At the water’s edge some flags were bent, and then the tall grass, as
high as their chests, was thrust aside, forming a path which had
evidently been frequently trodden. There was now no longer the least
doubt that the creature, whatever it was, was of large size, and as the
trail was so distinct the thought occurred to them both at once that
perhaps it had been used by more than one. From the raft they could see
along it five or six yards, then it turned to avoid an alder. While
they stood looking Pan came back, he had run right through and returned,
so that there was nothing in the reed-bed at present.
Bevis stepped over the bulwark into the trail with the matchlock; Mark
picked up the axe and followed. As they walked their elbows touched the
grass each side, which showed that the creature was rather high than
broad, lean like the whole feline tribe, long, lean, and stealthy. The
reed-grass had flowered and would soon begin to stiffen and rustle dry
under the winds. By the alder a bryony vine that had grown there was
broken and had withered, it had been snapped long since by the creature
pushing through.
The trail turned to the right, then to the left round a willow stole,
and just there Pan, who trotted before Bevis, picked up a bone. He had
picked it up before and dropped it; he took it again from habit, though
he knew it was sapless and of no use to him. Bevis took it from his
mouth, and they knew it at once as a duck’s drumstick. It was polished
and smooth, as if the creature had licked it, or what was more probable
carried it some distance, and then left it as useless. They had no
doubt it was a drumstick of the wild duck Mark shot.
The trail went straight through sedges next, these were trampled flat;
then as the sedges grew wider apart they gradually lost it in the thin,
short grass. This was why they had not seen it from the land, there the
path began by degrees; at the water’s edge, where the grasses were thick
and high, it was seen at once. Try how they would, they could not
follow the trail inland, they thought they knew how to read “sign,” but
found themselves at fault. On the dry, hard ground the creature’s pads
left no trail that they could trace. Mark cut off a stick with the axe
and stuck it up in the ground so that they could find the spot where the
path faded when walking on shore, and they then returned to the raft.
On the way they caught sight of Bevis’s arrow sticking in the trunk of
the alder, and withdrew it.
At the water’s edge they looked to see if there was any spoor. In
passing through the reed-grass the creature had trampled it down, and so
walked on a carpet of vegetation which prevented any footprints being
left on the ground though it was moist there. At the water’s edge
perhaps they might have found some, but in pushing the raft up the beams
had rubbed over the mud and obliterated everything. When they got on
the raft they looked over the other bulwark, and a few yards from the
shore noticed that the surface of the weeds growing there appeared
disturbed.
The raft was moved out, and they found that the weeds had been trampled;
the water was very shallow, so that the creature in approaching the
shore had probably plunged up and down as the spaniel did in shallow
water. Like the reed-grass the trampled weeds had prevented any
footprints in the ooze. They traced the course the creature had come
out for fully thirty yards, and the track pointed straight to the shore
of the mainland so that it seemed as if it started at no great distance
from where they used to land.
But when they had thrust the raft as far as this, not without great
difficulty, for it dragged heavily on the weeds and sometimes on the
ground, the marks changed and trended southwards. The water was a
little deeper and the signs became less and less obvious, but still
there they were, and they now pointed directly south. They lost them at
the edge of the weeds, the water was still shallow, but the character of
the bottom had changed from ooze to hard rock-like sand. Here they met
the waves driven before the southerly wind, and coming from that part of
the New Sea they had not yet explored. The wind was strong enough to
make it hard work to pole the raft against it, and the spray dashed
against the willow bulwark.
These waves prevented them from clearly distinguishing the bottom,
though the water was very shallow, but then they thought if it had been
calm the creature’s pads would have left no marks on such hard sand. It
was now more than an hour after sunset, and the louring clouds rendered
it more dusky than usual so soon. The creature had evidently come from
the jungle southwards, but it was not possible to go there that night in
the face of the rising gale. The search must be suspended till morning.
Letting the raft drive before the wind, and assisting its progress by
poling, they managed to get it by sheer force through the weeds into the
clear deep water by the cliff, there they paddled it round, but unable
to touch bottom, the waves drifted them over to Serendib. With
continual labour they poled it along the shore of Serendib, nearly to
the end of the island, and then half-way across, and paddling hard with
the poles contrived to get over aslant. By the time they had moored it,
it was quite dusk, and they were tired with the exertion of forcing the
unwieldy craft in the face of the gale.
Hastening home they found the stockade just as it had been left, and
lost not a moment in lighting the fires, one on each side of the hut,
the wood for which had already been collected. The gate was padlocked,
the kettle put on, and they sat down to rest. A good supper and strong
tea restored their strength. They sat inside the cage at the table, and
needed no lantern, for the light of the two fires lit up the interior of
the stockade.
As it became later the hare and the birds were fastened to the stake for
a bait, more wood was heaped on the fires, and last of all the remaining
poles were lashed to the uprights of the shed, forming a complete cage
with horizontal bars. The matchlock was placed handy, the bow and
arrows laid ready, and both axes, so that if the beast inserted his paw
they could strike it.
Cards were then drawn to see who should go to sleep first, and as Bevis
cut highest, he went into the hut to lie down. But after he had been
there about a quarter of an hour he jumped up, quite unable to go to
sleep. Mark said he did not feel the least sleepy either, so they
agreed that both should sit up. Till now they had been in the outer
shed or cage, but Mark thought that perhaps the creature would not come
if it saw them, so they went inside the hut, and made Pan come too. The
curtain was partly let down and looped aside, so that they had a view of
the stockade, and the lantern lit and set in the niche.
They could hear the wind rushing over the trees outside, and every now
and then a puff entered and made the lantern flicker. The fires still
burned brightly, and as nothing came the time passed slowly. Bevis did
not care to write up his journal, so at last they fell back on their
cards and played bezique on the bed. After a time this too wearied.
The tea and supper had refreshed them; but both had worked very hard
that day--a long day too, as they had been up so early--and their
interest began to flag. The cards were put down and they stood up to
recover their wakefulness, and then went out into the cage.
The fires still flickered, though the piles of wood were burnt through,
and the sticks had fallen off, half one side half the other. The wind
had risen and howled along, carrying with it a few leaves which blew
against the bars. It was perfectly dark, for the thick clouds hid the
moon, and drops of rain were borne on the gale. They would have liked
to replenish the fires, but could not get out without unlashing several
of the bars, and as Mark said the creature would be more likely to come
as the fires burned low. Weary and yawning they went back into the hut
and sat down once more.
“One thing,” said Mark, “suppose he were to stay just outside the
stockade--I mean if he comes and we shoot and hit him till he is savage,
and don’t kill him, well then if he can’t get in to us, don’t you see,
when it is day he’ll go outside the stockade and lie down.”
“So that we can’t go out.”
“And there he’ll stay, and wait, and wait.”
“And stay till we are starved.”
“We could not shoot him through the stockade.”
“No. Or he could go up on the cliff and watch there and never let us
out. Our provisions would not last for ever.”
“The water would go first.”
“Suppose he does that, what shall we do then?” said Mark.
“I don’t know,” said Bevis languidly.
“But, now you think.”
“Bore a tunnel through the cliff to the sea,” said Bevis, yawning. “I
am so sleepy, and one get out and swim round and fetch the raft.”
“Tunnel from the cave right through?”
“Straight right through.”
“We shall beat him any way,” said Mark.
“Of course we shall. Wish he’d come! O!”--yawning--“Let us go to
sleep; Pan will bark.”
“Not both,” said Mark.
“Both.”
“No.”
Mark would not agree to this. In the end they cut cards again and Mark
won. He stretched himself out on the bed and asked Bevis what he was
going to do. Bevis took one of the great-coats (his pillow), placed it
on the floor by the other wall of the hut, sat down and leaned back
against the wall. In this position, with the curtain looped up, he
could see straight out across to the gateway of the stockade, which was
visible whenever the embers of the fires sent up a flash of light. Pan
was close by curled up comfortably. He put the matchlock by his side so
that he could snatch it up in a moment. “Good-night,” he said; Mark was
already firm asleep.
Bevis put out his hand and stroked Pan; the spaniel recognised the touch
in his sleep, and never moved. Now that it was so still, and there was
no talking, Bevis could hear the sound of the wind much plainer, and
once the cry of a heron rising harsh above the roar. Sometimes the
interior of the stockade seemed calm, the wind blew over from the tops
of the trees to the top of the cliff, and left the hollow below in
perfect stillness. Suddenly, like a genie, the wind descended, and the
flames leapt up on each side from the embers. In a moment the flames
fell and the enclosure without was in darkness.
All was still again except the distant roar in the wood. A fly kept
awake by the lantern crawled along under the roof, became entangled in a
spider’s web and buzzed. The buzz seemed quite loud in the silent hut.
Pan sighed in his slumber. Bevis stretched his legs and fell asleep,
but a gnat alighted on his face and tickled him. He awoke, shook
himself, and reproached himself for neglecting his duty. The match of
the matchlock had now burned almost away; he drew the last two inches up
farther in the spiral of the hammer, and thought that he would get up in
a minute and put some more match in. Ten seconds later and he was
asleep; this time firmly.
The last two inches of the match smouldered away, leaving the gun
useless till another was lit and inserted. Down came the genie of the
wind, whirling up the grey ashes of the fires and waking a feebler
response. The candle in the lantern guttered and went out. As the dawn
drew on above them the clouds became visible, and they were now
travelling from the north-north-west, the wind having veered during the
night.
A grey light came into the hut. The strong gusts of the gale ceased,
and instead a light steady breeze blew. The clouds broke and the sky
showed. A crow came and perched on the stockade, then flew down and
picked up several fragments; it was the crow that had pecked the jack’s
head. He meditated an attack on the hare and the birds strung to the
stake, when Pan woke, yawned and stretched himself. Instantly the crow
flew off.
Sunbeams fell aslant through the horizontal bars on to the table. Pan
got up and went as far as the short cord allowed him; there was a crust
under the table; he had disdained it last night at supper, when there
was meat to be had, now he ate it. He gave a kind of yawning whine, as
much as to say, “Do wake up;” but they were sleeping far too sound to
hear him.
Mark woke first, and sat up. Bevis had slept a long time with his back
to the wall, but had afterwards gently sunk down, and was now lying with
his head on the bare ground of the floor. Mark laughed. Pan wagged his
tail and looked at Bevis as if he understood it. Mark touched Bevis,
and he instantly sat up, and felt for the gun as if it was dark.
“Why!”
“It’s morning.”
“He hasn’t been?”
“No.”
They unlashed the bars, let Pan loose, and went out into the courtyard.
It was a beautiful fresh morning. There were no signs whatever of the
creature having visited the place, neither outside nor in. They were
much disappointed that it had not come, but supposed the wind and the
roughness of the waves had deterred it from venturing across.
After breakfast, on looking at the sun-dial, they were surprised to find
it ten o’clock. Then taking the matchlock, bow, and axe, as before,
they started for the bed of reed-grass, thinking that the creature might
possibly have come to the island without approaching the stockade. The
danger had now grown familiar, and they did not care in the least; they
walked straight to the place without delay or reconnoitring. The trail
had not apparently been used during the night, a small branch of ash had
been snapped off and blown on to it, and the waves and wind had smoothed
away the disturbed appearance of the weeds.
As the wind was favourable and not rough, they at once resolved to sail
to the south and examine the shore there, and if they could hit upon the
trail to follow it up. But first they must have their bath at Pearl
Island. They returned to the hut, put the hare and birds that had been
hung on the stake inside the hut, and lashed up the bars, determined
that the creature at all events should not have the game in their
absence.
Then locking the gate of the stockade, they went to the raft, and bathed
at Pearl Island. The mast was then stepped, the stays fastened, and the
sail set. Bevis took the rudder and put it in the water over the
starboard quarter, it was like a long, broad oar, the sail filled, and
the heavy craft began to drive before the wind. Mark knelt in front to
keep a sharp look-out for the shoals which they knew existed. As the
Calypso drew so little water they passed over several without touching,
where the Pinta, deep with ballast, had struck, and were soon past the
farthest point they had reached in the boat.
Volume Three, Chapter XIII.