recumbent position. It was that to which they had been too long
constrained while in the boat, and it felt irksome; moreover, the
oyster, wonderfully restoring their strength, had brought back their
wonted juvenile vigour, so that they felt inclined for moving about a
bit. For a time they indulged this inclination by walking to and fro
around the trunk of the tree.
Soon, however, weariness once more came upon them, and they desired to
have a seat. Squatting upon the ground is an attitude only easy to
savages, and always irksome to those accustomed to habits of civilised
life, and to sitting upon chairs. They looked about for something upon
which they might sit but nothing appeared suitable. There were neither
logs nor large stones; for the beach, as well as the adjacent shore, was
composed of fine drift sand, and no trees seemed to have fallen near the
spot.
"I have it!" exclaimed Henry, after puzzling his brains a bit, his eye
guiding him to a settlement of the difficulty. "The shells--the big
oyster shells--the very things for us to sit upon, sister Nell."
As he spoke, he stooped down and commenced turning over one of the
shells of the immense bivalve--both of which had been hitherto lying
with their concave side uppermost. It was nigh as much as the boy,
still weak, could do to roll it over, though Helen, seeing the
difficulty, laid hold with her little hands and assisted him.
Both the huge "cockles" were speedily capsized; and their convex
surfaces rising nearly a foot above the level of the ground, gave the
young people an excellent opportunity of getting seated.
Both sat down--each upon a shell--laughing at the odd kind of stools
thus conveniently provided for them.
They had not been long in their sedentary attitude, when a circumstance
occurred which told them how unsafe a position they had chosen. They
were conversing without fear, when Henry all at once felt something
strike him on the arm, and then, with a loud crash, drop down upon the
shell close under his elbow, chipping a large piece out of it.
His first impression was that some one had thrown a stone at him. It
had hit him on the arm, just creasing it; but on looking at the place
where he had been hit, he saw that the sleeve of his jacket was split,
or rather torn, from shoulder to elbow, as if a sharp-tooth curry-comb
had been drawn violently along it. He felt pain, moreover, and saw
blood upon his shirt underneath!
He looked quickly around to ascertain who had thus rudely assailed him--
anxiously, too, for he was in some dread of seeing a savage spring from
the bushes close by. On turning, he at once beheld the missile that had
rent his jacket-sleeve lying on the sand beside him. It was no stone,
but a round or slightly oval-shaped ball, as big as a ten-pound shot, of
a deep-green colour, and covered all over with spurs like the skin of a
hedgehog!
He at once saw that it had not been thrown at him by any person; for,
with the sharp, prickly protuberances thickly set all over it, no one
could have laid hand upon it. Clearly it had fallen from the tree
overhead. Helen had perceived this sooner than he; for sitting a little
way off, she had seen the huge ball drop in a perpendicular direction--
though it had descended with the velocity of lightning.
Beyond doubt, it was some fruit or nut, from the tree under which they
were seated. From the way in which the jacket-sleeve had suffered, as
well as the skin underneath--to say nothing of the piece chipped out of
the shell--it was evident, that had the ponderous pericarp fallen upon
Henry's skull, it would have crushed it as a bullet would the shell of
an egg.
Young as the two were, they were not so simple as to stay in that spot
an instant longer. On the tree that could send down such a dangerous
missile there might be many more--equally ready to rain upon them--and
with this apprehension both sprang simultaneously to their feet, and
rushed out into the open ground, not stopping till they believed
themselves quite clear of the overshadowing branches that so ill
protected them. They looked back at the seats they had so abruptly
vacated, and the green globe lying beside them, and then up to the tree;
where they could see other similar large globes, only at such a vast
height looking no bigger than peaches or apricots.
They did not dare to venture back to their seats, nor, although tempted
by a strong curiosity to examine it, to approach the fallen fruit. In
fact, the arm of Henry was badly lacerated; and his little sister, on
seeing the blood upon his shirt sleeve, uttered an alarm that brought
first Saloo, and then the others, affrighted to the spot.
"What is it?" were the interrogations of the two white men, as they came
hurrying up, while the impressive Malay put none--at once comprehending
the cause of the alarm. He saw the scratched arm, and the huge green
globe lying upon the ground.
"_Dulion_!" he said, glancing up to the tree.
"Durion!" echoed the captain, pronouncing the word properly, as
translated from Saloo's pigeon English.
"Yes, cappen; foolee me no think of him befole. Belly big danger. It
fallee on skull, skull go clashee clashee."
This was evident without Saloo's explanation. The lacerated arm and
broken shell were evidences enough of the terrible effects that would
have been produced had the grand pericarp in its downward descent fallen
upon the heads of either of the children, and they all saw what a narrow
escape Henry had of getting his "cocoa-nut" crushed or split open.
CHAPTER EIGHT.
SHOOTING AT FRUIT.
As soon as the three men had got well up to the ground and ascertained
the cause of Helen's alarm, and the damage done to Henry's jacket and
skin, Murtagh was the first to make a demonstration. He did so by
running in under the tree, and stooping to lay hold of the fruit that
had caused the misfortune. Saloo saw him do this without giving a word
of warning. He was, perhaps, a little piqued that the Irishman should
make himself so conspicuous about things he could not possibly be
supposed to understand, and which to the Malay himself were matters of
an almost special knowledge. There was a twinkle of mischief in his eye
as he contemplated the meddling of Murtagh, and waited for the
_denouement_.
The latter, rashly grasping the spiny fruit, did not get it six inches
above the ground, before he let go again, as if it had been the hottest
of hot "purtatees."
"Och, and what have I done now!" he cried, "I'm jagged all over. There
isn't a smooth spot upon it--not so much as a shank to take howlt of!"
"You takee care, Multa," cautioned Saloo. "You lookee aloff. May be
you get jagee in de skull!"
Murtagh took the hint, and, giving one glance upward, ran back with a
roar from under the shadow of the tree.
The Malay, seemingly satisfied with his triumph, now glided underneath
the durion, and keeping his eye turned upward, as if intently watching
something, he struck the fruit with the piece of pointed stick which he
had been using in the search after Singapore oysters, and sent it
spinning out upon the open sand beach. Then following, he took out his
knife, and inserting the blade among its thickly set spines, cleft it
open, displaying the pulp inside.
There was enough to give each person a taste of this most luscious of
fruits, and make them desirous of more; even had they not been hungry.
But the appetites of all were now keen, and neither the chase nor the
fishery had produced a single thing to satisfy them. All three had
returned empty-handed. There were many more nuts on the durion-tree.
They could see scores of the prickly pericarps hanging overhead, but so
high as to make the obtaining of them apparently impossible. They were
as far away as the grapes from the fox of the fable.
The stem of the tree rose over seventy feet before throwing out a single
branch. It was smooth, moreover, offering neither knot nor excrescence
for a foothold. For all this Saloo could have climbed it, had he been
in proper strength and condition. But he was not so. He was still weak
from the effects of his suffering at sea.
Something more must be had to eat--whether game, fish or shell-fish.
The one great oyster appeared to be a stray. Saloo had begun to despair
of being able to find another. The fruit of the durion proved not only
pleasant eating, but exceedingly nutritious. It would sustain them,
could they only get enough of it. How was this to be obtained?
For a time they stood considering; when Captain Redwood became impressed
with an original idea.
In addition to his own rifle, a large ship's musket had been put into
the pinnace. He thought of chain-shot, and its effects; and it occurred
to him that by this means the durions might be brought down from their
lofty elevation.
No sooner conceived than carried into execution. The musket was loaded
with a brace of balls united by a piece of stout tarred string. A shot
was fired into the tree, aimed at a place where the fruit appeared
thickest. There was havoc made among the adjacent leaves; and five or
six of the great pericarps came crashing to the earth. A repetition of
the firing brought down nearly a dozen, enough to furnish the whole
party with food for at least another twenty-four hours.
Having collected the fallen pericarps, they carried them to another tree
that stood near, amid whose leafy branches appeared to be no fruits
either so sweet to the lips or dangerous to the skull.
Thither also they transferred their quarters, along with the
paraphernalia brought up from the boat, intending to make a more
permanent encampment under the newly chosen tree.
For the time they kindled no fire, as the weather was warm enough, and
the durions did not require cooking; and while making their mid-day meal
of the raw fruit, Saloo interested them by relating some particulars of
the tree from which it had been obtained.
We shall not follow the Malay's exact words, for, as spoken in "pigeon
English," they would scarce be understood; but shall lay before our
readers some account of this strange and valuable fruit-tree, culled
partly from Saloo's description and partly from other sources.
The durion is a forest tree of the loftiest order, bearing resemblance
to the elm, only with a smooth bark, which is also scaly. It is found
growing throughout most of the islands of the Indian Archipelago; and,
like the mangosteen, does not thrive well in any other part of the
world. This is perhaps the reason its fruit is so little known
elsewhere, as when ripe it will not bear transportation to a great
distance. The fruit is nearly globe-shaped, though a little oval, and
in size equals the largest cocoa-nut.
As the reader already knows, it is of a green colour, and covered with
short stout spines, very sharp-pointed, whose bases touch each other,
and are consequently somewhat hexagonal in shape. With this
_chevaux-de-frise_ it is so completely armed, that when the stalk is
broken close off it is impossible to take up the fruit without having
one's fingers badly pricked. The outer rind is so tough and strong,
that no matter from what height the fruit falls it is never crushed or
broken. From the base of the fruit to its apex, five faint lines may be
traced running among the spines. These form the divisions of the
carpels where the fruit can be cut open with a sharp knife, though
requiring a considerable exertion of strength. The five cells found
within are of a silken white colour, each filled with an oval-shaped
mass of cream-coloured pulp containing several seeds of the size of
chestnuts. The pulp forms the edible portion of the fruit, and its
consistence and flavour are both difficult to be described. Mr
Wallace, the celebrated hunter naturalist, thus quaintly describes it:--
"A rich, butter-like custard, highly flavoured with almonds, gives the
best general idea of it; but intermingled with it come wafts of flavour
that call to mind cream-cheese, onion-sauce, brown-sherry, and other
incongruities. Then there is a rich glutinous smoothness in the pulp,
which nothing else possesses, but which adds to its delicacy. It is
neither acid, nor sweet, nor juicy; yet one feels the want of none of
these qualities, for it is perfect as it is. It produces no nausea, or
other bad effects; and the more you eat of it the less you feel inclined
to stop. In fact, to eat durions is a new sensation, worth a voyage to
the East to experience. When the fruit is ripe it falls of itself; and
the only way to eat durions to perfection is to get them as they fall,
and the smell is then less overpowering. When unripe, it makes a very
good vegetable if cooked, and it is also eaten by the Dyaks raw. In a
good fruit season large quantities are preserved salted, in jars and
bamboos, and kept the year round, when it acquires a most disgusting
odour to Europeans, but the Dyaks appreciate it highly as a relish with
their rice. There are in the forest two varieties of wild durions with
much smaller fruits, one of them orange-coloured inside. It would not
perhaps be correct to say that the durion is the best of all fruits,
because it cannot supply the place of a sub-acid juicy kind; such as the
orange, grape, mango, and mangosteen, whose refreshing and cooling
qualities are so wholesome and grateful; but as producing a food of the
most exquisite flavour, it is unsurpassed. If I had to fix on two only
as representing the perfection of the two classes, I should certainly
choose the durion and the orange as the king and queen of fruits.
"The durion is however sometimes dangerous. When the fruit begins to
ripen it falls daily and almost hourly, and accidents not unfrequently
happen to persons walking or working under the trees. When the durion
strikes a man in its fall it produces a dreadful wound, the strong
spines tearing open the flesh, whilst the blow itself is very heavy; but
from this very circumstance death rarely ensues, the copious effusion of
blood preventing the inflammation which might otherwise take place. A
Dyak chief informed me that he had been struck by a durion falling on
his head, which he thought would certainly have caused his death, yet he
recovered in a very short time."
Both the natives of the Malayan Archipelago and strangers residing there
regard the durion as superior to all other kinds of fruit--in short, the
finest in the world. The old traveller, Luischott, writing of it as
early as 1599, says that in flavour it surpasses all other fruits.
While another old traveller, Doctor Paludanus, thus speaks of it: "This
fruit is of a hot and humid nature. To those not used to it, it seems
at first to smell like rotten onions, but immediately they have tasted
it they prefer it to all other food. The natives give it honourable
titles, exalt it, and make verses on it." [Note 1.]
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Note 1. To these particulars we may add that the durion (_Durio
zibethinus_) belongs to the natural family of _Sterculiaceae_, of the
same sub-order (_Bombaceae_) as the silk-cotton tree. It grows to a
great stature; its leaves are like those of the cherry, and its pale
yellow flowers hang in large bunches. Each tree yields about two
hundred fruit in a year. The fruit contains ten to twelve seeds, as
large as pigeons' eggs, and these, when roasted, are as good as, and
taste very much like, roasted chestnuts.
CHAPTER NINE.
GAGGING A GAVIAL.
After finishing their dinner of durions, the three men again sallied
forth, to see whether something more substantial could be found for a
later repast--either flesh, fowl, or fish. As before, they went in
different directions--Captain Redwood into the forest, Murtagh up the
stream, and Saloo along the sea-beach, where he waded out into the
water, still in the hope of picking up another large oyster. He took
with him a stalk of bamboo, pointed at one end, to be used as a probe in
the soft bottom in case any oysters might be lying _perdu_ beneath the
sand.
Henry and Helen were again left to themselves, but this time they were
not to remain seated under any tree--at least, not all the time. The
father, before leaving, had enjoined upon both of them to take a bath;
ablution having become very necessary on account of their having been so
long cribbed up in the somewhat dirty pinnace. It would be also of
service in promoting their restoration to health and strength. They
went into the water, not together, but at some distance apart--Henry
choosing to go down to the sea, while Helen entered the stream close by,
as it had clear water with a smooth, sandy bed; besides, she thought it
was safer, being free from surf or currents.
It was only safer in appearance, as the sequel proved; for the hunters
and fisherman had scarce scattered off out of hearing, when a cry broke
upon the still air of noon that startled the bright-winged birds of the
Bornean forest, and stopped their songs as quickly as would have done a
shot from Captain Redwood's rifle. It was heard by the captain himself,
strolling among the tree trunks, and looking aloft for game; by Murtagh
on the river bank, endeavouring to beguile the sly fish to his baited
hook; by Saloo, wading knee-deep in search of Singapore oysters; and by
Henry swimming about upon the buoyant incoming tide. More distinctly
than all the rest, the little Helen heard it--since it was she who gave
it utterance.
It was a cry of distress, and brought all the others together, and
running toward the point whence it came. There was no difficulty about
their knowing the direction, for one and all recognised Helen's voice,
and knew where she had been left.
In less than sixty seconds' time they stood together upon the bank of
the stream, on the same spot from which they had parted; and there
beheld a spectacle that thrilled them with fear, and filled them with
horror.
The girl, finding it not deep enough by the edge of the stream--at this
point nearly a hundred yards in width--had waded midway across, where it
came quite up to her neck; and there she stood, her head alone showing
above the surface. Beyond her, and coming from the opposite side,
showed another head, so hideous it was no wonder that, on first
perceiving it, she had given way to affright, and voice to her terror.
It was the head of an enormous reptile, of lizard shape, that had
crawled out from a reedy covert on the opposite side of the river, and
having silently let itself down into the water, was now swimming toward
the terrified bather. There could be no mistaking the monster's intent,
for it was coming straight toward its victim.
"_A gavial_!" cried Saloo, as his eyes rested on the body of the huge
saurian, full twenty feet in length, with its head over a yard long, and
jaws nearly the same, the upper one surmounted by a long knob-like
protuberance, that distinguishes it from all other reptiles.
"A gavial!" echoed the others, though not inquiringly; for they knew too
well both the shape and character of the creature that was crossing the
river.
As all four first reached the bank--arriving nearly at the same instant
of time--there were about twenty yards between the hideous saurian and
her who seemed destined to destruction. On first perceiving her danger,
the girl had made a few plunges to get back to the bank; but, hindered
by the depth to which she had unwarily waded, and overcome by terror,
she had desisted from the attempt; and now stood neck-deep, giving
utterance to cries of despair.
What was to be done? In less than a minute more the jaws of the saurian
would close upon her crashing her fair, tender form between its teeth as
though she were only some ordinary prey--a fish, or the stem of some
succulent water-plant!
Her father stood on the bank a very picture of distress. Of what use
the rifle held half-raised in his hands? Its bullet, not bigger than a
pea, would strike upon the skull of such a huge creature harmlessly, as
a drop of hail or rain. Even could he strike it in the eye--surging
through the water as it was, a thing so uncertain--that would not hinder
it from the intent so near to accomplishment. The Irishman, with only
fish-hooks in his hand, felt equally impotent; and what could the boy
Henry do, not only unarmed but undressed--in short, just as he had been
bathing--_in puris naturalibus_!
All three were willing to rush into the water, and getting between the
reptile and its victim, confront the fierce creature, even to their own
certain sacrifice.
And this, one, or other, or all of them, would have done, had they not
been prevented by Saloo. With a loud shout the Malay, hitherto
apparently impassive, called upon them to hold back. They obeyed,
seeing that he intended to act, and had already taken his measures for
rescuing the girl. They could not tell what these were, and only
guessed at them by what they saw in his hands. It was nothing that
could be called a weapon--only a piece of bamboo, pointed at one end,
which he had taken from among the embers of last night's fire and
sharpened with his knife, when he went off in search of the Singapore
oysters. It was the same stick he had been using to probe for them
under the sand. On seeing the gavial as it started toward the girl, he
had quickly drawn out his knife, and sharpened the other end of the
stake while coming across the beach.
With this sorry apology for a weapon, and while they were still
wondering, he dashed into the stream; and almost before any of the
others had recovered from their first surprise, they saw him plunge past
the spot where stood the affrighted girl. In another instant his black
head, with the long dark hair trailing behind it, appeared in close
juxtaposition to the opened jaws of the reptile. Then the head was seen
suddenly to duck beneath the surface, while at the same time a
brown-skinned arm and hand rose above it with a pointed stake in its
grasp--like the emblematic representation seen upon some ancient crest.
Then was seen an adroit turning of the stick, so quick as to be scarce
perceptible--immediately followed by a backward spring upon the part of
the lizard, with a series of writhings and contortions, in which both
its body and tail took part, till the water around it was lashed into
foam.
In the midst of this commotion, the head of the Malay once more appeared
above the surface, close to that of the girl; who, under the guidance of
her strangely-skilled and truly courageous rescuer, was conducted to the
bank, and delivered safe into her father's arms; stretched open to
embrace her.
It was some time, however, before the stream recovered its wonted
tranquillity. For nearly half an hour the struggles of the great
saurian continued, its tail lashing the water into foam, as through its
gagged jaws a stream rushed constantly down its throat, causing
suffocation. But, in spite of its amphibious nature, drowning was
inevitable; and soon after became an accomplished fact--the huge
reptilian carcass drifting down stream, towards the all-absorbing ocean,
to become food for sharks, or some other marine monster more hideous and
ravenous than itself.
If, indeed, a more hideous and ravenous monster is to be found! It is
sometimes called the Gangetic crocodile, but it is even uglier than
either crocodile or alligator, and differs from both in several
important particulars.
As, for instance, in its mouth--its jaws being curiously straight, long,
and narrow; and in the shape of its head, which has straight
perpendicular sides, and a quadrilateral upper surface. It has double,
or nearly double, the number [Note 1.] of the teeth of the crocodile of
the Nile, though the latter is well enough supplied with these potent
implements of destruction!
It is an amphibious animal, and fond of the water, in which its webbed
hind feet enable it to move with considerable celerity.
The huge reptile which threatened Helen's safety was twenty feet in
length, but the gavial sometimes attains the extraordinary dimensions of
eight to nine yards.
Sincere was the gratitude of Captain Redwood for the address and courage
displayed by the Malay in rescuing his daughter, and his regret was
great that he had no means of rewarding his faithful follower.
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