to
toss me over yonder cliff into the sea, I would not tell you
where my companions are, and I dare you to try me!”

The pirate captain grew white with rage as I spoke.
“Say you so?” cried he, uttering a fierce oath.
“Here, lads, take him by the legs and heave him
in,—quick!”

The men, who were utterly silenced with surprise at my
audacity, advanced, and seized me, and, as they carried me
towards the cliff, I congratulated myself not a little on the
success of my scheme, for I knew that once in the water I should
be safe, and could rejoin Jack and Peterkin in the cave.
But my hopes were suddenly blasted by the captain crying out,
“Hold on, lads, hold on. We’ll give him a taste
of the thumb-screws before throwing him to the sharks. Away
with him into the boat. Look alive! the breeze is
freshening.”

The men instantly raised me shoulder high, and, hurrying down
the rocks, tossed me into the bottom of the boat, where I lay for
some time stunned with the violence of my fall.

On recovering sufficiently to raise myself on my elbow, I
perceived that we were already outside the coral reef, and close
alongside the schooner, which was of small size and clipper
built. I had only time to observe this much, when I
received a severe kick on the side from one of the men, who
ordered me, in a rough voice, to jump aboard. Rising
hastily I clambered up the side. In a few minutes the boat
was hoisted on deck, the vessel’s head put close to the
wind, and the Coral Island dropped slowly astern as we beat up
against a head sea.

Immediately after coming aboard, the crew were too busily
engaged in working the ship and getting in the boat to attend to
me, so I remained leaning against the bulwarks close to the
gangway, watching their operations. I was surprised to find
that there were no guns or carronades of any kind in the vessel,
which had more of the appearance of a fast-sailing trader than a
pirate. But I was struck with the neatness of
everything. The brass work of the binnacle and about the
tiller, as well as the copper belaying-pins, were as brightly
polished as if they had just come from the foundry. The
decks were pure white, and smooth. The masts were
clean-scraped and varnished, except at the cross-trees and truck,
which were painted black. The standing and running rigging
was in the most perfect order, and the sails white as snow.
In short, everything, from the single narrow red stripe on her
low black hull to the trucks on her tapering masts, evinced an
amount of care and strict discipline that would have done credit
to a ship of the Royal Navy. There was nothing lumbering or
unseemly about the vessel, excepting, perhaps, a boat, which lay
on the deck with its keel up between the fore and main
masts. It seemed disproportionately large for the schooner;
but, when I saw that the crew amounted to between thirty and
forty men, I concluded that this boat was held in reserve, in
case of any accident compelling the crew to desert the
vessel.

As I have before said, the costumes of the men were similar to
that of the captain. But in head gear they differed not
only from him but from each other, some wearing the ordinary
straw hat of the merchant service, while others wore cloth caps
and red worsted night-caps. I observed that all their arms
were sent below; the captain only retaining his cutlass and a
single pistol in the folds of his shawl. Although the
captain was the tallest and most powerful man in the ship, he did
not strikingly excel many of his men in this respect, and the
only difference that an ordinary observer would have noticed was,
a certain degree of open candour, straightforward daring, in the
bold, ferocious expression of his face, which rendered him less
repulsive than his low-browed associates, but did not by any
means induce the belief that he was a hero. This look was,
however, the indication of that spirit which gave him the
pre-eminence among the crew of desperadoes who called him
captain. He was a lion-like villain; totally devoid of
personal fear, and utterly reckless of consequences, and,
therefore, a terror to his men, who individually hated him, but
unitedly felt it to be their advantage to have him at their
head.

But my thoughts soon reverted to the dear companions whom I
had left on shore, and as I turned towards the Coral Island,
which was now far away to leeward, I sighed deeply, and the tears
rolled slowly down my cheeks as I thought that I might never see
them more.

“So you’re blubbering, are you, you obstinate
whelp?” said the deep voice of the captain, as he came up
and gave me a box on the ear that nearly felled me to the
deck. “I don’t allow any such weakness aboard
o’ this ship. So clap a stopper on your eyes or
I’ll give you something to cry for.”

I flushed with indignation at this rough and cruel treatment,
but felt that giving way to anger would only make matters worse,
so I made no reply, but took out my handkerchief and dried my
eyes.

“I thought you were made of better stuff,”
continued the captain, angrily; “I’d rather have a
mad bull-dog aboard than a water-eyed puppy. But I’ll
cure you, lad, or introduce you to the sharks before long.
Now go below, and stay there till I call you.”

As I walked forward to obey, my eye fell on a small keg
standing by the side of the main-mast, on which the word
gunpowder was written in pencil. It immediately
flashed across me that, as we were beating up against the wind,
anything floating in the sea would be driven on the reef
encircling the Coral Island. I also recollected—for
thought is more rapid than the lightning—that my old
companions had a pistol. Without a moment’s
hesitation, therefore, I lifted the keg from the deck and tossed
it into the sea! An exclamation of surprise burst from the
captain and some of the men who witnessed this act of mine.

Striding up to me, and uttering fearful imprecations, the
captain raised his hand to strike me, while he shouted,
“Boy! whelp! what mean you by that?”

“If you lower your hand,” said I, in a loud voice,
while I felt the blood rush to my temples, “I’ll tell
you. Until you do so I’m dumb!”

The captain stepped back and regarded me with a look of
amazement.

“Now,” continued I, “I threw that keg into
the sea because the wind and waves will carry it to my friends on
the Coral Island, who happen to have a pistol, but no
powder. I hope that it will reach them soon, and my only
regret is that the keg was not a bigger one. Moreover,
pirate, you said just now that you thought I was made of better
stuff! I don’t know what stuff I am made of,—I
never thought much about that subject; but I’m quite
certain of this, that I am made of such stuff as the like of you
shall never tame, though you should do your worst.”

To my surprise the captain, instead of flying into a rage,
smiled, and, thrusting his hand into the voluminous shawl that
encircled his waist, turned on his heel and walked aft, while I
went below.

Here, instead of being rudely handled, as I had expected, the
men received me with a shout of laughter, and one of them,
patting me on the back, said, “Well done, lad! you’re
a brick, and I have no doubt will turn out a rare cove.
Bloody Bill, there, was just such a fellow as you are, and
he’s now the biggest cut-throat of us all.”

“Take a can of beer, lad,” cried another,
“and wet your whistle after that speech o’
your’n to the captain. If any one o’ us had
made it, youngster, he would have had no whistle to wet by this
time.”

“Stop your clapper, Jack,” vociferated a third;
“give the boy a junck o’ meat. Don’t you
see he’s a’most goin’ to kick the
bucket?”

“And no wonder,” said the first speaker, with an
oath, “after the tumble you gave him into the boat. I
guess it would have broke your neck if you had got
it.”

I did indeed feel somewhat faint; which was owing, doubtless,
to the combined effects of ill-usage and hunger; for it will be
recollected that I had dived out of the cave that morning before
breakfast, and it was now near mid-day. I therefore gladly
accepted a plate of boiled pork and a yam, which were handed to
me by one of the men from the locker on which some of the crew
were seated eating their dinner. But I must add that the
zest with which I ate my meal was much abated in consequence of
the frightful oaths and the terrible language that flowed from
the lips of these godless men, even in the midst of their
hilarity and good-humour. The man who had been alluded to
as Bloody Bill was seated near me, and I could not help wondering
at the moody silence he maintained among his comrades. He
did indeed reply to their questions in a careless, off-hand tone,
but he never volunteered a remark. The only difference
between him and the others was his taciturnity and his size, for
he was nearly, if not quite, as large a man as the captain.

During the remainder of the afternoon I was left to my own
reflections, which were anything but agreeable, for I could not
banish from my mind the threat about the thumb-screws, of the
nature and use of which I had a vague but terrible
conception. I was still meditating on my unhappy fate when,
just after night-fall, one of the watch on deck called down the
hatchway,—

“Hallo there! one o’ you, tumble up and light the
cabin lamp, and send that boy aft to the
captain—sharp!”

“Now then, do you hear, youngster? the captain wants
you. Look alive,” said Bloody Bill, raising his huge
frame from the locker on which he had been asleep for the last
two hours. He sprang up the ladder and I instantly followed
him, and, going aft, was shown into the cabin by one of the men,
who closed the door after me.

A small silver lamp which hung from a beam threw a dim soft
light over the cabin, which was a small apartment, and
comfortably but plainly finished. Seated on a camp-stool at
the table, and busily engaged in examining a chart of the
Pacific, was the captain, who looked up as I entered, and, in a
quiet voice, bade me be seated, while he threw down his pencil,
and, rising from the table, stretched himself on a sofa at the
upper end of the cabin.

“Boy,” said he, looking me full in the face,
“what is your name?”

“Ralph Rover,” I replied.

“Where did you come from, and how came you to be on that
island? How many companions had you on it? Answer me,
now, and mind you tell no lies.”

“I never tell lies,” said I, firmly.

The captain received this reply with a cold sarcastic smile,
and bade me answer his questions.

I then told him the history of myself and my companions from
the time we sailed till the day of his visit to the island,
taking care, however, to make no mention of the Diamond
Cave. After I had concluded, he was silent for a few
minutes; then, looking up, he said—“Boy, I believe
you.”

I was surprised at this remark, for I could not imagine why he
should not believe me. However, I made no reply.

“And what,” continued the captain, “makes
you think that this schooner is a pirate?”

“The black flag,” said I, “showed me what
you are; and if any further proof were wanting I have had it in
the brutal treatment I have received at your hands.”

The captain frowned as I spoke, but subduing his anger he
continued—“Boy, you are too bold. I admit that
we treated you roughly, but that was because you made us lose
time and gave us a good deal of trouble. As to the black
flag, that is merely a joke that my fellows play off upon people
sometimes in order to frighten them. It is their humour,
and does no harm. I am no pirate, boy, but a lawful
trader,—a rough one, I grant you, but one can’t help
that in these seas, where there are so many pirates on the water
and such murderous blackguards on the land. I carry on a
trade in sandal-wood with the Feejee Islands; and if you choose,
Ralph, to behave yourself and be a good boy, I’ll take you
along with me and give you a good share of the profits. You
see I’m in want of an honest boy like you, to look after
the cabin and keep the log, and superintend the traffic on shore
sometimes. What say you, Ralph, would you like to become a
sandal-wood trader?”

I was much surprised by this explanation, and a good deal
relieved to find that the vessel, after all, was not a pirate;
but instead of replying I said, “If it be as you state,
then why did you take me from my island, and why do you not now
take me back?”

The captain smiled as he replied, “I took you off in
anger, boy, and I’m sorry for it. I would even now
take you back, but we are too far away from it. See, there
it is,” he added, laying his finger on the chart,
“and we are now here,—fifty miles at least. It
would not be fair to my men to put about now, for they have all
an interest in the trade.”

I could make no reply to this; so, after a little more
conversation, I agreed to become one of the crew, at least until
we could reach some civilized island where I might be put
ashore. The captain assented to this proposition, and after
thanking him for the promise, I left the cabin and went on deck
with feelings that ought to have been lighter, but which were, I
could not tell why, marvellously heavy and uncomfortable
still.

CHAPTER XXIII.

Bloody Bill—Dark surmises—A strange sail, and a
strange crew, and a still stranger cargo—New reasons for
favouring missionaries—A murderous massacre, and thoughts
thereon.

Three weeks after the conversation narrated in the last
chapter, I was standing on the quarter-deck of the schooner
watching the gambols of a shoal of porpoises that swam round
us. It was a dead calm. One of those still, hot,
sweltering days, so common in the Pacific, when Nature seems to
have gone to sleep, and the only thing in water or in air that
proves her still alive, is her long, deep breathing, in the swell
of the mighty sea. No cloud floated in the deep blue above;
no ripple broke the reflected blue below. The sun shone
fiercely in the sky, and a ball of fire blazed, with almost equal
power, from out the bosom of the water. So intensely still
was it, and so perfectly transparent was the surface of the deep,
that had it not been for the long swell already alluded to, we
might have believed the surrounding universe to be a huge blue
liquid ball, and our little ship the one solitary material speck
in all creation, floating in the midst of it.

No sound broke on our ears save the soft puff now and then of
a porpoise, the slow creak of the masts, as we swayed gently on
the swell, the patter of the reef-points, and the occasional flap
of the hanging sails. An awning covered the fore and after
parts of the schooner, under which the men composing the watch on
deck lolled in sleepy indolence, overcome with excessive
heat. Bloody Bill, as the men invariably called him, was
standing at the tiller, but his post for the present was a
sinecure, and he whiled away the time by alternately gazing in
dreamy abstraction at the compass in the binnacle, and by walking
to the taffrail in order to spit into the sea. In one of
these turns he came near to where I was standing, and, leaning
over the side, looked long and earnestly down into the blue
wave.

This man, although he was always taciturn and often surly, was
the only human being on board with whom I had the slightest
desire to become better acquainted. The other men, seeing
that I did not relish their company, and knowing that I was a
protege of the captain, treated me with total indifference.
Bloody Bill, it is true, did the same; but as this was his
conduct towards every one else, it was not peculiar in reference
to me. Once or twice I tried to draw him into conversation,
but he always turned away after a few cold monosyllables.
As he now leaned over the taffrail close beside me, I said to
him,—

“Bill, why is it that you are so gloomy? Why do
you never speak to any one?”

Bill smiled slightly as he replied, “Why, I s’pose
it’s because I haint got nothin’ to say!”

“That’s strange,” said I, musingly;
“you look like a man that could think, and such men can
usually speak.”

“So they can, youngster,” rejoined Bill, somewhat
sternly; “and I could speak too if I had a mind to, but
what’s the use o’ speakin’ here! The men
only open their mouths to curse and swear, an’ they seem to
find it entertaining; but I don’t, so I hold my
tongue.”

“Well, Bill, that’s true, and I would rather not
hear you speak at all than hear you speak like the other men; but
I don’t swear, Bill, so you might talk to me
sometimes, I think. Besides, I’m weary of spending
day after day in this way, without a single soul to say a
pleasant word to. I’ve been used to friendly
conversation, Bill, and I really would take it kind if you would
talk with me a little now and then.”

Bill looked at me in surprise, and I thought I observed a sad
expression pass across his sun-burnt face.

“An’ where have you been used to friendly
conversation,” said Bill, looking down again into the sea;
“not on that Coral Island, I take it?”

“Yes, indeed,” said I energetically; “I have
spent many of the happiest months in my life on that Coral
Island;” and without waiting to be further questioned, I
launched out into a glowing account of the happy life that Jack
and Peterkin and I had spent together, and related minutely every
circumstance that befell us while on the island.

“Boy, boy,” said Bill, in a voice so deep that it
startled me, “this is no place for you.”

“That’s true,” said I; “I’m of
little use on board, and I don’t like my comrades; but I
can’t help it, and at anyrate I hope to be free again
soon.”

“Free?” said Bill, looking at me in surprise.

“Yes, free,” returned I; “the captain said
he would put me ashore after this trip was over.”

“This trip! Hark’ee, boy,” said
Bill, lowering his voice, “what said the captain to you the
day you came aboard?”

“He said that he was a trader in sandal-wood and no
pirate, and told me that if I would join him for this trip he
would give me a good share of the profits or put me on shore in
some civilized island if I chose.”

Bill’s brows lowered savagely as he muttered, “Ay,
he said truth when he told you he was a sandal-wood trader, but
he lied when—”

“Sail ho!” shouted the look-out at the
masthead.

“Where, away?” cried Bill, springing to the
tiller; while the men, startled by the sudden cry jumped up and
gazed round the horizon.

“On the starboard quarter, hull down, sir,”
answered the look-out.

At this moment the captain came on deck, and mounting into the
rigging, surveyed the sail through the glass. Then sweeping
his eye round the horizon he gazed steadily at a particular
point.

“Take in top-sails,” shouted the captain, swinging
himself down on the deck by the main-back stay.

“Take in top-sails,” roared the first mate.

“Ay, ay, sir-r-r,” answered the men as they sprang
into the rigging and went aloft like cats.

Instantly all was bustle on board the hitherto quiet
schooner. The top-sails were taken in and stowed, the men
stood by the sheets and halyards, and the captain gazed anxiously
at the breeze which was now rushing towards us like a sheet of
dark blue. In a few seconds it struck us. The
schooner trembled as if in surprise at the sudden onset, while
she fell away, then bending gracefully to the wind, as though in
acknowledgment of her subjection, she cut through the waves with
her sharp prow like a dolphin, while Bill directed her course
towards the strange sail.

In half an hour we neared her sufficiently to make out that
she was a schooner, and, from the clumsy appearance of her masts
and sails we judged her to be a trader. She evidently did
not like our appearance, for, the instant the breeze reached her,
she crowded all sail and showed us her stern. As the breeze
had moderated a little our top-sails were again shaken out, and
it soon became evident,—despite the proverb, “A stern
chase is a long one,” that we doubled her speed and would
overhaul her speedily. When within a mile we hoisted
British colours, but receiving no acknowledgment, the captain
ordered a shot to be fired across her bows. In a moment, to
my surprise, a large portion of the bottom of the boat amidships
was removed, and in the hole thus exposed appeared an immense
brass gun. It worked on a swivel and was elevated by means
of machinery. It was quickly loaded and fired. The
heavy ball struck the water a few yards ahead of the chase, and,
ricochetting into the air, plunged into the sea a mile beyond
it.

This produced the desired effect. The strange vessel
backed her top-sails and hove-to, while we ranged up and lay-to,
about a hundred yards off.

“Lower the boat,” cried the captain.

In a second the boat was lowered and manned by a part of the
crew, who were all armed with cutlasses and pistols. As the
captain passed me to get into it, he said, “jump into the
stern sheets, Ralph, I may want you.” I obeyed, and
in ten minutes more we were standing on the stranger’s
deck. We were all much surprised at the sight that met our
eyes. Instead of a crew of such sailors as we were
accustomed to see, there were only fifteen blacks standing on the
quarter-deck and regarding us with looks of undisguised
alarm. They were totally unarmed and most of them
unclothed; one or two, however, wore portions of European
attire. One had on a pair of duck trousers which were much
too large for him and stuck out in a most ungainly manner.
Another wore nothing but the common scanty native garment round
the loins, and a black beaver hat. But the most ludicrous
personage of all, and one who seemed to be chief, was a tall
middle-aged man, of a mild, simple expression of countenance, who
wore a white cotton shirt, a swallow-tailed coat, and a straw
hat, while his black brawny legs were totally uncovered below the
knees.

“Where’s the commander of this ship?”
inquired our captain, stepping up to this individual.

“I is capin,” he answered, taking off his straw
hat and making a low bow.

“You!” said our captain, in surprise.
“Where do you come from, and where are you bound?
What cargo have you aboard?”

“We is come,” answered the man with the
swallow-tail, “from Aitutaki; we was go for
Rarotonga. We is native miss’nary ship; our name is
de Olive Branch; an’ our cargo is two tons
cocoa-nuts, seventy pigs, twenty cats, and de
Gosp’l.”

This announcement was received by the crew of our vessel with
a shout of laughter, which, however, was peremptorily checked by
the captain, whose expression instantly changed from one of
severity to that of frank urbanity as he advanced towards the
missionary and shook him warmly by the hand.

“I am very glad to have fallen in with you,” said
he, “and I wish you much success in your missionary
labours. Pray take me to your cabin, as I wish to converse
with you privately.”

The missionary immediately took him by the hand, and as he led
him away I heard him saying, “Me most glad to find you
trader; we t’ought you be pirate. You very like one
’bout the masts.”

What conversation the captain had with this man I never heard,
but he came on deck again in a quarter of an hour, and, shaking
hands cordially with the missionary, ordered us into our boat and
returned to the schooner, which was immediately put before the
wind. In a few minutes the Olive Branch was left far
behind us.

That afternoon, as I was down below at dinner, I heard the men
talking about this curious ship.

“I wonder,” said one, “why our captain
looked so sweet on yon swallow-tailed super-cargo o’ pigs
and Gospels. If it had been an ordinary trader, now, he
would have taken as many o’ the pigs as he required and
sent the ship with all on board to the bottom.”

“Why, Dick, you must be new to these seas if you
don’t know that,” cried another. “The
captain cares as much for the gospel as you do (an’
that’s precious little), but he knows, and everybody knows,
that the only place among the southern islands where a ship can
put in and get what she wants in comfort, is where the gospel has
been sent to. There are hundreds o’ islands, at this
blessed moment, where you might as well jump straight into a
shark’s maw as land without a band o’ thirty comrades
armed to the teeth to back you.”

“Ay,” said a man with a deep scar over his right
eye, “Dick’s new to the work. But if the
captain takes us for a cargo o’ sandal-wood to the Feejees
he’ll get a taste o’ these black gentry in their
native condition. For my part I don’t know, an’
I don’t care, what the gospel does to them; but I know that
when any o’ the islands chance to get it, trade goes all
smooth an’ easy; but where they ha’nt got it,
Beelzebub himself could hardly desire better company.”

“Well, you ought to be a good judge,” cried
another, laughing, “for you’ve never kept any company
but the worst all your life!”

“Ralph Rover!” shouted a voice down the
hatchway. “Captain wants you, aft.”

Springing up the ladder I hastened to the cabin, pondering as
I went the strange testimony borne by these men to the effect of
the gospel on savage natures;—testimony which, as it was
perfectly disinterested, I had no doubt whatever was strictly
true.

On coming again on deck I found Bloody Bill at the helm, and
as we were alone together I tried to draw him into
conversation. After repeating to him the conversation in
the forecastle about the missionaries, I said,—

“Tell me, Bill, is this schooner really a trader in
sandal-wood?”

“Yes, Ralph, she is; but she’s just as really a
pirate. The black flag you saw flying at the peak was no
deception.”

“Then how can you say she’s a trader?” asked
I.

“Why, as to that, she trades when she can’t take
by force, but she takes by force, when she can, in
preference. Ralph,” he added, lowering his voice,
“if you had seen the bloody deeds that I have witnessed
done on these decks you would not need to ask if we were
pirates. But you’ll find it out soon enough. As
for the missionaries, the captain favours them because they are
useful to him. The South-Sea islanders are such incarnate
fiends that they are the better of being tamed, and the
missionaries are the only men who can do it.”

Our track after this lay through several clusters of small
islets, among which we were becalmed more than once. During
this part of our voyage the watch on deck and the look-out at the
mast-head were more than usually vigilant, as we were not only in
danger of being attacked by the natives, who, I learned from the
captain’s remarks, were a bloody and deceitful tribe at
this group, but we were also exposed to much risk from the
multitudes of coral reefs that rose up in the channels between
the islands, some of them just above the surface, others a few
feet below it. Our precautions against the savages I found
were indeed necessary.

One day we were becalmed among a group of small islands, most
of which appeared to be uninhabited. As we were in want of
fresh water the captain sent the boat ashore to bring off a cask
or two. But we were mistaken in thinking there were no
natives; for scarcely had we drawn near to the shore when a band
of naked blacks rushed out of the bush and assembled on the
beach, brandishing their clubs and spears in a threatening
manner. Our men were well armed, but refrained from showing
any signs of hostility, and rowed nearer in order to converse
with the natives; and I now found that more than one of the crew
could imperfectly speak dialects of the language peculiar to the
South Sea islanders. When within forty yards of the shore,
we ceased rowing, and the first mate stood up to address the
multitude; but, instead of answering us, they replied with a
shower of stones, some of which cut the men severely.
Instantly our muskets were levelled, and a volley was about to be
fired, when the captain hailed us in a loud voice from the
schooner, which lay not more than five or six hundred yards off
the shore.

“Don’t fire,” he shouted, angrily.
“Pull off to the point ahead of you.”

The men looked surprised at this order, and uttered deep
curses as they prepared to obey, for their wrath was roused and
they burned for revenge. Three or four of them hesitated,
and seemed disposed to mutiny.

“Don’t distress yourselves, lads,” said the
mate, while a bitter smile curled his lip. “Obey
orders. The captain’s not the man to take an insult
tamely. If Long Tom does not speak presently I’ll
give myself to the sharks.”

The men smiled significantly as they pulled from the shore,
which was now crowded with a dense mass of savages, amounting,
probably, to five or six hundred. We had not rowed off
above a couple of hundred yards when a loud roar thundered over
the sea, and the big brass gun sent a withering shower of grape
point blank into the midst of the living mass, through which a
wide lane was cut, while a yell, the like of which I could not
have imagined, burst from the miserable survivors as they fled to
the woods. Amongst the heaps of dead that lay on the sand,
just where they had fallen, I could distinguish mutilated forms
writhing in agony, while ever and anon one and another rose
convulsively from out the mass, endeavoured to stagger towards
the wood, and ere they had taken a few steps, fell and wallowed
on the bloody sand. My blood curdled within me as I
witnessed this frightful and wanton slaughter; but I had little
time to think, for the captain’s deep voice came again over
the water towards us: “Pull ashore, lads, and fill your
water casks.” The men obeyed in silence, and it
seemed to me as if even their hard hearts were shocked by the
ruthless deed. On gaining the mouth of the rivulet at which
we intended to take in water, we found it flowing with blood, for
the greater part of those who were slain had been standing on the
banks of the stream, a short way above its mouth. Many of
the wretched creatures had fallen into it, and we found one body,
which had been carried down, jammed between two rocks, with the
staring eyeballs turned towards us and his black hair waving in
the ripples of the blood-red stream. No one dared to oppose
our landing now, so we carried our casks to a pool above the
murdered group, and having filled them, returned on board.
Fortunately a breeze sprang up soon afterwards and carried us
away from the dreadful spot; but it could not waft me away from
the memory of what I had seen.

“And this,” thought I, gazing in horror at the
captain, who, with a quiet look of indifference, leaned upon the
taffrail smoking a cigar and contemplating the fertile green
islets as they passed like a lovely picture before our
eyes—“this is the man who favours the missionaries
because they are useful to him and can tame the savages better
than any one else can do it!” Then I wondered in my
mind whether it were possible for any missionary to tame
him!

CHAPTER XXIV.

Bloody Bill is communicative and sagacious—Unpleasant
prospects—Retrospective meditations interrupted by volcanic
agency—The pirates negotiate with a Feejee
chief—Various etceteras that are calculated to surprise and
horrify.

It was many days after the events just narrated ere I
recovered a little of my wonted spirits. I could not shake
off the feeling for a long time that I was in a frightful dream,
and the sight of our captain filled me with so much horror that I
kept out of his way as much as my duties about the cabin would
permit. Fortunately he took so little notice of me that he
did not observe my changed feelings towards him, otherwise it
might have been worse for me.

But I was now resolved that I would run away the very first
island we should land at, and commit myself to the hospitality of
the natives rather than remain an hour longer than I could help
in the pirate schooner. I pondered this subject a good
deal, and at last made up my mind to communicate my intention to
Bloody Bill; for, during several talks I had had with him of
late, I felt assured that he too would willingly escape if
possible. When I told him of my design he shook his
head. “No, no, Ralph,” said he, “you must
not think of running away here. Among some of the groups of
islands you might do so with safety, but if you tried it here you
would find that you had jumped out of the fryin’ pan into
the fire.”

“How so, Bill?” said I, “would the natives
not receive me?”

“That they would, lad; but they would eat you
too.”

“Eat me!” said I in surprise, “I thought the
South Sea islanders never ate anybody except their
enemies.”

“Humph!” ejaculated Bill. “I
s’pose ’twas yer tender-hearted friends in England
that put that notion into your head. There’s a set
o’ soft-hearted folk at home that I knows on, who
don’t like to have their feelin’s ruffled, and when
you tell them anything they don’t like—that shocks
them, as they call it—no matter how true it be, they stop
their ears and cry out, ‘Oh, that is too
horrible! We can’t believe that!’
An’ they say truth. They can’t believe it
’cause they won’t believe it. Now, I believe
there’s thousands o’ the people in England who are
sich born drivellin’ won’t-believers that they
think the black fellows hereaway, at the worst, eat an enemy only
now an’ then, out o’ spite; whereas, I know for
certain, and many captains of the British and American navies
know as well as me, that the Feejee islanders eat not only their
enemies but one another; and they do it not for spite, but for
pleasure. It’s a fact that they prefer human
flesh to any other. But they don’t like white
men’s flesh so well as black. They say it makes them
sick.”

“Why, Bill,” said I, “you told me just now
that they would eat me if they caught me.”

“So I did; and so I think they would. I’ve
only heard some o’ them say they don’t like white men
so well as black; but if they was hungry they
wouldn’t be particular. Anyhow, I’m sure they
would kill you. You see, Ralph, I’ve been a good
while in them parts, and I’ve visited the different groups
of islands oftentimes as a trader. And thorough goin’
blackguards some o’ them traders are. No better than
pirates, I can tell you. One captain that I sailed with was
not a chip better than the one we’re with now. He was
tradin’ with a friendly chief one day, aboard his
vessel. The chief had swam off to us with the things for
trade tied a-top of his head, for them chaps are like otters in
the water. Well, the chief was hard on the captain, and
would not part with some o’ his things. When their
bargainin’ was over they shook hands, and the chief jumped
over board to swim ashore; but before he got forty yards from the
ship the captain seized a musket and shot him dead. He then
hove up anchor and put to sea, and as we sailed along shore, he
dropped six black-fellows with his rifle, remarkin’ that
‘that would spoil the trade for the next
comers.’ But, as I was sayin’, I’m up to
the ways o’ these fellows. One o’ the laws
o’ the country is, that every shipwrecked person who
happens to be cast ashore, be he dead or alive, is doomed to be
roasted and eaten. There was a small tradin’ schooner
wrecked off one of these islands when we were lyin’ there
in harbour during a storm. The crew was lost, all but three
men, who swam ashore. The moment they landed they were
seized by the natives and carried up into the woods. We
knew pretty well what their fate would be, but we could not help
them, for our crew was small, and if we had gone ashore they
would likely have killed us all. We never saw the three men
again; but we heard frightful yelling, and dancing, and
merry-making that night; and one of the natives, who came aboard
to trade with us next day, told us that the long pigs, as
he called the men, had been roasted and eaten, and their bones
were to be converted into sail needles. He also said that
white men were bad to eat, and that most o’ the people on
shore were sick.”

I was very much shocked and cast down in my mind at this
terrible account of the natives, and asked Bill what he would
advise me to do. Looking round the deck to make sure that
we were not overheard, he lowered his voice and said,
“There are two or three ways that we might escape, Ralph,
but none o’ them’s easy. If the captain would
only sail for some o’ the islands near Tahiti, we might run
away there well enough, because the natives are all Christians;
an’ we find that wherever the savages take up with
Christianity they always give over their bloody ways, and are
safe to be trusted. I never cared for Christianity
myself,” he continued, in a soliloquising voice, “and
I don’t well know what it means; but a man with half an eye
can see what it does for these black critters. However, the
captain always keeps a sharp look out after us when we get to
these islands, for he half suspects that one or two o’ us
are tired of his company. Then, we might manage to cut the
boat adrift some fine night when it’s our watch on deck,
and clear off before they discovered that we were gone. But
we would run the risk o’ bein’ caught by the
blacks. I wouldn’t like to try that plan. But
you and I will think over it, Ralph, and see what’s to be
done. In the meantime it’s our watch below, so
I’ll go and turn in.”

Bill then bade me good night, and went below, while a comrade
took his place at the helm; but, feeling no desire to enter into
conversation with him, I walked aft, and, leaning over the stern,
looked down into the phosphorescent waves that gargled around the
ladder, and streamed out like a flame of blue light in the
vessel’s wake. My thoughts were very sad, and I could
scarce refrain from tears as I contrasted my present wretched
position with the happy, peaceful time, I had spent on the Coral
Island with my dear companions. As I thought upon Jack and
Peterkin anxious forebodings crossed my mind, and I pictured to
myself the grief and dismay with which they would search every
nook and corner of the island, in a vain attempt to discover my
dead body; for I felt assured that if they did not see any sign
of the pirate schooner or boat, when they came out of the cave to
look for me, they would never imagine that I had been carried
away. I wondered, too, how Jack would succeed in getting
Peterkin out of the cave without my assistance; and I trembled
when I thought that he might lose presence of mind, and begin to
kick when he was in the tunnel! These thoughts were
suddenly interrupted and put to flight by a bright red blaze
which lighted up the horizon to the southward, and cut a crimson
glow far over the sea. This appearance was accompanied by a
low growling sound, as of distant thunder, and, at the same time,
the sky above us became black, while a hot stifling wind blew
around us in fitful gusts.

The crew assembled hastily on deck, and most of them were
under the belief that a frightful hurricane was pending; but the
captain coming on deck, soon explained the phenomena.

“It’s only a volcano,” said he.
“I knew there was one hereabouts, but thought it was
extinct. Up there and furl top-gallant-sails; we’ll
likely have a breeze, and it’s well to be ready.”

As he spoke, a shower began to fall, which we quickly observed
was not rain, but fine ashes. As we were many miles distant
from the volcano, these must have been carried to us from it by
the wind. As the captain had predicted, a stiff breeze soon
afterwards sprang up, under the influence of which we speedily
left the volcano far behind us; but during the greater part of
the night we could see its lurid glare and hear its distant
thunder. The shower did not cease to fall for several
hours, and we must have sailed under it for nearly forty miles,
perhaps farther. When we emerged from the cloud, our decks
and every part of the rigging were completely covered with a
thick coat of ashes. I was much interested in this, and
recollected that Jack had often spoken of many of the islands of
the Pacific as being volcanoes, either active or extinct, and had
said that the whole region was more or less volcanic, and that
some scientific men were of opinion that the islands of the
Pacific were nothing more or less than the mountain tops of a
huge continent which had sunk under the influence of volcanic
agency.

Three days after passing the volcano, we found ourselves a few
miles to windward of an island of considerable size and luxuriant
aspect. It consisted of two mountains, which seemed to be
nearly four thousand feet high. They were separated from
each other by a broad valley, whose thick-growing trees ascended
a considerable distance up the mountain sides; and rich level
plains, or meadow-land, spread round the base of the mountains,
except at the point immediately opposite the large valley, where
a river seemed to carry the trees, as it were, along with it down
to the white sandy shore. The mountain tops, unlike those
of our Coral Island, were sharp, needle-shaped, and bare, while
their sides were more rugged and grand in outline than anything I
had yet seen in those seas. Bloody Bill was beside me when
the island first hove in sight.

“Ha!” he exclaimed, “I know that island
well. They call it Emo.”

“Have you been here before, then?” I inquired.

“Ay, that I have, often, and so has this schooner.
’Tis a famous island for sandal-wood. We have taken
many cargoes off it already, and have paid for them too; for the
savages are so numerous that we dared not try to take it by
force. But our captain has tried to cheat them so often,
that they’re beginnin’ not to like us overmuch
now. Besides, the men behaved ill the last time we were
here; and I wonder the captain is not afraid to venture.
But he’s afraid o’ nothing earthly, I
believe.”

We soon ran inside the barrier coral-reef, and let go our
anchor in six fathoms water, just opposite the mouth of a small
creek, whose shores were densely covered with mangroves and tall
umbrageous trees. The principal village of the natives lay
about half a mile from this point. Ordering the boat out,
the captain jumped into it, and ordered me to follow him.
The men, fifteen in number, were well armed; and the mate was
directed to have Long Tom ready for emergencies.

“Give way, lads,” cried the captain.

The oars fell into the water at the word, the boat shot from
the schooner’s side, and in a few minutes reached the
shore. Here, contrary to our expectation, we were met with
the utmost cordiality by Romata, the principal chief of the
island, who conducted us to his house, and gave us mats to sit
upon. I observed in passing that the natives, of whom there
were two or three thousand, were totally unarmed.

After a short preliminary palaver, a feast of baked pigs and
various roots was spread before us; of which we partook
sparingly, and then proceeded to business. The captain
stated his object in visiting the island, regretted that there
had been a slight misunderstanding during the last visit, and
hoped that no ill-will was borne by either party, and that a
satisfactory trade would be accomplished.

Romata answered that he had forgotten there had been any
differences between them, protested that he was delighted to see
his friends again, and assured them they should have every
assistance in cutting and embarking the wood. The terms
were afterwards agreed on, and we rose to depart. All this
conversation was afterwards explained to me by Bill, who
understood the language pretty well.

Romata accompanied us on board, and explained that a great
chief from another island was then on a visit to him, and that he
was to be ceremoniously entertained on the following day.
After begging to be allowed to introduce him to us, and receiving
permission, he sent his canoe ashore to bring him off. At
the same time he gave orders to bring on board his two
favourites, a cock and a paroquet. While the canoe was gone
on this errand, I had time to regard the savage chief
attentively. He was a man of immense size, with massive but
beautifully moulded limbs and figure, only parts of which, the
broad chest and muscular arms, were uncovered; for, although the
lower orders generally wore no other clothing than a strip of
cloth called maro round their loins, the chief, on
particular occasions, wrapped his person in voluminous folds of a
species of native cloth made from the bark of the Chinese
paper-mulberry. Romata wore a magnificent black beard and
moustache, and his hair was frizzed out to such an extent that it
resembled a large turban, in which was stuck a long wooden
pin! I afterwards found that this pin served for scratching
the head, for which purpose the fingers were too short without
disarranging the hair. But Romata put himself to much
greater inconvenience on account of his hair, for we found that
he slept with his head resting on a wooden pillow, in which was
cut a hollow for the neck, so that the hair of the sleeper might
not be disarranged.

In ten minutes the canoe returned, bringing the other chief,
who certainly presented a most extraordinary appearance, having
painted one half of his face red and the other half yellow,
besides ornamenting it with various designs in black!
Otherwise he was much the same in appearance as Romata, though
not so powerfully built. As this chief had never seen a
ship before, except, perchance, some of the petty traders that at
long intervals visit these remote islands, he was much taken up
with the neatness and beauty of all the fittings of the
schooner. He was particularly struck with a musket which
was shown to him, and asked where the white men got hatchets hard
enough to cut the tree of which the barrel was made! While
he was thus engaged, his brother chief stood aloof, talking with
the captain, and fondling a superb cock and a little blue-headed
paroquet, the favourites of which I have before spoken. I
observed that all the other natives walked in a crouching posture
while in the presence of Romata. Before our guests left us,
the captain ordered the brass gun to be uncovered and fired for
their gratification; and I have every reason to believe he did so
for the purpose of showing our superior power, in case the
natives should harbour any evil designs against us. Romata
had never seen this gun before, as it had not been uncovered on
previous visits, and the astonishment with which he viewed it was
very amusing. Being desirous of knowing its power, he
begged that the captain would fire it. So a shot was put
into it. The chiefs were then directed to look at a rock
about two miles out at sea, and the gun was fired. In a
second the top of the rock was seen to burst asunder, and to fall
in fragments into the sea.

Romata was so delighted with the success of this shot, that he
pointed to a man who was walking on the shore, and begged the
captain to fire at him, evidently supposing that his permission
was quite sufficient to justify the captain in such an act.
He was therefore surprised, and not a little annoyed, when the
captain refused to fire at the native, and ordered the gun to be
housed.

Of all the things, however, that afforded matter of amusement
to these savages, that which pleased Romata’s visitor most
was the ship’s pump. He never tired of examining it,
and pumping up the water. Indeed, so much was he taken up
with this pump, that he could not be prevailed on to return on
shore, but sent a canoe to fetch his favourite stool, on which he
seated himself, and spent the remainder of the day in pumping the
bilge-water out of the ship!

Next day the crew went ashore to cut sandal-wood, while the
captain, with one or two men, remained on board, in order to be
ready, if need be, with the brass gun, which was unhoused and
conspicuously elevated, with its capacious muzzle directed point
blank at the chief’s house. The men were fully armed
as usual; and the captain ordered me to go with them, to assist
in the work. I was much pleased with this order, for it
freed me from the captain’s company, which I could not now
endure, and it gave me an opportunity of seeing the natives.

As we wound along in single file through the rich fragrant
groves of banana, cocoa-nut, bread-fruit, and other trees, I
observed that there were many of the plum and banian trees, with
which I had become familiar on the Coral Island. I noticed
also large quantities of taro-roots, yams, and sweet potatoes,
growing in enclosures. On turning into an open glade of the
woods, we came abruptly upon a cluster of native houses.
They were built chiefly of bamboos, and were thatched with the
large thick leaves of the pandanus; but many of them had little
more than a sloping roof and three sides with an open front,
being the most simple shelter from the weather that could well be
imagined. Within these, and around them, were groups of
natives—men, women, and children—who all stood up to
gaze at us as we marched along, followed by the party of men whom
the chief had sent to escort us. About half a mile inland
we arrived at the spot where the sandal-wood grew, and, while the
men set to work, I clambered up an adjoining hill to observe the
country.

About mid-day, the chief arrived with several followers, one
of whom carried a baked pig on a wooden platter, with yams and
potatoes on several plantain leaves, which he presented to the
men, who sat down under the shade of a tree to dine. The
chief sat down to dine also; but, to my surprise, instead of
feeding himself, one of his wives performed that office for
him! I was seated beside Bill, and asked him the reason of
this.

“It is beneath his dignity, I believe, to feed
himself,” answered Bill; “but I daresay he’s
not particular, except on great occasions. They’ve a
strange custom among them, Ralph, which is called tabu,
and they carry it to great lengths. If a man chooses a
particular tree for his god, the fruit o’ that tree is
tabued to him; and if he eats it, he is sure to be killed by his
people, and eaten, of course, for killing means eating
hereaway. Then, you see that great mop o’ hair on the
chief’s head? Well, he has a lot o’ barbers to
keep it in order; and it’s a law that whoever touches the
head of a living chief or the body of a dead one, his hands are
tabued; so, in that way, the barbers’ hands are always
tabued, and they daren’t use them for their lives, but have
to be fed like big babies, as they are, sure enough!”

“That’s odd, Bill. But look there,”
said I, pointing to a man whose skin was of a much lighter colour
than the generality of the natives. “I’ve seen
a few of these light-skinned fellows among the Fejeeans.
They seem to me to be of quite a different race.”

“So they are,” answered Bill. “These
fellows come from the Tongan Islands, which lie a long way to the
eastward. They come here to build their big war-canoes; and
as these take two, and sometimes four years, to build,
there’s always some o’ the brown-skins among the
black sarpents o’ these islands.”

“By the way, Bill,” said I, “your mentioning
serpents, reminds me that I have not seen a reptile of any kind
since I came to this part of the world.”

“No more there are any,” said Bill, “if ye
except the niggers themselves, there’s none on the islands,
but a lizard or two and some sich harmless things. But I
never seed any myself. If there’s none on the land,
however, there’s more than enough in the water, and that
minds me of a wonderful brute they have here. But, come,
I’ll show it to you.” So saying, Bill arose,
and, leaving the men still busy with the baked pig, led me into
the forest. After proceeding a short distance we came upon
a small pond of stagnant water. A native lad had followed
us, to whom we called and beckoned him to come to us. On
Bill saying a few words to him, which I did not understand, the
boy advanced to the edge of the pond, and gave a low peculiar
whistle. Immediately the water became agitated and an
enormous eel thrust its head above the surface and allowed the
youth to touch it. It was about twelve feet long, and as
thick round the body as a man’s thigh.

“There,” said Bill, his lip curling with contempt,
“what do you think of that for a god, Ralph? This is
one o’ their gods, and it has been fed with dozens o’
livin’ babies already. How many more it’ll get
afore it dies is hard to say.”

“Babies?” said I, with an incredulous look

“Ay, babies,” returned Bill. “Your
soft-hearted folk at home would say, ‘Oh, horrible!
impossible!’ to that, and then go away as comfortable and
unconcerned as if their sayin’ ‘horrible!
impossible!’ had made it a lie. But I tell you,
Ralph, it’s a fact. I’ve seed it with my
own eyes the last time I was here, an’ mayhap if you stop a
while at this accursed place, and keep a sharp look out,
you’ll see it too. They don’t feed it regularly
with livin’ babies, but they give it one now and then as a
treat. Bah! you brute!’ cried Bill, in disgust,
giving the reptile a kick on the snout with his heavy boot, that
sent it sweltering back in agony into its loathsome pool. I
thought it lucky for Bill, indeed for all of us, that the native
youth’s back happened to be turned at the time, for I am
certain that if the poor savages had come to know that we had so
rudely handled their god, we should have had to fight our way
back to the ship. As we retraced our steps I questioned my
companion further on this subject.

“How comes it, Bill, that the mothers allow such a
dreadful thing to be done?”

“Allow it? the mothers do it! It seems to
me that there’s nothing too fiendish or diabolical for
these people to do. Why, in some of the islands they have
an institution called the Areoi, and the persons connected
with that body are ready for any wickedness that mortal man can
devise. In fact they stick at nothing; and one o’
their customs is to murder their infants the moment they are
born. The mothers agree to it, and the fathers do it.
And the mildest ways they have of murdering them is by sticking
them through the body with sharp splinters of bamboo, strangling
them with their thumbs, or burying them alive and stamping them
to death while under the sod.”

I felt sick at heart while my companion recited these
horrors.

“But it’s a curious fact,” he continued,
after a pause, during which we walked in silence towards the spot
where we had left our comrades,—“it’s a curious
fact, that wherever the missionaries get a footin’ all
these things come to an end at once, an’ the savages take
to doin’ each other good, and singin’ psalms, just
like Methodists.”

“God bless the missionaries!” said I, while a
feeling of enthusiasm filled my heart, so that I could speak with
difficulty. “God bless and prosper the missionaries
till they get a footing in every island of the sea!”

“I would say Amen to that prayer, Ralph, if I
could,” said Bill, in a deep, sad voice; “but it
would be a mere mockery for a man to ask a blessing for others
who dare not ask one for himself. But, Ralph,” he
continued, “I’ve not told you half o’ the
abominations I have seen durin’ my life in these
seas. If we pull long together, lad, I’ll tell you
more; and if times have not changed very much since I was here
last, it’s like that you’ll have a chance o’
seeing a little for yourself before long.”

CHAPTER XXV.

The Sandal-wood party—Native children’s games,
somewhat surprising—Desperate amusements suddenly and
fatally brought to a close—An old friend
recognised—News—Romata’s mad conduct.

Next day the wood-cutting party went ashore again, and I
accompanied them as before. During the dinner hour I
wandered into the woods alone, being disinclined for food that
day. I had not rambled far when I found myself unexpectedly
on the sea-shore, having crossed a narrow neck of land which
separated the native village from a large bay. Here I found
a party of the islanders busy with one of their war-canoes, which
was almost ready for launching. I stood for a long time
watching this party with great interest, and observed that they
fastened the timbers and planks to each other very much in the
same way in which I had seen Jack fasten those of our little
boat. But what surprised me most was its immense length,
which I measured very carefully, and found to be a hundred feet
long; and it was so capacious that it could have held three
hundred men. It had the unwieldy out-rigger and enormously
high stern-posts which I had remarked on the canoe that came to
us while I was on the Coral Island. Observing some boys
playing at games a short way along the beach, I resolved to go
and watch them; but as I turned from the natives who were engaged
so busily and cheerfully at their work, I little thought of the
terrible event that hung on the completion of that war-canoe.

Advancing towards the children, who were so numerous that I
began to think this must be the general play-ground of the
village, I sat down on a grassy bank under the shade of a
plantain-tree, to watch them. And a happier or more noisy
crew I have never seen. There were at least two hundred of
them, both boys and girls, all of whom were clad in no other
garments than their own glossy little black skins, except the
maro, or strip of cloth round the loins of the boys, and a very
short petticoat or kilt on the girls. They did not all play
at the same game, but amused themselves in different groups.