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Fire Island, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 38. Tommy Smith's Treasure |
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_ CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT. TOMMY SMITH'S TREASURE After a little consultation in the morning it was decided to lead out a strong well armed party to make sure whether the enemy was down by the lagoon, for the state of uncertainty seemed worse than the danger likely to be incurred in an advance and careful retreat. The mate determined to go himself, and selecting four men with Smith and Wriggs they set off, leaving Drew in charge of the ship. The expedition proved to be quite uneventful, and the scouting party were back soon after noon, having been right down to the shores of the lagoon and searched it well from the highest point they could find without there being a sign of a canoe. From that day forward for quite two months, the occupants of the ship ashore enjoyed perfect peace, and no sign was seen of an enemy. It was evident that the natural childish fear and superstition of the blacks had kept them away from the island, but all the same no fishing or shooting excursion was ventured upon without the feeling that the party might return to find the savages making a fresh attack, or being in possession of the brig. Consequently no precautions could be relaxed on board, and not a step was taken without every one being armed to the teeth. The change during that time had been wonderful. Vegetation was so rapid in its growth, and seed spread so quickly, wind swept, that the traces of the earthquake wave were pretty well obliterated by bright young growth. Many of the pools had dried up, but four of the largest kept fairly well filled with brackish water, evidently supplied by some underground communication with the sea, possibly merely by slow filtration through the porous coral rock, sufficient, however, to keep them fit habitations for fish and reptiles. On board the brig the carpenter with three aides worked hard at the lugger being constructed. This was to be hauled down to the sand, and then slowly taken down to the sea on rollers in a cradle specially constructed for the purpose. "Give us time," said Mr Rimmer, "and we'll have a light boat that will take us from island to island till we get to some civilised port. But first of all we must sail round where we are." "There's no hurry," said Oliver, "but get the lugger done, and then make another, for we shall want plenty of room for our specimens if we go on like this." For in spite of having to work as it were with one eye on the look-out for danger, and the other for specimens, each of the three naturalists rapidly increased his collection. Oliver Lane filled case after case with series of the splendid paradise birds which came and went in the most unaccountable manner. For days together they would be plentiful, then for a whole week it seemed as if they had forsaken the island and taken flight to some other spot invisible from the highest points to which they had climbed, but known well to the birds. And there the choice, carefully prepared skins lay in their cases, well dried and aromatic with the preserving paste which kept insect enemies at bay. Here would lie the great bird of Paradise, all cinnamon, metallic green and buff, with its loose plumage and long wire-shafted feathers. In another case a series of the lesser bird. Then Lane found a few of the beautiful metallic rifle bird, all glossy purply green. The standard wing with its elongated tufts of green upon its breast, and from each shoulder a pair of long, gracefully curved, white willow-leaved feathers standing almost straight out at times, while at others they lay neatly down along with the larger quills. Another day in his favourite hunting ground at the foot of the volcano slope he had the good fortune to shoot a bird of which he had read and never seen. It was the king bird of Paradise, monarch for its beauty and not from its size. Drew and Panton were out with him collecting, the one plants, the other crystals, and running to him on hearing him whistling, they were ready to laugh at his excitement over his one bird, a little fellow somewhere about the size of a thrush, but with an exceedingly short tail balanced by a couple of beautiful curled plumes at the end of their wire-like, exquisitely curved feather, starting above the tail and crossing just at its end. But their ridicule soon turned into delight as they gazed at the wondrous display of tints, beautifully blended, so that no two colours jarred. But it was not only in its hues that there was so much fascination to the eye, for all three gazed in wonder at the peculiar appendages which added to the strangeness and beauty of this bird. But there was no end to Oliver's bird treasures now, and knowing the interest he took in the beautiful creatures, every man on board tried his best to add to his stores by means of trap and gun, the mate encouraging the use of the latter, so that the men might be quite at home with it. "Here y'are, sir," said Smith, "right sort, and nothing wrong in it, 'cept a spot o' blood on its back, over two o' the feathers. I was going to pull 'em out and bring him quite clean, on'y you're so perticler about every feather being there." "How could it be perfect without?" said Oliver. "Oh, I dunno, sir. Birds got so many feathers in 'em that nobody'd miss fifty or sixty, let alone one or two. Why, many's the time I've seen 'em pick out lots themselves, specially ducks." "I daresay," replied Oliver, "but don't you ever pick any out; I can always wash away the blood." "All right, sir, but ain't yer going to look at it, and what Billy Wriggs got, too?" "I will directly," replied Oliver. "Wait till I've turned this skin." "Oh, yes, sir, we'll wait," said the sailor, and he dropped the butt of his gun to the earth, and stood holding a bird he had shot, while Oliver was seated by an upturned cask, whose head formed a table just under the brig's bows, where, with a large piece of canvas rigged to a stay, he worked in shelter, skinning his specimens for hours in the early morning and late evening. "Looks gashly nasty, now, sir," said the man, after a few minutes' watching, while Oliver carefully painted over the wet, soft, newly-stripped-off skin of a bird with the aromatic poisonous cream he had in a pot. Now the bristles of the brush sought out every crease and hollow about where the flesh-denuded bones of the wings hung by their tendons; then the bones of the legs were painted, the young man intent upon his work--too much so to look up when the two sailors came round from the other side of the vessel. Now the brush ran carefully along the skin, so as not to smirch the feathers at the edge; now it was passed along the thin stretched neck and up to the skull, which had been left whole all but the back, where brains and eyeballs had been carefully extracted, leaving nothing but the paper-like bone of wondrously delicate texture and strength. Here the brush was sedulously applied with more and more cream, which shed a pleasant odour around. "Pyson, ain't it, sir?" said Wriggs, at last. "Yes, my man, dangerously poisonous," said Oliver, as he worked away. "Wouldn't do to set me that job, sir," said Smith. "Why not? You could soon learn." "'Cause I got a bad habit, sir." "Lots!" said Wriggs, laconically. "Here, don't you be so jolly fond o' running down your messmate, Bill. 'Course I've got lots a' bad habits--everybody has--don't s'pose I got more more nor you, mate." "Dessay not, Tommy," said Wriggs, with a chuckle. "What I meant was as I've got a bad habit a' poppin' my fingers in my mouth every now and then, when I'm doin' anythin', so as to get a better hold. Some chaps spit in their hands--Billy here does, sir." "Ay, mate, that's a true word," growled Wriggs. "Well, that's a deal nastier than just wettin' the tips o' your fingers, ain't it? Would it hurt me if I did, sir?" "Most likely be very dangerous," said Oliver, as he busily tucked some cotton wool into the cavities of the eyes, and then into the empty skull. "What's he doin' that for, Tommy?" whispered Wriggs. "Stuffin' on it to keep the skin from s'rivellin', mate. Can't yer see?" "Yes, that's it," said Oliver, as he worked away. Then, laying the wing bones together, so as to keep them a short distance apart, he proceeded to bind a little of the cotton fibre round the leg bones before wiping his fingers, carefully feeling for the bird's claws, and drawing them out from among the soft feathers where they nestled, and restoring the skin to its place so that it fitted well over the wool. "Look at that, now, Billy. There y'are, regular pair o' natural legs again. Wonderful thing, bird-stuffing! Hope we don't worry you, sir, talkin'." "Oh no, talk away," said Oliver smiling, as he made up a little egg-shaped ball of cotton wool of the size of the bird's body, which dangled upon a hook at the end of a string. And then he took a pinch of the wool, doubled it, and thrust the doubled part into the skull, leaving enough to form the bird's neck, followed up with the loose egg-shaped pad which he laid upon the tied together wing bones, and then, with a clever bit of manipulation, drew the skin over the pad, gave the bird a bit of a shake, and, as if it had been some conjuring trick, every feather came back into its right place, and to all appearances there lay a dead bird before him on the head of the cask. "Three cheers and a hextra hooray!" cried Smith. "Ain't that wonderful, Billy? You and me couldn't ha' made a bird like that." "No," said Oliver, laughing, "and I couldn't have furled the main-topgallant sail like you two could." "Well, sir, that's true enough," said Smith; "but if you wouldn't mind me astin', 'What's the good o' pysonin' a bird when it's dead?'" "I don't," said Oliver, as he busily smoothed feathers and fitted the bird's folded wings close to its sides, giving a pinch them in their here and a pinch there before confining places by rolling a strip of paper round, and fastening it with a pin. "What I do is to poison the skin, so that it may be fatal to any mischievous insect that might wish to eat it, and make the feathers fall out." "Why o' course, Tommy," growled Wriggs, "anybody could ha' know'd that." "You didn't, Billy," said Smith shortly. "Well, I can't say as I did quite, mate, but I do now, and I shan't never forget it. But what's he doin' o' that for? It won't ketch cold now." "No," said Oliver, laughing, as he fitted a little cone of paper on the bird's head by thrusting it with the beak right down to the end. "That paper cap is to hold the bird's head well down upon its shoulders, so that it may dry in a natural shape. Birds' necks fold so that they always look very short." "And what bird may that be, sir?" said Wriggs. "A pitta--or ground thrush." "A mercy on us!" said Smith. "It's a wonderful place this. Thrushes at home is all browny speckly birds, and this here's blue and green." "Yes, birds have brilliant plumage here, my lads. Now, then, what have you got for me? Anything good?" "Well, that's for you to say, sir. Now then, Billy, out with yours first." "Nay, let's see yours first, matey." "Come, come, I'm busy. We're going for a fresh excursion to-day. Now then, Wriggs, what is it?" "It's a little squirmy wormy thing as he ketched, sir, just as it come outer its hole to curl up in the sunshine. Pull it out, Billy. He's got it in his pocket, sir." Wriggs slowly thrust in his hand and drew out a little thin snake, which moved slightly as he laid it on the table. "He says it's a wurm, sir," put in Smith, "I says it's a young come-structor." "What's that?" cried Oliver in a startled way. "Nonsense, it is full grown." "Couldn't ha' took long growing to that size, sir," said Smith, grinning, as he held the bird he had shot behind him. "But, my good fellows, don't you know that this is a very dangerous viper?" "What, that?" said Wriggs contemptuously, "there ain't nothin' on him." "There isn't much of a wasp," said Oliver, "but his sting is poisonous enough." "That's true, sir, specially it you gets it near yer eye. But you don't mean to say as that little chap's got a sting in his tail?" "Absurd! Vipers have poisonous fangs--two." "What, in their tails, sir?" "No, man, in the roof of the mouth. I'll show you." "But do you mean as that chap would ha' bit us and stung us, sir?" said Wriggs anxiously. "Of course I do, and you've had a very close shave. How did you kill it?" "Well, sir, he wouldn't let us kill him, but kep' on wrigglin' arter Billy here had trod on his tail, and we didn't want to quite scrunch him, because you're so partickler. He got a bit quiet, though, arter a time, and then Billy nipped him at the back o' the head and put him in his pocket." "Look here, when you find a snake with a diamond-shaped head like that, you may be pretty certain that it is venomous." The two sailors scratched their heads in unison while Oliver turned the little viper's head over, opened its mouth, and made it gape widely by placing a little bone stiletto which he used in skinning the smaller birds within, and then with the point of a penknife he raised two tiny fangs which were laid back on the roof of the reptile's mouth, and which, when erect, looked like points of glass. "There!" he exclaimed, "those are the poison fangs. They're hollow and connected with a couple of exceedingly small glands or bags of poison, which shoot a couple of tiny drops of venom through the hollow teeth when they are pressed by the animal biting." "But you don't call that 'ere a hanimal, sir?" said Smith, as he wiped the perspiration from his forehead. "What is it, then?" said Oliver, laughingly quoting from an old book--"a vegetable?" "Well, no, sir, but it does look some'at like a sort o' liquorice stick as the boys used to buy to chew when we went to school." "It looks more like what it is," said Oliver, "a very dangerous viper, and I warn you both to be very careful about meddling with such things again." "But you see it was such a little 'un, sir," said Wriggs, apologetically. "None the less dangerous, and you've had a very narrow escape," said Oliver. Then noting the men's disappointed looks, he continued-- "But I'm very grateful to you all the same. It was very thoughtful of you, Wriggs, and I am glad to have it to add to my collection." "Then you won't chuck it away, sir?" said Wriggs, brightening up. "Throw it away--a rare specimen of a poisonous snake? Most decidedly not. I shall put it in my tin of spirit, and preserve it carefully." "Seems most a pity to waste good liquor on such a wicious little beggar, don't it, sir?" "By no means," said Oliver, smiling. "There, I hope I shall have the pleasure of showing it to one of our best zoologists. Now, Smith, let's have a look at yours." "Well, yes, sir," said the man addressed, as he still kept his hand behind him. "You may as well see it now. Me and Billy here seed my gentleman three or four mornin's ago." "Four, Tommy. Allus make yer knots tight." "Weer it four, Billy? All right, then, four mornin's ago, just as it was gettin' light, an' I says to him, I says, 'Now that's just the sort o' bird as Muster Oliver Lane would like to have to stuff,' didn't I, Billy?" "Well, it warn't quite in them there words, Tommy, but it meant that 'ere." "Don't you be so nation perticler about a heff or a gee, messmate. If it meant what I says, wheer's the harm?" "Allus speak the truth, Tommy. Allus speak the truth," growled Wriggs. "Come, come, I want to see my bird," said Oliver. "Go on, Smith." "That's just what I wants to do, sir, on'y Billy Wriggs here he is such a haggravatin' beggar. If yer don't speak your words to half a quarter of a hinch, he's down on yer." Wriggs chuckled, and his messmate went on, but frowned and scowled at him all the time. "Well, sir, I hups with my gun to shoot him, for Mr Rimmer says we're never to go about anywhere now without loaded guns 'cause of the hinjuns--but bless your 'art, afore you could say 'Fire' he was off over the trees, and I was that aggrawated as never was, for he was a fine 'un." "There, what did I say, Tommy?" growled Wriggs. "Let him have it all." "Look-ye here, messmate, are you a-goin' to tell the story, or am I?" "Well, you'd better go on, Tommy, as you began it, on'y you gets driftin' to the lee so, instead o' sailin' ahead." "Look here, you'd better do it yoursen," cried Smith. "No, no, go on, man," said Oliver. "All right, sir," grumbled Smith. "Well, Billy Wriggs says as he was sure he come there to feed of a morning, and pick up the wurms, and that if we got up early and waited there, we should see my gentleman again. So we says nothin' to nobody, did we, Billy?" "Not a word, messmate." "And gets there very early nex' morning, but he'd got there afore us, and _Chuck_, he says, and away he went, 'fore I'd time to think o' shootin' at him. But never mind, I says, I will be ready for yer to-morrer mornin', and we gets there much sooner, and waited in the dark. We hadn't been there more'n a minute before we know'd he'd been afore us, for we could hear him querking an' cherking to himself all in a low tone, just as if he was a-saying, 'There's a couple o' chaps hangin' about to get a look at my feathers, and I just aren't goin' to let 'em.'" "Yes, it were just like that," said Wriggs, giving his head an approving nod. "Ay, it weer, Billy, and my heye, sir, how we two did try to get a glimpse of him. But bless yer 'art, sir, it was that dark as never was. He didn't mind, for we could hear him flickin' about in the trees, and flying down on the ground, and then makin' quite a flutter as he went up again, and talkin' to hissen all the time about us." "You're a long time getting to the shooting, Smith," said Oliver. "That's a true word, sir. We was, for it got light at last, and both me and Billy had our guns ready to pop off, but he warn't there then. Not a sign of him. Oh, he was a hartful one! He knowed what we was up to, and he goes and gets there in the middle o' the night, has what he wants, and then off he goes all quiet like before we could see." "But you did shoot it at last?" "Ay, sir, I did, but not that mornin', which was yesterday, you know. For, Billy, I says, this here game won't do." "Ay, you did, Tommy." "You and me ain't goin' to be done by a big cock-sparrer sort o' thing, is we? and he says we warn't, and we'll keep on earlier and earlier till we do get him." "Well, and what did you do?" asked Oliver, smiling. "Goes in the middle o' the night, sir, to be sure, and there we was as quiet as could be; but we didn't hear nothin' till just afore sunrise, when there was a _cherk, cherk_, and a bit of flutterin' just as we was makin' up our minds as he was too artful for us. Billy, he gives me a nudge and shoves up the gun and takes aim." "But you couldn't see the bird?" said Oliver. "No, sir, not yet, but I wanted to be ready so as to get a shot at him the moment he showed hissen, and then if I didn't recklect as I hadn't loaded the gun arter giving it a good clean up yes'day, 'cause it were getting rusty." "That's so, and I did mine, too," said Wriggs. "You might ha' knocked me down with a feather, sir," continued Smith. "Nay, nay, speak the truth, Tommy," growled Wriggs, reprovingly. "No feather as ever growed wouldn't knock you down." "Will you be quiet, Billy Wriggs? Who's to tell the gentleman if you keep a-sticking your marlin-spike in where it aren't wanted?" "Come, come, I want to see my bird," cried Oliver, who was amused by the sailor's long-winded narrative. "If it takes so much time to shoot one bird, how long would it take to shoot a flock?" "Ah! I dunno, sir," said Smith, solemnly. "But you got this one?" "Ay, sir, I did." "We did, Tommy! speak the truth." "Well, _we_ did, then. I shot him, sir, and Billy goes in among the bushes and picked him up." "Gettin' scratched awfully," growled Wriggs. "Then you did shoot it," said Oliver, "without powder or shot?" "Nay, sir, I lowered the gun down, shoved in a fresh cartridge, and waited like a stone statty." "Two stone stattys," said Wriggs, solemnly. "Speak the truth." "Yes, sir, neither on us moved, and I don't think as we breathed for ever so long, till it humbugged that there bird so as he couldn't stand it no longer, and he bobs right up on to a high bough so as to peep over and see whether we was there." "And were you?" "Yes, sir," said Smith, very solemnly, "we was, and he soon knowed it, for bang says my gun, down he come. Billy, as I says afore, goes and picks him up." "Yes," said Oliver, laughing; "and after all that long rigmarole, I suppose it is something I don't want. Now, then, don't keep it behind you like that. Let's see what it's like. Come, don't be so childish." "All right, sir," said Smith, giving his companion a wink, and then with a flourish he swung round a shapely-looking Pitta--a hen-bird of very sober plumage--and banged it down on the head of the cask. "Well, upon my word," cried Oliver, indignantly. "Here have you two chaps kept me all this time spinning a miserable yarn about a bird that I began to hope was a fine specimen worth having, and then you bring out this!" "Yes, sir, won't it do?" said Smith, winking at Wriggs once more. "There, be off with you, and take the rubbishing thing away," cried Oliver, wrathfully. "All your cock and bull story about that." "Yes, sir," cried Smith, with a peculiar chuckle and a wink at Wriggs; "but that there warn't the one." As he spoke, Smith very carefully and slowly brought his hand round again, holding a bird in the most perfect plumage suspended by a thin ring of brass wire, which had been thrust through the nostrils, and Oliver uttered a cry of joy. "Ahoy, Drew! Panton! come here, quick!" "What's up?" came from the deck, and as there was the hurried sound of feet, the two sailors nodded and winked and gave each his leg a slap. "What is it?" cried Panton, eagerly, as he ran to where his brother naturalist stood gloating over his treasure. "A gem! A gem!" cried Oliver. "Then, that's in my way, not yours," said Panton. "My word, what a beauty! That's quite fresh." "To me, but I know what it is. The Golden Paradise bird. Isn't it exquisite? Look at its colours and the crest." "That's what took my attention first of all," said Drew, who had now joined them, and they all three gloated over the wonderful specimen which glowed with intense colours. There were no long loose flowing buff plume; for the bird was short and compact, its principal decoration being six oval feathers at the end of as many thin wire-like pens, three growing crest-like out of each side of its head. The whole of its throat and breast were covered with broad scale-like feathers of brilliant metallic golden hue, looking in the sunshine like the dazzling throat of a humming bird vastly magnified; while, seen in different lights, these golden scales changed in hue like the plumes of a peacock, becoming purple or green. A pure satiny white patch glistened conspicuously on the front of the head, before the place whence the six cresting feathers sprang. This covering stood out the more strongly from the fact that at first sight the bird appeared to be of a dense black, but at the slightest movement it glowed with bronze metallic blue, and an indescribable tint, such as is sometimes seen in freshly-broken sulphur and iron ore. For some moments no one spoke, and with tender touches Oliver turned his bird here and there, so that the sun should play upon its glistening plumage at different angles. Now he was carefully raising some feather which was slightly out of place, now raising the six crest feathers through his hand, and bending over it as if it were the most glorious object he had ever seen. "Seems a sin to attempt to skin it," said Oliver at last. "I shall never get those feathers to look so smooth again." "Oh, yes, you will. Go on," said Panton, "and get it done. The weather soon makes a change." "Yes, I must carefully preserve this," cried Oliver; and Drew sighed. "I've worked pretty hard," he said, "but I have found nothing to compare with that in rarity or beauty." "Then you think it'll do, sir?" said Smith, with his face shining with pleasure. "Do, my man! I can never be grateful enough to you both for finding it." "Worth long rigmarole, eh, sir?" said Wriggs with a chuckle. "It's worth anything to a naturalist, my man." "What is?" said Mr Rimmer, coming up; and the bird was held up for his inspection. "Another kind of bird of Paradise?" he said. "Yes, isn't it lovely?" "Very, gentlemen, but I want to talk to you about launching our lugger, she's getting well on toward being ready." "Ready?" said Oliver. "Oh yes, of course. But don't hurry, Mr Rimmer, we shan't be ready to go for some time yet." "Mean it?" said Rimmer, smiling. "Mean it!" cried Oliver, looking up from his bird. "Why, you don't suppose we can go away from a place where such specimens as this are to be had. I can't." "No," said Panton, quietly, "since I got better I have been finding such a grand series of minerals that I must stay if I possibly can. What do you say, Drew?" "It would be madness to hurry away." "And what about the niggers?" said Mr Rimmer, who looked amused. "They haven't worried us lately." "But the volcano? Really, gentlemen, I never feel safe from one day to another. I am always expecting to see the earth open and swallow us up." "Yes, we are in a doubtful position," said Panton, thoughtfully, "and never know what may happen, living as we are, over fire." "And hot water," said the mate, smiling. "One of the men has just found a little spring, where the water spurts up at boiling point." "Well," said Panton, "it will be convenient. There, Mr Rimmer, get your lugger launched, and we'll explore the coast, but don't say anything about our going away for months to come, for we must make some more efforts to get right up to the crater edge before we give up. Besides, we have not half examined the land yet." "No," said the mate, "we have not half examined the land yet. Very well, gentlemen, you came on purpose for this sort of thing, so it's not for me to say any more. I'm anchored pretty safely, that is, if the earth don't give way, and let the brig through. I'll, as I've said before, get my lugger finished and launched. She'll lie snugly enough in the deepest part of the lagoon if the blacks will keep away, and I shall gradually load and provision her, ready for when we have to go will that do?" "Yes, splendidly," said Oliver. "There, don't say any wore about it, please, for I want to skin my bird." _ |
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