It would be tedious if I were to go on describing the almost endless
varieties of birds we shot, glowing though they were with rainbow
colours, and to keep repeating how we skinned and preserved this
sun-bird, that pitta, or trogon, or lovely rose-tinted dove. Parrots
and cockatoos we found without number, and as we selected only the
finest specimens, our collection rapidly increased, so fast, indeed, by
steady work, that I began to understand how my uncle had brought so
great a number from the West.
But still one of the great objects of our visit to this part of the
world had not been achieved; we had shot no birds of paradise; and these
were scarce things in England at the time of which I write.
There were plenty of rough specimens of their plumage worn in ladies'
bonnets; but a fair, well-preserved skin was hardly known, those brought
to England being roughly dried by the natives; so at last my uncle
declared that no more birds should be shot and skinned until we had
obtained specimens of some at least of the lovely creatures whose cries
we often heard about us, but which tantalisingly kept out of shot.
It was a difficult task, but we at last made Ebo understand that we must
shoot some of these birds, when by his way he seemed to indicate that if
we had only told him sooner we might have had as many as we liked.
That very day he obtained a good little store of provisions, shouldered
his spear, and went off by himself, and we saw no more of him for
forty-eight hours, when he came back in the most unconcerned way, just
as if he had never been out of sight, and sat down and ate all that we
put before him.
After that he lay down and went to sleep for some hours, waking up ready
to dance around us, chattering vehemently until we had finished the
skins we were preserving, when he signed to us to take our guns and to
follow him.
We obeyed him, but he did not seem satisfied until we had collected some
provision as well, when once more he set off, taking us through a part
of the island we had not visited before, and, if anything, more
beautiful than that we had.
It was a long journey he took us, and we could have secured hundreds of
brilliantly coloured birds, but we only shot a few large ones, such as
we knew to be good food, ready for our halt by the camp fire, for it
seemed that we were not to return to our hut that night.
Over hillsides, down in valleys where tree-ferns sprang up, of the most
beautifully laced fronds, great groves of palms and clumps of cocoa-nut
trees, some of whose fruit Ebo climbed and got for us, and still we went
on, avoiding the marshy-looking spots which experience had taught us to
be the home of the serpents, which, in very small numbers, inhabited the
isle.
Several times over we looked inquiringly at Ebo, but he only smiled and
pointed forward, and we followed him till he stopped suddenly and showed
us some wood ready for making a fire.
Here we had a welcome rest and a hearty meal, but he did not let us stay
long, hurrying us forward, till, just before sundown, he brought us to a
dense patch of forest, with huge trees towering upward and spreading
their branches, making an impenetrable shade.
"It will be too dark to travel far here to-night, Nat," said my uncle.
"Where does he mean to go? But this ought to be the place for the birds
of paradise, Nat, if we are to get any."
Just then Ebo stopped, and we found a rough hut of leaves with a bed of
fern already waiting for us, this having been part of his work during
his prolonged absence.
His delight knew no bounds as he saw that we were pleased, and as usual
he indulged in a dance, after which he caught us in turn by the arm and
tried very hard to explain that the birds of paradise were plentiful
here.
We were too tired to think about anything much besides sleep, and very
gladly crept into our hut, to sleep so soundly without a single thought
of serpents or huge apes, that I seemed hardly to have closed my eyes,
and felt exceedingly grumpy and indisposed to move when Ebo began
shaking me to get me up.
"All right!" I said, and then, as I lay still with my eyes closed, Ebo
kept on:
"Hawk, hawk, hawk; kwok, kwok, kwok;" and it seemed so stupid of him,
but there it was again; "Hawk, hawk, hawk; kwok, kwok, kwok."
"Come, Nat," cried my uncle; "unbutton those eyelids, boy, and get up.
Don't you hear the birds calling?"
"I thought it was Ebo, uncle," I said. "Oh! I am so sleepy."
"Never mind the sleepiness, Nat. Come along and let's see if we cannot
get some good specimens."
Just then I saw Ebo's face in the opening, and cutting a yawn right in
half I followed my uncle out into the darkness, for though the birds of
paradise were calling, there was no sign of day.
But if we wished for success I felt that we must get beneath the trees
unseen, and, examining my gun, I followed my uncle, who in turn kept
close behind Ebo.
The black went forward very cautiously, and looking very strange and
misty in the darkness; but he evidently knew what he was about, going
along amongst the great tree trunks without a sound, while we followed
as lightly as we could.
On all sides we could hear the hoarse cries of the birds, which we felt
must be in good numbers, and I felt less sleepiness now in the fresh
morning air, and a curious feeling of excitement came over me as I
thought of the lovely amber plumes of these birds, and wondered whether
I should be fortunate enough to bring one down.
All at once Ebo stopped beneath an enormous tree, and as we crept up
close to its mighty trunk we gazed up into the darkness and could here
and there catch a glimpse of a star; in fact, so black was it, that but
for the cries of the various birds we heard, it might have been taken
for the middle of the night.
There was nothing to see but an almost opaque blackness, though now and
then I fancied I could make out a great branch crossing above my head.
It seemed nonsense to have come, but the loud cry of one of the birds we
sought, sounded loudly just then and silenced my doubts. I raised my
gun ready for a shot, but could see nothing.
Just then my uncle whispered with his lips to my ear: "Don't make a
sound, and don't fire till you have a good chance. Look out."
The loud quok, quok, quok, was answered from a distance, repeated above
our heads, and then there was the whistle of wings plainly heard in the
solemn silence of the forest, and all this repeated again overhead till
it seemed as if we were just beneath a tree where the birds of paradise
met for discussion, like the rooks at home in the elms. But no matter
how I strained my eyes I could not distinguish a single bird.
The minutes went by, and I longed for the light, for though I knew it
would betray our presence, still I might catch sight of one bird and
bring it down. But the light did not come, and as my arms ached with
holding up my gun I lowered it, and patiently waited with my heart
beating heavily, as I listened to the cries that were on the increase.
All at once I felt an arm glide over my shoulder, and I could just make
out that Ebo was pointing upward with his black finger steadily in one
direction.
I tried to follow it but could see nothing, and I was thinking how much
better a savage's sight was than ours, when from out of the darkness
there came the hoarse "_Hawk, hawk, hawk; quok, quok, quok_," and as the
cry seemed to direct my eye, I fancied that I could see something moving
slightly at a very great height, bowing and strutting like a pigeon. I
looked and looked again and could not see it; then a star that was
peeping through the leaves seemed to be suddenly hidden, and there was
the movement again.
I forgot all about my uncle's orders about not firing until I had a good
chance, and taking a steady aim at the dimly seen spot just as the
hoarse cry arose once more, I drew the trigger.
The flash from my gun seemed to cut the blackness, and the report went
echoing away amongst the trees; then there was a sharp rustling noise,
and a dull, quick thud, and I was about to spring forward and seek for
what I had shot, but Ebo's arms closed round me and held me fast.
I understood what he meant, and contented myself with reloading my gun,
the click of the lock sounding very loud in the silence that had ensued,
for the report of my gun had caused a complete cessation of all cries,
and I felt that we should get no more shots for some time; but all the
same I had heard no rush of wings as of a flock of birds taking flight,
and I wondered whether any of them were still in the dense top of the
tree.
Five or ten minutes must have elapsed, and then once more Ebo's arm
glided over my shoulder and rested there, while I laid my cheek against
it, and gazed in quite another direction now till I fancied I saw what
he was pointing at, but which looked like nothing but a dark spot high
up amongst the twigs; in fact, when I did make it out I felt sure that
it was a nest.
But I recalled how accurate Ebo had been before, and once more taking
aim, making it the more careful by leaning my gun barrel against the
trunk of the tree, I fired; there was a quick rustle of leaves and
twigs, and another dull thud, but no one moved.
After a few minutes' waiting Ebo pointed out another, whatever it was,
for I was still in doubt as to whether these were birds of paradise that
I had shot, for the silence had not been broken since I fired first.
I took a quicker aim this time and drew the trigger, and once more there
was a heavy fall through the branches, and then as if by magic it seemed
to be daylight, and I saw several big birds dotted about the tree.
Uncle Dick and I fired together, and then came a rush of wings as
another bird fell, the loud cries being repeated from a distance; while
Ebo, evidently considering that it was of no more use to wait, ran out
to pick up the birds.
Only one bird had fallen when my uncle and I fired together, for I
believe I missed; but as Ebo and I picked up the result of our
expedition here the sun rose, and in the bright light that came between
the trees we stood gazing in ecstasy at the lovely creatures.
"Oh, uncle!"
That was all I could say for some time.
"I think it ought to be `Oh, Nat!'" he replied laughing. "Why, you
young dog, what eyes you have! you got all the luck."
"Oh no, uncle," I said laughing; "I shot with Ebo's eyes."
"Then next time I'll do the same," he said.
"But let's go and shoot some more," I said excitedly.
"No, Nat, we shall get no more of these to-day. I suppose it will only
be by hiding in the darkness beneath the trees they frequent that we
shall have any success. They are wonderfully shy, and no wonder when
they have such plumage to protect."
I suppose most people have seen specimens of the great bird of paradise,
but they can have no conception of the beauty of a freshly shot specimen
such as were two of those which I brought down. I felt as if I could
never tire of gazing at the wonderful tinting of the bird, here of a
pale straw yellow with the feathers short and stiff like velvet, there
of a rich chocolate with the neck covered with scales of metallic green.
Their tails seemed to have, in place of centre feathers, a couple of
long beautiful curving wires nearly a yard long; but the chief beauty of
the birds was the great tuft of plumage which seemed to come out from
beneath the wings, light and soft, quite two feet long, and all of a
rich golden orange.
It seems to me impossible to conceive a more lovely bird, and we took
them in triumph to our hut, where we breakfasted, my uncle afterwards
carefully making skins of all four.
The other two were evidently younger birds, and had not their full
plumage, but they were very beautiful and formed a splendid addition to
the collection.