THE PIRATE'S WARNING
When the lad awoke it was quite dark in the house, but there was no
sound of rain. He went to the door and looked out upon a fairly clear
night. The storm was gone and he heard only a light wind rustling
through palms. There was no thunder of beating surf in the distance. It
was a quiet sky and a quiet island.
He went back and looked at the slaver. The man was asleep on his couch,
but he was stirring a little, and he was hot with fever. Robert felt
pity for him, cruel and blood-stained though he knew him to be. Besides,
he was the only human companion he had, and he did not wish to be left
alone there. But he did not know what to do just then, and, lying down
on the floor, he went to sleep again.
When he awoke the second time day had come, and the slaver too was
awake, though looking very weak.
"I've been watching you quite a while, Peter," he said. "You must have
slept fifteen or sixteen hours. Youth has a wonderful capacity for
slumber and restoration. I dare say you're now as good as ever, and
wondering where you'll find your breakfast. Well, when I built this
house I didn't neglect the plenishings of it. Open the door next to you
and you'll find boucan inside. 'Boucan,' as you doubtless know, is dried
beef, and from it we got our name the buccaneers, because in the
beginning we lived so much upon dried beef. Enough is in that closet to
last us a month, and there are herds of wild cattle on the island, an
inexhaustible larder."
"But we can't catch wild cattle with our hands," said Robert.
The slaver laughed.
"You don't think, Peter," he said, "that when I built a house here and
furnished it I neglected some of the most necessary articles. In the
other closet you'll find weapons and ammunition. But deal first with the
boucan."
Robert opened the closet and found the boucan packed away in sheets or
layers on shelves, and at once he became ravenously hungry.
"On a lower shelf," said the slaver, "you'll find flint and steel, and
with them it shouldn't be hard for a wilderness lad like you to start a
fire. There are also kettles, skillets and pans, and I think you know
how to do the rest."
Robert went to work on a fire. The wood, which was abundant outside, was
still damp, but he had a strong clasp knife and he whittled a pile of
dry shavings which he succeeded in igniting with the flint and steel,
though it was no light task, requiring both patience and skill. But the
fire was burning at last and he managed to make in one of the kettles
some soup of the dried beef, which he gave to the captain. The man had
no appetite, but he ate a little and declared that he felt stronger.
Then Robert broiled many strips for himself over the coals and ate
ravenously. He would have preferred a greater variety of food, but it
was better than a castaway had a right to expect.
His breakfast finished, he continued his examination of the house, which
was furnished with many things, evidently captured from ships. He found
in one of the closets a fine fowling piece, a hunting rifle, two
excellent muskets, several pistols, ammunition for all the fire-arms and
a number of edged weapons.
"You see, Peter, you're fitted for quite an active defense should
enemies come," said the slaver. "You'll admit, I think, that I've been a
good housekeeper."
"Good enough," said Peter. "Are there any medicines?"
"You'll find some salves and ointments on the top shelf in the second
closet, and you can make a poultice for this hurt of mine. Between you
and me, Peter, I've less pain, but much more weakness, which is a bad
sign."
"Oh, you'll be well in a few days," said Robert cheerfully. "One wound
won't carry off a man as strong as you are."
"One wound always suffices, provided it goes in deep enough, but I thank
you for your rosy predictions, Peter. I think your good wishes are
genuinely sincere."
Robert realized that they were so, in truth. In addition to the call of
humanity, he had an intense horror of being left alone on the island,
and he would fight hard to save the slaver's life. He compounded the
poultice with no mean skill, and, after bathing the wound carefully with
fresh water from a little spring behind the hut, he applied it.
"It's cooling, Peter, and I know it's healing, too," said the man, "but
I think I'll try to go to sleep again. As long as I'm fastened to a
couch that's about the only way I can pass the time. Little did I think
when I built this house that I'd come here without a ship and without a
crew to pass some helpless days."
He shut his eyes. After a while, Robert, not knowing whether he was
asleep or not, took down the rifle, loaded it, and went out feeling that
it was high time he should explore his new domain.
In the sunlight the island did not look forbidding. On the contrary, it
was beautiful. From the crest of the hill near the house he saw a
considerable expanse, but the western half of the island was cut off
from view by a higher range of hills. It was all in dark green foliage,
although he caught the sheen of a little lake about two miles away. As
far as he could see a line of reefs stretched around the coast, and the
white surf was breaking on them freely.
From the hill he went back to the point at which he and the captain had
been swept ashore, and, as he searched along the beach he found the
bodies of all those who had been in the boat with them. He had been
quite sure that none of them could possibly have escaped, but it gave
him a shock nevertheless to secure the absolute proof that they were
dead. He resolved if he could find a way to bury them in the sand beyond
the reach of the waves, but, for the present, he could do nothing, and
he continued along the shore several miles, finding its character
everywhere the same, a gentle slope, a stretch of water, and beyond that
the line of reefs on which the white surf was continually breaking,
reefs with terrible teeth as he well knew.
But it was all very peaceful now. The sea stretched away into infinity
the bluest of the blue, and a breeze both warm and stimulating came out
of the west. Robert, however, looked mostly toward the north. Albany and
his friends now seemed a world away. He had been wrenched out of his old
life by a sudden and unimaginable catastrophe. What were Tayoga and
Willet doing now? How was the war going? For him so far as real life was
concerned the war simply did not exist. He was on a lost island with
only a wounded man for company and the struggle to survive and escape
would consume all his energies.
Presently he came to what was left of their boat. It was smashed badly
and half buried in the sand. At first he thought he might be able to use
it again, but a critical examination showed that it was damaged beyond
any power of his to repair it, and with a sigh he abandoned the thought
of escape that way.
He continued his explorations toward the south, and saw groves of wild
banana, the bushes or shrubs fifteen or twenty feet high, some of them
with ripe fruit hanging from them. He ate one and found it good, though
he was glad to know that he would not have to depend upon bananas wholly
for food.
A mile to the south and he turned inland, crossing a range of low hills,
covered with dense vegetation. As he passed among the bushes he kept his
rifle ready, not knowing whether or not dangerous wild animals were to
be found there. He had an idea they were lacking in both the Bahamas and
the West Indies, but not being sure, he meant to be on his guard.
Before he reached the bottom of the slope he heard a puff, and then the
sound of heavy feet. All his wilderness caution was alive in a moment,
and, drawing back, he cocked the rifle. Then he crept forward, conscious
that some large wild beast was near. A few steps more and he realized
that there were more than one. He heard several puffs and the heavy feet
seemed to be moving about in an aimless fashion.
He came to the edge of the bushes, and, parting them, he looked
cautiously from their cover. Then his apprehensions disappeared. Before
him stretched a wide, grassy savanna and upon it was grazing a herd of
wild cattle, at least fifty in number, stocky beasts with long horns.
Robert looked at them with satisfaction. Here was enough food on the
hoof to last him for years. They might be tough, but he had experience
enough to make them tender when it came to fire and the spit.
"Graze on in peace until I need you," he said, and crossing the savanna
he found beyond, hidden at first from view by a fringe of forest, the
lake that he had seen from the crest of the hill beside the house. It
covered about half a square mile and was blue and deep. He surmised that
it contained fish good to eat, but, for the present he was content to
let them remain in the water. They, like the wild cattle, could wait.
Feeling that he had been gone long enough, he went back to the house and
found the slaver asleep or in a stupor, and, when he looked at him
closely, he was convinced that it was more stupor than sleep. He was
very pale and much wasted. It occurred suddenly to Robert that the man
would die and the thought gave him a great shock. Then, in very truth,
he would be alone. He sat by him and watched anxiously, but the slaver
did not come back to the world for a full two hours.
"Aye, Peter, you're there," he said. "As I've told you several times,
you're a good lad."
"Can I make you some more of the beef broth?" asked Robert.
"I can take a little I think, though I've no appetite at all."
"And I'd like to dress your wound again."
"If it's any relief to you, Peter, to do so, go ahead, though I think
'tis of little use."
"It will help a great deal. You'll be well again in a week or two. It
isn't so bad here. With a good house and food it's just the place for a
wounded man."
"Plenty of quiet, eh Peter? No people to disturb me in my period of
convalescence."
"Well, that's a help."
Robert dressed the wound afresh, but he noticed during his ministrations
that the slaver's weakness had increased, and his heart sank. It was a
singular fact, but he began to feel a sort of attachment for the man who
had done him so much ill. They had been comrades in a great hazard, and
were yet. Moreover, the fear of being left alone in a tremendous
solitude was recurrent and keen. These motives and that of humanity made
him do his best.
"I thank you, Peter," said the wounded man. "You're standing by me in
noble fashion. On the whole, I'm lucky in being cast away with you
instead of one of my own men. But it hurts me more than my wound does to
think that I should have been tricked, that a man of experience such as
I am should have been lured under the broadside of the sloop of war by
an old fellow playing a fiddle and a couple of sailors dancing. My mind
keeps coming back to it. My brain must have gone soft for the time
being, and so I've paid the price."
Robert said nothing, but finished his surgeon's task. Then he made a
further examination of the house, finding more boucan stored in a small,
low attic, also clothing, both outer and inner garments, nautical
instruments, including a compass, a pair of glasses of power, and
bottles of medicine, the use of some of which he knew.
Then he loaded the fowling piece and went back toward the lake, hoping
he might find ducks there. Beef, whether smoked or fresh, as an
exclusive diet, would become tiresome, and since they might be in for a
long stay on the island he meant to fill their larder as best he could.
On his way he kept a sharp watch for game, but saw only a small coney, a
sort of rabbit, which he left in peace. He found at a marshy edge of the
lake a number of ducks, three of which he shot, and which he dressed and
cooked later on, finding them to be excellent.
Robert made himself a comfortable bed on the floor with blankets from
one of the closets and slept soundly through the next night. The
following morning he found the slaver weaker than ever and out of his
head at times. He made beef broth for him once more, but the man was
able to take but little.
"'Tis no use, Peter," he said in a lucid interval. "I'm sped. I think
there's no doubt of it. When that sloop of war lured us under her guns
she finished her task; she did not leave a single thing undone. My
schooner is gone, my crew is gone, and now I'm going."
"Oh, no," said Robert. "You'll be better to-morrow."
The man said nothing, but seemed to sink back into a lethargic state.
Robert tried his pulse, but could hardly feel its beat. In a half hour
he roused himself a little.
"Peter," he said. "You're a good lad. I tell you so once more. You saved
me from the sea, and you're standing by me now. I owe you for it, and I
might tell you something, now that my time's at hand. It's really come
true that when I built this house I was building the place in which I am
to die, though I didn't dream of it then."
Robert was silent, waiting to hear what he would tell him. But he closed
his eyes and did not speak for five minutes more. The lad tried his
pulse a second time. It was barely discernible. The man at length opened
his eyes and said:
"Peter, if you go back to the province of New York beware of Adrian Van
Zoon."
"Beware of Van Zoon! Why?"
"He wants to get rid of you. I was to put you out of the way for him, at
a price, and a great price, too. But it was not intended, so it seems,
that I should do so."
"Why does Adrian Van Zoon want me put out of the way?"
"That I don't know, Peter, but when you escape from the island you must
find out."
His eyelids drooped and closed once more, and when Robert felt for his
pulse a third time there was none. The slaver and pirate was gone, and
the lad was alone.
Robert felt an immense desolation. Whatever the man was he had striven
to keep him alive, and at the last the captain had shown desire to undo
some of the evil that he had done to him. And so it was Adrian Van Zoon
who wished to put him out of the way. He had suspected that before, in
fact he had been convinced of it, and now the truth of it had been told
to him by another. But, why? The mystery was as deep as ever.
Robert had buried the bodies of the sailors in the sand in graves dug
with an old bayonet that he had found in the house, and he interred the
captain in the same manner, only much deeper. Then he went back to the
house and rested a long time. The awful loneliness that he had feared
came upon him, and he wrestled with it for hours. That night it became
worse than ever, but it was so acute that it exhausted itself, and the
next morning he felt better.
Resolved not to mope, he took down the rifle, put some of the smoked
beef in his pocket, and started on a long exploration, meaning to cross
the high hills that ran down the center of the island, and see what the
other half was like.
In the brilliant sunshine his spirits took another rise. After all, he
could be much worse off. He had a good house, arms and food, and in time
a ship would come. A ship must come, and, with his usual optimism, he
was sure that it would come soon.
He passed by the lakes and noted the marshy spot where he had shot the
ducks. Others had come back and were feeding there now on the water
grasses. Doubtless they had never seen man before and did not know his
full destructiveness, but Robert resolved to have duck for his table
whenever he wanted it.
A mile or two farther and he saw another but much smaller lake, around
the edge of which duck also were feeding, showing him that the supply
was practically unlimited. Just beyond the second lake lay the range of
hills that constituted the backbone of the island, and although the sun
was hot he climbed them, their height being about a thousand feet. From
the crest he had a view of the entire island, finding the new half much
like the old, low, hilly, covered with forest, and surrounded with a
line of reefs on which the surf was breaking.
His eyes followed the long curve of the reefs, and then stopped at a
dark spot that broke their white continuity. His blood leaped and
instantly he put to his eyes the strong glasses that he had found in the
house and that fortunately he had brought with him. Here he found his
first impression to be correct. The dark spot was a ship!
But it was no longer a ship that sailed the seas. Instead it was a
wrecked and shattered ship, with her bow driven into the sand, and her
stern impaled on the sharp teeth of the breakers. Then his heart leaped
again. A second long look through the glasses told him that the lines of
the ship, bruised and battered though she was, were familiar.
It was the schooner. The storm had brought her to the island also,
though to the opposite shore, and there she lay a wreck held by the sand
and rocks. He descended the hills, and, after a long walk, reached the
beach. The schooner was not broken up as much as he had thought, and as
she could be reached easily he decided to board her.
The vessel was tipped partly over on her side, and all her spars and
sails were gone. She swayed a little with the swell, but she was held
fast by sand and rocks. Robert, laying his clothes and rifle on the
beach, waded out to her, and, without much difficulty, climbed aboard,
where he made his way cautiously over the slanting and slippery deck.
His first motive in boarding the wreck was curiosity, but it now
occurred to him that there was much treasure to be had, treasure of the
kind that was most precious to a castaway. A long stay on the island had
not entered into his calculations hitherto, but he knew now that he
might have to reckon on it, and it was well to be prepared for any
event.
He searched first the cabins of the captain and mates, taking from them
what he thought might be of use, and heaping the store upon the beach.
He soon had there a pair of fine double-barreled pistols with plenty of
ammunition to fit, another rifle, one that had been the captain's own,
with supplies of powder and ball, a half dozen blankets, a medicine
chest, well supplied, and a cutlass, which he took without any
particular thought of use.
Then he invaded the carpenter's domain, and there he helped himself very
freely, taking out two axes, two hatchets, two saws, a hammer, two
chisels, several augers, and many other tools, all of which he heaped
with great labor upon the beach.
Then he explored the cook's galley, gleaning three large bags of flour,
supplies of salt and pepper, five cured hams, four big cheeses, several
bottles of cordial and other supplies such as were carried on any
well-found ship. It required great skill and caution to get all his
treasures safely ashore, but his enthusiasm rose as he worked, and he
toiled at his task until midnight. Then he slept beside the precious
heap until the next day.
He lighted a fire with his flint and steel, which he made a point to
carry with him always, and cooked a breakfast of slices from one of the
hams. Then he planned a further attack upon the schooner, which had not
altered her position in the night.
Robert now felt like a miser who never hoards enough. Moreover, his
source of supply once gone, it was not likely that he would find
another, and there was the ship. The sea was in almost a dead calm, and
it was easier than ever to approach her. So he decided to board again
and take off more treasure.
He added to the heap upon the beach another rifle, two muskets, several
pistols, a small sword and a second cutlass, clothing, a considerable
supply of provisions and a large tarpaulin which he meant to spread over
his supplies while they lay on the sand. Then he launched a dinghy which
he found upon the ship with the oars inside.
The dinghy gave him great pleasure. He knew that it would be an arduous
task to carry all his supplies on his back across the island to the
house, and it would lighten the labor greatly to make trips around in
the boat. So he loaded into the dinghy as much of the most precious of
his belongings as he thought it would hold, and began the journey by
water that very day, leaving the rest of the goods covered with the
tarpaulin in the event of rain.
It was a long journey, and he had to be careful about the breakers, but
fortunately the sea remained calm. He was caught in currents several
times, but he came at last to the opening in the rocks through which he
and the captain had entered and he rowed in joyfully. He slept that
night in the house and started back in the morning for another load. One
trip a day in the dinghy he found to be all that he could manage, but he
stuck to his work until his precious store was brought from the beach to
the house.
He could not make up his mind even then to abandon the schooner
entirely. There might never be another magazine of supply, and he
ransacked her thoroughly, taking off more tools, weapons, clothing and
ammunition. Even then he left on board much that might be useful in case
of emergency, such as cordage, sails, and clothing that had belonged to
the sailors. There was also a large quantity of ammunition for the Long
Tom which he did not disturb. The gun itself was still on board the
ship, dismounted and wedged into the woodwork, but practically as good
as ever. Robert, with an eye for the picturesque, thought it would have
been fine to have taken it ashore and to have mounted it before the
house, but that, of course, was impossible. He must leave it to find its
grave in the ocean, and that, perhaps, was the best end to a gun used as
the Long Tom had been.
Part of his new treasures he took across the island on his back, and
part he carried around it in the boat, which he found to be invaluable,
and of which he took the utmost care, drawing it upon the beach at
night, beyond the reach of tide or storm.
More than two weeks passed in these labors, and he was so busy, mind and
body, that he was seldom lonely except at night. Then the feeling was
almost overpowering, but whenever he was assailed by it he would
resolutely tell himself that he might be in far worse case. He had
shelter, food and arms in plenty, and it would not be long before he was
taken off the island. Exerting his will so strongly, the periods of
depression became fewer and shorter.
But the silence and the utter absence of his own kind produced a marked
effect upon his character. He became graver, he thought more deeply upon
serious things than his years warranted. The problem of his own identity
was often before him. Who was he? He was sure that Benjamin Hardy knew.
Jacobus Huysman must know, too, and beyond a doubt Adrian Van Zoon did,
else he would not try so hard to put him out of the way. And St. Luc
must have something to do with this coil. Why had the Frenchman really
pointed out to him the way of escape when he was a prisoner at
Ticonderoga? He turned these questions over and over and over in his
mind, though always the answer evaded him. But he resolved to solve the
problem when he got back to the colonies and as soon as the great war
was over. It was perhaps typical of him that he should want his own
personal fortunes to wait upon the issue of the mighty struggle in which
he was so deeply absorbed.
Then his thoughts turned with renewed concentration to the war. Standing
far off in both mind and body, he was able to contemplate it as a whole
and also to see it in all its parts. And the more he looked at it the
surer he was that England and her colonies would succeed. Distance and
perspective gave him confidence. The French generals and French soldiers
had done wonders, nobody could be braver or more skilful than they, but
they could not prevail always against superior might and invincible
tenacity.
Sitting on the ground and looking at the white surf breaking on the
rocks, he ended the war in the way he wished. The French and Canada were
conquered completely and his own flag was victorious everywhere.
Braddock's defeat and Ticonderoga were but incidents which could delay
but which could not prevent.
But he did not spend too much time in reflection. He was too young for
that, and his years in the wilderness helped him to bear the burden of
being alone. Rifle on shoulder, he explored every part of the island,
finding that his domain presented no great variety. There was much
forest, and several kinds of tropical fruits were for his taking, but
quadruped life was limited, nothing larger than small rodents.
Well-armed as he was, he would have preferred plenty of big game. It
would have added spice to his life, much of which had been spent in
hunting with Willet and Tayoga. Excitement might have been found in
following bear or deer, but he knew too well ever to have expected them
on an island in summer seas.
There was some sport in fishing. Plenty of tackle had been found among
the ship's stores, and he caught good fish in the larger lake. He also
tried deep sea fishing from the dinghy, but the big fellows bit so fast
that it soon ceased to be of interest. The fish, though, added freshness
and variety to his larder, and he also found shellfish, good and
wholesome when eaten in small quantities, along the shore.
He went often to the highest hill in the center of the island, where he
would spend long periods, examining the sea from horizon to horizon with
his strong glasses, searching vainly for a sail. He thought once of
keeping a mighty bonfire burning every night, but he reconsidered it
when he reflected on the character of the ship that it might draw.
Both the Bahamas and the West Indies--he did not know in which group he
was--swarmed then with lawless craft. For nearly two hundred years
piracy had been common, and in a time of war especially the chances were
against a ship being a friend. He decided that on the whole he would
prefer a look at the rescuer before permitting himself to be rescued.
The weather remained beautiful. He had been a month on the island, and
the sea had not been vexed by another storm since his arrival. The
schooner was still wedged in the sand and on the rocks, and he made
several more trips to her, taking off many more articles, which,
however, he left in a heap well back of the beach covered with a
tarpaulin and the remains of sails. He felt that they could lie there
awaiting his need. Perhaps he would never need them at all.
His later visits to the schooner were more from curiosity than from any
other motive. He had a strong desire to learn more about the captain and
his ship. There was no name anywhere upon the vessel, nor could he find
any ship's log or manifest or any kind of writing to indicate it.
Neither was the name of the slaver known to him, nor was there any
letter nor any kind of paper to disclose it. It was likely that it would
always remain hidden from him unless some day he should wrench it from
Adrian Van Zoon.
Robert went into the sea nearly every morning. As he was a powerful
swimmer and the weather remained calm, he was in the habit of going out
beyond the reefs, but one day he noticed a fin cutting the water and
coming toward him. Instantly he swam with all his might toward the
reefs, shivering as he went. When he drew himself up on the slippery
rocks he did not see the formidable fin. He was quite willing to utter
devout thanks aloud. It might not have been a shark, but it made him
remember they were to be expected in those waters. After that he took no
chances, bathing inside the reefs and going outside in the dinghy only.
A few days later he was upon his highest hill watching the horizon when
he saw a dark spot appear in the southwest. At first he was hopeful that
it was a sail, but as he saw it grow he knew it to be a cloud. Then he
hurried toward the house, quite sure a storm was coming. Knowing how the
southern seas were swept by hurricanes, it was surprising that none had
come sooner, and he ran as fast as he could for the shelter of the
house.
Robert made the door just in time. Then the day had turned almost as
dark as night and, with a rush and a roar, wind and rain were upon him.
Evidently the slaver had known those regions, and so he had built a
house of great strength, which, though it quivered and rattled under the
sweep of the hurricane, nevertheless stood up against it.
The building had several small windows, closed with strong shutters, but
as wind and rain were driving from the west he was able to open one on
the eastern side and watch the storm. It was just such a hurricane as
that which had wrecked the shattered schooner. It became very dark,
there were tremendous displays of thunder and lightning, which ceased,
after a while, as the wind grew stronger, and then through the dark he
saw trees and bushes go down. Fragments struck against the house, but
the stout walls held.
The wind kept up a continuous screaming, as full of menace as the crash
of a battle. Part of the time it swept straight ahead, cutting wide
swathes, and then, turning into balls of compressed air, it whirled with
frightful velocity, smashing everything level with the ground as if it
had been cut down by a giant sword.
Robert had seen more than one hurricane in the great northern woods and
he watched it without alarm. Although the house continued to rattle and
shake, and now and then a bough, wrenched from its trunk, struck it a
heavy blow, he knew that it would hold. There was a certain comfort in
sitting there, dry and secure, while the storm raged without in all its
violence. There was pleasure too in the knowledge that he was on the
land and not the sea. He remembered the frightful passage that he and
the slaver had made through the breakers, and he knew that his escape
then had depended upon the slimmest of chances. He shuddered as he
recalled the rocks thrusting out their savage teeth.
The storm, after a while, sank into a steady rain, and the wind blew but
little. The air was now quite cold for that region, and Robert, lying
down on the couch, covered himself with a blanket. He soon fell asleep
and slept so long, lulled by the beat of the rain, that he did not
awaken until the next day.
Then he took the dinghy and rowed around to the other side of the
island. As he had expected, the schooner was gone. The storm had broken
her up, and he found many of her timbers scattered along the beach,
where they had been brought in by the waves. He felt genuine sadness at
the ship's destruction and disappearance. It was like losing a living
friend.
Fortunately, the tarpaulin and heavy sails with which he had covered his
heap of stores high up the beach, weighting them down afterward with
huge stones, had held. Some water had entered at the edges, but, as the
goods were of a kind that could not be damaged much, little harm was
done. Again he resolved to preserve all that he had accumulated there,
although he did not know that he would have any need of them.
When he rowed back in the dinghy he saw a formidable fin cutting the
water again, and, laying down the oars, he took up the rifle which he
always carried with him. He watched until the shark was almost on the
surface of the water, and then he sent a bullet into it. There was a
great splashing, followed by a disappearance, and he did not know just
then the effect of his shot, but a little later, when the huge body of
the slain fish floated to the surface he felt intense satisfaction, as
he believed that it would have been a man-eater had it the chance.