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Fire Island, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 6. Hot Springs |
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_ CHAPTER SIX. HOT SPRINGS "Tommy Smith, old matey," whispered Wriggs, "why warn't you and me born different?" "That 'ere's a question for your godfathers and godmothers, Billy, as stood sponsors for you when you was born. But what d'yer mean?" "Why, so as to be like these here gents and have plenty o' money to spend in tools o' all kinds." "Ay, 'twould ha' been nicer, I dessay, matey." "Course it would. You see they allus has the right tackle for everything, and a proper pocket or case to keep it in. Look at Mr Panton there, with that there young double-barrelled spy-glass of his'n." "Ay, they've each got one-sidy sort o' little barnacle things as they looks through to make bits o' stone and hinsecks seem big." "Now, we wants to wash our hands, don't us?" "Ay, we do, matey," said Smith, raising his to his nose. "Mine smell a bit snakey and sarpentine, I must say." "Steam or smoke?" said Drew. "Both, I think," replied Panton, closing his glass. "Then the savages has got the pot on and it's cooking," whispered Smith. "I hope it don't mean a mate." "Whatcher talking in that there Irish Paddy way?" grumbled Wriggs. "Can't you say meat?" "Course I can, old mighty clever, when I wants to. I said mate." "I know you did, Tommy, and it's Irish when you means cooking meat." "Which I didn't mean nothing o' the sort, old lad, but mate. I meant, I hoped the savages hadn't got hold of one of our messmates and was cooking he." "What! Canniballs?" whispered Wriggs, looking aghast. "Why not? There's plenty on 'em out in these 'ere parts, where the missionaries ain't put a stopper on their little games, and made 'em eat short pig i'stead o' long." "Come, my lads, forward!" said Oliver, who seemed to have quite got over his adventure. "Beg pardon, sir," said Smith, "we ain't got no weepons 'cept our jack-knives; had we better scummage up to 'em?" "Skirmish? Oh, no; there is nothing to mind." "That's what the farmer said to the man about his big dog, sir, but the dog took a bit out of the man's leg." "But that wasn't a dog, Smith, it was a cat." "What, out here, sir, 'long o' the savages? Think o' their keeping cats!" "No, no, you don't understand. There are no savages here." "Why, a-mussy me, sir, I see one looking over the stones yonder with my own eyes." "You saw a big, cat-like creature, with its round, dark head. It must have been a panther, or leopard, or something of that kind." The sailor looked at him and scratched his ear. "Mean it, sir?" he said. "Of course I do. Come along." Oliver went on after his two companions, and the sailors followed. "How about the canniballs, Tommy?" asked Billy Wriggs with a chuckle. "Here, don't you spoil your figger-head by making them faces," said Smith, shortly. "I was right enough, so own up like a man." "You says, says you, that it was canniballs as had got a pot on over a fire, and that they was cooking one of our mates." "Loin! how I do hate a man as 'zaggerates! I only said I hoped it warn't. It's you as put the pot on." "I didn't!" "Yes, you did, old lad, and I dessay I was right arter all, 'cept as it was only one canniball, and he'd got four legs 'stead o' two." Billy Wriggs chuckled again, and then smelt his hands, looked disgusted, and scooped up a little moist earth to rub them with. "Look sharp, they're close up," said Smith, "and I want to see about what fire there is, and how it come." "I know; it's one o' they red hot stones as come down and it's set fire to something." A minute later they were within fifty yards of the rising vapours, when Wriggs roared,--"Look out!" and began to run. For there was a peculiar rushing noise close overhead, followed by a duet of hoarse cries, and they had a glimpse of a couple of great, heavily-billed birds, passing close to them in the direction of their leaders. Oliver took a quick shot at one and missed, the smoke hiding the second bird, and they passed on unharmed. "Hornbills!" he cried, excitedly. "Come, we shall be able to collect here." "Hear that, mate?" whispered Smith, "hornbills, and can't they blow 'em too?" They stepped in among the stones and found the cat-like creature's lair just beneath one of them, and plenty of proofs of how it lived, for close around lay many of the brightly-coloured feathers it had stripped from different birds. "Evidently preyed upon these," said Oliver, eagerly, picking up some of the feathers to examine. "Hear that, Tommy?" "Yes." "Ain't it gammon?" "No; nat'ral histry's all true, lad." "But I never heard o' cats being religious. I've heard o' their being wicked and mischievous enough for anything." "'Ligious! Why, what have you got hold of now?" "Nothing. You heard him too. He said as the cat prayed on them feathers." "Get out. Don't be a hignoramus. Wild cats is beasts o' prey." "He said beasts as pray, and I don't believe it." "And I don't believe your head's properly stuffed, mate. Yes, sir," he continued, as Oliver spoke. "You call?" "I said if you want to wash your snakey hands, here's a good chance." The sailor stepped down into a hollow, above which a little cloud of vapour hung over a basin of beautifully blue water, enclosed by a fine drab-coloured stone. It was not above a foot deep, save in the centre, where there was a little well-like hole, and a dozen feet across, while at one side it brimmed over and rippled down and away in a tiny stream, overhung by beautifully green ferns and water-plants, which were of the most luxuriant growth. "Looks good enough for a bath, gentlemen, when you've done," said Smith. "Try your hands first," said Oliver. "But wait a moment," and he took a little case from his pocket, and from it a glass tube with a mercury bulb. "Look at that!" whispered Billy Wriggs. "Tools for everything, mate. What's he going to do--taste it first?" "I dunno," said Smith, watching Oliver Lane attentively, as the young man plunged the mercury bulb in the water, and held it there for a few moments, and then drew it out. "Go on, my lads," he said. "Like some soap?" As he spoke he took a small metal box out of his pocket, and opened it to display a neatly fitting cake of soap. "Look at him," whispered Smith to his companion--"ay, tools for everything. Thank-ye, sir," he added as he took the soap, stepped down close to the edge of the basin, and plunged in his hands, to withdraw them with a shout of excitement. "What's the matter?" said Drew, laughing. "It's hot, sir. Water's hot!" "Well, my lad, it is a hot spring. There's nothing surprising in that. We're in a volcanic land." "Are we, sir?" said the man, staring at him. "And is this volcanic water?" "Of course." "But where does it get hot, sir?" "Down below." "What! is there a fire underneath where we are standing?" "Yes; deep down." "Then where's the chimney, sir?" "Out beyond that smoke and steam, I expect. There, wash your hands. It's not hot enough to scald your hard skin." "No, sir; take a deal hotter water than that; but if you'll excuse me, gents, I'll get away from here, please. It don't feel safe." "Give me the soap," said Lane, handing his gun to Panton. "There, Smith, my lad, a man who comes to such a place as this mustn't be frightened at everything fresh he sees." "Oh, I'm not frightened, sir, not a bit," said the man. "Am I, Billy?" Wriggs grunted, and this might have meant anything. "Only you see, sir," continued Smith, "it seems to me as it's a man's dooty to try and take care of hisself." "Of course," said Oliver Lane, as he laved his hands. "What beautiful soft, silky hot water. We must come here and have a regular bathe. It is nicely shut in." This to his companions, while Smith stood looking on in horror, and turned to his messmate. "Look at him, Billy! Ain't it just awful? Come away 'fore we gets let through, and are boiled to rags." "Hold yer tongue," growled Wriggs. "You'll have the gents hear yer. Ask 'em to let us go back." "You'll have to analyse this water, Panton," said Lane, as he went on with his washing. "There must be a deal of alkali as well as carbonate of lime in solution." "Strikes me, mate, as it won't have us in slooshum?" whispered Smith. "Don't ketch me slooshing myself in it." The water assumed another shade of blue where Oliver Lane was washing, while Panton chipped off the petrification formed round the basin, and Drew examined some peculiar water-plants which grew just where the hot water issued to form the little stream. "Be a fortune for anyone if he had it upon his own land in England," said Panton. "Can you see where the spring rises?" "Yes, down here in the middle, there's quite a pipe. This must be similar to what we read about, connected with the geysers?" said Oliver. "Here, you two, don't be so cowardly. Come and wash. Catch!" He threw the soap to Wriggs, who caught it, let it slip from his fingers, and it went down into the beautiful blue basin of water with a splash. "There, fetch it out!" Accustomed to obey, Billy Wriggs stepped forward, plunged in his hands, caught the soap, and kept his fingers beneath the surface. "Why, it's lovely, matey!" he cried reproachfully to Smith. "Here, come on." "Oh, very well," was the reply, and the sailor approached the basin. "What's good for you's good for me, mate. Who's afraid? Well, I am!" He was now kneeling, and was in the act of plunging in his hands, when there was a low gurgling noise, and, as if by magic, the water in the basin was sucked rapidly down the round central hole that had been almost invisible, leaving the basin perfectly empty. "Nearly lost the soap," said Billy Wriggs. "And I ain't got the wash," cried Smith, in an ill-used tone. "Beg pardon, sir, what time'll it be high water again?" _Bang! Roosh_! "Murder!" yelled Smith, throwing himself backward and rolling over, for with an explosion like that of steam, the water gushed up from the central hole, playing some twenty feet up in the air, filling the basin and deluging Wriggs before he could escape, and then dragging him back towards the central hole, down which it began to run, while the man roared lustily for help. _ |
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