Ben was now sorry he had not brought a bullet with him, or, at all
events, some slugs. Larger shot he could not have brought, as there was
none on board the barque. But, indeed, in starting out our ambition had
not soared so high; neither my companion nor I had anticipated meeting
such fine game as a herd of antelopes, and we had prepared ourselves
just as we should have done for a day's fowling about the downs of
Portsmouth. Birds we expected would be the principal game to be met
with, and, therefore, birds, and small ones only, had anything to fear
from us. It is not likely that Ben would have shot the vulture had he
not crept so near; and then, even the small shot, projected so
powerfully by the huge piece, had penetrated its body and killed it.
We therefore greatly regretted not having provided ourselves with
"slugs," or a bullet or two, out of which we could easily have made
them.
Regrets were to no purpose, however. We were too far from the barque to
go back for them. It would be no joke walking so far in the great heat
that there was--besides, by going directly back we should have to pass
once more through the palm-wood, and this we had determined to avoid by
going round it on our return. No; we could not think of taking the
backtrack just then. We must do the best we could without the slugs,
and, so resolving, Ben once more loaded "Queen Anne" with the
snipe-shot, and we marched on.
We had not gone very far when a singular sort of a tree drew our
attention. It stood all alone, though there were others of a similar
kind at no great distance. The others, however, were much smaller, and
it was the largest that had drawn our attention. Indeed, though the
smaller trees bore a general resemblance to this one--so that you could
tell they were of the very same kind--yet they differed very
considerably from it, both in form and aspect; and, but for the
peculiarity of the leaves, one might have taken them for trees of
altogether distinct species. The leaves of both, however, were exactly
alike, and from this and other indications it was evident that both were
trees of the same kind, only that a difference of age had created a
difference in their aspect--as great as would be between a chubby,
rosy-cheeked child and a wrinkled old man of eighty. The small trees,
and consequently the younger ones, rose upon a straight, round stem,
only a few feet in height. Each was about the height of a full-grown
man, while the stem itself, or trunk as it should more properly be
called, was full as thick as a stout man's body; and what was curious in
a tree, it was even thicker at the top than at the base, as if it had
been taken out of the ground and re-planted wrong end upwards! Upon
this clumsy-looking trunk there was not a single branch--not even a
twig, but just upon its top grew out a vast tuft of long, straight
spikes that resembled broad-sword blades, only that they were of a green
colour. They pointed in every direction, radiating from a common
centre, so as to form a large head somewhat roundish, or globe-shaped.
Any one who has seen an aloe or a yucca-plant will be able to form some
idea of the foliage of the singular tree upon which my companion and I
stood gazing in wonderment. The leaves were more like those of the
yucca than the aloe--indeed, so like the yucca was the whole tree, that,
from what I afterwards saw of yucca-trees in Mexico and South America, I
am convinced that these are very near the same kind--that is, they were
of the same habit and family, though, as I also learned afterwards,
esteemed different by botanists.
Then I had never seen a yucca, much less a tree of the kind we were
gazing at; of course I could only guess at what they might be.
Ben thought they were palms; but Ben was wrong again, for he was no
great discriminator of genus or species. His opinion was based upon the
general aspect which the trees--that is, the smaller ones--presented.
Certainly, with their single, regularly rounded stem, crowned by the
radiating circle of leaves, they had something of the peculiar look of
palm-trees, and a person entirely ignorant of botany, who had never seen
one of the sort before, would, in all likelihood, have pronounced as my
companion had done, and called them palms. In the eyes of a jolly-tar,
all trees that have this radiating foliage, such as aloes, and yucca,
and the zamias of South Africa, are palm-trees; therefore it was natural
for Ben to call the trees in question by this name. Of course he saw
they were different from the oil-palms among which he had been
wandering; but Ben knew there were several sorts of palm-trees, although
he would not have believed it had he been told there were a thousand. I
should have been compelled to agree with Ben, and believe these strange
trees to be veritable palms--for I was no more of a botanist than he--
but, odd as it may appear, I was able to tell that they were not palms;
and, more than that, able to tell what sort of trees they actually were.
This knowledge I derived from a somewhat singular circumstance, which I
shall relate.
Among the small collection of my boy books there had been one that
treated of the "Wonders of Nature." It had been my favourite, and I had
read it through and through and over and over again a dozen times, I am
sure. Among these "wonders" figured a remarkable tree, which was said
to grow in the Canary Islands, and was know as the "dragon-tree of
Oritava." It was described by the celebrated traveller, Humboldt, who
measured it, and found its trunk to be forty-five feet in girth, and the
tree itself about fifty in height. It was said to yield, when cut or
tapped, a red juice resembling blood, and to which the name of
"dragons'-blood" has been given; hence the tree itself is called the
"dragon-tree," or, sometimes the "dragons'-blood tree"--though it is to
be observed, that several other kinds of trees that give out a red juice
are also known by this name. The trunk of this tree, said the
traveller, rose almost of equal thickness to the height of twenty feet,
when it divided into a great number of short, thick branches, that
separated from the main stem like the branches of a candelabrum, and
upon the end of each of these was a thick tuft of the stiff,
sword-shaped leaves--the same as I have above described. Out of the
midst of these leaves grew the pannicles, or flower-spikes, and the
bunches of small, nut-like fruit.
Now the strangest part of Humboldt's account was, that this individual
tree was known to the Spaniards on their first discovery of the Canary
Islands--more than four centuries ago--and that from that time to the
present it has increased scarcely perceptibly in dimensions. Hence the
great traveller infers that it must be one of the oldest trees in the
world--perhaps as old as the earth itself!
Now all this account except the last part of it--which of course is only
a philosophic conjecture--I believe to be true, for I have myself
visited the Canaries and looked upon this vegetable wonder, which is
still standing near the town of Oritava, in the island of Teneriffe.
Unfortunately, since Humboldt's visit, the tree, instead of increasing
in dimensions, has become less. During a storm, in the month of July,
1819, one half of its enormous crown was broken off by the wind, but the
tree still continues to grow; and, as it is a great favourite of the
inhabitants, the wound has been plastered up, and the date of the
misfortune inscribed over the spot.
No doubt the great care taken of this venerable vegetable will ensure
its surviving for another century at least.
Now you will be wondering what all this after-knowledge about the
dragon-tree of Oritava has to do with Ben Brace, myself, or the trees
that had fixed our attention on the plain. I shall tell you then what
it has to do with us. In the book of which I have spoken there was a
picture given of the Oritava tree. It was but a rude affair--a common
woodcut--but for all that it gave a very good idea of the aspect of the
great vegetable; and I well remember every leaf and branch of it--so
well that, when I afterwards saw the tree itself, I recognised it at
once. But what was still more singular: as soon as I set my eyes upon
the large tree that had brought my companion and myself to a stand, the
old picture came vividly before my mind, and I was convinced that it was
a tree of the same sort as that described in my book. Yes; there was
the thick, stout trunk, all gnarled and knotted with the marks of where
the leaves had once grown--there were the short, clublike branches,
separating from each other at the head--at the blunt ends of each were
the fascicles of bayonet-shaped leaves, and the pannicles of
greenish-white flowers--all exactly as in the picture! I was convinced
that the venerable vegetable before us was no palm, but a true
dragon-tree; perhaps as old as that of Oritava.