THE CASTAWAYS’ INVENTORY—NO EFFECTS —THE CHARRED LINEN—AN EXPEDITION
INTO THE FOREST—THE FLORA OF THE WOODS—THE FLIGHT OF THE JACAMAR—TRACKS
OF WILD BEASTS—THE COUROUCOUS—THE HEATH-COCK—LINE-FISHING
EXTRAORDINARY.
The inventory of the castaways can be promptly taken. Thrown upon a
desert coast, they had nothing but the clothes they wore in the
balloon. We must add Spilett’s watch and note-book, which he had kept
by some inadvertence; but there were no firearms and no tools, not even
a pocket knife. Every thing had been thrown overboard to lighten the
balloon. Every necessary of life was wanting!
Yet if Cyrus Smith had been with them, his practical science and
inventive genius would have saved them from despair. But, alas! they
could hope to see him no more. The castaways could rely on Providence
only, and on their own right hands.
And, first, should they settle down on this strip of coast without an
effort to discover whether it was island or continent, inhabited or
desert? It was an urgent question, for all their measures would depend
upon its solution. However, it seemed to Pencroff better to wait a few
days before undertaking an exploration. They must try to procure more
satisfying food than eggs and shellfish, and repair their strength,
exhausted by fatigue and by the inclemency of the weather. The Chimneys
would serve as a house for a while. Their fire was lit, and it would be
easy to keep alive some embers. For the time being there were plenty of
eggs and shell-fish. They might even be able to kill, with a stick or a
stone, some of the numerous pigeons which fluttered among the rocks.
They might find fruit-trees in the neighboring forest, and they had
plenty of fresh water. It was decided then to wait a few days at the
Chimneys, and to prepare for an expedition either along the coast or
into the interior of the country.
This plan was especially agreeable to Neb, who was in no hurry to
abandon that part of the coast which had been the scene of the
catastrophe. He could not and would not believe that Smith was dead.
Until the waves should have thrown up the engineer’s body—until Neb
should have seen with his eyes and handled with his hands his master’s
corpse, he believed him alive. It was an illusion which the sailor had
not the heart to destroy; and there was no use in talking to Neb. He
was like the dog who would not leave his master’s tomb, and his grief
was such that he would probably soon follow him.
Upon the morning of the 26th of March, at daybreak, Neb started along
the coast northward to the spot where the sea had doubtless closed over
the unfortunate engineer.
For breakfast that morning they had only eggs and lithodomes, seasoned
with salt which Herbert had found in the cavities of the rocks. When
the meal was over they divided forces. The reporter stayed behind to
keep up the fire, and in the very improbable case of Neb’s needing him
to go to his assistance. Herbert and Pencroff went into the forest.
“We will go hunting, Herbert, “said the sailor. “We shall find
ammunition on our way, and we will cut our guns in the forest.”
But, before starting, Herbert suggested that as they had no tinder they
must replace it by burnt linen. They were sorry to sacrifice a piece of
handkerchief, but the need was urgent, and a piece of Pencroff’s large
check handkerchief was soon converted into a charred rag, and put away
in the central chamber in a little cavity of the rock, sheltered from
wind and dampness.
By this time it was 9 o’clock. The weather was threatening and the
breeze blew from the southeast. Herbert and Pencroff, as they left the
Chimneys, cast a glance at the smoke which curled upwards from amid the
rocks; then they walked up the left bank of the river.
When they reached the forest, Pencroff broke from the first tree two
thick branches which he made into cudgels, and whose points Herbert
blunted against a rock. What would he not have given for a knife? Then
the hunters walked on in the high grass along the bank of the river,
which, after its turn to the southwest, gradually narrowed, running
between high banks and over-arched by interlacing trees. Pencroff, not
to lose his way, determined to follow the course of the stream, which
would bring him back to his point of departure. But the bank offered
many obstacles. Here, trees whose flexible branches bent over to the
brink of the current; there, thorns and lianas which they had to break
with their sticks. Herbert often glided between the broken stumps with
the agility of a young cat and disappeared in the copse, but Pencroff
called him back at once, begging him not to wander away.
Meanwhile, the sailor carefully observed the character and
peculiarities of the region. On this left bank the surface was flat,
rising insensibly towards the interior. Sometimes it was moist and
swampy, indicating the existence of a subterranean network of little
streams emptying themselves into the river. Sometimes, too, a brook ran
across the copse, which they crossed without trouble. The opposite bank
was more undulating, and the valley, through whose bottom flowed the
river, was more clearly defined. The hill, covered with trees rising in
terraces, intercepted the vision. Along this right bank they could
hardly have walked, for the descent was steep, and the trees which bent
over the water were only sustained by their roots. It is needless to
say that both forest and shore seemed a virgin wilderness. They saw
fresh traces of animals whose species was unknown to them. Some seemed
to them the tracks of dangerous wild beasts, but nowhere was there the
mark of an axe on a tree-trunk, or the ashes of a fire, or the imprint
of a foot. They should no doubt have been glad that it was so, for on
this land in the mid-Pacific, the presence of man was a thing more to
be dreaded than desired.
They hardly spoke, so great were the difficulties of the route; after
an hour’s walk they had but just compassed a mile. Hitherto their
hunting had been fruitless. Birds were singing and flying to and fro
under the trees; but they showed an instinctive fear of their enemy
man. Herbert descried among them, in a swampy part of the forest, a
bird with narrow and elongated beak, in shape something like a
kingfisher, from which it was distinguished by its harsh and lustrous
plumage.
“That must be a jacamar,” said Herbert, trying to get within range of
the bird.
“It would be a good chance to taste jacamar,” answered the sailor, “if
that fellow would only let himself be roasted.”
In a moment a stone, adroitly aimed by the boy, struck the bird on the
wing; but the jacamar took to his legs and disappeared in a minute.
“What a muff I am,” said Herbert. ‘Not at all,” said the sailor. “It
was a good shot, a great many would have missed the bird. Don’t be
discouraged, we’ll catch him again some day.”
The wood opened as the hunters went on, and the trees grew to a vast
height, but none had edible fruits. Pencroff sought in vain for some of
those precious palm trees, which lend themselves so wonderfully to the
needs of mankind, and which grow from 40° north latitude to 35° south.
But this forest was composed only of conifers, such as the deodars,
already recognized by Herbert; the Douglas pines, which grow on the
northeast coast of America; and magnificent fir trees, 150 feet high.
Among their branches was fluttering a flock of birds, with small bodies
and long, glittering tails. Herbert picked up some of the feathers,
which lay scattered on the ground, and looked at them carefully.
“These are ‘couroucous,’“ said he.
“I would rather have a guinea-hen, or a heath-cock,” said Pencroff,
“but still, if they are good to eat”—
“They are good to eat,” said Herbert; “their meat is delicious.
Besides, I think we can easily get at them with our sticks.”
Slipping through the grass, they reached the foot of a tree whose lower
branches were covered with the little birds, who were snapping at the
flying insects. Their feathered claws clutched tight the twigs on which
they were sitting. Then the hunters rose to their feet, and using their
sticks like a scythe, they mowed down whole rows of the couroucous, of
whom 105 were knocked over before the stupid birds thought of escape.
“Good,” said Pencroff, “this is just the sort of game for hunters like
us. We could catch them in our hands.”
They skewered the couroucous on a switch like field-larks, and
continued to explore. The object of the expedition was, of course, to
bring back as much game as possible to the Chimneys. So far it had not
been altogether attained. They looked about everywhere, and were
enraged to see animals escaping through the high grass. If they had
only had Top! But Top, most likely, had perished with his master.
About 3 o’clock they entered a wood full of juniper trees, at whose
aromatic berries flocks of birds were pecking. Suddenly they heard a
sound like the blast of a trumpet. It was the note of those gallinaceæ,
called “tetras” in the United States. Soon they saw several pairs of
them, with brownish-yellow plumage and brown tails. Pencroff determined
to capture one of these birds, for they were as big as hens, and their
meat as delicious as a pullet. But they would not let him come near
them. At last, after several unsuccessful attempts, he said,
“Well, since we can’t kill them on the wing, we must take them with a
line.”
“Like a carp,” cried the wondering Herbert.
“Like a carp,” answered the sailor, gravely.
Pencroff had found in the grass half-a-dozen tetras nests, with two or
three eggs in each.
He was very careful not to touch these nests, whose owners would
certainly return to them. Around these he purposed to draw his lines,
not as a snare, but with hook and bait. He took Herbert to some
distance from the nests, and there made ready his singular apparatus
with the care of a true disciple of Isaac Walton. Herbert watched the
work with a natural interest, but without much faith in its success.
The lines were made of small lianas tied together, from fifteen to
twenty feet long, and stout thorns with bent points, broken from a
thicket of dwarf acacias, and fastened to the ends of the lianas,
served as hooks, and the great red worms which crawled at their feet
made excellent bait. This done, Pencroff, walking stealthily through
the grass, placed one end of his hook-and-line close to the nests of
the tetras. Then he stole back, took the other end in his hand, and hid
himself with Herbert behind a large tree. Herbert, it must be said, was
not sanguine of success.
A good half hour passed, but as the sailor had foreseen, several pairs
of tetras returned to their nests. They hopped about, pecking the
ground, and little suspecting the presence of the hunters, who had
taken care to station themselves to leeward of the gallinaceæ. Herbert
held his breath with excitement, while Pencroff, with dilated eyes,
open month, and lips parted as if to taste a morsel of tetras, scarcely
breathed. Meanwhile the gallinaceæ walked heedlessly among the hooks.
Pencroff then gave little jerks, which moved the bait up and down as if
the worms were still alive. How much more intense was his excitement
than the fisherman’s who cannot see the approach of his prey!
The jerks soon aroused the attention of the gallinaceæ, who began to
peck at the bait. Three of the greediest swallowed hook and bait
together. Suddenly, with a quick jerk, Pencroff pulled in his line, and
the flapping of wings showed that the birds were taken.
“Hurrah!” cried he, springing upon the game, of which he was master in
a moment. Herbert clapped his hands. It was the first time he had seen
birds taken with a line; but the modest sailor said it was not his
first attempt, and, moreover, that the merit of the invention was not
his.
“And at any rate,” said he, “in our present situation we must hope for
many such contrivances.”
The tetras were tied together by the feet, and Pencroff, happy that
they were not returning empty handed, and perceiving that the day was
ending, thought it best to return home.
Their route was indicated by the river, and following it downward, by 6
o’clock, tired out by their excursion, Herbert and Pencroff re-entered
the Chimneys.