Mother Carey's Chicken Part 75

I should have liked to get the monster's head and skin for my room."

"It's a rum un," said Billy Widgeon, climbing up and staring in at the hole. "That's what it is, Mr Mark, sir; it's a rum un."

"What's that?" cried Mark suddenly. "Here! hi! Bruff! Bruff! Bruff!"

He whistled loudly, and there was a joyous barking heard in the distance, and soon after the dog came bounding up from the more open ground at the end of the rocky scarp.

"That must be our way, then," said the captain. "Here, Mark, do you think he could lead us home?"

"I don't know, father--let's try," cried Mark, and after the dog had given every one a friendly recognition, and received his due meed of pats and caresses, he was sent on in front, going forward quite as a matter of course; but before they reached the end of the rock-enc.u.mbered opening, there was a roar of laughter from the men, as Billy Widgeon struck an att.i.tude, smiling all over his face, resting his hands upon his short knees, and shaking his head.

"A pritty creetur! Look at that now, Mr Mark, sir!"

All joined in the roar of laughter as the "pritty creetur," to wit, Jack, came ambling along, and hopping from rock to rock, having followed the dog; and as soon as he reached Billy, leaping upon his back, and clinging tightly to his neck, chattering loudly the while.

"Forward!" cried the captain; and, following the dog, the little party went on, to find that they had a couple of hours' hard struggle through the tangled jungle, at the end of which time a familiar whistling sound was heard, one of the mud-pools reached, and from that point, over known ground, their course was comparatively easy to the camp, where the anxiety of the ladies ceased, though they owned that, knowing how difficult travelling was, they were not very much alarmed.

Judging, however, from the face of his mother, Mark rather doubted this, while, though as a soldier's wife she would not show it, Mrs O'Halloran had evidently pa.s.sed a bitter night, and when Mark went up to Mary O'Halloran to shake hands, that young lady told him it was horribly cruel, that he ought to be ashamed of himself, and that she would never shake hands with him again.

CHAPTER FORTY ONE.

HOW THERE WAS NO PEACE ON THE BEAUTIFUL ISLE.

Three months glided happily away, during which time there was no renewal of the earthquake, the lightning ceased to play about the cone of the beautiful mountain, and the roar from the lion's mouth, as Mark and Mary christened it, grew gradually less and less audible till it finally died away.

It was a busy time, and seemed to pa.s.s like magic in that wonderful clime of sunshine, verdure, and brightly winged bird and insect. There were occasional showers, such as fall with terrible violence in the tropics, but the mornings after were so delicious that the rains were welcomed.

There was shooting, and fishing, and fruit gathering, climbing for cocoa-nuts, work in abundance, which seemed almost like play; but the main task was the journey round to the ship to bring stores, of which there were ample, and to commence building a small sailing vessel, which would easily convey them all to Singapore.

But this part of the daily work was the only one which was distasteful to the men.

"You see, Mr Mark, sir, it's like this here," said Billy. "Me and my monkey's as happy here as the day's long, and so's my mates; for now, as Mr Morgan and Stowaway Jimpny and t'other chap's strong as horses again, what we says is this here, what call is there for us to want to get back to London town?"

"Ah, what, indeed, Billy!" said Mark.

"To smoke and fog and blacks, and black-beadles, and blackguards, and colds and coughs, and no sun never shining. Let's stop here, I says."

"To be sure, Billy!"

"I'm glad you think so, sir. Jack does, and so does old Bruff; and as for David Jimpny, 'Let me live and die here,' he says, 'for I didn't know as there was such places in the world.' But Mr Small says 'No,'

he says, 'We've got to make that there boat,' he says, and he's a n.i.g.g.e.r-driving all day long. Blow the boat! I wish as it had never been begun, and the gig was burned."

But the making of the boat progressed, and at the end of six months from their landing she was finished, fitted with stores, and lay in Crater Bay ready for the projected voyage.

This readiness was welcome and unwelcome, for though the idea of getting back to civilisation was gladdening for some reasons, and the captain longed to give an account to the owners of the _Petrel_ of his misfortune, and to get a vessel and men from Singapore to try and save all possible of her lading, there was something painful in the idea of giving up their deliciously calm and peaceful life.

"I shall never get such shooting again," said the major. "But duty, duty. 'Tention!"

"It has been a pleasant life," said Morgan thoughtfully. "I don't think I could have recovered from that wound any where else so soon."

"Yes, it's pleasant," said Mr Gregory, "but one can't study oneself.

I've got a wife at home, who must think me dead."

"And I have someone waiting who is to be my wife," said Morgan, "and she must think me dead."

The men could not hear these words, or several of them could have spoken similarly; and somehow, in spite of the beauty of the place and the abundance, with the sun shining constantly, England mentally seen from a distance began to appear more and more attractive, and the time was coming when the place would be wearisome.

One day, while they were still halting before making a start, the captain wishing to make a few more additions to their vessel and then take her on a trial trip before venturing with all on board so far, the signal for starting came in a very unexpected manner.

David Jimpny, who had grown to be one of the strongest and healthiest looking of the men there, proved still to be one of the most useless as far as helping in matters nautical. But in anything relating to trips inland he was invaluable. There was so much of the vagabond spirit in him that he liked nothing better than being sent off inland to collect palm tops or shoots for cooking like vegetables. These he would get and bring into camp, and, what was more, try experiments on other promising things. He would come back hot and scratched, but generally with an eager look in his eyes as he had to announce the discovery of some fruit-tree of which there was an abundance, but almost invariably hidden in the depths of the jungle.

Off these trees he would bring in a splendid supply of fruit of strange look, but often delicious quality, and nothing delighted Mark more than a journey to one or other of these sylvan stores.

Upon this special day Mark had to take charge of the camp, for a rule was made never to leave the ladies entirely alone. The island, as far as they could make out, was uninhabited, the strange noises heard occasionally being invariably attributed to the volcano; but there was the possibility of danger coming from without, and it was considered advisable that someone should always stay to be on the watch.

Mark had been wandering listlessly about for some time wishing he could fish, or shoot, or collect insects--though he might easily have done the latter, for an abundance of beautiful b.u.t.terflies came from the forest to settle wherever the skins of fruit were thrown. But he wanted to be free, and it was tiresome, he thought, to be so useless and do nothing better than to idle about the camp and watch the cooking--a tantalising matter when you could not eat.

It was getting toward afternoon when Bruff, who was with him, lying on the sand with his eyes shut and shaking his ears to keep out the flies, suddenly sprang up and uttered a low growl.

"What is it, old boy?" cried Mark.

Another growl, and a short snapping bark, which was answered by a chattering noise, told that the monkey was coming, and he appeared soon after followed by the stowaway.

Something was evidently wrong, for the man was waving his hand wildly, and beckoning to him to come.

Mark ran to meet him, to see, as he drew nearer, that Jimpny's face and hands were bleeding and his shirt hanging in strips from his shoulders, while his staring eyes and open mouth showed him to be suffering from excess of terror.

"Why, David, what's the matter?" cried Mark as he ran up to him, the stowaway sinking down upon the sand unable to answer, and his breath coming and going with a hoa.r.s.e roaring noise that was terrible.

"Can't you speak?" cried Mark. "What is the matter?"

The stowaway uttered a few words hoa.r.s.ely, but nothing was comprehensible but "quick!" and "run." He pointed seaward, though in the direction opposite to that which the party had taken that morning on their way round to Crater Bay, a journey which familiarity had made appear now comparatively short.

Mark looked in the direction in which he pointed, and could see the blue water of the lagoon, with to his left the long line of creamy surf and to his right the fringe of cocoa-nut trees just beyond the sand.

Jimpny pointed again, and on once more looking searchingly Mark made out a flock of the beautiful long-tailed parroquets which haunted the island groves, but nothing more.

"Have you seen anything--has anyone touched you? Oh, I say, David, do speak! What is the matter?"

The stowaway made signs again and pointed, striving once more to rise, but sinking back from utter exhaustion.

"Point, then, if you can't speak," cried Mark. "If the ladies see you like this they will be frightened to death."

The man pointed again toward where a long low point ran out into the lagoon, fringed with luxuriant growth, but nothing more was visible.

"There, I thought as much!" cried Mark as he saw his mother coming up, followed by Mrs O'Halloran, and Mary with them, the latter running on in advance.