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Nat the Naturalist: A Boy's Adventures in the Eastern Seas, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 36. Ebo Satisfies Our Wants |
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_ CHAPTER THIRTY SIX. EBO SATISFIES OUR WANTS It would be tedious if I were to go on describing the almost endless varieties of birds we shot, glowing though they were with rainbow colours, and to keep repeating how we skinned and preserved this sun-bird, that pitta, or trogon, or lovely rose-tinted dove. Parrots and cockatoos we found without number, and as we selected only the finest specimens, our collection rapidly increased, so fast, indeed, by steady work, that I began to understand how my uncle had brought so great a number from the West. But still one of the great objects of our visit to this part of the world had not been achieved; we had shot no birds of paradise; and these were scarce things in England at the time of which I write. There were plenty of rough specimens of their plumage worn in ladies' bonnets; but a fair, well-preserved skin was hardly known, those brought to England being roughly dried by the natives; so at last my uncle declared that no more birds should be shot and skinned until we had obtained specimens of some at least of the lovely creatures whose cries we often heard about us, but which tantalisingly kept out of shot. It was a difficult task, but we at last made Ebo understand that we must shoot some of these birds, when by his way he seemed to indicate that if we had only told him sooner we might have had as many as we liked. That very day he obtained a good little store of provisions, shouldered his spear, and went off by himself, and we saw no more of him for forty-eight hours, when he came back in the most unconcerned way, just as if he had never been out of sight, and sat down and ate all that we put before him. After that he lay down and went to sleep for some hours, waking up ready to dance around us, chattering vehemently until we had finished the skins we were preserving, when he signed to us to take our guns and to follow him. We obeyed him, but he did not seem satisfied until we had collected some provision as well, when once more he set off, taking us through a part of the island we had not visited before, and, if anything, more beautiful than that we had. It was a long journey he took us, and we could have secured hundreds of brilliantly coloured birds, but we only shot a few large ones, such as we knew to be good food, ready for our halt by the camp fire, for it seemed that we were not to return to our hut that night. Over hillsides, down in valleys where tree-ferns sprang up, of the most beautifully laced fronds, great groves of palms and clumps of cocoa-nut trees, some of whose fruit Ebo climbed and got for us, and still we went on, avoiding the marshy-looking spots which experience had taught us to be the home of the serpents, which, in very small numbers, inhabited the isle. Several times over we looked inquiringly at Ebo, but he only smiled and pointed forward, and we followed him till he stopped suddenly and showed us some wood ready for making a fire. Here we had a welcome rest and a hearty meal, but he did not let us stay long, hurrying us forward, till, just before sundown, he brought us to a dense patch of forest, with huge trees towering upward and spreading their branches, making an impenetrable shade. "It will be too dark to travel far here to-night, Nat," said my uncle. "Where does he mean to go? But this ought to be the place for the birds of paradise, Nat, if we are to get any." Just then Ebo stopped, and we found a rough hut of leaves with a bed of fern already waiting for us, this having been part of his work during his prolonged absence. His delight knew no bounds as he saw that we were pleased, and as usual he indulged in a dance, after which he caught us in turn by the arm and tried very hard to explain that the birds of paradise were plentiful here. We were too tired to think about anything much besides sleep, and very gladly crept into our hut, to sleep so soundly without a single thought of serpents or huge apes, that I seemed hardly to have closed my eyes, and felt exceedingly grumpy and indisposed to move when Ebo began shaking me to get me up. "All right!" I said, and then, as I lay still with my eyes closed, Ebo kept on: "Hawk, hawk, hawk; kwok, kwok, kwok;" and it seemed so stupid of him, but there it was again; "Hawk, hawk, hawk; kwok, kwok, kwok." "Come, Nat," cried my uncle; "unbutton those eyelids, boy, and get up. Don't you hear the birds calling?" "I thought it was Ebo, uncle," I said. "Oh! I am so sleepy." "Never mind the sleepiness, Nat. Come along and let's see if we cannot get some good specimens." Just then I saw Ebo's face in the opening, and cutting a yawn right in half I followed my uncle out into the darkness, for though the birds of paradise were calling, there was no sign of day. But if we wished for success I felt that we must get beneath the trees unseen, and, examining my gun, I followed my uncle, who in turn kept close behind Ebo. The black went forward very cautiously, and looking very strange and misty in the darkness; but he evidently knew what he was about, going along amongst the great tree trunks without a sound, while we followed as lightly as we could. On all sides we could hear the hoarse cries of the birds, which we felt must be in good numbers, and I felt less sleepiness now in the fresh morning air, and a curious feeling of excitement came over me as I thought of the lovely amber plumes of these birds, and wondered whether I should be fortunate enough to bring one down. All at once Ebo stopped beneath an enormous tree, and as we crept up close to its mighty trunk we gazed up into the darkness and could here and there catch a glimpse of a star; in fact, so black was it, that but for the cries of the various birds we heard, it might have been taken for the middle of the night. There was nothing to see but an almost opaque blackness, though now and then I fancied I could make out a great branch crossing above my head. It seemed nonsense to have come, but the loud cry of one of the birds we sought, sounded loudly just then and silenced my doubts. I raised my gun ready for a shot, but could see nothing. Just then my uncle whispered with his lips to my ear: "Don't make a sound, and don't fire till you have a good chance. Look out." The loud quok, quok, quok, was answered from a distance, repeated above our heads, and then there was the whistle of wings plainly heard in the solemn silence of the forest, and all this repeated again overhead till it seemed as if we were just beneath a tree where the birds of paradise met for discussion, like the rooks at home in the elms. But no matter how I strained my eyes I could not distinguish a single bird. The minutes went by, and I longed for the light, for though I knew it would betray our presence, still I might catch sight of one bird and bring it down. But the light did not come, and as my arms ached with holding up my gun I lowered it, and patiently waited with my heart beating heavily, as I listened to the cries that were on the increase. All at once I felt an arm glide over my shoulder, and I could just make out that Ebo was pointing upward with his black finger steadily in one direction. I tried to follow it but could see nothing, and I was thinking how much better a savage's sight was than ours, when from out of the darkness there came the hoarse "_Hawk, hawk, hawk; quok, quok, quok_," and as the cry seemed to direct my eye, I fancied that I could see something moving slightly at a very great height, bowing and strutting like a pigeon. I looked and looked again and could not see it; then a star that was peeping through the leaves seemed to be suddenly hidden, and there was the movement again. I forgot all about my uncle's orders about not firing until I had a good chance, and taking a steady aim at the dimly seen spot just as the hoarse cry arose once more, I drew the trigger. The flash from my gun seemed to cut the blackness, and the report went echoing away amongst the trees; then there was a sharp rustling noise, and a dull, quick thud, and I was about to spring forward and seek for what I had shot, but Ebo's arms closed round me and held me fast. I understood what he meant, and contented myself with reloading my gun, the click of the lock sounding very loud in the silence that had ensued, for the report of my gun had caused a complete cessation of all cries, and I felt that we should get no more shots for some time; but all the same I had heard no rush of wings as of a flock of birds taking flight, and I wondered whether any of them were still in the dense top of the tree. Five or ten minutes must have elapsed, and then once more Ebo's arm glided over my shoulder and rested there, while I laid my cheek against it, and gazed in quite another direction now till I fancied I saw what he was pointing at, but which looked like nothing but a dark spot high up amongst the twigs; in fact, when I did make it out I felt sure that it was a nest. But I recalled how accurate Ebo had been before, and once more taking aim, making it the more careful by leaning my gun barrel against the trunk of the tree, I fired; there was a quick rustle of leaves and twigs, and another dull thud, but no one moved. After a few minutes' waiting Ebo pointed out another, whatever it was, for I was still in doubt as to whether these were birds of paradise that I had shot, for the silence had not been broken since I fired first. I took a quicker aim this time and drew the trigger, and once more there was a heavy fall through the branches, and then as if by magic it seemed to be daylight, and I saw several big birds dotted about the tree. Uncle Dick and I fired together, and then came a rush of wings as another bird fell, the loud cries being repeated from a distance; while Ebo, evidently considering that it was of no more use to wait, ran out to pick up the birds. Only one bird had fallen when my uncle and I fired together, for I believe I missed; but as Ebo and I picked up the result of our expedition here the sun rose, and in the bright light that came between the trees we stood gazing in ecstasy at the lovely creatures. "Oh, uncle!" That was all I could say for some time. "I think it ought to be 'Oh, Nat!'" he replied laughing. "Why, you young dog, what eyes you have! you got all the luck." "Oh no, uncle," I said laughing; "I shot with Ebo's eyes." "Then next time I'll do the same," he said. "But let's go and shoot some more," I said excitedly. "No, Nat, we shall get no more of these to-day. I suppose it will only be by hiding in the darkness beneath the trees they frequent that we shall have any success. They are wonderfully shy, and no wonder when they have such plumage to protect." I suppose most people have seen specimens of the great bird of paradise, but they can have no conception of the beauty of a freshly shot specimen such as were two of those which I brought down. I felt as if I could never tire of gazing at the wonderful tinting of the bird, here of a pale straw yellow with the feathers short and stiff like velvet, there of a rich chocolate with the neck covered with scales of metallic green. Their tails seemed to have, in place of centre feathers, a couple of long beautiful curving wires nearly a yard long; but the chief beauty of the birds was the great tuft of plumage which seemed to come out from beneath the wings, light and soft, quite two feet long, and all of a rich golden orange. It seems to me impossible to conceive a more lovely bird, and we took them in triumph to our hut, where we breakfasted, my uncle afterwards carefully making skins of all four. The other two were evidently younger birds, and had not their full plumage, but they were very beautiful and formed a splendid addition to the collection. _ |
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