Home > Authors Index > George Manville Fenn > Jack at Sea > This page
Jack at Sea, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
||
Chapter 33. In The Face Of Peril |
||
| < Previous |
Table of content |
Next > |
|
________________________________________________
_ CHAPTER THIRTY THREE. IN THE FACE OF PERIL "Come on," said Jack, after they had stood listening for a few minutes, and gazing in the direction taken by the pigs. "Is it any use looking for the arrows?" "Not a bit, sir. Here, only let me find one lying asleep in the mud somewhere. I dare say there's, dozens doing it now, with their eyes shut, and their curly tails pretending to whisk away the flies. Come on, sir, we must keep going, hot as it is. Never mind, we shall do it yet, but next time I'm not going to trust to bows and arrows. You shall hunt them down to where I'm hiding, and I'll skewer one somehow or another." But in the next two hours' weary struggle among trees, rocks, and waving creepers they only heard pigs once, and then it was as they dashed off unseen, grunting and squealing wildly. Birds were scarcer and very small, while they felt no temptation to try the esculent qualities of the lizards they saw glancing about over the hot lava, or of the snakes which hurriedly crawled away. They were successful though in finding a trickling stream of pure cold water, and a tree bearing a kind of fruit something like a poor, small apricot with a very large stone. It was bitter and sour, but it did, as Ned said, to clean your teeth. Three more arrows were lost in shooting at birds, but without success, and Ned shook his head. "I don't know how it is with you, sir," he said, "but my arm has had such a long rest that the muscles now seem to be too strong, and they must have jerked the bow just when I let go the string." "I can soon tell you how it is with me, Ned," said Jack. "I never could use a bow and arrow, so of course I can't now." They struggled on, growing less cautious in their eagerness to get down to the shore. "Shall get some cocoanuts there, if we can't get anything else, sir," said Ned; "but I do hope it will be somewhere near the yacht." "But how are we to signal them if we don't get there before dark?" "Light a fire on the sands, sir. Oh, don't you be afraid of that. It's the getting there is the difficulty." It was growing well on in the afternoon when this was said, and, so weak and exhausted that they could hardly struggle on, they welcomed an open slope covered with some creeping kind of plant, as it seemed, for it offered the prospect of getting along better for a couple of hundred yards. Here, too, they could see down a ravine to the reef, which seemed to be wonderfully close at hand, though they knew that they had miles to struggle over before they could reach the sands--and such miles. "Let's make for that valley, Ned, and try to go down there." "Very well, sir; just which way you like. Seems all the same; but let's get close up to the trees, though it's furthest, for we may find some kind of fruit. What a country! Not so much as an apple, let alone a pear, or--Mr Jack, sir! Oh!" "What is it?" cried Jack, startled by his companion's excitement. "What have you found?" For Ned had thrown himself upon his knees, and with one end of the bow was tearing away at the straggling plants which covered the ground wherever it was not rocky or smothered by bush. "Can't you see, sir? Here, come and help. _'Taters_!" "What?" cried Jack. "Yes, 'taters, sir; only little 'uns. Not so big as noo potaties at home, but 'taters they are. Look!" "Fingers were made before forks," says the old proverb, so under the circumstances it was not surprising that Ned began to use his hands as if they were gardener's potato forks, and with such success that in a short time quite a little heap of the yellow tubers were dug out of the loose sandy soil, the average size being that of walnuts. Jack set to work at once to help, but he had hardly dragged away a couple of handfuls of haulm when he started up with a cry of alarm. Ned leaped up too and seized his spear, expecting to have to face the blacks; but the enemy was a good-sized snake which had been nestling beneath the thick stalks of the plants, and now stood up fully three feet above the tops of the growth, with head drawn back, moving to and fro as if about to launch itself forward and strike at the first who approached it. "Stand back, Mr Jack," cried the man, and with one mower-like sweep of his spear-handle he caught the serpent a few inches below its threatening head, and it dropped writhing at once, with its vertebras broken. "Can't stand any nonsense from things like that, sir," cried Ned, as he took his spear now as if it had been a pitchfork, raised the twining reptile from among the haulms, and after carrying it a few yards, threw it cleverly right away among the bushes at the side. "Take care, perhaps there are more," said Jack. "So much the worse for them if there are, sir. I want the 'taters, and I'd have 'em if the place was full of boa-constrictors as big as they grow. Come on." In a very short time they had their pockets and handkerchiefs full, the tubers coming out of the hot, dry, sandy soil perfectly clean; and thus furnished, they made for a spot where the lava rock was piled up, selected a niche, and scraped out a sandy hollow about a couple of feet across, laid the potatoes down singly and close together, covered them again with the sand, and then turned to the edge of the nearest patch of trees to gather dead boughs, leaves, everything they could which seemed likely to burn, and carried it to their improvised oven. "Suppose the blacks see the smoke of the fire?" said Jack, as they piled up the smaller twigs and leaves over the potatoes, and Ned brought out his box of matches. "I can't suppose anything, sir, only that we must eat. If they do come on for a fair fight, I'm ready. Fight I will for these 'taters, come what may." The leaves and twigs caught readily, and the smoke began to curl up in the clear sunny air, as bigger and bigger pieces of wood were thrown on. Then as they went to the foot of the trees for more of that which lay in abundance, they glanced in all directions, but all was silent and solitary, with the beautifully-shaped mountain curving up above them, and a faint mist as of heat just visible in transparent wreaths above its summit. "Don't let's take too much, Mr Jack--only a little at a time, so as to have to come again and again." "Why not take as much as we can carry now?" "Because if we do we can't put it all on at once, and we only want a nice gentle fire, and to keep on mending it till there are plenty of ashes." "Well, we need not put it all on if we've got it there." "But we must have something to do, sir." "Well, lie down and rest till the potatoes are done." "You don't know what you're talking about, sir. You can't think of what agony it will be. They must have half-an-hour, and it will seem like a week. You take my advice, sir. I'm sure it's right." "Very well," said Jack, and they kept on going to and fro, breaking enough to keep on feeding the fire, and trying hard not to think about what was cooking, as they still piled on the twigs and branches of dead wood, Ned busying himself in breaking them up, far more than was necessary in his desperate determination not to be tempted to draw out a single tuber before they were done. "I know what 'taters are, sir," he said between his teeth, "and as bad as can be really raw, but the gloriousest things as ever were for a hungry man when he has got nothing else. But what a pity it is! If we'd had our guns we could soon have brought down a skewerful or two of those green and scarlet parrots to roast, and--Oh, don't talk about it. Makes my mouth water horribly." "Think they're done now, Ned?" said Jack, after three or four journeys to and fro. "No, sir, nor yet half. The sand underneath has to get hot. I tell you what, we'll dig up some more and put them in the hot ashes after these are done, to cook and take away with us. They'll do all right while we're eating our dinner." "Very well," said Jack, as he tried hard to curb his impatience, "but it's terrible, this waiting." "Try not to think about it, please, sir. There, let's make up the fire once more, and then go and dig." The wood was fetched and thrown on, both standing a little back afterward, and having a hard struggle to keep from raking out two or three of the potatoes to try if they were done, but they mastered themselves bravely, and hurried to the spot where they had dug before, to find it taken possession of by a larger and thicker snake than the one that had been killed. It was coiled up on the dry sand which they had cleared of leaves, and rose up menacingly at their approach. "What shall we do--go somewhere else?" said Jack. "No, sir, that we won't," cried Ned fiercely. "If that long eely thing chooses to play dog in the manger over the potatoes, it must take the consequences. I'll soon finish him. Think he's poisonous?" "I feel sure of it, Ned," said Jack anxiously. "Look at the swollen poison glands." "That settles it. Seems to me like a duty to kill poisonous things. I know what it is to be poisoned, sir." He gave his shoulder a twist, and advanced toward the serpent with his spear-handle ready. "You keep back, sir, and let me have room to swing my spear round." "No; I want to kill this one, Ned." "Better not, sir. It's risky. You might miss." "You be ready to strike him if I do." "Very well then, sir; only be careful. A good swish round will do it, but snakes are quick as lightning, and we've had trouble enough without you getting bitten." The snake rose higher, and prepared to strike as Jack advanced, holding his spear in both hands, and waiting his opportunity, he brought it round with all his force, but the end passed, through his miscalculation of the distance, a couple of inches short of the reptile's head, and before the lad could recover himself to make another blow, the creature struck back, and would have fastened upon him but for Ned's quick interposition of his own spear-handle, against which the serpent struck instead. The next moment Ned struck again, full on the creature's back, and it was helpless now for attack, writhing in amongst the growth till Jack obtained another fine cut at it, and the battle was at an end. Ned picked it, up upon the end of his spear. "They say that things are good if roasted, sir. What do you say--shall we cook him?" "Ugh! No. Throw the horrible thing away." "Yes, sir; off it goes. One wants another day's starving to eat roast snake." He sent the nearly dead creature whirling through the air with a sudden jerk of his spear-handle, and then turned to Jack. "Now, sir," he said, "as quick as you can, and then--" He did not finish his sentence, but threw himself upon his knees again. Jack followed his example, and for about ten minutes they busied themselves getting another load, and then ran to the fireside and emptied all they had into a heap. "Now then," cried Ned; "but be careful, sir; they'll be horribly hot." Jack said nothing, but looked on while his companion thrust the still burning wood aside with his spear, then swept off the thick bed of glowing embers, and lastly the hot sand, before turning the potatoes out into a heap on the other side, and spreading them to cool. "Let 'em be, sir, till we've charged the oven again," cried Ned, and the fight now was harder than ever as they began to throw the fresh batch into the hot pit. But it was done, and the sand swept over them. The glowing embers followed, the wood was piled on, to begin crackling and blazing, and then, and then only, did they fall to. Only a meal of little hot roasted potatoes, without butter, pepper, or salt, but no banquet of the choicest luxuries could have tasted half so good. They were done to a turn, and though very small, of the most desirable flavour, and satisfying to a degree. "Try another, sir, try another," Ned kept on saying; but Jack needed no urging, and as he sat there eating one after another, the sun seemed to be less hot, the place around more beautiful, the shore less distant, and the possibility of their reaching the yacht that night more and more of a certainty. But that certainty began to grow into doubt when, well satisfied by their meal, the pair lay back to rest a little before making a fresh start. "Must give the second batch time to get well done, sir, and to cool a bit, before we toddle, and then we ought to be on the look-out for water. A good drink wouldn't come amiss." "No," replied Jack slowly; "but hadn't we better get some more wood to put on? The fire's getting very low." "No, sir, it's just right. There's a good heap of embers now, and by the time the wood's all burned the potatoes will be about done. Think any one planted them here first?" "I should say they were planted by the captain who left the pigs." "Then I say he ought to have a monument, sir, for it was the finest thing he ever did in his life--much finer than anything I shall ever do. My, how different everything looks after you've had a good feed!" Jack made no reply to that, but said, a minute or so later-- "Think the savages have seen our fire, Ned?" There was no reply. "'Sleep, Ned?" said Jack, looking toward him. There was still no reply. "Poor fellow! Let him rest a bit," thought the boy; and then he began to think of what news it would be when he got back to the yacht, to announce that the arm was restored. The yacht brought up the thought of sailing right away over the blue waters, gliding easily on, with the warm sun upon his cheek and the soft breeze fanning his brows, and Jack Meadows went on sailing away, but it was only in fancy, for he too, utterly worn out by the morning's exertions, was fast asleep, without a thought that danger might be near. _ |
||