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Fire Island, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 25. "Pot First" |
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_ CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE. "POT FIRST" The night passed peaceably enough, and though every now and then there was a violent hissing from close at hand, it was not noticed till just at daybreak, when Smith, who had grown brave and reckless with knowledge, drove his elbow into his messmate's ribs. "All right," growled Wriggs, drowsily, "but t'arnt our watch, is it?" "Watch? No, rouse up, my lad. Steam's up." "Eh? What? Steam?" _Css_, came loudly from a crevice in the rocks so suddenly and sharply, that the sailor sprang up in alarm. "Oh," he grumbled, directly after, "it's them hot water works. I thought it was a snake." "Who said snakes?" cried Drew, waking up. "I did, sir, but it ain't. It's to-morrer morning, and we're getting up." "I have raked the fire together, sir, and put the billy on to byle," said Smith,--"not meaning you, messmate." "Time to get up?" cried Oliver, and he sprang to his feet. "Come on, Panton, who's for a bath?" They all were, and coming back refreshed partook of a hearty meal which exhausted their supplies, all but the condiments they had provided, and necessitated an immediate return to the brig. "Only it seems a pity," said Oliver, as the cries of birds could be heard in different directions, while butterflies of bright colours darted here and there, and the trees were hung with creepers whose racemes and clusters of blossoms gladdened Drew's eyes. "Yes, it seems a pity," said Panton, taking out his little hammer and beginning to chip at a piece of rock. "There is so little to be seen close to the brig," said Oliver thoughtfully, as he took out his handkerchief and began to polish a speck of rust from the barrel of his double gun. "And I haven't collected half so much as I should like to have done," said Drew. "Think Mr Rimmer would be very uneasy if we stayed here for the day and did a little collecting?" "Not he," said Panton. "But what about prog?" "I'll shoot three or four pigeons," suggested Oliver. "Three or four, why, I could eat half a dozen for dinner." "Think so?" said Oliver, smiling; "I doubt it." "But I'm getting hungry again already, although I've just breakfasted. I say, though, surely we could shoot enough for our dinner. What do you say, Drew, shall we stop till evening and collect?" "I'm willing." "What do you say then, Lane?" "By all means, this forest land at the bottom of the volcano slope is swarming with good things. We'll stay about here all the morning, and after dinner begin to work back to the boat. So long as we can reach it by the time it grows dark we shall be all right." "Yes, there's no fear of making a mistake when once we get into the lagoon," said Panton. "I could find my way to the boat-house blindfold." "Boat-house?" cried Drew. "Well, the cocoa-nut grove," said Panton, laughing. "Then, of course, we can easily find our way to the brig. I say, I'm precious glad that we have seen no signs of the niggers. It would have been very awkward if we had found that they lived here." "Instead of our having the island all to ourselves," said Drew. "But this must once have been part of some mainland," Oliver remarked, thoughtfully. "Apes and leopards would hardly be found upon islands unless they have been cut off by some convulsion of nature." "This must have been cut off by some convulsion of nature," said Panton quickly, and then, as he pointed upward toward the volcano, "and there's the convulser ready to do anything. There, come along, no more scientific discussions. Let's collect, but, first of all, we must think of the pot." "Are we coming back here?" asked Drew. "Decidedly," cried Lane. "We'll make this camp still. Make up the fire, Smith, and you two can come with us till we have shot enough for dinner and then come back here and do the cooking." "Right, sir," replied Smith. "Come along, Billy." The fire was well drawn together and replenished with fuel, and then, shouldering their guns, the party started; but upon Oliver Lane glancing back he called a halt. "Here, Wriggs," he cried, "we don't want that ladder, nor those ropes, Smith." "Don't yer, sir?" "No, we are going along the edge of the forest. Take those things back." The ladder and ropes were taken back and then a fresh start was made, the explorers keeping well to the edge of the forest for several reasons, the principal being that they could easily get out toward the barren slope of the mountain, and the travelling was so much easier as they formed a line and beat the undergrowth for specimens and game. "Pot first, you know," said Panton, "science later on. Are we likely to get a deer of any kind, Lane?" "No," said Drew decisively. "Why not?" said Lane. "We have seen that there are leopards, and leopards must have something to live upon. I should say that we may find some small kind of deer." "Leopards might live on the monkeys," said Panton. "Perhaps so, but I'm prepared for anything in a place like this. What's that?" "I can hear one of them steam engyne birds coming along, sir," said Wriggs, from behind. "What birds?" "One of them rooshy rashy ones, sir, as you called blow-horn-bills, and makes such a noise with their wings." "Hornbills without the blow, my man," said Lane, laughing. "Look out, all of you. Hornbills are fruit-eating birds, and would be good roasted." There was the sharp clicking of gun-locks as the rushing sound of big wings was heard four times over; but the birds passed to right or left to them, hidden by the trees, and all was silent again, till after a few hundred yards had been passed something got up in a dense thicket and went off through the forest at a tremendous rate. "Lane, man, why didn't you fire?" cried Panton reproachfully. "Because I have a habit of looking at what I shoot, and I never had a glimpse of this. Did you see it, Drew?" "I? No." "Please, sir, I just got one squint at it," said Smith. "You did, too, didn't you, Billy?" "I sin it twice," said Wriggs. "It was a spotty sort o' thing, and it went through the bushes like a flash." "It must have been a leopard, then," said Panton. "No," said Oliver decisively, "not that made the loud crashing noise. One of those great cats would have glided away almost in silence. I fancy that it was some kind of deer. Keep on steadily and we may hunt up another." But they tramped on for quite an hour, without any such good fortune, though had their aim solely been collecting specimens, their opportunities were great. For at every opening sun-birds flitted here and there, poising themselves before some blossom which they probed with their long curved bills, and sent forth flashes from their brilliant plumage like those from cut and polished gems. Every now and then too, thrush-like birds flew up from beneath the bushes--thrush-like in form but with plumage in which fawn or dove colour and celestial blues preponderated. Mynahs and barbets were in flocks: lories and paroquets abundant, and at last Lane stopped short and held up his hand, for from out of a patch of the forest where the trees towered up to an enormous height, and all beneath was dim and solemn-looking as some cathedral, there came a loud harsh cry, _waark, waark, wok, wok, wok_, and this was answered several times from a distance. "Only some kind of crow," said Panton, "and we don't, as the American backwoodsman said, 'kinder hanker arter crow.'" "Kind of crow? yes, of course," said Oliver impatiently. "That's the cry of the great bird of Paradise. Come along quietly, we must have some specimens of them." "No, no," cried Panton. "If we fire at them good-bye to any chance of a deer. Steal up and have a look at them, we shall have plenty more chances." Oliver was strongly tempted to fire, for just then a bird skimmed down from on high into the gloom beneath the trees, and they had a glimpse of the lovely creature, with its long, loose, yellowish plumage streaming out behind as if it were a sort of bird-comet dwelling amongst the trees. Then it was gone, and the young man consoled himself with the thought that had he fired the chances were great against his hitting, and it would have been like a crime to let the bird go off wounded and mutilated to a lingering death. He thought this as they stood listening to the cries of the birds, harsh, powerful, and echoing as they rang out in all directions. "Not the kind o' bird as I should choose for his singing, eh, Billy?" said Smith, suddenly breaking the silence of the gloomy spot. "Well, no, Tommy, can't say as I should either for the sake o' the moosic, but there's a deal o' body in it." "I wish we could get hold of something with some body in it that we should care to eat." "There's a something upon that tree yonder, sir," said Smith, "one o' them little black boy chaps. See him, sir?" "I can," whispered Drew. "It's quite a large monkey." "He'd eat good, wouldn't he, sir?" said Wriggs. "Yes, for cannibals," said Oliver, shortly, as he took out his double glass and focussed it upon a black face peering round a tall, smooth trunk, quite a hundred feet from the ground. "Look, there's another. But time's running on. Hadn't we better get back into a more open part and begin collecting?" "If you wish me to die of starvation," said Panton. "I can't work without food." "Then for goodness' sake let's get on," said Oliver, pettishly, and he hurried beneath the tree where the first monkey had been seen, and as he passed a good-sized piece of stick whizzed by his ear and struck the ground. "See that, Billy?" said Smith. "Ah, I see it." "Lucky for that little nigger as they're a good-hearted Christian sort o' gentlemen. If they warn't he'd go home to his messmates peppered all over with shot, and feelin' like a sore currant dumpling." Another half-hour was passed of what Oliver dubbed the most aggravating natures for beautiful specimens of bird, insect, flower, and mineral abounded, while the whole of their attention had to be devoted to providing food. "I don't believe there are any deer to be had," he cried at last, and then he stopped short in the sunny grove, where they had halted to take a few minutes' rest. "What's that?" "I was going to ask you," said Panton. For the peculiar noise they had heard upon a former occasion came from a short distance away, deep-toned, soft, and musical, as if a tyro were practising one note upon a great brass instrument. "Quick, come on," whispered Oliver, excitedly, and leading the way he signed to his companions to come on abreast, and in this form they went on cautiously in the direction of the sound, till Drew suddenly took a quick aim through an opening, and fired both barrels of the piece in rapid succession. Instantly there was a tremendous beating of wings, and a little flock of half-a-dozen large, dark birds rose up, affording Oliver and Panton each a shot, with the result that a couple of the birds fell heavily. Then the two men behind cheered, there was a rush forward through the thick growth, and four of the huge crowned pigeons were retrieved-- lovely dark slate-coloured birds, which looked with their soft, loose plumage and beautiful crests, nearly double the size of ordinary farm-yard fowls. "Now," cried Oliver, triumphantly, "back with you to the fire, and pluck and cook those. We will be with you in a couple of hours' time. But I say, Panton, you won't eat half-a-dozen?" The two men seized a bird in each hand, grinning with delight, and started off for the edge of the wood at a run, but Smith stopped and turned. "Byled or roast, sir?" he cried. "Roast, of course," said Oliver. "You have nothing to boil them in." "Byling spring, sir." "Nonsense, man. Off with you. Now," he continued, as the two sailors disappeared, "specimens. A little way farther, and then turn back." _ |
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