EFFECTS OF OVEREATING, AND REFLECTIONS THEREON--HUMBLE ADVICE REGARDING
COLD WATER--THE "HORRIBLE CRY" ACCOUNTED FOR--THE CURIOUS BIRDS CALLED
PENGUINS--PECULIARITY OF THE COCOA-NUT PALM--QUESTIONS ON THE FORMATION
OF CORAL ISLANDS--MYSTERIOUS FOOTSTEPS--STRANGE DISCOVERIES AND SAD
SIGHTS.
When we awoke on the following morning we found that the sun was already
a good way above the horizon, so I came to the conclusion that a heavy
supper is not conducive to early rising. Never-the-less, we felt
remarkably strong and well, and much disposed to have our breakfast.
First, however, we had our customary morning bathe, which refreshed us
greatly.
I have often wondered very much in after years that the inhabitants of
my own dear land did not make more frequent use of this most charming
element, water--I mean in the way of cold bathing. Of course, I have
perceived that it is not convenient for them to go into the sea or the
rivers in winter, as we used to do on the Coral Island; but then I knew
from experience that a large washing-tub and a sponge do form a most
pleasant substitute. The feelings of freshness, of cleanliness, of
vigour, and extreme hilarity that always followed my bathes in the sea--
and even, when in England, my ablutions in the wash-tub--were so
delightful that I would sooner have gone without my breakfast than
without my bathe in cold water. My readers will forgive me for asking
whether they are in the habit of bathing thus every morning; and if they
answer "No", they will pardon me for recommending them to begin at once.
Of late years, since retiring from the stirring life of adventure which
I have led so long in foreign climes, I have heard of a system called
the cold-water cure. Now, I do not know much about that system; so I do
not mean to uphold it, neither do I intend to run it down. Perhaps, in
reference to it, I may just hint that there may be too much of a good
thing--I know not. But of this I am quite certain, that there may also
be too little of a good thing; and the great delight I have had in cold
bathing during the course of my adventurous career inclines me to think
that it is better to risk taking too much than to content one's self
with too little. Such is my opinion, derived from much experience; but
I put it before my readers with the utmost diffidence and with profound
modesty, knowing that it may possibly jar with their feelings of
confidence in their own ability to know and judge as to what is best and
fittest in reference to their own affairs. But to return from this
digression, for which I humbly crave forgiveness.
We had not advanced on our journey much above a mile or so, and were
just beginning to feel the pleasant glow that usually accompanies
vigorous exercise, when, on turning a point that revealed to us a new
and beautiful cluster of islands, we were suddenly arrested by the
appalling cry which had so alarmed us a few nights before. But this
time we were by no means so much alarmed as on the previous occasion,
because, whereas at that time it was night, now it was day; and I have
always found, though I am unable to account for it, that daylight
banishes many of the fears that are apt to assail us in the dark.
On hearing the sound, Peterkin instantly threw forward his spear.
"Now, what can it be?" said he, looking round at Jack. "I tell you what
it is: if we are to go on being pulled up in a constant state of horror
and astonishment, as we have been for the last week, the sooner we're
out o' this island the better, notwithstanding the yams and lemonade,
and pork and plums!"
Peterkin's remark was followed by a repetition of the cry, louder than
before.
"It comes from one of these islands," said Jack.
"It must be the ghost of a jackass, then," said Peterkin, "for I never
heard anything so like."
We all turned our eyes towards the cluster of islands, where, on the
largest, we observed curious objects moving on the shore.
"Soldiers they are--that's flat!" cried Peterkin, gazing at them in the
utmost amazement.
And, in truth, Peterkin's remark seemed to me to be correct; for at the
distance from which we saw them, they appeared to be an army of
soldiers. There they stood, rank and file, in lines and in squares,
marching and counter-marching, with blue coats and white trousers.
While we were looking at them the dreadful cry came again over the
water, and Peterkin suggested that it must be a regiment sent out to
massacre the natives in cold blood. At this remark Jack laughed and
said:
"Why, Peterkin, they are penguins!"
"Penguins?" repeated Peterkin.
"Ay, penguins, Peterkin, penguins--nothing more or less than big
sea-birds, as you shall see one of these days when we pay them a visit
in our boat, which I mean to set about building the moment we return to
our bower."
"So, then, our dreadful yelling ghosts and our murdering army of
soldiers," remarked Peterkin, "have dwindled down to penguins--big
sea-birds! Very good. Then I propose that we continue our journey as
fast as possible, lest our island should be converted into a dream
before we get completely round it."
Now, as we continued on our way, I pondered much over this new discovery
and the singular appearance of these birds, of which Jack could only
give us a very slight and vague account; and I began to long to commence
our boat, in order that we might go and inspect them more narrowly. But
by degrees these thoughts left me, and I began to be much taken up again
with the interesting peculiarities of the country which we were passing
through.
The second night we passed in a manner somewhat similar to the first--at
about two-thirds of the way round the island, as we calculated--and we
hoped to sleep on the night following at our bower. I will not here
note so particularly all that we said and saw during the course of this
second day, as we did not make any further discoveries of great
importance. The shore along which we travelled, and the various parts
of the woods through which we passed, were similar to those which have
been already treated of. There were one or two observations that we
made, however, and these were as follows:
We saw that, while many of the large fruit-bearing trees grew only in
the valleys, and some of them only near the banks of the streams, where
the soil was peculiarly rich, the cocoa-nut palm grew in every place
whatsoever--not only on the hillsides, but also on the seashore, and
even, as has been already stated, on the coral reef itself, where the
soil, if we may use the name, was nothing better than loose sand mingled
with broken shells and coral rock. So near to the sea, too, did this
useful tree grow, that in many places its roots were washed by the spray
from the breakers. Yet we found the trees growing thus on the sands to
be quite as luxuriant as those growing in the valleys, and the fruit as
good and refreshing also. Besides this, I noticed that on the summit of
the high mountain, which we once more ascended at a different point from
our first ascent, were found abundance of shells and broken coral
formations, which, Jack and I agreed, proved either that this island
must have once been under the sea, or that the sea must once have been
above the island: in other words, that as shells and coral could not
possibly climb to the mountain-top, they must have been washed upon it
while the mountain-top was on a level with the sea. We pondered this
very much; and we put to ourselves the question, "What raised the island
to its present height above the sea?" But to this we could by no means
give to ourselves a satisfactory reply. Jack thought it might have been
blown up by a volcano; and Peterkin said he thought it must have jumped
up of its own accord! We also noticed, what had escaped us before, that
the solid rocks of which the island was formed were quite different from
the live coral rocks on the shore, where, the wonderful little insects
were continually working. They seemed, indeed, to be of the same
material--a substance like limestone; but while the coral rocks were
quite full of minute cells in which the insects lived, the other rocks
inland were hard and solid, without the appearance of cells at all. Our
thoughts and conversations on this subject were sometimes so profound
that Peterkin said we should certainly get drowned in them at last, even
although we were such good divers! Nevertheless, we did not allow his
pleasantry on this and similar points to deter us from making our notes
and observations as we went along.
We found several more droves of hogs in the woods, but abstained from
killing any of them, having more than sufficient for our present
necessities. We saw, also, many of their footprints in this
neighbourhood. Among these we also observed the footprints of a smaller
animal, which we examined with much care, but could form no certain
opinion as to them. Peterkin thought they were those of a little dog,
but Jack and I thought differently. We became very curious on this
matter, the more so that we observed these footprints to lie scattered
about in one locality, as if the animal which had made them was
wandering round about in a very irregular manner and without any object
in view. Early in the forenoon of our third day we observed these
footprints to be much more numerous than ever, and in one particular
spot they diverged off into the woods in a regular beaten track, which
was, however, so closely beset with bushes that we pushed through it
with difficulty. We had now become so anxious to find out what animal
this was, and where it went to, that we determined to follow the track
and, if possible, clear up the mystery. Peterkin said, in a bantering
tone, that he was sure it would be cleared up, as usual, in some
frightfully simple way, and prove to be no mystery at all!
The beaten track seemed much too large to have been formed by the animal
itself, and we concluded that some larger animal had made it, and that
the smaller one made use of it. But everywhere the creeping plants and
tangled bushes crossed our path, so that we forced our way along with
some difficulty. Suddenly, as we came upon an open space, we heard a
faint cry, and observed a black animal standing in the track before us.
"A wild cat!" cried Jack, fitting an arrow to his bow, and discharging
it so hastily that he missed the animal, and hit the earth about
half-a-foot to one side of it. To our surprise, the wild cat did not
fly, but walked slowly towards the arrow and snuffed at it.
"That's the most comical wild cat I ever saw!" cried Jack.
"It's a tame wild cat, I think," said Peterkin, levelling his spear to
make a charge.
"Stop!" cried I, laying my hand on his shoulder. "I do believe the poor
beast is blind. See, it strikes against the branches as it walks along.
It must be a very old one;" and I hastened towards it.
"Only think," said Peterkin with a suppressed laugh, "of a superannuated
wild cat!"
We now found that the poor cat was not only blind, or nearly so, but
extremely deaf, as it did not hear our footsteps until we were quite
close behind it. Then it sprang round, and, putting up its back and
tail, while the black hair stood all on end, uttered a hoarse mew and a
fuff.
Poor thing said Peterkin, gently extending his hand and endeavouring to
pat the cat's head. "Poor pussy! chee, chee, chee! puss, puss, puss!
cheetie pussy!"
No sooner did the cat hear these sounds than all signs of anger fled,
and advancing eagerly to Peterkin, it allowed itself to be stroked, and
rubbed itself against his legs, purring loudly all the time, and showing
every symptom of the most extreme delight.
"It's no more a wild cat than I am!" cried Peterkin, taking it in his
arms; "it's quite tame.--Poor pussy! cheetie pussy!"
We now crowded around Peterkin, and were not a little surprised--and, to
say truth, a good deal affected--by the sight of the poor animal's
excessive joy. It rubbed its head against Peterkin's cheek, licked his
chin, and thrust its head almost violently into his neck, while it
purred more loudly than I ever heard a cat purr before, and appeared to
be so much overpowered by its feelings that it occasionally mewed and
purred almost in the same breath. Such demonstrations of joy and
affection led us at once to conclude that this poor cat must have known
man before, and we conjectured that it had been left either accidentally
or by design on the island many years ago, and was now evincing its
extreme joy at meeting once more with human beings. While we were
fondling the cat and talking about it, Jack glanced round the open space
in the midst of which we stood.
"Hallo!" exclaimed he; "this looks something like a clearing. The axe
has been at work here. Just look at these tree-stumps."
We now turned to examine these, and without doubt we found trees that
had been cut down here and there, also stumps and broken branches--all
of which, however, were completely covered over with moss, and bore
evidence of having been in this condition for some years. No human
footprints were to be seen either on the track or among the bushes, but
those of the cat were found everywhere. We now determined to follow up
the track as far as it went, and Peterkin put the cat down; but it
seemed to be so weak, and mewed so very pitifully, that he took it up
again and carried it in his arms, where in a few minutes it fell sound
asleep.
About ten yards farther on, the felled trees became more numerous, and
the track, diverging to the right, followed for a short space the banks
of a stream. Suddenly we came to a spot where once must have been a
rude bridge, the stones of which were scattered in the stream, and those
on each bank entirely covered over with moss. In silent surprise and
expectancy we continued to advance, and a few yards farther on, beheld,
under the shelter of some bread-fruit trees, a small hut or cottage. I
cannot hope to convey to my readers a very correct idea of the feelings
that affected us on witnessing this unexpected sight. We stood for a
long time in silent wonder, for there was a deep and most melancholy
stillness about the place that quite overpowered us; and when we did at
length speak, it was in subdued whispers, as if we were surrounded by
some awful or supernatural influence. Even Peterkin's voice, usually so
quick and lively on all occasions, was hushed now; for there was a
dreariness about this silent, lonely, uninhabited cottage--so strange in
its appearance, so far away from the usual dwellings of man, so old,
decayed, and deserted in its aspect that fell upon our spirits like a
thick cloud, and blotted out as with a pall the cheerful sunshine that
had filled us since the commencement of our tour round the island.
The hut or cottage was rude and simple in its construction. It was not
more than twelve feet long by ten feet broad, and about seven or eight
feet high. It had one window, or rather a small frame in which a window
might perhaps once have been, but which was now empty. The door was
exceedingly low, and formed of rough boards, and the roof was covered
with broad cocoa-nut and plantain leaves. But every part of it was in a
state of the utmost decay. Moss and green matter grew in spots all over
it. The woodwork was quite perforated with holes; the roof had nearly
fallen in, and appeared to be prevented from doing so altogether by the
thick matting of creeping plants and the interlaced branches which years
of neglect had allowed to cover it almost entirely; while the thick,
luxuriant branches of the bread-fruit and other trees spread above it,
and flung a deep, sombre shadow over the spot, as if to guard it from
the heat and the light of day. We conversed long and in whispers about
this strange habitation ere we ventured to approach it; and when at
length we did so, it was, at least on my part, with feelings of awe.
At first Jack endeavoured to peep in at the window; but from the deep
shadow of the trees already mentioned, and the gloom within, he could
not clearly discern objects, so we lifted the latch and pushed open the
door. We observed that the latch was made of iron, and almost eaten
away with rust. In the like condition were also the hinges, which
creaked as the door swung back. On entering, we stood still and gazed
around us, while we were much impressed with the dreary stillness of the
room. But what we saw there surprised and shocked us not a little.
There was no furniture in the apartment save a little wooden stool and
an iron pot, the latter almost eaten through with rust. In the corner
farthest from the door was a low bedstead, on which lay two skeletons,
embedded in a little heap of dry dust. With beating hearts we went
forward to examine them. One was the skeleton of a man; the other that
of a dog, which was extended close beside that of the man, with its head
resting on his bosom.
Now we were very much concerned about this discovery, and could scarce
refrain from tears on beholding these sad remains. After some time we
began to talk about what we had seen, and to examine in and around the
hut, in order to discover some clue to the name or history of this poor
man, who had thus died in solitude, with none to mourn his loss save his
cat and his faithful dog. But we found nothing--neither a book nor a
scrap of paper. We found, however, the decayed remnants of what
appeared to have been clothing, and an old axe. But none of these
things bore marks of any kind, and indeed they were so much decayed as
to convince us that they had lain in the condition in which we found
them for many years.
This discovery now accounted to us for the tree-stump at the top of the
mountain with the initials cut on it; also for the patch of sugar-cane
and other traces of man which we had met with in the course of our
rambles over the island. And we were much saddened by the reflection
that the lot of this poor wanderer might possibly be our own, after many
years' residence on the island, unless we should be rescued by the visit
of some vessel or the arrival of natives. Having no clue whatever to
account for the presence of this poor human being in such a lonely spot,
we fell to conjecturing what could have brought him there. I was
inclined to think that he must have been a shipwrecked sailor, whose
vessel had been lost here, and all the crew been drowned except himself
and his dog and cat. But Jack thought it more likely that he had run
away from his vessel, and had taken the dog and cat to keep him company.
We were also much occupied in our minds with the wonderful difference
between the cat and the dog. For here we saw that while the one
perished like a loving friend by its master's side, with its head
resting on his bosom, the other had sought to sustain itself by prowling
abroad in the forest, and had lived in solitude to a good old age.
However, we did not conclude from this that the cat was destitute of
affection, for we could not forget its emotions on first meeting with
us; but we saw from this that the dog had a great deal more of generous
love in its nature than the cat, because it not only found it impossible
to live after the death of its master, but it must needs, when it came
to die, crawl to his side and rest its head upon his lifeless breast.
While we were thinking on these things, and examining into everything
about the room, we were attracted by an exclamation from Peterkin.
"I say, Jack," said he, "here is something that will be of use to us."
"What is it?" said Jack, hastening across the room.
"An old pistol," replied Peterkin, holding up the weapon, which he had
just pulled from under a heap of broken wood and rubbish that lay in a
corner.
"That, indeed, might have been useful," said Jack, examining it, "if we
had any powder; but I suspect the bow and the sling will prove more
serviceable."
"True, I forgot that," said Peterkin; "but we may as well take it with
us, for the flint will serve to strike fire with when the sun does not
shine."
After having spent more than an hour at this place without discovering
anything of further interest, Peterkin took up the old cat, which had
lain very contentedly asleep on the stool whereon he had placed it, and
we prepared to take our departure. In leaving the hut, Jack stumbled
heavily against the door-post, which was so much decayed as to break
across, and the whole fabric of the hut seemed ready to tumble about our
ears. This put it into our heads that we might as well pull it down,
and so form a mound over the skeleton. Jack, therefore, with his axe,
cut down the other door-post, which, when it was done, brought the whole
hut in ruins to the ground, and thus formed a grave to the bones of the
poor recluse and his dog. Then we left the spot, having brought away
the iron pot, the pistol, and the old axe, as they might be of much use
to us hereafter.
During the rest of this day we pursued our journey, and examined the
other end of the large valley, which we found to be so much alike to the
parts already described that I shall not recount the particulars of what
we saw in this place. I may, however, remark that we did not quite
recover our former cheerful spirits until we arrived at our bower, which
we did late in the evening, and found everything just in the same
condition as we had left it three days before.