Mother Carey's Chicken Part 71

Chuckle--chuckle--chuckle! A regular gurgle in a hoa.r.s.e throat.

"I won't stand it. You come on," cried Billy, seizing Mark by the hand.

"This way."

Mark did not resist, and the little sailor hurried him along as fast as the nature of the ground would allow; and with the full intention of going right towards where they had left the others, at the end of the bitumen river, he went right in the opposite direction, and farther and farther into the wildest recesses of the jungle.

CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT.

HOW MARK AND BILLY FOUND A STRANGE BED.

For a good half-hour they toiled on through cane-woven thickets, in and out of wildernesses of huge tree-trunks, many of which had great flat b.u.t.tresses all round, which were difficult to climb over or round, while other trees seemed to be growing with their roots all above ground, green, snaky, twisted and involved roots, that necessitated sheer climbing before they could get by. Now and then they came to an opening where the trees had been burned down by volcanic fires, and here all was light and beauty in the evening sunshine. Again rocky crevices ran through the forest, giving them terribly hard work to get over, perhaps to come at once upon some boiling spring, whose water, where it trickled away and cooled, was of a filthy bitter taste that was most objectionable. Then again there were blistering pools of mud ever rising in a high ebullition, and bursting with strange sounds.

But all these were similar to those they had before encountered, and the hiss of steam, when they stepped upon some soft spot, ceased to alarm them with dread of serpents, but merely made them avoid such spots in favour of firmer ground.

Such signs of the volcanic nature of the isle were constant, and no matter which way they dragged their weary steps it was to find tokens of the active or quiescent workings of the subterranean fires.

At last, just as they were ready to drop, and the sun was rapidly disappearing, as the ruddy sky in the west plainly showed, they staggered out of a more than usually painful part of the jungle into a rugged stony opening, with the rock rising nearly sheer for hundreds of feet, and to the intense delight of both, the ruddy light of the sky was reflected from a rock pool, which glowed as if it were br.i.m.m.i.n.g with molten orange gold.

"Water!" gasped Billy. "Come on."

"Be careful!" panted Mark; "it may be bitter or hot."

As he spoke the little sailor threw himself down, and plunged his fist within, scooped out a little, tasted it, and then uttered a shout of joy.

"Drink, my lad," he said hoa.r.s.ely, and Mark followed his example, placing his lips to the surface as he lay flat down and took in long refreshing draughts of cool sweet water that seemed the most delicious thing he had ever tasted.

"Talk about grog!" cried Billy, as he raised his face to take breath, and then he drank again; "I never had grog as come up to this," he continued. "Ah!"

Satisfied at length, they sat there at the edge of the pool looking up at the rocky scarp before them, part of which glowed in the sunlight reflected from the sky, while the rest down by where they sat was bathed in purply shadows which were rising fast.

"Seems to me, my lad, as we must look out for a night's lodging. What says you?"

"Yes, Billy, we must get some shelter for the night. But let's try one more shout."

The little sailor protested, but Mark raised his voice as loudly as he could in a stentorian "Ahoy!" and as if the occupants of the forest had kept close upon their heels there came the same sneering laugh, and the hoa.r.s.e croaking cry from among the trees.

"There! see what you've done!" groaned Billy. "Who's to go to sleep anywhere near here if they're arter us?"

"Nonsense!" cried Mark. "They'll go to roost directly, and we sha'n't hear them again."

"Roost! Nay, lad, that sort o' thing never roosts. Let's get on."

"Get on! why, it will be dark directly, and we shall be falling down some precipice, or getting into one of those horrible bogs. We must get some shelter where we can."

There seemed to be no difficulty about that, for a few feet up the face of the rock, and where it could easily be reached, there was a depression which looked as if two huge blocks of stone had fallen together, one leaning against the other, and as, after a great deal of persuasion, Billy Widgeon climbed up to it with his companion, they found this really to be the case, save that instead of its being two blocks of stone it was two beds of strata lying together, in such a position that they formed a cavern some ten-feet high and as many wide, and with a peculiarly ribbed and cracked floor.

It was rapidly growing too dark to see of what this floor was composed, the gloom being quite deep as soon as they were inside. Neither could they explore the interior, though it seemed to form a pa.s.sage going in for some distance; but a careful searching of the floor and the neighbourhood of the entrance failed to show them the slightest trace of animal occupation.

"But it's very risky work, Mr Mark, sir, coming and settling down in a rat's hole of a place like this."

"My dear Billy, if you can show me a better place, one where we shall be in shelter from the rain and the heavy dew, I shall be glad to go to it.

I don't like sleeping on stone floors."

"Well, for the matter o' that, I daresay I can get enough o' them big leaves, nice dry uns, to make you a bed, Mr Mark, sir, and I will. But hadn't we better try somewheres else?"

"There will not be time, man," cried Mark angrily.

"All right, Mr Mark, sir! but don't you blame me if anything happens."

"No. Come along, and let's be thankful for finding such a shelter. We may as well get as many leaves as we can."

They found time to collect three loads of large dry palm leaves, and as they carried the last armful into the rocky hole, the night was quite closed in, and the crescent moon shone over the trees and silvered their tops faintly, while a soft wind whispered among them and reached the nostrils of the occupants of the cave, bearing with it the peculiar salt strange odour of the sea.

"Say," said Billy, as they sat upon their heaps of palm leaves gazing out of the mouth of their resting-place, "think of our being 'bliged to stop in a hole like this when you can smell the sea."

"Not a bad place," said Mark; "and I wouldn't mind if I could feel sure that my father and mother were not in trouble about me."

"My father and mother wouldn't trouble about me," said Billy, "even if they know'd. But do you really think it was birds as made those noises, Mr Mark, sir?"

"I feel sure it was."

"I wish we was birds just now. How we could fly right over the wood and get back to the camp! Wonder what's for supper?"

"Birds," said Mark, stretching himself in a comfortable position upon the palm leaves, and gazing at the great stars in the purple sky.

"Ah, yes," said Billy, "birds! and they'll be roasting at the fire now, and spittering and sputtering, and smelling as nice as roast birds can smell. I wish we was in camp."

He sighed and stretched himself on the leaves, grunting a little as he felt the hard rock through.

"Aren't you very hungry, Mr Mark, sir?"

"No; I feel too fidgety about my father looking for us to want any food."

"Ah, it's a bad thing to--Yah!--hah--hah--hah!"

Billy finished his sentence with a tremendous yawn, and then rustled the leaves as he tucked some more of them beneath him.

"Roast birds," he muttered; "and then there'll be some o' them big oyster things all cooked up in their sh.e.l.ls!"

Mark did not answer, for though in his mind's eye he saw the camp fire, he did not see the cooking, but the cooks, and thought of how anxious his mother would be.

"I should have said they was mussels," said Billy, in a low voice.

"What, Billy?"

"Them sh.e.l.l-fish, sir, more like oysterses than--I mean more like muss-- muzzles--oysters--muzzles--muzzles!"