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Mother Carey's Chicken: Her Voyage to the Unknown Isle, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 26. How Mark And The Major Saw Signs |
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_ CHAPTER TWENTY SIX. HOW MARK AND THE MAJOR SAW SIGNS Bruff limped up eagerly, and sometimes put down his injured paw, which he had been dressing after nature's fashion by licking it well, and trotted by their side; but it was evident directly that another was to be of the party, for before they had gone fifty yards Jack bounded up and placed himself beside the dog. The major hesitated for a moment. "He won't do any harm," he said at last. "Let him come. I say, Mark, my lad, all that was very comic about the little fellow climbing the tree; but do you know, if you took pains I'm sure you might teach him to go up into the leafy crowns and screw the nuts round till they dropped." "I was wondering whether it would be possible," said Mark eagerly. "Quite. He is an intelligent little fellow. Try. Now, then, let's take our bearings," continued the major, and he pulled out a pocket-compass. "Don't let's be wearied out in finding our way back when we are tired." "Which way are we going, sir?" "That depends, my lad. It is not as we please, but as the jungle allows. You talk as if you were in a country full of roads." "I forgot," said Mark, changing the position in which he carried his father's double gun. "First lesson in using a gun," said the major: "either point the muzzle at the ground or up at the sky. It's considered bad manners, Mark, to shoot your companions." "I--I beg your pardon, sir," faltered Mark. "It was very clumsy of me." "Not a bit more clumsy than every young fellow is, when he first handles a gun. That's the way. I'm sure you don't want to have to carry me home without a head. Now, then, our easiest route would be to go along the sands at the edge of the cocoa-nut groves; but I propose we strike in beside the first stream or through the first valley we find. Come along." They followed the beautiful shore line for about five hundred yards, and at a turn came suddenly upon a lovely little stream which offered far better facilities for obtaining drinking water than that from which it had been obtained, and as soon as he saw the spot, the major exclaimed that this was the place for their temporary home. A cocoa-nut grove, a sandy cove, plenty of nipah-palms ready for making into thatch or wails for their hut, and an abundance of slight young palm-trees like scaffold poles exactly suitable for making their hut or shed. "We must go back, Mark," said the major. "This is a find that will save them endless trouble." It seemed a pity to return, as the sun was growing very hot; but they tramped back, and the captain followed when they again started, to decide with Gregory whether it would be a better site. "Now," said the major, leaving them to their discussion, "you shall try and bring down the first eatable bird we see, and I'll look out for pig or deer." "Are you going straight inland?" asked Mark. "No, but just as the open ground beside this stream will let us. I want to get to the high ground and reach the slope of the volcano if we can." It was not an easy task; for though the jungle was open here in comparison to what it was on either hand, every step of the way was impeded by creepers, awkward roots, patches of moss into which their feet sank, and by the rattan-canes that draped the trees and ran in and out and enlaced them together, as if nature were making rough attempts to turn the edge of the forest into a verdant piece of basket-work. The heat was great and it was rather exhausting toil, but at every turn the beauties of the place were quite startling to Mark in their novelty. Over the clear sun-spangled stream drooped the loveliest of ferns, whose fronds were like the most delicate lace; while by way of contrast other ferns clung to the boles of trees, that were dark-green and forked like the horns of some huge stag; great masses and clusters, six or seven feet long, hung here and there pendent from the old stumps. Flowers too were in abundance, but for the most part quaintly-shaped orchids of cream, and yellow, and brown, some among the moss, others clinging to the mossy bark of the trees. But the greatest curiosities of all were the pitcher-plants hanging here and there, some fully suspended, others so large that they partly rested on the moss, forming jungle cups capable of containing fully a pint of water, some of them even more. The beauties of the scene increased, in spite of each one in which they paused seeming as if it could not be surpassed; for as they penetrated more deeply they not only came upon flowering trees about which tiny sun-birds, whose plumage was a blaze of burnished metallic splendour, whirred, and buzzed, and darted, or probed the blossoms with their beaks, but they found that the island, if island it should prove, was inhabited by endless numbers of gorgeous butterflies. Great pearly-looking insects, whose wings gleamed with azure reflections, floated calmly down the glades, their wings fully eight inches across. Others were specked and splashed with scarlet, or barred with orange, or dashed with glistening green. Then, as if there was to be no end to the feast of beauty for their eyes, great quick-flying insects came darting among the sunny openings, butterflies with elongated, narrow, and pointed wings similar to those of the sphinx moths of our own land. Mark could have sat down and watched the various gorgeously-coloured beauties for hours, but theirs was a business task, and he plodded on behind the major, both the monkey and the dog untiringly investigating everything they saw. But there was no trace of large animal, no sound that suggested the neighbourhood of anything likely to be inimical, while the best test was the fearlessness with which their two companions kept by their sides. "Ah!" ejaculated the major at last, as a low cooing noise fell upon their ears. "Now for something for dinner! You go first, Mark, and let them have both barrels sharply--one after the other." "Let what have them?" "The pigeons. Creep on yonder softly, and you will soon come upon them--a flock of pigeons feeding in one of the trees." Mark went on as silently as he could, and the major kept back the two animals and waited a minute--five minutes, ten minutes--and then softly followed, to find the lad at the edge of a glade watching a flock of great lavender-hued and feather-crowned pigeons, as big as fowls, feeding in the most unconcerned manner. The major did not hesitate for a moment, but fired at the spot where the birds were thickest, and again as they rose with whirring and flapping wings in a little flock. Three went down at his first discharge, two at his second; and Mark started as if he too had been shot. "You here, sir?" he said. "Yes. Why didn't you shoot?" "I forgot to," said Mark hesitatingly; "and I was admiring them." "Yes, admirable, my young naturalist!" said the major. "But we are sent out here to find food for so many hungry people; and these are glorious eating." "Yes; I forgot," said Mark, helping to collect the birds, which were tied by the legs and hung over the trunk of a tree, as the stream would act as their guide on their return. Then going on, the little rapids and falls in the tiny river showed that they must be steadily rising, but at so slow a rate that it soon became evident that, unless the country opened out, they would not reach the mountain that day. At the end of a couple of hours, though, when they paused to rest and began refreshing themselves with some fruit similar to a large nut, but whose interior contained a couple of kernels imbedded in custard, they found themselves quite upon a hill, with a valley dipping down below along which the streamlet came, and beyond these the mountain-slope rose, so that they had a good view of the cone, with the film of cloud still rising, but looking almost transparent in the bright sunrise. "There ought to be pigs here," said the major; "but it does not seem as if we shall see any. But look yonder; there's another of those fruit-trees, with pigeons feeding beneath. Go and try now." Mark hurried on, and threading his way among the trees took a long and careful aim before firing; and, as might be expected, missing. But as luck had it, the flock rose with a tremendous beating of wings and went right over the major's head, giving him an opportunity to get a couple of good shots, with the result that three more of the great pigeons came crashing down. "I think I hit one," said Mark as he came panting back, to find that the major and Bruff between them had retrieved all three birds. "Where is it, then?" said the major. "The smoke got in my eyes, and I could not see whether one fell." "Take the dog, then, and see if he can find it," said the major, smiling to himself. But after a good search the lad came back hot and disappointed. "Better luck next time, my boy," said the major. "You are not the only one who did not hit his first bird. Shooting is not so easy as fishing in the sea." The question now arose whether to go on further or to return. They had obtained eight good weighty birds, and the heat was great; but Mark was so anxious to try and make better use of his piece that the pigeons just shot were hung up similarly to the first, and they proceeded, to find hopeful signs of an abundance of fruit, some of which was familiar to the major from his having encountered it in different parts of the East, while other kinds looked promising enough for testing. But though a sharp look-out was kept, no other opportunity for a shot presented itself. The reason was plain enough--they were unable to get along without making a good deal of noise; and though the smaller birds of brilliant plumage paid little heed, the larger, such as might have been used for food, took flight before they got within shot, as they often knew by the flapping and beating of their wings. They were slowly descending one beautiful slope after carefully taking in some landmarks so as to guide them on their return, when all at once Mark laid his hand upon the major's arm and pointed to an opening in the jungle about a hundred yards away. "What is it?" said the major sharply. "Ah! that looks bad;" and he pressed Mark back under cover. "Savages?" whispered the lad. "I'm afraid so. It's a bad sign and a good sign." Mark looked at him interrogatively. "Bad sign if they are a fierce lot like the New Guinea men; good sign if they are peaceable fellows, for it shows that it is quite possible to live here." The sight which had caught Mark's attention was a thin cloud of vapour rising slowly from among some low bushes, and it was evident that there was a fire and some cooking operation going on. "Better part of valour is discretion," said the major softly. "Not going to run away, Mark--soldiers can't do that--but we must retire and take up fresh ground, my lad, for your father expressly pointed out to me that we were not cannibals, and that I was not to shoot the human savage. Keep out of sight. Perhaps we had better return." They backed away softly, the dog following, and the major whispered: "The mystery is explained, Mark. It must have been one of those interesting gentlemen who made that terrific row. His idea of a cooey, I suppose." A low growl came from Bruff just then, and they stopped short, the silence being broken by the dick, dick of the major's gun. They had on retiring gone a little higher up the slope so as to be more among the trees, and the result was that they found themselves at the top of a little ridge and at the edge of the denser growth, so that, as they paused, they could look down into another part where the trees gave place to low bushes and glorious ferns, the whole being a glade of surpassing loveliness, such a spot as might very well be chosen by a party of simple savages for their home. The major pressed Mark down, and they cowered among the trees, for they were evidently going right in sight of a second encampment. "Keep the dog quiet if you can, lad," whispered the major, peering among the trees. "Can't see their attap [see note 1] huts, but there are plenty of fruit-trees." "Have they seen us?" whispered Mark. "Impossible to say. You go along first between those trees bearing to the right. Stoop. I don't want you to get a notice to quit in the shape of a spear." Mark obeyed, and went on as swiftly and as silently as he could, so as to reach the path they had made in coming, and to this end he had to quit the denser shade and pass through a clump of foliage plants and flowering bushes of the loveliest hues. The way seemed easy, and the bushes were not so closely together, but the ferns were enormous, their fronds stretching out in all directions and having to be pressed aside. "Never mind me," whispered the major, as Mark held an unusually large frond aside. "Bear down more to the right and strike the stream. We mustn't leave those pigeons." Mark forced his way on, with the growth completely hiding him from his companion, while the heat seemed to be more and more oppressive. It was a dank stewing heat, very different to the scorching of the sun out in the more open parts, and both were longing to get to a spot where they could breathe more freely, when Mark, who was about six yards ahead, leaped down into a little hollow to save himself from a fall, his feet having given way as he trod upon the rotten roots of a large fern. It was a matter of a few instants, for as the lad alighted he found that it was upon something soft and elastic, and at the same moment there was a disturbance among the undergrowth and a sharp angry hiss. He bounded back with a faint cry of horror, turned, and taking rapid aim at the spot where he had leaped fired downward. "Quick! load again," said the major. "A great serpent," panted Mark, obeying with nervous fingers. "Killed him?" "Don't know, sir," said Mark, staring down among the ferns and arums which filled the hole. "Must have killed him, for he does not move. Squat down. We don't want the savages to see us. They are sure to come." "Let's run." "What? The gauntlet? No, thank you, my boy. We are safer here. Hist!" They crouched there listening for the sounds of the enemy's approach, but all remained silent. Mark could hear his heart beating with excitement, and he found himself wondering why it was that he, with a serpent on one side and savages on the other, was not more alarmed. "Keep still," whispered the major; "we must hear them directly. What's that?" "The dog," said Mark in the same low tone, for Bruff had softly crept to their side, looked up in their faces, and lain down. "Why, hallo!" exclaimed the major, "this isn't natural." "What?" "This dog. There can't be any savages on the way; and, what is more, you can't have shot a serpent, or Bruff here would have been excited and routed him out. Did you see the serpent?" "No, sir; I didn't see it exactly, but you heard it hiss." "But, hang it all, Mark! You didn't shoot at a hiss, did you?" "Well, no, sir. I was horribly startled, and shot down at the soft thing upon which I jumped." "But if you are entrusted with a gun," said the major angrily, "you mustn't take fright and shoot at what you hear and feel, my lad." "Did you see the savages, sir?" said Mark in self-defence. "Well, no, but I saw the smoke of their fire; and here, Bruff, fetch him out, boy," he continued, breaking off his speech, and with cocked gun he parted the twigs and fronds cautiously as he stepped down into the hollow from which Mark had fled. Hiss! hiss! hiss! came sharply from where the major stepped, and he in turn bounded back to Mark's side, falling over the dog, and having some difficulty in recovering himself. "That's good! I like that," he cried, as, instead of helping him, Mark covered his escape by taking a step forward, and bringing his gun to bear on the spot whence the sounds came. "Did--did you see it?" said Mark huskily. "See it! No, my lad. Only that! Look!" He pointed as he rose to a filmy vapour floating away and dissolving in the sunshine. "You did not see that before because you fired. Don't you see? It's steam." "Steam!" said Mark. "Yes. Look here. Give me your hand. I don't want to go through." He caught Mark's hand and stepped cautiously down, keeping one foot on sure ground, as with the other he pressed and stamped upon a spot that was quite elastic. At every stamp there was a hiss--a sharp, angry hiss and a puff of vapour rose from among the leaves. "There's your serpent," he said, laughing. "No wonder you did not hit it." "Then that must be steam we saw over yonder, and not savages' fires." "Right, my lad. A false alarm. We're in a volcanic land, and if we search about I daresay we shall find hot springs somewhere." "It can't be very safe," said Mark thoughtfully, as he watched the little puffs of steam rise. "Not if you jump on a soft place, for there would be no knowing where you went. But come along, I think we've done enough for one day, so let's find our pigeons and get back." "Where's Jacko?" said Mark, looking round. "Jack! Last time I saw him he was up a tree eating those sour berries just after I shot the last pigeon. He must have stayed back to feed." They whistled and called, while, as if comprehending it all, the dog barked; but all was still, and in the hope of finding their hairy companion they now pressed steadily on, passing the tree laden still with a bright purple kind of berry, but there was no sign of Jack. "He'll return to savage life, safe," said the major. "It is too much of a temptation to throw in his way. Why, Mark, if I were a monkey I think I should." "I don't think he'd leave Bruff now," replied Mark. "They're such friends that they wouldn't part, and I'm sure my dog wouldn't go." He glanced down at Bruff as he spoke, and the dog barked at him, and raised his injured paw. "Well, we shall see," said the major, as they forced their way on. "There's where we stopped to listen for birds," he continued, "and there's the tree upon which I hung the pigeons." "Where?" asked Mark. "Yonder, straight before you. There, lad, fifty yards away." "But I can't see any pigeons," said Mark. "Not near enough. Let's get on, I'm growing hungry, and beginning to think of dinner, a cigar, a good rest, and a bathe in that delicious-looking sea. By the way, the clouds are gathering about the top of that mountain. I hope we shall have no storm to-night. Why, Mark, the pigeons are gone! I hung them upon that branch." Mark turned from gazing at the clouds, which seemed to be forming about the cone away to his right, and was obliged to confess that the pigeons were gone. "Savage, or some animal," said the major, peering cautiously round. "Would it be a big bird--eagle or vulture?" said Mark. "I saw one fly over." "Might be," replied the major. "I'm not naturalist enough to say; and if I was, I daren't, Mark, for what a bird will do in one country it will not in another." Mark stared at him. "Well, I mean this, Mark, my lad. At home, in England, the kingfishers sit on twigs over the streams, and dive into the water and catch fish. Here, in the East, numbers of them sit on twigs in the forest paths and catch beetles, so there's no knowing what a bird of prey would do in a place like this." Just then they were close up to the tree, and Bruff set up a joyous barking, which was answered by the chattering of the monkey. "Why, there's Jack!" cried Mark. "The rascal, he has got down my pigeons!" cried the major. Just then a puff of feathers flew up in the air, and the two travellers stepped forward and simultaneously burst into a roar of laughter. For there, in amongst the undergrowth, sat Jack, his hairy coat, head, arms, and legs covered with feathers, which formed quite a nest about him, and as they came up he chattered away loudly, and went on tearing the lavender plumage out of one of the great pigeons which lay in his lap, and scattering the soft down far and wide. "Why, he must have seen the birds plucked yesterday," said the major, wiping his eyes, so comical was the monkey's seriously intent aspect, as he kept glancing up at them sharply, and then chattering and peering down at the half-denuded pigeon, his little black fingers nimbly twisting out the feathers, and his whole aspect suggestive of his being a cook in a tremendous hurry. "There, come along," continued the major; "pick up the birds, Mark." Easier said than done. There were three, but two, half-picked, had to be hunted out from the heap of feathers, and Jack objected to part with the third, holding on to it tightly till he was pressed back with the stock of the gun, after which the miserable half-picked birds were tied together by the legs and hung over the barrel. They had no difficulty in finding the rest of the morning's sport, and this done, the first being shouldered by the major, they walked as fast as the nature of the way would allow, back to the shore, unwillingly on Mark's part, for there was always some brilliant bird or insect flitting across their path and inviting inspection. But this inclination to stay was always checked by the major, who kept on bringing his companion back to the commonplace by uttering the one word, "Dinner!" and this sufficed. ------------------ Note 1. Attap, thatching made of the leaves of a palm--the nipah. _ |
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