Splash!
“Is it deep?”
“Not yet.”
Bevis had got his catamaran in and ran out with it some way, as the
water was shallow, till it deepened, when he sat astride and paddled.
“Come on,” he shouted.
Splash!
“I’m coming.”
Mark ran in with his in the same manner, and sitting astride paddled
about ten yards behind.
“Weeds,” said Bevis, feeling the long rough stalks like string dragging
against his feet.
“Where? I can’t see.”
“Under water. They will not hurt.”
“There goes a flapper,” (a young wild duck). “I hope we shan’t see the
magic wave.”
“Pooh!”
“My bundle is slipping.”
“Pull it up again.”
“It’s all right now.”
“Holloa! Land,” said Bevis, suddenly standing up.
He had reached a shallow where the water was no deeper than his knees.
“A jack struck. There,” said Mark, as he too stood up, and drew his
catamaran along with his hand.
Splash!
Bevis was off again, paddling in deeper water. Mark was now close
behind.
“There’s a coot; he’s gone into the sedges.”
“Parrots,” said Mark, as two wood-pigeons passed over.
“Which is the right channel?” said Bevis, pausing.
They had now reached the great mass of weeds which came to the surface,
and through which it was impossible to move. There were two channels,
one appeared to lead straight to the island, the other wound about to
the right.
“Which did we come down in the Pinta, when we hid the catamarans?” said
Mark.
“Stupe, that’s just what I want to know.”
“Go straight on,” said Mark; “that looks clearest.”
So it did, and Bevis went straight on; but when they had paddled fifty
yards they both saw at once that they could not go much farther that
way, for the channel curved sharply, and was blocked with weeds.
“We must go back,” said Mark.
“We can’t turn round.”
“We can’t paddle backwards. There I’m in the weeds.”
“Turn round on the plank.”
“Perhaps I shall fall off.”
“Sit sideways first.”
“The plank tips.”
“Very well, I’ll do it first,” said Bevis.
He turned sideways to try and get astride, looking the other way. The
plank immediately tipped and pitched him into the water, bundle and all.
“Ah!” said Mark. “Thought you could do it so easy; didn’t you?”
Bevis threw his right arm over the plank, and tried to get on it; but
every time he attempted to lift his knee over, the catamaran gave way
under him. His paddle floated away. The bundle of clothes on his back,
soaked and heavy, kept him down.
Mark paddled towards him, and tried to lift him with one hand, but
nearly upset himself. Bevis struggled hard to get on, and so pushed the
plank sideways to the edge of the weeds. He felt the rough strings
again winding round his feet.
“You’ll be in the weeds,” said Mark, growing alarmed. “Come on my
plank. Try. I’ll throw my bundle off.” He began to take it from his
back. “Then it will just keep you up. O!”
Bevis put his hands up, and immediately sank under the surface, but he
had done it purposely, to free himself from his bundle. The bundle
floated, and the cord slipped over his head. Bringing his hands down
Bevis as instantly rose to the surface, bumping his head against the
catamaran.
“Now I can do it,” he said, blowing the water from his nostrils.
He seized the plank, and laid almost all along in the water, so as to
press very lightly on it, his weight being supported by the water, then
he got his knee over and sat up.
“Hurrah!”
The bundle was slowly settling down when Mark seized it.
“Never mind about the things being wet,” he said. “Sit still; I’ll
fetch your paddle.”
Dragging the bundle in the water by the cord, Mark went after, and
recovered Bevis’s paddle. To come back he had to back water, and found
it very awkward even for so short a distance. The catamaran would not
go straight.
“O! what a stupe I was,” said Bevis. “I’ve got on the same way again.”
In his hurry he had forgotten his object, and got astride facing the
island as before.
“Well, I never,” said Mark. “Stop--don’t.”
Bevis slipped off his catamaran again, but this time not being
encumbered with the bundle he was up on it again in half a minute, and
faced the mainland.
“There,” said he. “Now you can come close. That’s it. Now give me
your bundle.”
Mark did so. Afterwards Bevis took the cord of his own bundle, which
being in the water was not at all heavy. “Now you can turn.”
Mark slipped off, but managed so that his chest was still on the plank.
In that position he worked himself round and got astride the other way.
“Done very well,” said Bevis; “ever so much better than I did. Here.”
Mark slung his bundle, and they paddled back to the shallow water, Bevis
towing his soaked dress. They stood up in the shallow and rested a few
minutes, and Bevis fastened his bundle to his plank just in front of
where he sat.
“Come on.” Off he went again, following the other channel this time.
It wound round a bank grown with sedges, and then led straight into a
broader and open channel, the same they had come down in the boat. They
recognised it directly, and paddled faster.
“Hark! there’s Pan,” said Mark.
As they came near the island, Pan either scented them or heard a
splashing, for he set up his bark again. He had choked himself silent
before.
“Pan! Pan!” shouted Bevis, whistling.
Yow--wow--wow!
“Hurrah!”
“Hurrah!”
They ran up on the shore of New Formosa, and began to dance and caper,
kicking up their heels.
Yow-wow--wow-wow!
“Pan! I’m coming,” said Bevis, and began to run, but stopped suddenly.
Thistles in the grass and trailing briars stayed him. He put on his wet
boots, and then picking his way round, reached the hut. He let Pan
loose. The spaniel crouched at his feet and whimpered, and followed
him, crawling on the ground. Bevis patted him, but he could not leap up
as usual, the desertion had quite broken his spirit for the time. Bevis
went into the hut, and just as he was, with nothing on but his boots,
took his journal and wrote down “Wednesday.”
“There,” said he to Mark, who had now come, more slowly, for he carried
the two bundles, “there, I’ve put down the day, else we shall lose our
reckoning, don’t you see.”
They were soon dressed. Bevis put on the change he had provided in the
store-room, and spread his wet clothes out to dry in the sun. Pan crept
from one to the other; he could not get enough patting, he wanted to be
continually spoken to and stroked. He would not go a yard from them.
“What’s the time?” said Bevis, “my watch has stopped.” The water had
stopped it.
“Five minutes to twelve,” said Mark. “You must write down, ‘We landed
on the island at noon.’”
“So I will to-night. My watch won’t go; the water is in it.”
“Lucky mine did not got wet too.”
“Hang yours up in the hut, else perhaps it will get stopped somehow,
then we shan’t know the time.”
Mark hung his watch up in the hut, and caught sight of the wooden
bottle.
“The first thing people do is to refresh themselves,” he said. “Let’s
have a glass of ale: splendid thing when you’re shipwrecked--”
“A libation to the gods,” said Bevis. “That’s the thing; you pour it
out on the ground because you’ve escaped.”
“O!” said Mark, opening the bottle. “Now just look! And I filled it to
the brim so that I could hardly get the cork in.”
“John,” said Bevis.
“The rascal.”
“Ships’ provisions are always scamped,” said Bevis; “somebody steals
half, and puts in rotten biscuits. It’s quite proper. Why, there’s a
quart gone.”
John Young, carrying the heavy bottle, could not resist just taking out
the cork to see how full it was. And his mouth was very large.
“Here’s a mug,” said Mark, who had turned over a heap of things and
found a tin cup. They each had a cupful.
“Matchlock,” said Bevis.
“Matchlock,” said Mark. For while they drank both had had their eyes on
their gun-barrel.
“Pliers,” said Bevis, taking it up. “Here’s the wire; I want the
pliers.”
It was not so easy to find the pliers under such a heap of things.
“Store-room’s in a muddle,” said Mark.
“Put it right,” said the captain.
“I’ve got it.”
Bevis put the barrel in the stock, and began twisting the copper wire
round to fasten it on. Mark searched for the powder-horn and shot-bag.
Three strands were twisted neatly and firmly round the barrel and
stock--one near the breech, one half-way up, the third near the muzzle.
It was then secure.
“It looks like a real gun now,” said Mark.
“Put your finger on the touch-hole,” said Bevis. Mark did so, while he
blew through the barrel.
“I can feel the air,” said Mark; “the barrel is clear. Shall I measure
the powder?”
“Yes.”
Bevis shut the pan, Mark poured out the charge from the horn and
inserted a wad of paper, which Bevis rammed home with the brass ramrod.
Bow-wow--bow-yow!
Up jumped Pan, leaped on them, tore round the hut, stood at the doorway
and barked, ran a little way out, and came back again to the door,
where, with his head over his shoulder, as if beckoning to them to
follow, he barked his loudest.
“It’s the gun,” said Mark. Pan forgot his trouble at the sound of the
ramrod.
Next the shot was put in, and then the priming at the pan. A piece of
match or cord prepared to burn slowly, about a foot and a half long, was
wound round the handle of the stock, and the end brought forward through
the spiral of the hammer. Mark struck a match and lit it.
“What shall we shoot at?” said Bevis, as they went out at the door. Pan
rushed before and disappeared in the bramble bushes, startling a pair of
turtle-doves from a hawthorn.
“Parrakeets,” said Mark. “They’re smaller than parrots; you can’t shoot
flying with a matchlock. There’s a beech; shoot at that.”
The sunshine fell on one side of the trunk of a beech, lighting up the
smooth bark. They walked up till they thought they were near enough,
and planted the staff or rest in the ground. Bevis put the matchlock on
it, pushed the lid of the pan open with his thumb, and aimed at the
tree. He pulled the trigger; the match descended on the powder in the
pan, which went puff! The report followed directly.
“Never kicked a bit,” said Bevis, as the sulphury smoke rose; the barrel
was too heavy to kick.
“Hit!” shouted Mark, who had run to the tree. “Forty dozen shots
everywhere.”
Bevis came with the gun, and saw the bark dotted all over with shot. He
measured the distance back to the rest left standing in the ground, by
pacing steadily.
“Thirty-two yards.”
“My turn,” said Mark.
The explosion had extinguished the match, so shutting the pan-lid they
loaded the gun again. Before Mark shot, Bevis went to the tree, and
fastened a small piece of paper to the bark with a pin. Mark fired and
put three shots through the paper. Pan raced and circled round to find
the game, and returned with his back covered with cleavers which stuck
to his coat. After shooting three times each they thought they would
try bullets, but with ball they could do nothing. Four times they each
fired at the beech and missed it, though every time they took a more
careful aim.
“The staff’s too high,” said Mark, “I’m sure that’s it. We ought to
kneel, then it would be steadier.”
Bevis cut the staff shorter, not without some difficulty, for the old
black oak was hard like iron. The next was Mark’s turn. He knelt on
one knee, aimed deliberately, and the ball scored the trunk, making a
groove along the bark. Bevis tried but missed, so did Mark next time;
then again Bevis fired, and missed.
“That’s enough,” said Bevis; “I shan’t have any more shooting with
bullets.”
“But I hit it once.”
“But you didn’t hit it twice.”
“You never hit it once.”
“It wants a top-sight,” said Bevis, not very well pleased. “Nobody can
shoot ball without a sight.”
“You can’t put one,” said Mark.
“I don’t know.” The sight was the only defect of the weapon; how to
fasten that on they did not know.
“I hit it without a sight,” said Mark.
“Chance.”
“That it wasn’t.”
“It’s time to have dinner, I’m sure,” said Bevis. “The gun is to be put
away now. I’ll take it in; you get some sticks for the fire.”
“O! very well,” said Mark shortly. “But there’s plenty of sticks inside
the stockade!”
He followed Bevis and began to make a pile in their enclosed courtyard.
Bevis having left the gun in the hut came out and helped him silently.
“It’s very hot here.”
“Awful!”
“Tropics.”
“The sun’s overhead.”
“Sun-stroke.”
“The fire ought to be made in the shadow.”
“There’s no shadow here.”
“Let us go into the wood then.”
“Very well--under the beech.”
They went out, and collected a heap of sticks in the shade of the beech
at which they had been shooting. Mark lit the fire; Bevis sat down by
the beech and watched the flame rise.
“Pot,” he said.
“Pot--what?” said Mark, still sulky.
“Fetch the water.”
“What?”
“Fetch the water.”
“O! I’m not Polly.”
“But I’m captain.”
“Hum!”
However, Mark fetched the pot, filled it at the shore, and presently
came back with it, and put it on. Then he sat down too in the shade.
“You’ve not finished,” said Bevis.
“What else?”
“What else; why the bacon.”
“Get it yourself.”
“Aren’t you going?”
“No.”
Bevis went to the hut, cut off a slice of bacon, and put it on.
Mark went to the hut, fetched a handful of biscuits and two apples, and
began to eat them.
“You never brought me any,” said Bevis.
“You never ordered me, captain.”
“Why can’t you be agreeable?”
“Why can’t you ask anybody, and do something yourself, too.”
“Don’t be a stupe,” said Bevis, “so I will. But get me a biscuit, now
do.” At this Mark fetched the bag for him.
“We shall have to wait a long time for our dinner,” he said. “They’re
just having a jolly one at home.”
“While they’re at home and comfortable we’re on an island seven thousand
miles from anywhere.”
“Savages all round.”
“Magic things.”
“If they only knew, wouldn’t they be in a state.”
“Ships fitted out to find us. But they would not know which way to
sail.”
“No charts.”
“Nothing.”
“Never find us. I say, get a fork and try the bacon.”
“Don’t look done.”
“Put some more sticks on. I say; we forgot the potatoes.”
“O! bother. It’s hot; don’t let’s have any. Let’s sit still.”
“Right.”
Pan looked from one to the other, ran round and came back, went into the
underwood and came out again, but finding that it was of no use, and
that the gun was really put aside, he presently settled down like them
in the shade, and far enough from the fire not to feel any heat from it.
“Oaks are banyans, aren’t they?” said Mark. “They used to be, you
know,” remembering the exploration of the wood.
“Banyans,” said Bevis.
“What are beeches?”
“O! teak.”
“That’s China; aren’t we far from China?”
“Ask me presently when I’ve got the astrolabe.”
“What are elms? Stop, now I remember; there are no elms!”
“How do you know?”
“Didn’t I go round the island one day? Besides, you could see them if
there were, from the cliff.”
“So we could; there are no elms. That shows how different this country
is from any other country ever found.”
“Poplars?” said Mark in an interrogative tone.
“Palms, of course. You can see them miles away like palms in a desert.”
“Pictures,” said Mark. “Yes, that’s it. You always see the sun going
down, camels with long shadows, and palm-trees. Then I suppose it’s
Africa?”
“You must wait till we have taken an observation. We shall see too by
the stars.”
“Firs?” said Mark. “They’re cedars, of course.”
“Of course. Willows are blue gums.”
“Then it’s near Australia. I expect it is; because, don’t you know,
there were no animals in Australia except kangaroos, and there are none
here at all. So it’s that sort of country.”
“But there are tigers in the reeds.”
“Ah, I forgot them.”
“Huge boa-constrictors. One of them would reach from here to Serendib.
Did you hear that rustling? Most likely that was one.”
“Do elephants swim? They might come off here.”
“Hippopotami.”
“A black rhinoceros; they’re rogues.”
“Hyenas.”
“Giraffes. They can nibble half-way up the palm-trees.”
“Pumas.”
“Panthers.”
“’Possums.”
“Yaks.”
“Grizzlies.”
“Scorpions.”
“Heaps of things on your bed and crawling on the ceiling.”
“Jolly!”
“Fork up the bacon.”
Mark forked it up.
“It looks queer,” he said, dropping it in again. “Ought the pot to be
on the ashes?”
“There’s an iron rod for the kettle to swing on,” said Bevis. “It’s
somewhere in the store-room. Is it eight bells yet?”
“I expect so,” said Mark. “Rations are late. A mutton chop now, or a
fowl--”
“Don’t grow here,” said Bevis. “You cut steaks from buffaloes while
they’re alive, or fry elephants, or boil turkeys. There are no fowls.”
“It seems to me,” said Mark, “that we ought to have the gun here.
Suppose some savages were to land from canoes and get between us and the
hut? It’s twenty yards to the stockade; more I should think.”
“I never thought of that,” said Bevis. “There may be fifty canoes full
of them in the reeds, and proas flying here almost. Fetch the gun--
quick.”
Mark ran and brought it.
“Load with ball,” said Bevis.
The ball was rammed home. Pan set up a joyous bark.
“Kick him,” said Bevis, languidly raising himself on one arm. He had
been lying on his back. “He’ll bring the savages, or the crocodiles.”
Pan was kicked, and crouched.
Mark leaned the gun against the teak-tree, and sat down again.
“Awfully hot,” he said.
“Always is in the tropics.”
“Ought to have an awning,” said Mark; “and hammocks.”
“So we did,” said Bevis, sitting up. “How stupid to forget the
hammocks. Did you ever see anything like it?”
“We can make an awning,” said Mark. “Hang up one of the rugs by the
four corners.”
“Capital. Come on.”
They fastened four pieces of cord to the corners of the rug, but found
that the trees did not grow close enough together, so they had to set up
two poles near the teak, and tie the cords at one end of the rug to
these. The others were tied to a branch of the teak. By the time this
was done they had worked themselves hot again putting up the awning to
get cool. There was not a breath of wind, and it was very warm even in
the double shadow of the teak and the awning.
“Bacon must be done,” said Bevis.
“Must,” said Mark.
They could not rest more than a quarter of an hour. They forked it out,
and Mark held it on the fork, while Bevis ran to the hut for a piece of
board to put it on, as they had forgotten dishes. Setting the bacon on
the board, they put it on the ground under the awning (Pan wanted to
sniff at it), and tried a slice. It was not exactly nice, nor
disagreeable, considering that they had forgotten to scrape it, or take
the rind off. But biscuits were not so good as bread.
“We must make some dampers,” said Mark; “you know, flour cakes: we can’t
bake, we haven’t got an oven.”
“Dampers are proper,” said Bevis. “That’s gold-mining. Very likely
there are heaps of nuggets here somewhere--”
“Placers.”
“And gold-dust in the river.”
“No mustard. And I recollected the salt!” said Mark. “I say; is this
bacon quite nice?”
“Well, no; not quite.”
“I don’t like it.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Wish we could have brought some meat.”
“Can’t keep meat under the tropics.”
“Shall we chuck it to Pan?”
“No, not all. Here, give him a slice. Pooh! He sniff’s at it. Just
see! He’s pampered; he won’t eat it. Here, take the board, Mark, and
put it in the store-room.”
Mark took the board with the bacon on it; and went to the hut. He came
back with a mug full of ale, saying they had better drink it before it
got quite stale.
“We must shoot something,” said Bevis. “We can’t eat much of that
stuff.”
“Let’s go round the island,” said Mark, “and see if there’s anything
about. Parrots, perhaps.”
“Pigeon-pie,” said Bevis.
“Parrot-pie; just the thing.”
“Hammer Pan, or he’ll run on first and spoil everything.”
Volume Two, Chapter XV.