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Nat the Naturalist: A Boy's Adventures in the Eastern Seas, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 40. We Secure Fresh Treasures |
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_ CHAPTER FORTY. WE SECURE FRESH TREASURES Our injuries soon grew better, but though we kept on sailing for days and days past the most tempting-looking spots, we never dared to land, for always as soon as we neared some gloriously-wooded track, all hill, dale, and mountain, and amidst whose trees the glasses showed us plenty of birds, the inhabitants began to cluster on the shore, and when once or twice my uncle said that we would go in nearer and see, the same custom was invariably observed: the people came shouting and dancing about the beach holding out birds and bunches of feathers and shells, making signs for us to land. There was no need for Ebo to grow excited and cry, "No--no! man-kill! man-kill!" for my uncle laughed and shook his head. "They must try another way of baiting their traps, Nat," he would cry laughing. "My head is too sore with blows and memories to be caught again." It was always the same. No sooner did the treacherous savages find that we would not land than they rushed to their canoes, and began to pursue us howling and yelling; but the swift-sailed boat was always ready to leave them far behind, and we were only too glad to find that the pleasant brisk breezes stood our friends. "I would not loiter here, Nat," he said, "amidst such a treacherous, bloodthirsty set, but the great island is so tempting that I long for a ramble amongst its forests. I know that there are plenty of wonderful specimens to be obtained here. New kinds of paradise birds, butterflies, and beetles, and other attractions that it would be a sin not to obtain." "Perhaps we shall find a place by and bye where there are no inhabitants, uncle," I said. "That is what I have been hoping for days," he replied; and not long after we sailed round a headland into a beautiful bay with the whitest of sand, trees clustering amidst the lovely yellow stone cliffs, and a bright stream of water flowing through a gorge and tumbling over two or three little barriers of rocks before losing itself in the calm waters of the bay. Some six or seven miles back was a high ridge of mountains, which seemed to touch the sea to east and west, cutting off as it were a narrow strip from the mainland, and this strip, some fifteen miles long and six wide at its greatest, was fertile in the extreme. "Why, Nat," cried my uncle, "this should be as grand a place as our island. If it is free of savages it is the beau ideal of a naturalist's station. Look! what's that?" "A deer come out of the wood to drink in the stream," I said. "Poor deer," laughed my uncle, "I'm afraid it will have to come into our larder, for a bit of venison is the very thing we want." As he spoke he cautiously took up a rifle, rested it upon the edge of the boat, waited a few moments, and then fired at fully five hundred yards' distance, and I saw the deer make one great bound and fall dead. "Good! Eatum," said Ebo approvingly; but instead of indulging in a frantic dance he shaded his eyes and gazed about in every direction, carefully sweeping the shore, and paying no heed to us as the boat was sailed close in. As the keel was checked by the sand Ebo leaped out, and I thought he was about to rush at the deer to skin it for food, but he ran off rapidly in one direction right along the shore, coming back at the end of a quarter of an hour, during which, after dragging our prize on board, we remained, gun in hand, upon the watch. Ebo started again and went in the other direction, being away longer this time, but returning triumphant to indulge in a dance, and help drag the boat into a place of safety before proceeding to light a fire. Venison steaks followed, and after another exploration we found that we were in so thoroughly uninhabited a part of the island that we built a hut and slept ashore perfectly undisturbed. The next morning we had another exploration, to find that, as my uncle had supposed, the ridge of mountains cut us off from the rest of the island, and finding nothing to fear we once more set to work. Parrots were in profusion, and so were the great crowned pigeons; these latter becoming our poultry for the table. There was an abundance, though, of birds of large size, whose skins we did not care to preserve, but which, being fruit-eaters, were delicious roasted. Then we had another deer or two; caught fish in the bay; and literally revelled in the bounteous supply of fruit. Meanwhile we were working industriously over our specimens, finding paroquets that were quite new to us, splendid cockatoos, and some that were as ugly as they were curious. Sun-birds, pittas, lovely starlings, kingfishers, and beautifully-tinted pigeons were in abundance. Bright little manakins of a vivid green were there, so feathered that they put me in mind of the rich orange cock-of-the-rocks that Uncle Dick had brought over from Central America. Sometimes we were shooting beside the lovely trickling stream where it gathered itself into pools to form tiny waterfalls, places where some birds seemed to love to come. At others, beneath some great flower-draped tree, where the sun-birds hovered and darted. But the great objects of our search, the birds of paradise, haunted the nut and berry bearing trees. Some were always to be found by a kind of palm that attracted the pigeons as well, these latter swallowing fruit that looked as big as their heads. Here, to our intense delight, we shot the paradise oriole, a magnificent orange, yellow, and black bird, its head looking as if it was covered with a lovely orange plush. One day we had made a longer excursion than usual, and had been so successful that we were about to turn back, having a long afternoon's work before us to preserve our specimens. We had penetrated right to the mountainous ridge, and finding the ground rise very rapidly we came to a standstill, when a peculiar cry up amongst the tree-shadowed rocks above us made us forget our fatigue, especially as Ebo was making signs. The cry was so different to any that we had before heard that we felt that it must be some new bird, and full of eagerness set to work to stalk it. All at once what seemed a flash of dark blue darted from a tree, and before gun could reach shoulder it was gone. But Ebo had been on the watch, and away he crept amongst the rocks and trees, following what we now took to be a prize, till we saw him a quarter of a mile away holding up his spear as a signal. We followed cautiously, and with a look of intelligence in his eyes he signed to my uncle to go one way towards a clump of tall palms, and to me to go in the other direction. "Fire upwards," whispered my uncle, and we parted. I knew from Ebo's ways that the bird must be in one of these trees, and with my eyes sweeping the great leaves in all directions I tried to make out the bird, but in vain, and I had advanced so near that I gave up all hope of seeing it, when suddenly from the other side there was a shot, then another, and feeling satisfied that my uncle had secured the prize I was completely taken off my guard, and stared with astonishment as a large bird, with tail quite a couple of feet long, swept by me towards the dense undergrowth of the lower ground, where it would have been in vain to hunt for it. Just, however, as the bird was darting between the trees I raised my gun and made a quick snapshot at quite sixty yards' distance, and then called myself a stupid for not being more ready and for wasting a charge of powder and shot. My uncle hailed me now. "Any luck, Nat?" he cried, as he came up. "No, uncle," I replied. "I made a flying shot, but it was too far-off." "So were mine, Nat, but I fired on the chance of getting the bird. It was a bird of paradise different to any I have seen. We must come again. I never had a chance at it." "But I did, uncle," I said dolefully, "and missed it." "Where was it when you fired?" "Down among those trees, uncle. I let it go too far." "Why, you hit it, Nat! There's Ebo." I looked, and to my intense delight there was our black companion holding up the bird in triumph. He had seen it fall when I shot, marked it down, and found it amongst the dense undergrowth, placing it before us with hardly a feather disarranged. It was a splendid bird, the last we shot in New Guinea, and over three feet long, its tail being two and of a lovely bluish tint. If looked at from one side it was bronze, from the other green, just as the light fell, while from its sides sprung magnificent plumes of rich blue and green. They were not long, filmy plumes like those of the great bird of paradise, but short, each widening towards the end, and standing up like a couple of fans above the wings. It was a feast to gaze upon so lovely an object of creation, and I felt more proud of having secured that specimen than of any bird I had shot before. "Well, Nat the Naturalist," cried my uncle, when he had carefully hung the bird by its beak from a stick, "I think I did right in bringing you with me." "I am glad you think so, uncle," I said. "I mean it, my boy, for you have been invaluable to me. It was worth all the risk of coming to this savage place to get such a bird as that." "There must be plenty more wonderful birds here, uncle," I said, "if we could stop in safety." "I am sure there are, Nat, and there is nothing I should like better than to stay here. It is a regular naturalist's hunting-ground and full of treasures, if we dared thoroughly explore it." "Just now, uncle," I said, "I feel as if I want to do nothing else but sit down and rest by a good dinner. Oh! I am so fagged!" "Come along, then," he said smiling, "and we will make straight for camp, and I dare say we can manage a good repast for your lordship. Home, Ebo. Eat--drink--sleep." "Eat--drink--sleep," said Ebo nodding, for he knew what those three words meant, and carefully carrying the treasures we had shot, tied at regular distances along a stick, he trudged on in advance towards our hut upon the shore. _ |
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