_TURNING TURTLE AND AFTER_
They had barely time to scramble into the boats and pull out into the
bay before the savages dashed down to the edge of the beach waving their
spears frantically. Some, more venturesome than others, plunged into the
water and swam swiftly after the boats. There must have been at least a
hundred, and a fierce looking lot they were. The men pulled hard and the
boats were soon out of range of the spears, but it was a narrow escape.
"Let them have a dose of shot," said Moss.
Phil Danks levelled his gun at one of the swimmers and was about to
fire, when Jack said, "Don't hit him, aim over his head, the noise will
frighten them and it is time enough to kill when we are in danger."
"As you like," replied Phil, laughing, "but an odd nigger or two makes
but little difference, and it would teach them not to interfere with
white men in future."
He fired the gun, and the sound had a marvellous effect upon the blacks.
Some of them dropped down on their knees on the beach, others turned and
fled into the bush; as for the swimmer Phil had intended hitting, he
dived and did not come up until he reached shallow water, when he
scrambled out and ran after the others.
"It's strange they have never heard a gun fire before, this harbour is
evidently unknown; we have discovered something during our trip, at any
rate; I think we'll call it Redland Bay," said Phil.
Jack laughed, he thought it would be something to boast of on his return
to England if a newly discovered harbour was named after him.
The blacks were evidently thoroughly frightened for they saw no more of
them.
"It seems curious, they have no boats," said Hake Moss, "they can never
have been out to sea. I expect always go round the place on land."
"They have canoes hidden somewhere, depend upon it," replied Phil.
"There's plenty of fish here and they are generally clever fishermen."
The boats reached the farther side of the bay, and they spent a lively
hour or two turning turtle. The huge ungainly creatures seemed to be too
lazy to move, and their weight was enormous. Phil Danks said it was
quite unusual to see them on the beach in the day time as they generally
crawled out of the water at night. It was evidently a favourite breeding
place, for the females were there in abundance, and thousands of eggs
were to be found.
"The male turtle has more sense," said Phil, "I have never seen one out
of the water."
To Jack Redland and his friend, the turning of turtle was a novel
experience. Some of them were so heavy that it took their united efforts
to throw them on their backs, and once in that position they were
helpless. The silvery sand was soon covered with turned turtle, about
fifty of them being at the mercy of their captors.
"What are we to do with the beggars?" asked Jack. "We cannot take the
lot on board, it would swamp the boats."
"We will take as many as we require, and turn the remainder over again,
if they are left on their backs, they will never get on their feet
again, and will rot in the sun. Hundreds of them are destroyed in this
way by natives and divers who seem to do it out of pure devilment."
"What a shame," said Harry Marton. "I say, Jack, some of our city
aldermen would smack their lips over this sight."
"Yes, turtle is cheap enough here, whatever it may be in London," he
replied laughing.
"See this fellow," said Danks, kicking one with his boot. "It's what
they call a hawk bill, they are not fit to eat, but tortoise-shell is
obtained from them and that makes them valuable. The others are green
turtle. They are all right."
"How much do you think this one weighs?" asked Jack, pointing to a
larger one than most of the others.
"It will not be far off three hundred pounds weight," answered Phil.
Jack gasped in astonishment, he had no idea they were so heavy.
"The bulk of them average at least a couple of hundred pounds I should
say," remarked Hake Moss.
It was no easy matter to get them into the boats, but they succeeded
after some difficulty, and the dinghies were almost level with the
water.
"We had better put all the turtle in one dinghy and tow her back," said
Jack.
"A good idea, we will," replied Phil, and they set to work again until
the boat was filled, they then turned the other turtles over, and were
about to row back to the schooners, when a screeching attracted their
attention and they saw large flocks of birds hovering about the tops of
the rocks.
"Melton birds and gulls," said Phil, "we may as well have some fresh
eggs now we are about it; I reckon there'll be enough to satisfy a whole
fleet over there," and he pointed to a long stretch of sand in which
hundreds of them were settling.
It was a curious sight to see these thousands of birds on the sands, and
they did not appear to be at all frightened of the visitors to their
haunt. They got out of the dinghies again and walked towards them. On
their approach a few of the birds rose and whirled around, uttering
hoarse cries. But the greater number remained still on their nests, or
walked slowly about amongst the stones.
Jack was amused at them, and as he walked, he had frequently to push
them out of the way with his foot.
There were thousands of eggs, and they filled two large sacks with them,
choosing those which were apparently freshly laid. It was not difficult
to tell them as they were perfectly clean, and had a peculiar sticky
feel, quite unlike the eggs that had been sat upon.
"Are the birds fit to eat?" asked Jack.
"Melton birds are not bad, the others are no good, a man must be fairly
on the verge of starvation to tackle them," replied Moss.
"There does not appear to be much fear of starving here," laughed Jack.
"Perhaps not, but the diet would soon become monotonous," replied Harry.
It was time to return to the schooners, as they had been absent all day,
and it was not advisable to leave them for a longtime. It was tedious
work running out of the bay, and rather dangerous, as the tide was much
lower and here and there sharp pieces of coral stood out of the water.
Had one of the boats struck on such a projection it would have speedily
ripped open the bottom, or the side.
Phil Danks, however, was a careful steerer and navigated them into the
open sea, the dinghy in tow having one or two narrow escapes.
When the blacks saw the boat load of turtle, they gave vent to their joy
and danced about the deck.
"You'll see how they gorge themselves to-night," said Phil, "it is
enough to make a man cry off turtle for ever to watch them."
"Then I propose we leave them to it," said Jack. "I do not want to spoil
my appetite."
The cargo was hauled on board, and the schooners were soon under weigh,
Harry Marton remaining on the "Heron" for the night.
There was very little breeze, and the movement was scarcely perceptible.
It was a glorious night, the sun shining on the water and illuminating
the coast line. The air was pure and cool, and as Jack Redland sat alone
at the stern of the schooner, his thoughts commenced to wander to a far
different scene thousands of miles away.
He wondered what Sir Lester and Winifred were doing, and what she would
have thought of such an experience as he had just gone through. What a
contrast it all was to the beautiful Sussex landscape over which he had
so often looked from The Downs. Here he was on a pearling schooner,
nearing the northernmost point of Australia, and yet his mind was very
far away, and his memory lingered over the sights and sounds of
Brighton, and the hum of the racecourse. Certainly he was dozing, yet he
was half awake; he knew he was smoking, and that the wreaths from his
pipe were curling away in the wake of the schooner, and yet he fancied
he scented the smell of new mown hay, and in a dim sort of light saw
banks covered with primroses and hedgerows budding green, the trees
opening out their leaves, the birds nesting, others teaching their young
to fly. It mattered not that primroses and new mown hay did not
harmonise, it was what he felt and saw, jumbled together in a delightful
tangle from which he made no effort to extricate himself.
Now he was on Lewes racecourse and felt the wind whistle past his face,
and buzz in his ears, as he made a desperate effort to land Topsy Turvy
first past the post. He heard the shouts of the crowd, the roar of the
excited backers, and then the next moment he knew he had won, and Sir
Lester was congratulating him, and better than all, Winifred was there,
all smiles. He heard Job Seagrave's sonorous voice, and smiled in his
half awake land of dreams.
He was sitting down on a primrose bank and a gypsy stood looking at him.
He held out his hand and she read his fate, he was to claim his own at
last. He saw a fair young girl with arms outstretched pleading for him
to stay and not venture forth upon his mad quest. He felt her warm form
as he pressed her to him, snatched a kiss, and hurried away.
His pipe dropped, and the noise startled him from his reverie. He sat up
and looked around wonderingly, hardly realising his whereabouts. A
moment ago he was in Sussex, now he was in reality coasting in
North-West Australia, and the little schooner was making good headway.
It had been a pleasant enchantment while it lasted; we should be very
lonely, very dissatisfied with the ordinary duties of life if we had no
dreams.
He looked round and smiled as he saw Harry Marton and Phil Danks fast
asleep in their comfortable chairs. Let them sleep on, he was contented
with his little romance, he would go through it all over again now he
was wide awake.
What if this pearling venture turned out a failure? It was merely a
start, the first step on the voyage to wealth and Winifred. If it was
not a success he would lose nothing, except time, and that was precious;
he could not ask her to wait too long, he had not asked her at all, at
least not in words. He must hustle, as an American friend told him, if
he meant to get ahead of his fellow men. He smiled as he thought it
would be a difficult job to make Phil Danks hustle, the skipper of the
"Heron" was a man who made time his slave, not his master, and he looked
contented on it.
Pearls; he would at any rate secure some for Winifred even if he had
none for himself. He remembered she was fond of pearls, and had a very
old chain of them left her by her grandmother. If he had his will the
depths of the sea should give up pearls of great price for her
gratification, and he would send her them as a token he had not
forgotten her. That was a good idea, the first fine pearls he had as his
share of the venture should be sent direct to her. Would it look like
bribery, a gift to induce her to wait for him, and not regard offers
from others with favour? He thought not, she would understand her old
playmate wished to prove he was loyal, and would be glad he remembered
she loved pearls.
But the pearls were as yet at the bottom of the sea, and he was on the
schooner, and they were dawdling along at a very slow pace, quite in
keeping with their aldermanic repast on Redland Bay turtle. If he did
nothing else the name of that bay would abide for ever as a memory of
his trip to the land of chances and dashed hopes.
There was the Great Tom mine, he wondered how that had turned out. Sir
Lester's five hundred was sunk in it, he hoped it would bring him luck.
Supposing the shares went up to two pounds, that would be a thousand,
and he had heard that a great financier once said any man ought to be
able to make a fortune with a capital of a thousand pounds. Then he
suddenly recollected that same financier, who had made millions, came to
a terrible end, the only way out of his trouble being death by his own
hand. It was not an alluring prospect after all, this amassing of
wealth, there must be something a good deal better in the world. He
concluded a modest income with an abundance of domestic happiness would
be more to his taste.
The Great Tom mine share might go up to three pounds, even four or five.
He commenced to reckon up what he would do with his money when he had
sold out for five times the amount he had invested. He'd ask Barry
Tuxford's advice, it was he who made the money for him, and it was only
natural he should give him a wrinkle what to do with it. Then he
remembered he and Harry Marton were to go halves; it was his own
suggestion and he would stick to it, but if he made a fortune and Harry
failed it would be rather rough on the lucky one. He laughed to himself
as he pictured Harry Marton's dismay when he handed him over half his
wealth, which he did not yet possess. Harry would refuse to take it, and
there must be a compromise, but he was determined if he was successful
his friend should also be a gainer.
The "Heron" sailed on in sight of the "Wild Cat," and Jack Redland,
young and active, was full of hope and eager anticipation. The search
for fortune is more enchanting, more enthralling, than the actual
realisation, which, however successful it may prove is always
insufficient to stave off the craving for more.