CHAPTER XIV.

Strange peculiarity of the tides--Also of the twilight--Peterkin's

remarkable conduct in embracing a little pig and killing a big sow--Sage

remarks on jesting--Also on love.

It was quite a relief to us to breathe the pure air and to enjoy the glad

sunshine after our long ramble in the Diamond Cave, as we named it; for,

although we did not stay more than half an hour away, it seemed to us

much longer. While we were dressing, and during our walk home, we did

our best to satisfy the curiosity of poor Peterkin, who seemed to regret,

with lively sincerity, his inability to dive.

There was no help for it, however, so we condoled with him as we best

could. Had there been any great rise or fall in the tide of these seas,

we might perhaps have found it possible to take him down with us at low

water; but as the tide never rose or fell more than eighteen inches or

two feet, this was impossible.

This peculiarity of the tide--its slight rise and fall--had not attracted

our observation till some time after our residence on the island. Neither

had we observed another curious circumstance until we had been some time

there. This was the fact, that the tide rose and fell with constant

regularity, instead of being affected by the changes of the moon as in

our own country, and as it is in most other parts of the world,--at least

in all those parts with which I am acquainted. Every day and every

night, at twelve o'clock precisely, the tide is at the full; and at six

o'clock every morning and evening it is ebb. I can speak with much

confidence on this singular circumstance, as we took particular note of

it, and never found it to alter. Of course, I must admit, we had to

guess the hour of twelve midnight, and I think we could do this pretty

correctly; but in regard to twelve noon we are quite positive, because we

easily found the highest point that the sun reached in the sky by placing

ourselves at a certain spot whence we observed the sharp summit of a

cliff resting against the sky, just where the sun passed.

Jack and I were surprised that we had not noticed this the first few days

of our residence here, and could only account for it by our being so much

taken up with the more obvious wonders of our novel situation. I have

since learned, however, that this want of observation is a sad and very

common infirmity of human nature, there being hundreds of persons before

whose eyes the most wonderful things are passing every day, who

nevertheless are totally ignorant of them. I therefore have to record my

sympathy with such persons, and to recommend to them a course of conduct

which I have now for a long time myself adopted,--namely, the habit of

forcing my attention upon _all_ things that go on around me, and of

taking some degree of interest in them, whether I feel it naturally or

not. I suggest this the more earnestly, though humbly, because I have

very frequently come to know that my indifference to a thing has

generally been caused by my ignorance in regard to it.

We had much serious conversation on this subject of the tides; and Jack

told us, in his own quiet, philosophical way, that these tides did great

good to the world in many ways, particularly in the way of cleansing the

shores of the land, and carrying off the filth that was constantly poured

into the sea there-from; which, Peterkin suggested, was remarkably _tidy_

of it to do. Poor Peterkin could never let slip an opportunity to joke,

however inopportune it might be: which at first we found rather a

disagreeable propensity, as it often interrupted the flow of very

agreeable conversation; and, indeed, I cannot too strongly record my

disapprobation of this tendency in general: but we became so used to it

at last that we found it no interruption whatever; indeed, strange to

say, we came to feel that it was a necessary part of our enjoyment (such

is the force of habit), and found the sudden outbursts of mirth,

resulting from his humorous disposition, quite natural and refreshing to

us in the midst of our more serious conversations. But I must not

misrepresent Peterkin. We often found, to our surprise, that he knew

many things which we did not; and I also observed that those things which

he learned from experience were never forgotten. From all these things I

came at length to understand that things very opposite and dissimilar in

themselves, when united, do make an agreeable whole; as, for example, we

three on this our island, although most unlike in many things, when

united, made a trio so harmonious that I question if there ever met

before such an agreeable triumvirate. There was, indeed, no note of

discord whatever in the symphony we played together on that sweet Coral

Island; and I am now persuaded that this was owing to our having been all

tuned to the same key, namely, that of _love_! Yes, we loved one another

with much fervency while we lived on that island; and, for the matter of

that, we love each other still.

And while I am on this subject, or rather the subject that just preceded

it--namely, the tides--I may here remark on another curious natural

phenomenon. We found that there was little or no twilight in this

island. We had a distinct remembrance of the charming long twilight at

home, which some people think the most delightful part of the day, though

for my part I have always preferred sunrise; and when we first landed, we

used to sit down on some rocky point or eminence, at the close of our

day's work, to enjoy the evening breeze; but no sooner had the sun sunk

below the horizon than all became suddenly dark. This rendered it

necessary that we should watch the sun when we happened to be out

hunting, for to be suddenly left in the dark while in the woods was very

perplexing, as, although the stars shone with great beauty and

brilliancy, they could not pierce through the thick umbrageous boughs

that interlaced above our heads.

But, to return: After having told all we could to Peterkin about the

Diamond Cave under Spouting Cliff, as we named the locality, we were

wending our way rapidly homewards, when a grunt and a squeal were borne

down by the land breeze to our ears.

"That's the ticket!" was Peterkin's remarkable exclamation, as he started

convulsively, and levelled his spear.

"Hist!" cried Jack; "these are your friends, Peterkin. They must have

come over expressly to pay you a friendly visit, for it is the first time

we have seen them on this side the island."

"Come along!" cried Peterkin, hurrying towards the wood, while Jack and I

followed, smiling at his impatience.

Another grunt and half a dozen squeals, much louder than before, came

down the valley. At this time we were just opposite the small vale which

lay between the Valley of the Wreck and Spouting Cliff.

"I say, Peterkin," cried Jack, in a hoarse whisper.

"Well, what is't?"

"Stay a bit, man. These grunters are just up there on the hill side. If

you go and stand with Ralph in the lee of yon cliff, I'll cut round

behind and drive them through the gorge, so that you'll have a better

chance of picking out a good one. Now, mind you pitch into a fat young

pig, Peterkin," added Jack, as he sprang into the bushes.

"Won't I, just!" said Peterkin, licking his lips, as we took our station

beside the cliff. "I feel quite a tender affection for young pigs in my

heart. Perhaps it would be more correct to say in my s--."

"There they come!" cried I, as a terrific yell from Jack sent the whole

herd screaming down the hill. Now, Peterkin, being unable to hold back,

crept a short way up a very steep grassy mound, in order to get a better

view of the hogs before they came up; and just as he raised his head

above its summit, two little pigs, which had outrun their companions,

rushed over the top with the utmost precipitation. One of these brushed

close past Peterkin's ear; the other, unable to arrest its headlong

flight, went, as Peterkin himself afterwards expressed it, "bash" into

his arms with a sudden squeal, which was caused more by the force of the

blow than the will of the animal, and both of them rolled violently down

to the foot of the mound. No sooner was this reached than the little pig

recovered its feet, tossed up its tail, and fled shrieking from the spot.

But I slang a large stone after it, which, being fortunately well aimed,

hit it behind the ear, and felled it to the earth.

"Capital, Ralph! that's your sort!" cried Peterkin, who, to my surprise

and great relief, had risen to his feet. Apparently unhurt, though much

dishevelled, he rushed franticly towards the gorge, which the yells of

the hogs told us they were now approaching. I had made up my mind that I

would abstain from killing another, as, if Peterkin should be successful,

two were more than sufficient for our wants at the present time. Suddenly

they all burst forth,--two or three little round ones in advance, and an

enormous old sow with a drove of hogs at her heels.

"Now, Peterkin," said I, "there's a nice little fat one; just spear it."

But Peterkin did not move; he allowed it to pass unharmed. I looked at

him in surprise, and saw that his lips were compressed and his eyebrows

knitted, as if he were about to fight with some awful enemy.

"What is it?" I inquired, with some trepidation.

Suddenly he levelled his spear, darted forward, and, with a yell that

nearly froze the blood in my veins, stabbed the old sow to the heart.

Nay, so vigorously was it done that the spear went in at one side and

came out at the other!

"Oh, Peterkin!" said I, going up to him, "what have you done?"

"Done? I've killed their great-great-grandmother, that's all," said he,

looking with a somewhat awe-struck expression at the transfixed animal.

"Hallo! what's this?" said Jack, as he came up. "Why, Peterkin, you must

be fond of a tough chop. If you mean to eat this old hog, she'll try

your jaws, I warrant. What possessed you to stick _her_, Peterkin?"

"Why, the fact is I want a pair of shoes."

"What have your shoes to do with the old hog?' said I, smiling.

"My present shoes have certainly nothing to do with her," replied

Peterkin; "nevertheless she will have a good deal to do with my future

shoes. The fact is, when I saw you floor that pig so neatly, Ralph, it

struck me that there was little use in killing another. Then I

remembered all at once that I had long wanted some leather or tough

substance to make shoes of, and this old grandmother seemed so tough that

I just made up my mind to stick her, and you see I've done it!"

"That you certainly have, Peterkin," said Jack, as he was examining the

transfixed animal.

We now considered how we were to carry our game home, for, although the

distance was short, the hog was very heavy. At length we hit on the plan

of tying its four feet together, and passing the spear handle between

them. Jack took one end on his shoulder, I took the other on mine, and

Peterkin carried the small pig.

Thus we returned in triumph to our bower, laden, as Peterkin remarked,

with the glorious spoils of a noble hunt. As he afterwards spoke in

similarly glowing terms in reference to the supper that followed, there

is every reason to believe that we retired that night to our leafy beds

in a high state of satisfaction.

The Coral Island: A Tale of the Pacific Ocean(#646) · 第 14 / 35 章