The Coral Island Read online

  ‘That's the ticket!’ was Peterkin's remarkable exclamation, as he started convulsively, and levelled his spear.

  ‘Hist!’ cried Jack; ‘these are your friends, Peterkin. They must have come over expressly to pay you a friendly visit, for it is the first time we have seen them on this side of the island.’

  ‘Come along!’ cried Peterkin, hurrying towards the wood, while Jack and I followed, smiling at his impatience.

  Another grunt and half a dozen squeals, much louder than before, came down the valley. At this time we were just opposite the small vale which lay between the Valley of the Wreck and Spouting Cliff.

  ‘I say, Peterkin,’ cried Jack, in a hoarse whisper.

  ‘Well, what is't?’

  ‘Stay a bit, man. These grunters are just up there on the hillside. If you go and stand with Ralph in the lee of yon cliff, I'll cut round behind and drive them through the gorge, so that you'll have a better chance of picking out a good one. Now, mind you pitch into a fat young pig, Peterkin,’ added Jack, as he sprang into the bushes.

  ‘Won't I, just!’ said Peterkin, licking his lips, as we took our station beside the cliff. ‘I feel quite a tender affection for young pigs in my heart. Perhaps it would be more correct to say in my s –’

  'There they come!' cried I, as a terrific yell from Jack sent the whole herd screaming down the hill. Now, Peterkin, being unable to hold back, crept a short way up a very steep grassy mound, in order to get a better view of the hogs before they came up; and just as he raised his head above its summit, two little pigs, which had outrun their companions, rushed over the top with utmost precipitation. One of these brushed close past Peterkin's ear; the other, unable to arrest its headlong flight, went, as Peterkin himself afterwards expressed it, 'bash' into his arms with a sudden squeal, which was caused more by the force of the blow than the will of the animal, and both of them rolled violently down to the foot of the mound. No sooner was this reached than the little pig recovered its feet, tossed up its tail, and fled shrieking from the spot. But I slang a large stone after it, which, being fortunately well aimed, hit it behind the ear, and felled it to the earth.

  ‘Capital, Ralph! that's your sort!’ cried Peterkin, who, to my surprise and great relief, had risen to his feet. Apparently unhurt, though much dishevelled, he rushed frantically towards the gorge, which the yells of the hogs told us they were now approaching. I had made up my mind that I would abstain from killing another, as, if Peterkin should be successful, two were more than sufficient for our wants at the present time. Suddenly they all burst forth – two or three little round ones in advance, and an enormous old sow with a drove of hogs at her heels.

  ‘Now, Peterkin,’ said I, ‘there's a nice little fat one; just spear it.’

  But Peterkin did not move; he allowed it to pass unharmed. I looked at him in surprise, and saw that his lips were compressed and his eyebrows knitted, as if he were about to fight some awful enemy.

  ‘What is it?’ I inquired, with some trepidation.

  Suddenly he levelled his spear, darted forward, and, with a yell that nearly froze the blood in my veins, stabbed the old sow to the heart. Nay, so vigorously was it done that the spear went in at one side and came out at the other!

  ‘Oh, Peterkin!’ said I, going up to him, ‘what have you done?’

  ‘Done? I've killed their great-great-grandmother, that's all,’ said he, looking with a somewhat awestruck expression at the transfixed animal.

  ‘Hallo! what's this?’ said Jack, as he came up. ‘Why Peterkin, you must be fond of a tough chop. If you mean to eat this old hog, she'll try your jaws, I warrant. What possessed you to stick her, Peterkin?’

  ‘Why, the fact is I want a pair of shoes.’

  ‘What have your shoes to do with the old hog?’ said I, smiling.

  ‘My present shoes have certainly nothing to do with her,’ replied Peterkin; ‘nevertheless she will have a good deal to do with my future shoes. The fact is, when I saw you floor that pig so neatly, Ralph, it struck me that there was little use in killing another. Then I remembered all at once that I had long wanted some leather or tough substance to make shoes of, and this old grandmother seemed so tough that I just made up my mind to stick her, and you see I've done it!’

  ‘That you certainly have, Peterkin,’ said Jack, as he was examining the transfixed animal.

  We now considered how we were to carry our game home, for, although the distance was short, the hog was very heavy. At length we hit on the plan of tying its four feet together, and passing the spear handle between them. Jack took one end on his shoulder, I took the other on mine, and Peterkin carried the small pig.

  Thus we returned in triumph to our bower, laden, as Peterkin remarked, with the glorious spoils of a noble hunt. As he afterwards spoke in similarly glowing terms in reference to the supper that followed, there is every reason to believe that we retired that night to our leafy beds in a high state of satisfaction.

  15

  For many days after this Jack applied himself with unremitting assiduity to the construction of our boat, which at length began to look somewhat like one. But those only who have had the thing to do can entertain a right idea of the difficulty involved in such an undertaking, with no other implements than an axe, a bit of hoop iron, a sail-needle, and a broken penknife. But Jack did it. He was of that disposition which will not be conquered.

  As this boat was a curiosity in its way, a few words here relative to the manner of its construction may not be amiss.

  I have already mentioned the chestnut tree with its wonderful buttresses or planks. This tree, then, furnished us with the chief part of our material. First of all Jack sought out a limb of a tree of such a form and size as, while it should form the keel, a bend at either end should form the stem and stern posts. Such a piece, however, was not easy to obtain, but at last he procured it, by rooting up a small tree which had a branch growing at the proper angle about ten feet up its stem, with two strong roots growing in such a form as enabled him to make a flat-sterned boat. This placed, he procured three branching roots of suitable size, which he fitted to the keel at equal distances, thus forming three strong ribs. Now, the squaring and shaping of these, and the cutting of the grooves in the keel, was an easy enough matter, as it was all work for the axe, in the use of which Jack was becoming wonderfully expert; but it was quite a different affair when he came to nailing the ribs to the keel, for we had no instrument capable of boring a large hole, and no nails to fasten them with. We were, indeed, much perplexed here; but Jack at length devised an instrument that served very well. He took the remainder of our hoop iron and beat it into the form of a pipe or cylinder, about as thick as a man's finger. This he did by means of our axe and the old rusty axe we had found at the house of the poor man at the other side of the island. This, when made red hot, bored slowly through the timbers; and, the better to retain the heat, Jack shut up one end of it and filled it with sand. True, the work was very slowly done, but it mattered not – we had little else to do. Two holes were bored in each timber, about an inch and a half apart, and also down into the keel, but not quite through. Into these were placed stout pegs made of a tree called iron-wood; and, when they were hammered well home, the timbers were as firmly fixed as if they had been nailed with iron. The gunwales, which were very stout, were fixed in a similar manner. But, besides the wooden nails, they were firmly lashed to the stem and stern posts and ribs by means of a species of cordage which we had contrived to make out of the fibrous husk of the coconut. This husk was very tough, and when a number of the threads were joined together they formed excellent cordage. At first we tied the different lengths together, but this was such a clumsy and awkward complication of knots, that we contrived, by careful interlacing of the ends together before twisting, to make good cordage of any size or length we chose. Of course it cost us much time and infinite labour, but Jack kept up our spirits when we grew weary, and so all that we required was at last constructed.

 
Planks were now cut off the chestnut trees of about an inch thick. These were dressed with the axe – but clumsily, for an axe is ill adapted for such work. Five of these planks on each side were sufficient, and we formed the boat in a very rounded, barrel-like shape, in order to have as little twisting of the planks as possible; for, although we could easily bend them, we could not easily twist them. Having no nails to rivet the planks with, we threw aside the ordinary fashion of boat-building and adopted one of our own. The planks were therefore placed on each other's edges, and sewed together with the tough cordage already mentioned. They were also thus sewed to the stem, the stern, and the keel. Each stitch or tie was six inches apart, and was formed thus: three holes were bored in the upper plank and three in the lower – the holes being above each other, that is, in a vertical line. Through these holes the cord was passed, and, when tied, formed a powerful stitch of three-ply. Besides this, we placed between the edges of the planks, layers of coconut fibre, which, as it swelled when wetted, would, we hoped, make our little vessel watertight. But in order further to secure this end, we collected a large quantity of pitch from the bread-fruit tree, with which, when boiled in our old iron pot, we payed the whole of the inside of the boat, and, while it was yet hot, placed large pieces of coconut cloth on it, and then gave it another coat above that. Thus the interior was covered with a tough watertight material; while the exterior, being uncovered, and so exposed to the swelling action of the water, was, we hoped, likely to keep the boat quite dry. I may add that our hopes were not disappointed.

  While Jack was thus engaged, Peterkin and I sometimes assisted him, but, as our assistance was not much required, we more frequently went ahunting on the extensive mud-flats at the entrance of the long valley which lay nearest to our bower. Here we found large flocks of ducks of various kinds, some of them bearing so much resemblance to the wild ducks of our own country that I think they must have been the same. On these occasions we took the bow and the sling, with both of which we were often successful, though I must confess I was the least so. Our suppers were thus pleasantly varied, and sometimes we had such a profusion spread out before us that we frequently knew not with which of the dainties to begin.

  I must also add, that the poor old cat which we had brought home had always a liberal share of our good things, and so well was it looked after, especially by Peterkin, that it recovered much of its former strength, and seemed to improve in sight as well as hearing.

  The large flat stone, or rock of coral, which stood just in front of the entrance to our bower, was our table. On this rock we had spread out the few articles we possessed the day we were shipwrecked; and on the same rock, during many a day afterwards, we spread out the bountiful supply with which we had been blessed on our Coral Island. Sometimes we sat down at this table to a feast consisting of hot rolls – as Peterkin called the newly baked bread-fruit – a roast pig, roast duck, boiled and roasted yams, coconuts, taro, and sweet potatoes; which we followed up with a dessert of plums, apples, and plantains – the last being a large-sized and delightful fruit, which grew on a large shrub or tree not more than twelve feet high, with light-green leaves of enormous length and breadth. These luxurious feasts were usually washed down with coconut lemonade.

  One day, while Peterkin and I were seated beside our table on which dinner was spread, Jack came up from the beach, and, flinging down his axe, exclaimed:

  ‘There, lads, the boat's finished at last! so we've nothing to do now but shape two pairs of oars, and then we may put to sea as soon as we like.’

  This piece of news threw us into a state of great joy; for although we were aware that the boat had been gradually getting near its completion, it had taken so long that we did not expect it to be quite ready for at least two or three weeks. But Jack had wrought hard and said nothing, in order to surprise us.

  ‘My dear fellow,’ cried Peterkin, ‘you're a perfect trump. But why did you not tell us it was so nearly ready? Won't we have a jolly sail tomorrow, eh?’

  ‘Don't talk so much, Peterkin,’ said Jack; ‘and, pray, hand me a bit of that pig.’

  ‘Certainly, my dear,’ cried Peterkin, seizing the axe; ‘what part will you have – a leg, or a wing, or a piece of the breast; which?’

  ‘A hind leg, if you please,’ answered Jack; ‘and, pray, be so good as to include the tail.’

  ‘With all my heart,’ said Peterkin, exchanging the axe for his hoop-iron knife, with which he cut off the desired portion.

  ‘Well, but,’ continued Peterkin, ‘I was talking of a sail tomorrow. Can't we have one, Jack?’

  ‘No,’ replied Jack, ‘we can't have a sail, but I hope we shall have a row, as I intend to work hard at the oars this afternoon, and, if we can't get them finished by sunset we'll light our candle-nuts, and turn them out of hands before we turn into bed.’

  ‘Very good,’ said Peterkin, tossing a lump of pork to the cat, who received it with a mew of satisfaction. ‘I'll help you, if I can.’

  ‘Afterwards,’ continued Jack, ‘we will make a sail out of the coconut cloth, and rig up a mast, and then we shall be able to sail to some of the other islands, and visit our old friends the penguins.’

  The prospect of being so soon in a position to extend our observations to the other islands, and enjoy a sail over the beautiful sea, afforded us much delight, and, after dinner, we set about making the oars in good earnest. Jack went into the woods and blocked them roughly out with the axe, and I smoothed them down with the knife, while Peterkin remained in the bower, spinning, or rather, twisting some strong thick cordage with which to fasten them to the boat.

  We worked hard and rapidly, so that, when the sun went down, Jack and I returned to the bower with four stout oars, which required little to be done to them save a slight degree of polishing with the knife. As we drew near we were suddenly arrested by the sound of a voice! We were not a little surprised at this – indeed I may almost say alarmed – for, although Peterkin was undoubtedly fond of talking, we had never, up to this time, found him talking to himself. We listened intently, and still heard the sound of a voice as if in conversation. Jack motioned me to be silent, and, advancing to the bower on tiptoe, we peeped in.

  The sight that met our gaze was certainly not a little amusing. On the top of a log which we sometimes used as a table, sat the black cat, with a very demure expression on its countenance; and in front of it, sitting on the ground, with his legs extended on either side of the log, was Peterkin. At the moment we saw him he was gazing intently into the cat's face, with his nose about four inches from it – his hands being thrust into his breeches pockets.

  ‘Cat,’ said Peterkin, turning his head a little on one side, ‘I love you!’

  There was a pause, as if Peterkin awaited a reply to this affectionate declaration. But the cat said nothing.

  ‘Do you hear me?’ cried Peterkin, sharply. ‘I love you – do. Don't you love me?’

  To this touching appeal the cat said ‘Mew,’ faintly.

  ‘Ah! that's right. You're a jolly old rascal. Why did you not speak at once – eh?’ and Peterkin put forward his mouth and kissed the cat on the nose!

  ‘Yes,’ continued Peterkin, after a pause, ‘I love you. D' you think I'd say so if I didn't, you black villain? I love you because I've got to take care of you, and to look after you, and to think about you, and to see that you don't die –’

  ‘Mew, me-a-w!’ said the cat.

  ‘Very good,’ continued Peterkin, ‘quite true, I have no doubt; but you've no right to interrupt me, sir. Hold your tongue till I have done speaking. Moreover, cat, I love you because you came to me the first time you ever saw me, and didn't seem to be afraid, and appeared to be fond of me, though you didn't know that I wasn't going to kill you. Now, that was brave, that was bold, and very jolly, old boy, and I love you for it – I do!’

  Again there was a pause of a few minutes, during which the cat looked placid, and Peterkin dropped his eyes upon its toes as if in contemplation. Suddenly
he looked up.

  ‘Well, cat, what are you thinking about now? Won't speak, eh? Now, tell me; don't you think it's a monstrous shame that these two scoundrels, Jack and Ralph, should keep us waiting for our supper so long?’

  Here the cat arose, put up its back and stretched itself; yawned slightly, and licked the point of Peter-kin's nose!

  ‘Just so, old boy, you're a clever fellow – I really do believe the brute understands me!’ said Peterkin, while a broad grin overspread his face, as he drew back and surveyed the cat.

  At this point Jack burst into a loud fit of laughter. The cat uttered an angry fuff and fled, while Peterkin sprang up and exclaimed:

  ‘Bad luck to you, Jack – you've nearly made the heart jump out of my body, you have!’

  ‘Perhaps I have,’ replied Jack, laughing, as we entered the bower, ‘but, as I don't intend to keep you or the cat any longer from your supper, I hope that you'll both forgive me.’

  Peterkin endeavoured to turn this affair off with a laugh, but I observed that he blushed very deeply at the time we discovered ourselves, and he did not seem to relish any allusion to the subject afterwards; so we refrained from remarking on it ever after – though it tickled us not a little at the time.

  After supper we retired to rest and to dream of wonderful adventures in our little boat, and distant voyages upon the sea.

  16

  It was a bright, clear, beautiful morning, when we first launched our little boat and rowed out upon the placid waters of the lagoon. Not a breath of wind ruffled the surface of the deep. Not a cloud spotted the deep blue sky. Not a sound that was discordant broke the stillness of the morning, although there were many sounds, sweet, tiny, and melodious, that mingled in the universal harmony of nature. The sun was just rising from the Pacific's ample bosom and tipping the mountain-tops with a red glow.