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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 32. How That Fish Meant Mischief, And Became Meat |
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_ CHAPTER THIRTY TWO. HOW THAT FISH MEANT MISCHIEF, AND BECAME MEAT Their way still led them along the peaceful waters which girt the island--for so they now felt that they might venture to call it--the strong barrier reef of coral keeping back the heaving swell of the ocean, which foamed and broke outside, leaving the lagoon perfectly calm, save here and there where they came across an opening in the reef through which a fleet might apparently have sailed into fairly deep anchorage, sheltered from the wildest storm and the roughest sea. Here and there the reef was so far above water that vegetation had taken root, and young cocoa-nut trees were springing up to form the beginning of a grove, but for the most part there was the dead coral, the gleaming sand, and the pearly foam glistening in the sun. No currents to stay them, no rough winds to check. Their journey might have been upon some peaceful lake, whose left-hand shore was one succession of cocoa-nut groves; and beyond that, rocky jungle, full of ridge and hollow, mound of verdure, and darksome glade and chasm, down which trickled streams of water, such as had risen in the heights which culminated in the smoking cone of the volcano, while here and there the streams gave marked traces of their sources by sending up faint clouds of steam. Mark felt as he lay back in the stern and gazed at the glorious panorama that he could watch the various phases of beauty in the landscape for ever. But then he was not rowing, and the motion of the boat and the dipping of his hands in the water kept him comparatively cool. Still, in spite of its beauty it was impossible to gaze shoreward without a feeling of awe. For there had been that trembling of the earth; there were here and there openings in the trees through which vast blackened roads of rock seemed to come down to the sea, zigzag tracks which it was plain enough were the cooled-down and hardened streams of lava which had made their way to the sea during some eruption of the calmly beautiful mountain which rose so peacefully toward the clouds, one of which seemed to have remained to act as its feathery crown. Then, too, there was the remembrance of that terrible roar which they had heard in the jungle, and every now and then Mark's eyes searched the trees at the edge beyond the sands, and he longed with a sensation of shrinking to catch sight of the creature which had given them all so much alarm. But search how he would, as the boat went steadily on, there was no sign of animal life ashore but the birds. Once or twice he fancied he could see something like a lizard run across the heated rocks, but he could not be sure. But of birds there seemed to be plenty. Flocks of doves, large lavender-plumed pigeons, white cockatoos, long-tailed lories, and parrots whose feathers bore all the colours of the rainbow; but shorewards that was all. In the lagoon it was very different. "Sha'n't want for fish," said Gregory, as he dipped his oar--he and the captain now giving the men a rest. As he spoke a shoal was making the water dance just ahead and completely changing its colour, for, as they fed upon the small fry with which the surface gleamed, the sea was dappled with rings, serried with ridges, and seemed as if it were a fluid of mingled gold and silver beneath which some volcanic action was going on, which made it boil and flush and ripple till the bows of the gig reached the shoal, and then instantaneously the surface became calm. "Plenty of work for you, Mark," said the captain. "You will have to be head of our fishing department, and keep our little colony supplied." "You must get Small to help you make a net," said Gregory, "and contrive some long lines." They ceased rowing, for they were now opposite a spot where the jungle came close to the edge of the lagoon, being only separated by a smooth patch of sand. Here, too, were quite a flock of the maleo birds, scratching and searching for food, after the fashion of fowl; but as the boat stopped they took alarm, and seemed to skim over the sand, their feet striking the ground so rapidly as to become invisible. "They can run," said the mate; "but we seem to have learned their secret. What's that?" All listened, but there was no sound. "I fancied I heard a low distant roaring noise," said the mate, dipping his oar again, "but I may have been mistaken." The captain was in the act of dipping his own oar when Billy Widgeon, who was seated just in front of Mark, whose place was right astern, turned sharply and caught the lad's arm: "Look, Mr Mark, sir, look!" he cried, pointing with his other hand, "there he goes!" "Who?" cried Mark excitedly; "a savage?" "Yes, sir," said Billy, grinning and holding Bruff, "savage enough. Nay, nay, my lad, you lie down. It wouldn't do you no good to go overboard now." "A large one, too," said the captain, resting on his oar. "Ay, he's a nasty customer," said the mate. "What is?" cried Mark eagerly. "What is it you can all see?" "Shark!" said the captain. "Where? Where? I want to see a shark." Mark's eyes were roving all about, but he saw nothing in any direction save a little dark triangular piece of something, with the forward side a little curved, and this was moving slowly through the water. "There, my lad, there," said the captain; "can't you see his back fin?" "Is that a shark?" said Mark, in a disappointed tone, as the black object, looking like the thick lateen sail of some tiny invisible boat, glided along the surface not fifty yards away, and making as if to cross their bows. "Yes," said the captain, "that's the fin of a shark, ten-feet long I should say." "And I a dozen," said the mate. "Like to see him a little closer?" said the captain. "Yes," cried Mark eagerly; and then he wished he had said "No," for the oars were, after a pull or two, laid inboard, while the captain took hold of the sharply-pointed hitcher, and held it balanced in his hand. The impetus given to the boat was sufficient to drive it onward, so that it was evident that the back fin of the shark and the bows of the gig would arrive at the same point together, and Mark rose eagerly to see what would follow, when the captain made him a sign. Mark sat down, and suddenly saw the shark's fin stop some three or four yards from the boat, change its position, and come end on towards where he was seated; and his eyes were fixed so firmly on this that he quite started, as he saw before it, and very close to where he sat, a dark-looking body, with a rounded snout and two pig-like eyes. "Don't know what to make on us, Mr Mark, sir," said Billy Widgeon, grinning. "See his old shovel nose?" "Yes," said Mark, "but I can't see his mouth. I thought they had great gaping mouths, full of sharp teeth." "He keeps his rat-trap down underneath him, sir, so as not to frighten the fishes." "Hand me that gun, Mark," said the mate. Mark passed it along; and as he did so the shark glided round the stern, and came along the other side. "You don't think he'll attack us, do you?" said the captain. "There's no knowing what a jack-shark will do," said the mate, quietly cocking both barrels, and making the muzzle of the gun follow the movements of the great fish, whose elongated form was perfectly plain now in the clear water as he slowly glided on. The long unequally-lobed tail waved softly to and fro like a peculiarly-formed paddle, and the motion of the fish seemed to be peculiarly effortless as he went on right past the gig, and continued his course a dozen yards ahead. "Off!" said the captain laconically; but as he spoke the shark turned, and the fin came toward them again, always at the same distance above the water, and again on their starboard side, by which it glided, went astern, and turned, to come back once more. "Hadn't we two better pull, sir?" said Billy. "He means mischief, that he do." "Think he'll attack?" said the captain again. "I'm beginning to think he will," said Mr Gregory. He had hardly spoken when the shark turned, and there was an eddying swirl in the water where his tail gave a vigorous stroke or two, and almost simultaneously a long glistening cruel-looking head rose out of the water. The monkey uttered a shriek, and would have leaped overboard in his fright, but for Billy Widgeon's restraining hand, when the poor little animal took refuge beneath his legs, while Bruff set up a furious bark, his hair ruffling up about his neck, and his eyes glistening with anger. But shriek or yell had no influence upon the hungry shark, which seemed to glide like a glistening curve or arch of shark right over the bows of the boat, striking her side in the descent as the fish passed into the sea again; but so heavy was the blow, and so great the creature's weight, that the gig was extremely near being capsized. "Pass me the other gun, Mark," cried the captain. "Look out, Gregory, whatever you do. Another attack like that, and the brute will have us over, and--" He left his sentence unfinished, while Mark passed the gun, and then resumed his grasp of the thwart upon which he was seated, holding on with both hands, while in the agony of dread he suffered the great drops of perspiration stood out upon his forehead, and ran together, and trickled down the sides of his nose, as his breath came thick and fast. Some very heroic lads would, no doubt, have drawn a knife, or seized an oar, or done something else very brave in defence, but in those brief moments Mark was recalling stories he had read about sharks seizing struggling people as they were swimming, and that the water was stained with blood, and one way and another he was as thoroughly frightened as ever he had been in his life. "Now, then!" said the captain, as the shark completed another circuit of the boat, and was about to repeat his evolution. "Both together at his head, and fire low as he rises." It was a quick shot on the part of both, delivered just as the shark rose from the water again to leap at the boat, which probably represented to him an eatable fish swimming on the surface, while, as the two puffs of smoke darted from the guns and the loud reports rang out, the great fish fell short, but struck its nose against the side of the gig, and sank down in the water, the back fin disappearing, and coming up again fifty yards away. "I think we'll be contented," said the captain, closing the breech of his piece, and passing it to Mark. "Let's make a masterly retreat, Gregory." "Think he'll come back?" "I should say no," replied the captain. "The brute has evidently had quite as much as he requires for the present." "Will it kill him?" asked Mark. "Can't say. I should think not. He must be badly wounded though, to sheer off like that." "Look at that," shouted Billy Widgeon excitedly, as all of a sudden the shark was seen to leap clear out of the water, and fall back with a tremendous splash, not head first, so as to dive down, but on its flank, sending the water flying, while directly after the sea in that direction became tremendously agitated, sending waves toward them sufficiently big to make the boat rise and fall. "He's in his flurry, Mr Mark, sir," said Billy Widgeon gleefully. "I can't abear sharks." "Pull hard, Gregory," said the captain; "the sooner we are away from here the better." He spoke in a low voice, and exchanged meaning glances with the mate, who at once bent to his oar. "No, no: don't go," cried Mark. "I should like to see him when he's dead." "I'm afraid there will be no shark to see," said the captain grimly, as the gig surged through the water. "Why, there's his back fin, and there it is again and again," cried Mark. "How he keeps curving out of the water and dashing about! I say, father, row back and put him out of his misery." "I daresay he is out of it by this time, my boy," said the captain, rowing hard. "But there he is again, swimming round and beating the water." "Why, Mark, can't you see that the water there is alive with sharks, and that they are devouring their wounded brother--fighting for the choice morsels, I dare say. This is a warning never to bathe except in some pool." "What! do you think? Oh, I see now! How horrible!" said Mark. "Horrible, eh?" grunted Gregory. "I wish they'd make a day of it, and eat one another all up. We could get on very well without sharks." Mark said no more about putting their enemy out of his misery, but sat watching till, at the end of a few minutes, the surface of the lagoon grew calm; but until they had turned a low spit of sand, the black fins of at least a dozen sharks could be seen cruising round and round, and to and fro, in search of something more to satisfy their ravenous hunger. "We are getting some experience of the dangers we shall have to encounter," said the captain, as the scene of their late conflict with the shark passed completely out of their sight, and they rowed on steadily. "That's your first shark, Mark, eh?" "Yes," said Mark, thoughtfully, "I shall know what a shark is now." "I think we'll give them a turn now, Gregory," said the captain. "No, no, one at a time," he cried angrily, as the men sprang up together. "We must not capsize the boat here. Now you, my man," he continued, sitting fast, as the sailor stepped across and took the mate's place before Mr Gregory rose. "Now you, Widgeon." Billy crept very softly into the captain's place, and the latter seated himself on the thwart in front of Mark, to be joined directly by Gregory. "There," cried Mark, as the oars dipped, "I heard it. There." "What?" said his father. "That roaring which Mr Gregory heard." "It was the creaking and groaning of the oars in the tholes." "No, no, father. It was that deep savage roar heard ever so far off." They ceased rowing again and again, but the sound was heard no more, and the captain began to talk rather anxiously to Mr Gregory as the sun grew low in the west, and it became evident that they had a long way yet to row. "Tired, Mark?" cried the captain. "No, father," he replied, laughing; "but if you'll say hungry, I'll tell you: Yes, very." "Ah, well, I keep hoping that every headland we pass may bring us in sight of the camp! It cannot be very far now." "But suppose it isn't an island," said Mark; "we might be rowing right away." "Come, come," cried the captain cheerily; "you the son of a navigator, and talking like this. Now, then, which way did we row when we started?" "North-east," said Mark. "And then?" "North." "Yes, go on." "Then I think we went north-west." "Well, and after that?" "West, father." "Then as we ran from the shark we went south, didn't we?" "I don't know," said Mark. "I was too intent on the way in which they were tearing him to pieces." "Well, you might have said you were too frightened to notice," said the captain, smiling. "You need not have been ashamed. But come now, which way are we going now?" "Away from the sun," replied Mark, who felt no inclination to show that he had felt too much alarmed to take any notice of the direction they rowed. "I suppose we must be going east." "Well, then, if you started by going east, and kept on rowing till you are going east again, I think you may conclude that you have gone nearly round a piece of land, and that the said piece is an island. It might not be, for we may be going right into some gulf; but this place looks as much like an island as is possible, and I don't think it can be anything else." "Island," said Gregory, gruffly, "volcanic, and the coral has risen up round it, and kept it from being washed away." "But could an island like this have been washed away?" said Mark. "To be sure it could, my boy," said the captain. "From what I have seen a great deal of it is loose scoria. You saw plenty of big stones lying about?" "Yes," replied Mark, "but they were huge stones. Some of them must weigh half a ton." Mark knew that half a ton meant ten hundredweight; but his comparison was a shot at a venture, for he had no idea how big, or rather how small, a rock is which weighs half a ton. "I don't think the sea would make much of a rock weighing half a ton, Mark," said the captain, smiling. "Why, in one of our great storms it would move that almost as easily as if it were a pebble. Mr Gregory is quite right. Volcanic islands have before now been formed, and been in eruption for a long time, and then been slowly swept away by the action of the sea." "How long to sundown, sir?" said Mr Gregory. "Half an hour," said the captain, after a glance at the slowly descending orb. "And then it will be dark directly. What do you say, sir, give it up, land and set up camp, or keep on?" "Keep on, Gregory," said the captain, quietly. "There is a headland away yonder. Once we get round that we may see home. Tired, my lads?" "Tidy, sir," said Billy Widgeon. "But if it's all the same to you, we'd rather keep on as long as we can." "Why, Billy?" asked Mark. "Well, sir, since you put it like that," said the little sailor, smiling sheepishly, "it is that." "Is what, Billy?" "Why, what you mean, sir. You meant wittles. That's what you was a-thinking about. You see if we goes ashore we shall have to pick they fowls, and make a fire, and wait till they're cooked afore we can eat 'em, and to men as hungry as we, sir, that's a deal wuss than rowing a few miles; eh, mate?" This was to the man at the oar forward. The response was an affirmatory grunt. "There, Gregory," said the captain, "what do you say now?" "Keep on," replied Gregory, shortly. "Widgeon is right." The island never seemed more beautiful to them than now as the sun went down lower and lower till, like a great fiery globe, it nearly touched the sea: for rock, jungle, and the central mountainous clump, with the conical volcano dominating all, was seen through a glorious golden haze, while the sea was first purple and gold, and then orange, changing slowly into crimson. The sun disappeared just as they rounded the point for which they had been making; but still there was no sign of the camp. Nothing but the purple lagoon stretching on and on, with the creamy line of surf on one side, the fringe of cocoa-nut trees right down to the sand on the other. "A good clear row at all events," said the captain. "Here, Gregory, let's take the oars and pull till we can't see." The mate changed places with the sailor in front, the captain took Billy Widgeon's oar, and the boat began to travel more rapidly, but still there was no sign of the camp. The stars came out, the water seemed to turn black, and in a very short time all was darkness; but there was no difficulty in keeping on, for the light-coloured sands on the one side acted as a guide, and the roar of the breakers on the reef kept them away on the other. There was something very awe-inspiring though in the journey in the dark; and in spite of himself Mark could not help feeling that it was rather uncanny to be riding over the black water with what seemed to be golden serpents rushing away in undulating fashion on either side. Then, too, there was a curious quivering glow, something like an aurora, playing about the top of the mountain on their left; while all at once, plainly heard now by all, there came the distant roar of the creature which had so far remained undiscovered. "We must be getting near home now," said the captain quietly, "for that sound comes always from the north-west of the camp." He spoke calmly enough, but Mark detected a peculiarity in his voice which he had noted before when his father was anxious, and this finally gave place to words. "I hope the women have not been alarmed by that sound, Gregory," he said at last. "I hope so too," said the mate quietly. "It may be a timid creature after all. I believe it's one of those great orang-outangs. I've never heard one, but I've read that they can roar terribly." "I hope it's nothing worse," said the captain in a low tone. "Keep on, of course?" whispered Gregory. "I think so, as long as we can see. We must have nearly circumnavigated the island, and it will have been a splendid day's work to have discovered the ship and done that too." "I've got two hours' more row in me," said Gregory quietly. "By that time the men will have another hour in them, and at the worst we could manage another hour afterwards. Before then we must have reached camp." "Ah, what's that?" cried the captain as the boat struck something. "Bock," cried Gregory. "No, too soft." "Row! row!" said Mark. "It was a monstrous fish--a shark." "You could not see it?" cried the captain hoarsely, as he bent to his oar, Gregory following his example, so that the boat surged through the water. "I saw something dark amongst these golden eel things, and they all seemed to rush away like lightning." There was a dead silence in the boat for the next quarter of an hour, during which the rowers pulled with all their might. No one spoke for fear of giving vent to his thoughts--thoughts suggested by the adventure early in the day; but every one sat there fully expecting to see the savage-looking head of some shark thrust from the water and come over into the boat. The suffering was for a time intense, but no further shock was felt, and as the minutes glided away their hopes rose that if this last were an enemy they were rapidly leaving it behind. All at once Mark half rose from his place. "Is that the light over the mountain?" he exclaimed. "Nay," cried Billy, "that's a fire. You can see it gleam on the water." "Hurrah!" cried Gregory, "then that means home, and they are keeping it up as a guide." Another quarter of an hour's rowing proved this, for a big fire was blazing upon the sand, and before long they were able to make out moving figures and the fire being replenished, the leaping up of the flames and the ruddy smoke ascending high in the air. "Now, then, give a hail," said the captain, "to let them know we're safe. They'll think we are coming from the other direction." Billy Widgeon uttered a loud "Ahoy!" and then putting two fingers in his mouth, brought forth an ear-piercing whistle. A distant "Ahoy!" came back, and a whistle so like Billy Widgeon's that it might have been its echo, while directly after there was a flash and then a report. "A signal from the major," said the captain. "There, Mark, a chance for you. Fire in the air." Mark caught up the gun, held the butt on the thwart, and drew trigger, when the flash and report cut the air and echoed from the wood. Another ten minutes' hard pull and the boat touched the sands close to the fire, where all were gathered in eager expectancy of the lost voyagers, who had, to meet the complaints about dread and anxiety, the news of their discoveries. "But you have not been much alarmed, I hope?" said the captain, drawing his wife's hand through his arm. "But we have, captain," cried the major; "for Morgan and I have been in momentary expectation of an attack from that terrible wild beast." "But there, you are tired and starving," said Mrs Strong. "We have food waiting. Sit down and rest, and we'll tell you all the while." _ |
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