LOST
Early the next morning, preparations for the killing began. Armed with
clubs, tin pans, flags and pieces of cloth, the men made their way along
the beach between the big herd of elephants and the sea, and took up
stands at intervals of a few hundred feet apart. Then, at a signal from
Cap’n Pem, they advanced towards the elephants, shouting, hallowing,
beating on their tins, waving their cloth and flags and jumping and
prancing about like a lot of savages. Frightened and surprised at these
strange figures advancing towards them, and dazed by the noise and
fluttering rags, the huge, timid creatures hobbled and wriggled their
way up the shingle, wrinkling their noses and barking in terror and
stupidly getting further and further from their native element in their
sole desire to keep away from the men. Wedged together in a
closely-packed mass, the giant seals impeded one another’s progress and
added to their terror until, presently, their retreat was a wild
stampede towards the higher ground some distance from the sea.
It was a strange and remarkable sight to see these immense, powerful
creatures with their strong, sharp teeth striving to escape the men and
as frightened as a flock of sheep, when any one of the monsters could
easily have crushed a man’s head in his jaws with a single bite. To the
boys, it seemed pitiful and they were really sorry to think of such
harmless, splendid creatures being thus ruthlessly slaughtered merely
for the sake of their oil. But their sympathy for the elephants was not
as great as it would have been had the animals appeared more helpless
and gentle, for despite their timidity, the sea elephants, and
especially the old bulls, were savage, ferocious-looking beasts.
Naturally ugly, even when at rest, they appeared veritable monsters as
their small, wicked eyes gleamed red and bloodshot, their trunklike
snouts lifted above their great red mouths, their huge, sharp teeth
gleamed and snapped and their snarling barks filled the air with a
deafening roar.
Although they had been assured that the elephants were harmless and had
been eye witnesses of the fact that the men could walk among them, kick
them and even kill them without the least attempt at resistance on the
animals’ part, yet neither Tom nor Jim could summon up enough courage to
approach within reach of the waving, threatening heads and snapping
jaws. But the men had no such fears and when, at last, the herd had been
driven to the selected spot, they went among them, driving the big,
full-grown animals into small bunches and ruthlessly clubbing them over
the heads.
As the killing began and the heavy bludgeons thumped on the heads of the
elephants, their humanlike sighs and screams, their choking, gurgling
death coughs and the terrorized barks of their fellows were more than
the two boys could stand. Hurrying from the scene of the slaughter, they
made their way past the camp and started up the hillside beyond. It was
hard climbing, for the sharp, volcanic rocks made footing uncertain, the
scant gray moss and lichens and dried stiff grass were slippery and the
hill was steep. Here and there, albatrosses were squatting on the ground
and when the boys approached they merely hissed and struck out with
their strong, hooked beaks, refusing to move. They were such enormous
birds and appeared so vicious with their china-blue eyes and menacing
bills, that the boys had no desire to get at close quarters in order to
see if they had eggs; but they soon discovered that by shooing at the
birds and showing no signs of fear they could force the albatrosses from
their nests and they were greatly elated at sight of the enormous,
rough, brownish eggs in little hollows of the stony ground.
Amusing themselves with the albatrosses, and taking their time, the boys
reached the summit of the hill and seated themselves upon a rock ledge
to rest. From where they sat, they could look down upon the camp and the
beach and could see the men, still busily killing the elephants. But the
slaughter evidently was nearly over, and presently, they saw the men
stooping over and evidently engaged in stripping the skins and blubber
from the carcasses. In the other direction, they looked down upon a
sloping hillside ending in a small, bowl-shaped valley which the boys at
first sight thought filled with snow; but a second glance showed it to
be covered with great white birds.
“I wonder what they are,” said Tom. “They don’t look like albatrosses
and they’re not penguins. Let’s go down and see.”
Rising, the boys were about to descend when their attentions were
attracted by peculiar sounds apparently issuing from the earth under
their feet.
“What’s that?” ejaculated Jim. “It seems to come right out of the
ground.”
Getting on their knees, the boys searched everywhere among the rocks,
expecting to find some strange creature in hiding there, but while they
searched diligently, and although the queer grunting sounds continued,
they could find no trace of any living thing. Puzzled, they stopped
hunting and listened, placing their ears to the ground, trying to trace
the sounds, but to no purpose, for the noises seemed to come from all
about and were so mysterious and baffling that the boys began to feel
nervous.
“It’s the weirdest thing I ever heard,” declared Tom. “I’m beginning to
think the place’s haunted.”
At last, giving it up as a bad job, the two boys started forward and a
moment later clambered down over a projecting mass of huge irregular
rocks. The next instant they stopped short, for the baffling sounds came
clear and distinct from among the rocks. Approaching cautiously, the
boys peered into the dark cavelike openings and the next moment burst
into laughter.
“There’s the ghost,” exclaimed Jim, “I wonder what they are.” Far in
among the bowlders were several snow-white birds with pretty pinkish or
salmon-colored bills and bright, beady eyes. Reaching in his arm, Tom
seized one of the creatures, and despite its protests, drew it out and
revealed two handsome brown eggs where it had been sitting.
“Oh, I know now,” declared Tom. “It’s a sheathbill, don’t you remember
Cap’n Pem pointed them out to us at sea. Look, here’s the sheath on its
bill.”
Satisfied at having solved the mystery of the strange sounds, and having
identified the bird, the boys released the creature which immediately
fluttered back to its nest, ruffling its feathers and croaking in such
an indignant, offended way that the boys roared with laughter.
Continuing down the hill, the boys approached the first of the great
bird colony in the valley and found they were big, white Molly Mokes and
another species of bird which they had not seen before.
“They’re some sort of albatrosses,” insisted Tom. “But they’re not like
the others. They’re smaller and have bright yellow beaks and they’re
much whiter.”
“Yes, and they’ve greeny-brown eyes instead of blue,” added Jim.
“I’ll bet I know what they are,” Tom announced “I’ve been thinking, and
I remember reading about a kind of albatross called yellow-nosed. These
have yellow noses so I’ll bet that’s what they are.”
It was a strange sensation for the boys to find themselves surrounded by
countless thousands of the big, white birds which showed not the least
fear, but pecked boldly at the boys’ garments as they picked their way
among the nesting birds.
As they gained the farther side of the valley they came to a low, rocky
ridge, and curious to see what lay beyond, they clambered up its side
and found themselves once more in view of the sea.
“Look at those penguins!” cried Jim, as he caught sight of a great flock
of the queer birds. “Gee, but they’re big fellows!”
“They’re not like the others,” replied Tom. “Say, we _are_ finding a lot
of queer things to-day.”
“And those don’t look like sea elephants on the beach either,” said Jim.
“They look smaller and different, somehow.”
“I believe you’re right,” agreed Tom. “Let’s go down and have a look.”
As they approached the creatures basking upon the shingle, the boys saw
that they were indeed very different from the huge sea elephants, for
they were much smaller, they lacked the long snouts and their bodies
were darker in color and beautifully spotted.
“Don’t let’s go too near,” exclaimed Jim. “I don’t like their looks.”
“Oh, don’t be a fraid-cat,” urged Tom. “They won’t hurt us. Of course,
we won’t go among them. I don’t trust them as much as all that.”
Rather nervously, but anxious to see the odd creatures at closer range,
the boys walked towards the herd of animals and were within a few rods
of the nearest when the giant seal suddenly reared himself up, opened a
huge red mouth filled with enormous, sharp-pointed teeth, and with a
bellowing howl threw himself bodily towards the two boys. Instantly,
with terror-stricken cries, the boys turned and fled, never stopping
until they were well up the hillside.
“Gosh, but he _was_ fierce!” ejaculated Jim, when they regained their
breath. “I told you we’d better not go near.”
“You can bet I won’t, next time,” Tom assured him. “But they’re no sea
elephants anyhow.”
“Let’s go along the beach and have a look at the penguins,” suggested
Jim. “We can keep away from those beasts, back here.”
Giving the fierce, spotted seals a wide berth the two boys descended to
the beach and strolled towards the penguin colony. Many odd shells and
other interesting things were scattered on the sand, and, as the boys
stooped to pick some up, they noticed many rounded, glittering pebbles.
“Why, they’re moonstones!” exclaimed Tom, “and thousands of them!”
There was no question of it. The beach was strewn with the translucent,
handsome stones and the boys busied themselves filling their pockets
with the gems. So intent were they, that they failed to notice a low,
gray cloud about the mountain top which drifted down towards the shores
in little wisps and detached masses until, feeling chilly, Tom looked up
and gave a surprised cry. On every side they were surrounded with an
impenetrable, dense fog and only a small area of the beach about them
was visible.
Seaward they could see the lazy, green rollers coming mysteriously from
a gray bank. They could hear the muffled cries of birds and the
occasional flapping of wings; but not a sign of the hill or of the
mountains could be seen.
“Gosh, we’d better be getting back!” exclaimed Jim anxiously. “It’s
getting thicker every minute.”
Hurrying from the beach, they commenced climbing the hill, but long
before they reached the summit the beach and waves were hidden from view
and the boys seemed shut in as if by a soft, gray wall.
“We’ll have to be careful or we’ll get lost,” cautioned Tom. “We should
have brought a compass.”
“What good would that do?” demanded Jim. “We don’t know what direction
the camp is.”
“No, but we could be sure we were not moving in a circle,” explained Tom
sagely. “But come along, we can find that Molly Moke rookery and then go
up the hill and find the cave where the sheathbills are and go straight
down from there.”
Striving to keep a straight course by listening to the breaking seas at
their backs, the boys picked their way over the ridge, and descending
the further side, were overjoyed to find themselves among the nesting
Molly Mokes.
“We’re all right now!” said Tom confidently. “If we walk straight across
and up the hill to the cave we can’t go wrong. Why, I don’t believe we
went over half a mile from camp anyway.”
Shut in by the dense fog, the boys could hear the disturbed cries of the
thousands of birds about them, but the birds themselves were only
visible when within a few feet and even then they had a strange, ghostly
appearance. Several times the boys actually bumped into them, and they
were constantly compelled to turn to right or left to avoid stepping on
the birds. But at last, they reached the scattered, outlying nests and
found the ground rising before them.
“Funny, this hill doesn’t seem half as long as it did before,” commented
Jim as they gained the summit. “Say, listen! What’s that?”
For a moment the two paused, straining their ears to catch a faint sound
that issued from the fog ahead. And then, as the truth dawned upon them,
they gazed at each other in dismay. The noise was the breaking waves.
They were back at the spot from which they had started. They had walked
in a circle and were lost! Presently, however, as they recovered from
the disappointment and shock of their discovery, their confidence
returned.
“We’ll have to try again,” declared Tom. “We must have got turned around
among those Molly Mokes. I’ve a scheme, Jimmy. When we get there this
time, we’ll separate a little and one of us will walk ahead a few yards
and then stop, and then the other can walk straight to him and then stop
and the other can go on ahead as far as he can be seen and stop and in
that way we might be able to go pretty straight. Anyway, we won’t go in
a circle.”
“That may help,” admitted Jim, “but we’ll have to kick the birds out of
the way to do it.”
“Bother the birds!” ejaculated Tom. “We’ve got to get to camp.”
“I wonder how long fogs last here,” said Jim as once more they made
their way up the ridge. “Perhaps if we just waited a while it would
lift.”
“I don’t know,” replied the other, “but I heard Cap’n Pem say that
sometimes the island’s foggy for weeks at a time.”
Once again they reached the Molly Moke rookery and at once proceeded to
put Tom’s plan into practice. By shoving the birds out of their path and
ruthlessly trampling on the eggs, the boys made their way across the
valley in a fairly direct line; but as they gained the slope of the hill
a sudden misgiving seized Jim.
“Say, Tom,” he exclaimed, “how do we know we’ve crossed in the right
direction? Don’t you remember the hill went all around the valley—it was
like a big bowl—and we may be on the opposite side from where we came
down.”
“We can’t help that,” stated Tom. “When we get to the top we’ll mark the
spot and walk to the right ’til we find the sheathbills’ cave and if we
don’t find it, we’ll come back and try to the left.”
Toiling up the hillside, panting with the exertion and soaked to the
skin by the clinging moisture, the two boys at last reached the summit.
“Perhaps they’d hear us in camp if we yelled,” suggested Jim.
But their cries seemed muffled in the fog and no answering call came to
them, so, piling several stones in a little pyramid, the two turned to
the right and carefully picked their way along the rocky ridge.
“We didn’t come over at this place, I know,” said Jim decisively as they
came to a jagged, upstanding mass of rock.
“No,” admitted Tom. “but it may have been just a little to one side of
the place where we did cross. Come along.”
In order to pass the ledge, the two boys were compelled to descend a
short distance on the hill and so dense was the fog on the summit that
the rocks disappeared from sight ere they had taken a dozen steps.
Judging that they passed the obstruction, they once more turned up the
slope and tramped on, hoping each moment that they would be in luck and
would come upon the pile of bowlders where they had discovered the
sheathbills.
“Say, we must have been way off our course,” panted Jim at last. “We’ve
been walking for half an hour and seems to me we’re going down hill.”
“I thought that too,” replied Tom, “but I guess it’s just the effect of
the fog.”
For ten minutes more, the boys continued and then, coming to a mass of
fallen rock, they found further progress barred by a bold perpendicular
cliff.
“Well, we can’t go any further,” observed Tom. “Now we’ll have to go
back and try the other direction.”
“I’m going to rest first,” insisted Jim. “There’s no use in getting all
tired out.”
Seating themselves upon a piece of rock, the boys were talking over
their predicament when, suddenly, there was a cracking sound. The boys
felt their seat moving and leaped aside as the mass of rock gave way and
went crashing down the hill. But while the boys had saved themselves
from an injury, yet they had not saved themselves from a tumble, and as
they jumped from the rock their feet shot out from under them and
rolling and sliding, they followed after the stone for a dozen rods
before they could check their headlong course.
At the same instant they heard a tremendous crash from below followed by
a shout:
“Hi, there! What’n tarnation’s broke loose? Derned ef the whole mounting
ain’t a-tumbling down!”
With wild yells the boys leaped to their feet, and regardless of danger,
raced down the hillside. Before they had covered a hundred feet they
reached level ground and plumped full into Cap’n Pem, bowling the old
man over like a ninepin.
“Avast there!” spluttered the old whaleman. “What in thunderation’s up?
Fust a chunk o’ mounting an’ then you two scallawags! What in Sam Hill
ye in sech a hurry fer? Bear a chasin’ on ye?”
“No,” stammered Tom. “We were lost. Where are we?”
“Where be ye?” reiterated the old man. “Where be ye? Why, right
’longside o’ the shack a course. Where’d ye think ye wuz? Derned queer
way ye have o’ comin’ home!”