That he did not sleep soundly may be attributed solely to his anxieties
about the morrow: for the night was mild throughout, and the composition
of his improvised couch kept him sufficiently warm. His cares, however,
had rendered his spirit restless. They were vivid enough to act even
upon his dreams--which several times during the night awoke him, and
again, finally, just after the break of day.
This time, on opening his eyes, he perceived that the glade was filled
with soft blue light; and the quivering fronds of the cabbage-palm--just
visible from where he lay--had caught the first trembling rays of the
sun.
Only there, and among the summit-branches of the _ceiba_, far
overtopping the _spray_ of the surrounding forest, was the sun yet
visible. Everything else was tinted with the blue grey of the morning
twilight.
He could sleep no longer; and rose from his forest lair, intending to
make an immediate departure from the spot.
He had no toilet to trouble him--nothing to do, further than brush off
the silken floss of the tree-cotton, shoulder his gun, and go.
He felt hunger, even more than on the preceding night; and, although the
raw mountain-cabbage offered no very tempting _dejeuner_, he determined
before starting, to make another meal upon it--remembering, and very
wisely acting upon, the adage of "a bird in the hand."
There was plenty left from the supper to serve him for breakfast; and,
once more making a vigorous onslaught on the _chou de palmiste_, he
succeeded in appeasing his hunger.
But another appetite, far more unpleasant to bear, now assailed him. In
truth, it had assailed him long before, but had been gradually growing
stronger; until it was now almost unendurable.
It was the kindred appetite, thirst; which the cabbage-palm, instead of
relieving, had, from a certain acridity in its juice, only sharpened--
till the pain amounted almost to torture.
The sufferer would have struck off into the woods in search of water.
He had seen none in his wanderings; still he had hopes of being able to
find the river. He would have started at once, but for an idea he had
conceived that there was water near the spot where he had slept.
Where? He had observed neither stream nor spring, pond nor river; and
yet he fancied he had seen water--in fact, he felt sure of it!
In a very singular situation he had seen it--so thought he at the time--
since it was over his head in the cotton-tree!
On the previous evening, while upon the crown of the cabbage-palm, he
had glanced slantingly across, among the branches of the _ceiba_. This,
as with all great trees in the tropical forests, was loaded with
parasites--_vriesias_, long ragged-looking cacti, bromelias, epiphytical
orchids, and the like. _Tillandsias_ too, of the kind known as "wild
pines," grew in the forks, or on the upper surface of the great limbs,
flourishing as luxuriantly as if their roots rested in the richest soil.
Among them was conspicuous the most magnificent of the genus, the noble
_Tillandsia lingulata_, with its spike of gorgeous crimson flowers
projecting from the midst of its broad sheathing leaves. It was in the
concavities of these huge leaves that Herbert had observed something
which did not belong to the plant--something he believed to be _water_.
It would cost but a few seconds' time to confirm or refute this belief--
a climb among the branches of the _ceiba_. Another huge parasite, from
the same root as the former, trended tortuously up to the limbs of the
silk-cotton-tree--here and there touching and twisting around them. Its
diagonal direction rendered it easy of ascent; and Herbert, impelled by
his desire to drink, commenced climbing it.
Ere long, he had succeeded in reaching a main fork of the _ceiba_, where
nestled one of the largest of the wild pines.
He had not been deceived. In a hollow formed by one of its huge
ventricose leaves was the natural reservoir he had noticed--the
gathering of dew and rain, which the rays of the sun could never reach.
At his approach, the green _hyla_ sprang out from this aerial pool; and
leaping, frog-like, from leaf to leaf--guarded against falling by the
clammy sponge-disks of its feet--soon disappeared amid the foliage. It
was this singular creature whose voice Herbert had been hearing
throughout the livelong night; and which, in constant chorus with others
of its kind, had recalled to his memory the groaning and working of the
_Sea Nymph_ in a storm.
The presence of the tree-toad in this its natural haunt, did not deter
the young man from drinking. Raging thirst has no scruples; and,
bending over one of the leaves of the _tillandsia_, he placed his lips
to the cool water, and freely quaffed it.
The labour of scrambling up the _lliana_ had taken away his breath, and
to some extent fatigued him. Instead, therefore, of descending at
once--which he knew would cost him an effort equal to that of the
ascent--he determined to rest for a few minutes upon the large limb of
the _ceiba_ on which he had seated himself.
"Well!" muttered he, in satisfied soliloquy, "if the people of this
island have proved inhospitable, I can't say the same of its trees.
Here are two of them--almost the first I have encountered. They have
yielded me the three necessaries of life--meat, drink, and lodging--
lodging, too, with an excellent bed, a thing not so common in many a
human hostelry. What more is wanted? Under such a sky as this, who
need care to have walls around, or a roof over him? Verily, to sleep
here, _sub Jove_, is rather a luxury than an inconvenience! And,
verily," continued he, "were it not that I should feel rather lonely,
and that man is designed to be a social animal, I might pass my whole
life in these glorious woods, without work or care of any kind. No
doubt there is game; and I was told at home there are no game laws--so I
might poach at pleasure. Ha! game? What do I see? A deer? No! a hog!
Yes, hog it is; but such a singular fellow--prick ears, red bristles,
long legs, and tusks. A boar! and why not a wild boar?"
There was no reason why it should not be, since it _was_ one--a wild
boar of the Jamaica forest--a true descendant of the Canarian hog,
transported thither by the Spaniards.
The young Englishman, never having seen a wild boar in its native
haunts, put the question conjecturally; but a moment's observation of
the animal convinced him that his conjecture was correct. The short
upright ears, the long head, hams, and legs, the shaggy neck and
frontlet, the foxy red colour, the quick short step as it moved onward--
all these _points_, combined with a certain savage air which Herbert
noticed at a glance, satisfied him that the animal under his eyes was
not one of the domestic breed, but a genuine wild hog of the woods. The
grunt, too, which the creature uttered as it moved across the glade--
short, sharp and fierce--had but slight resemblance to the squeaking
sounds of the farm-yard. A wild boar beyond a doubt!
On perceiving this noble head of game, and so near him, Herbert's first
reflection was one of extreme regret. How unlucky that he should be up
in the tree, with his gun upon the ground!
It was very tantalising; but the young man saw it would be impossible to
get possession of his gun without giving the alarm. To attempt
descending from the tree, or even make a movement upon the branch, would
be sufficient to send the boar scampering from the spot: of course never
to be seen more.
Conscious of this, Herbert preferred remaining upon his perch--the
silent spectator of a scene of wild Nature, to which chance had so oddly
introduced him.
Volume One, Chapter XXIV.