"ROW, BROTHERS, ROW"--QUAMBO'S SHARK
STORY--FAST TO A SWORD-FISH.
The night wore on apace. It must have been well into the middle
watch when there began to mingle with the toilsome dreams of the
grief-stricken sailor the melody of song, and the sound of oars
keeping time to the rhythm.
He woke up at last.
Cassia-bud was also awake, and both were sitting up, straining their
ears to listen.
Yes, there it was again sure enough, very faint and far away
certainly, beyond the reef, but, borne along towards them on the air
of night, it was plainly audible.
"Row, brothers, row, the stream runs fast,
The rapids are near, and the daylight is past."
The song really appeared to come from the sky itself, and in the sky
Cassia-bud evidently believed it was.
"O Mac," he said tremblingly; "I'se dreffully frightened. I'se as
pale as def (death) with fear. Po massa! dat song he lub so much
when he libin', and now, Mac, he am dead and is singin' same song in
hebbin. Po massa!"
The music ceased at last, and there was a pause; then it once more
rose on the air, but higher and nearer, and a song of a different
sort. "Auld lang syne," to wit.
"And surely ye'll be your pint-stoup,
As sure as I'll be mine;
And we'll spend the evenin' thinking, boys,
Of auld lang syne."
"No Kash," cried Mac joyfully; "it aint in heaven they are. 'T aint
blessed likely there'd be pint stoups in heaven. And I don't think
they're ghosts at all."
He jumped to his feet.
"Speak, Bob, speak, boy;" he said to the great dog.
Hurricane Bob required no two tellings; he barked till reefs and
hills re-echoed back the sound.
Then cheering was heard from seaward, which Magilvray and Cassia-bud
gladly returned, and soon something dark appeared in the reef gap,
and in about five minutes more our lost stingaree hunters were
standing on the beach, receiving the congratulations of their
friends, whom they had never expected to see again in life.
"Oh, Kashie is so glad now, massa!" cried the nigger boy. "I jes
want to run and shout all de while. And you is sure you is alive,
massa?"
"I believe so, Kashie."
"And de sharks not hab done gone gobble you up for true?"
"Not one of us. And now, lads, stir up the fire, and let us have
supper, we're dying of hunger. That's what's the matter with us now."
"Shall we cook ye a slice o' stingaree, sir," said Magilvray slyly.
"Oh, bother the stingaree, Mac! Don't chaff us about the beast."
"No more stingaree for me," said Frank; "not even a little bit."
Mac was very busy now, and as he set about cooking the supper Fred
told him how they had escaped.
They had heard the sharks splashing near them in the darkness; then,
in an agony of fear, they made one more despairing effort to right
the boat, and succeeded. Fred and Frank got in first, then Quambo.
"So you see, Mac, we've disappointed the sharks for once, and done
them out of a good supper, and now we're going to make a good supper
ourselves."
* * * * * *
One evening, about three weeks after the adventure with the
stingaree, as they all lay round the fire, and Quambo and Mac were
blowing great curling clouds of the wild tobacco, the smoke from
which, however, was not considered Rimmellian by either Fred or
Frank, said the latter:
"D'ye know, lads, that I think flying fish is about the nicest fish
in the sea--to eat I mean?"
"Well," said Fred, "I think Kashie here might catch some."
"Fly fish?" said Cassia-bud. "Oh, massa, you expects po' Kashie to
catch the big debbil dat fly over de reef, with nuffin but his head
on. Kashie not can do."
"No, no, Kashie. It is the little flying skip-jack business I mean."
"Oh, I see, sah! de flying herrings, sah?"
"A good name too. Well, Fred, do you know that a flying fish once
saved my life?"
"Ah! a story? Eh? Out with it, Frank. 'Saved by a flying fish: a
tale in two chapters; or, a romance of sea life!'"
"Well, lads, you'll admit there isn't much romance about it when you
hear it. Scene first then opens with me lying sick and ill in a
hammock on deck, on board the old _Resolute_. We were at sea you
know, and a long way from land. I must say the skipper was just as
kind to me as he knew how to be. He used to bring his bottle of rum
on deck, and sit beside me and drink it for company's sake like; for
you know I wouldn't have any. He was a very straightforward chap
that skipper, I hope he is still alive and afloat, though I doubt it
very much. 'If ye're so grand as not to drink the rum, young man,'
he said to me sometimes, 'why I guess the next best thing you can do
is to lie there, and see me drink it.' Well, until I gave up eating
entirely the skipper had good hopes of me; but when I lay in my
hammock as weak as a baby, and couldn't pick a morsel of salt junk or
dried cod, then he told me plainly there wasn't a ghost of a chance
for me.
"Then we got becalmed, and there was a blue shark, about twenty feet
long, kept close to the ship all the time, waiting and watching.
"'He's waiting and watching for you, young man,' the skipper told me,
consolingly. 'He's a fine big beast, and you'll fit in there nicely!
Now if you've anything to say, or if there's anything you'd like done
arter your de--mise, you had better speak now, for I calculate ye
haven't got more'n a day to get ready.'"
"Oh!" I groaned, "if there was anything I could eat I think I'd get
round even yet."
"'Well,' he said, 'we're having jest the nicest bit o corned horse
and sauer-kraut for dinner ever ye smelt. It's just stale enough to
be tender. If ye can't tackle that I guess ye ain't much good any
more!'
"That is chapter first, Fred, and now for the romance. I was lying
in my hammock, dozing I think, that same evening, only looking up at
the clear bright stars now and then, and wondering how far heaven is
beyond them, and if I shall know my dear father when I meet him
there, when all of a sudden some cold splashy thing jumped right
against my face, then commenced a very lively dance on top of the
hammock. It was a flying-fish."
Frank paused.
"Well," said Fred, "but I don't see where the romance comes in, or
how the creature saved your life."
"Why, man alive, I ate it!"
"You eatee he alive, sah?" cried Cassia-bud.
"No, Kash, I had it cooked; and it was the most delightfully tasty
and toothsome morsel ever I put inside my lips. Another was caught
next day, and lots more after; and I grew better from that very
night, and so that also was a disappointed shark."
"Ah! yum! yum!" said Quambo, "dey is good food. I likee some now.
Yum!"
"What, flying-fish, Quambo?"
"Oh, no, sah, de shark!"
"Well, Quambo," said Fred, "you can catch some for yourself, only
you'll have to dine all alone when you have shark for dinner."
"When I a leetle boy," said Quambo thoughtfully, "I catchee plenty
big shark--I and some oder nigger-boy, and two, tree, four
nigger-men."
"Now for Quambo's story," cried Frank. "Heave round with your yarn,
Quambo, lad."
"I lib along o' my ole mudder in Africa befo' I go to de States. On
de Gold Coast dat were, gen'lem. Shark plenty value dere. Good fo'
food and good for de skin, wot we cure and de white man buy.
"Plenty reef on dat coast, gen'lem. Well, we go close to de reef,
all same's we were de night de big black head jump ober and swamp de
boat. We go close to de reef. Den we hab one long strong rope wid a
runnin' noose on de end o' he for to catchee de shark."
"Certainly, Quambo; but tell us the modus operandi."
"What ship's dat, sah?"
"I mean, how did you catch the beggars, Quambo?"
"Bery easy, sah, indeed. You see de sharks mos'ly goes to sleep in
de middle ob de day. Dey creep into de coral caves. All de same,
sah, de tail all lef stickin' out ob de holes, you see."
"And do you mean to tell us, Quambo, that you went and pulled their
tails?"
"Not quite, sah Quambo not quite so big a fool as dat. But I myse'f
and two more tiny boys go dive down, and plenty quick Quambo slip de
noose ober a tail, den signal. De noose he tighten now, and de shark
is pull right out and lift up all de way to de boat. How dat shark
do squirm to be sure! When de man in de boat hab kill he propah, den
down Quambo go again."*
* This is no sailor's yarn. This terrible mode of catching sharks is
really adopted in the South Sea islands and elsewhere.
"Well, Quambo, that is very awful, if true."
"Oh, he true, sah! I gib my word of honah on dat, sah."
"But, Quambo, did the sharks never retaliate?"
"Yes, sah, de shark 'taliate my leetle brudder, sah. I see my
brudder try to make fast to one bery big tail. He not can do. Den
de owner of dat big tail come out plenty quick. I dive up, sah."
"An' your brother, Quambo?"
"Oh, I guess, sah, he dive down. I hab no mo' leetle brudder after
dat. I spose he 'taliated."
* * * * * *
But flying fish were very plentiful round the island, and I think
Cassia-bud must have lain awake a whole night trying to find out a
plan to get some. He was completely successful. A kind of big
butterfly neb was manufactured by Quambo and him. This was part of
the flying-fish tackle, but not all. It is a well-known fact that
flying fish will come towards a light held near the surface of the
sea at night. Now it only remained to manufacture a torch, and
Quambo came to the rescue.
In the South Sea islands one of the most lovely trees that grows in
the forest is the Dooee-Dooee or Candle-mat tree. The broad
silvery-green leaves, and the bunches of charmingly white and shapely
flowers, render it an object of great beauty, especially if it stands
near other trees of a darker green. The nuts that grow on this tree
are heated, then cracked to get the kernel out. These kernels are
strung together like beads, and the strings of kernels tied round
with bark, and lo! the candle is complete.
So Quambo and Cassia-bud started out together one night, and splendid
sport they had, and just as splendid a breakfast next day; for
nothing could exceed in flavour the flesh of those flying fish.
But as often as not now Fred and Frank used to go after the flying
fish together.
One night Quambo happened to be in the boat, and it was well he was,
else an adventure that befel our heroes would, in all probability,
have had a sad termination. On this particular evening flying fish
were very numerous; and while rowing on a spurt after a shoal,
suddenly the boat seemed to strike a rock, with such violence too as
to throw both Fred and Frank over the thwarts. It was no rock,
however; for immediately after the boat was shaken with terrible
violence, and several times all but capsized.
Luckily, Quambo was equal to the occasion. He was forward in the
bows, and lancing and lunging at the enemy--an immense
sword-fish--almost before our heroes had time to gather themselves
up. Suddenly the boat was pulled almost under water by the head;
then there was a dull report, and she was free from the monster, and
slowly righted herself once more.
She was now making water so fast that it was deemed prudent to get on
shore with all speed. So her head was turned towards the gap in the
reef. Quambo kept bailing all the time, and Fred and Frank rowed as
they had never rowed before. They got her run up at last on the
sandy beach; but it took all hands three whole days to make good
repairs, for it must be remembered they had no tools worthy of
mention to work with.
Little did they imagine, however, that they would soon be possessed
of tools enough and to spare.