MARTIN AND BARNEY GET LOST IN A GREAT FOREST, WHERE THEY SEE STRANGE AND
TERRIBLE THINGS.
On gaining the beach, the first thing that Barney did, after shaking
himself like a huge Newfoundland dog, was to ascertain that his pistol
and cutlass were safe; for, although the former could be of no use in
its present condition, still, as he sagaciously remarked, "it was a good
thing to have, for they might chance to git powder wan day or other, and
the flint would make fire, anyhow." Fortunately the weather was
extremely warm; so they were enabled to take off and wring their clothes
without much inconvenience, except that in a short time a few
adventurous mosquitoes--probably sea-faring ones--came down out of the
woods and attacked their bare bodies so vigorously that they were fain
to hurry on their clothes again before they were quite dry.
The clouds began to clear away soon after they landed, and the brilliant
light of the southern constellations revealed to them dimly the
appearance of the coast. It was a low sandy beach skirting the sea and
extending back for about a quarter of a mile in the form of a grassy
plain, dotted here and there with scrubby under-wood. Beyond this was a
dark line of forest. The light was not sufficient to enable them to
ascertain the appearance of the interior. Barney and Martin now cast
about in their minds how they were to spend the night.
"Ye see," said the Irishman, "it's of no use goin' to look for houses,
because there's maybe none at all on this coast; an' there's no sayin'
but we may fall in with savages--for them parts swarms with them; so
we'd better go into the woods an'--"
Barney was interrupted here by a low howl, which proceeded from the
woods referred to, and was most unlike any cry they had ever heard
before.
"Och but I'll think better of it. P'raps it'll be as well _not_ to go
into the woods, but to camp where we are."
"I think so too," said Martin, searching about for small twigs and
drift-wood with which to make a fire. "There is no saying what sort of
wild beasts may be in the forest, so we had better wait till daylight."
A fire was quickly lighted by means of the pistol-flint and a little dry
grass, which, when well bruised and put into the pan, caught a spark
after one or two attempts, and was soon blown into a flame. But no wood
large enough to keep the fire burning for any length of time could be
found; so Barney said he would go up to the forest and fetch some.
"I'll lave my shoes and socks, Martin, to dry at the fire. See ye don't
let them burn."
Traversing the meadow with hasty strides, the bold sailor quickly
reached the edge of the forest where he began to lop off several dead
branches from the trees with his cutlass. While thus engaged, the howl
which had formerly startled him was repeated. "Av I only knowed what ye
was," muttered Barney in a serious tone, "it would be some sort o'
comfort."
A loud cry of a different kind here interrupted his soliloquy, and soon
after the first cry was repeated louder than before.
Clenching his teeth and knitting his brows the perplexed Irishman
resumed his work with a desperate resolve not to be again interrupted.
But he had miscalculated the strength of his nerves. Albeit as brave a
man as ever stepped, when his enemy was before him, Barney was,
nevertheless, strongly imbued with superstitious feelings; and the
conflict between his physical courage and his mental cowardice produced
a species of wild exasperation, which, he often asserted, was very hard
to bear. Scarcely had he resumed his work when a bat of enormous size
brushed past his nose so noiselessly that it seemed more like a phantom
than a reality. Barney had never seen anything of the sort before, and
a cold perspiration broke out upon him, when he fancied it might be a
ghost. Again the bat swept past close to his eyes.
"Musha, but I'll kill ye, ghost or no ghost," he ejaculated, gazing all
round into the gloomy depths of the woods with his cutlass uplifted.
Instead of flying again in front of him, as he had expected, the bat
flew with a whirring noise past his ear. Down came the cutlass with a
sudden thwack, cutting deep into the trunk of a small tree, which
trembled under the shock and sent a shower of nuts of a large size down
upon the sailor's head. Startled as he was, he sprang backward with a
wild cry; then, half ashamed of his groundless fears, he collected the
wood he had cut, threw it hastily on his shoulder and went with a quick
step out of the woods. In doing so he put his foot upon the head of a
small snake, which wriggled up round his ankle and leg. If there was
anything on earth that Barney abhorred and dreaded it was a snake. No
sooner did he feel its cold form writhing under his foot, than he
uttered a tremendous yell of terror, dropped his bundle of sticks, and
fled precipitately to the beach, where he did not halt till he found
himself knee-deep in the sea.
"Och, Martin, boy," gasped the affrighted sailor, "it's my belafe that
all the evil spirits on arth live in yonder wood; indeed I do."
"Nonsense, Barney," said Martin, laughing; "there are no such things as
ghosts; at any rate, I'm resolved to face them, for if we don't get some
sticks the fire will go out and leave us very comfortless. Come, I'll
go up with you."
"Put on yer shoes then, avic, for the sarpints are no ghosts, anyhow,
and I'm tould they're pisonous sometimes."
They soon found the bundle of dry sticks that Barney had thrown down,
and returning with it to the beach, they speedily kindled a roaring
fire, which made them feel quite cheerful. True, they had nothing to
eat; but having had a good dinner on board the barque late that
afternoon, they were not much in want of food. While they sat thus on
the sand of the sea-shore, spreading their hands before the blaze and
talking over their strange position, a low rumbling of distant thunder
was heard. Barney's countenance instantly fell.
"What's the matter, Barney?" inquired Martin, as he observed his
companion gaze anxiously up at the sky.
"Och, it's comin', sure enough."
"And what though it does come?" returned Martin; "we can creep under one
of these thick bushes till the shower is past."
"Did ye iver see a thunder-storm in the tropics?" inquired Barney.
"No, never," replied Martin.
"Then if ye don't want to feel and see it both at wance, come with me as
quick as iver ye can."
Barney started up as he spoke, stuck his cutlass and pistol into his
belt and set off towards the woods at a sharp run, followed closely by
his wondering companion.
Their haste was by no means unnecessary. Great black clouds rushed up
towards the zenith from all points of the compass, and, just as they
reached the woods, darkness so thick that it might almost be felt
overspread the scene. Then there was a flash of lightning so vivid that
it seemed as if a bright day had been created and extinguished in a
moment leaving the darkness ten times more oppressive. It was followed
instantaneously by a crash and a prolonged rattle, that sounded as if a
universe of solid worlds were rushing into contact overhead and bursting
into atoms.
The flash was so far useful to the fugitives, that it enabled them to
observe a many-stemmed tree with dense and heavy foliage, under which
they darted. They were just in time, and had scarcely seated themselves
among its branches when the rain came down in a way, not only that
Martin had never seen, but that he had never conceived of before. It
fell, as it were, in broad heavy sheets, and its sound was a loud,
continuous roar.
The wind soon after burst upon the forest and added to the hideous
shriek of elements. The trees bent before it; the rain was whirled and
dashed about in water-spouts; and huge limbs were rent from some of the
larger trees with a crash like thunder, and swept far away into the
forest. The very earth trembled and seemed terrified at the dreadful
conflict going on above. It seemed to the two friends as if the end of
the world were come; and they could do nothing but cower among the
branches of the tree and watch the storm in silence; while they felt, in
a way they had never before experienced, how utterly helpless they were,
and unable to foresee, or avert, the many dangers by which they were
surrounded, and how absolutely dependent they were on God for
protection.
For several hours the storm continued. Then it ceased as suddenly as it
had begun, and the bright stars again shone down upon a peaceful scene.
When it was over, Martin and his comrade descended the tree and
endeavoured to find their way back to the beach. But this was no easy
matter. The haste with which they had run into the woods, and the
confusion of the storm, had made them uncertain in which direction it
lay; and the more they tried to get out, the deeper they penetrated into
the forest. At length, wearied with fruitless wandering and stumbling
about in the dark, they resolved to spend the night where they were.
Coming to a place which was more open than usual, and where they could
see a portion of the starry sky overhead, they sat down on a dry spot
under the shelter of a spreading tree, and, leaning their backs against
the trunk, very soon fell sound asleep.