Nat the Naturalist Part 18

"Why, Uncle Joe," I cried, with a curious choking feeling coming in my throat, "you don't think I could ever forget you?"

"No, my boy, no," he said, shaking my hand very heartily, and then laying the watch down, as if he didn't care to take to it again.

"It's very kind of you, Joe," said Uncle d.i.c.k, for he saw how his brother-in-law seemed hurt; "but don't you see, my dear boy, we are going to lead the roughest of rough lives, and what we carry at a time when every extra ounce will be a trouble, must be the barest necessities. I've often had to leave behind valuable things, solely because I could not carry them. Here, I tell you what: you go into the city to-morrow, and buy him one of the best, and biggest, and strongest jack-knives you can find; one of those with a steel loop so that it can hang handily from a lanyard, ready for any purpose from cutting his breakfast to hacking a way through the canes, or skinning a wild beast.

You could not give him a better present than that."

"To be sure," cried Uncle Joe, brightening up, "I will. What kind of a handle would you like, Nat?"

"Never mind the handle, Joe; look to the blade. Let it be a thoroughly good bit of stuff, the best you can buy."

"To be sure. Yes; to be sure," cried Uncle Joe; and taking up his watch he lowered it so carelessly into its place that it missed the fob, and ran down the right leg of his trousers into his Wellington boot.

I had to turn boot-jack and drag the boot off before the watch could be recovered, Uncle d.i.c.k laughing heartily the while.

And now this was the knife the good, amiable old fellow had got for me, and certainly it was one that would stand me in good stead for any length of time.

"Good-bye, Joe, old fellow," said Uncle d.i.c.k, gripping his hand fast.

"I'll take care of Nat."

"Yes, yes, you will, won't you?" he cried.

"Indeed I will, Joe, indeed I will; and now once more good-bye, old fellow, I'm off. Till we meet again. Come after me soon, Nat."

Uncle d.i.c.k went away so as to leave us together, and no sooner were we alone than Uncle Joe hesitated for a moment, and then hugged me to his breast.

"Good-bye; G.o.d bless you, my boy!" he cried. "It's all for the best, and I won't worry about your going; only come back to me as soon as you can, and mind you write."

I can remember that there was a curious dim look about everything just then, and that Uncle d.i.c.k was very quiet in the cab; and so he was in the train, speaking to me hardly at all, and afterwards he read to himself nearly all the way to Paris, after which he suddenly seemed to turn merry and bright, and chatted to me in the heartiest way.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

OUT ON THE BLUE WATER.

Everything was so new to me that, on embarking at Ma.r.s.eilles, I was never tired of inspecting the large steamer, and trying, with only moderate success, to talk to the French sailors, who, on learning our destination, were very civil; but, after the first day or two, began to joke me about never coming back any more.

It was comical work trying to make out what they meant as they began to talk to me about the terrible wild beasts I should meet, and, above all, about the orang-outangs, which they a.s.sured me were eight or nine feet high, and would look upon me, they a.s.sured me, as a _bonne bouche_.

The third day out on the beautiful blue water, as some of the pa.s.sengers had guns out, and were shooting at the sea-birds for amus.e.m.e.nt merely, a practice that I should have thought very cruel but for the fact that they never once hit anything, Uncle d.i.c.k came up to me on the p.o.o.p deck and clapped me on the shoulder.

"Now, Nat," he said, "there's plenty of room out here for a rifle ball to go humming away as far as it likes without danger to anyone; so get out your rifle and you shall have a practice."

"At the sea-gulls, uncle?" I said.

"No, no; nonsense!" he said; "we don't shoot sea-gulls with a rifle. I shall start you with a target."

"A target, uncle?" I said; "but if you do, we shall leave it all behind in a very short time."

"To be sure we shall," he replied, laughing; "and then we'll have another."

I ran down and got my rifle out of the cabin, feeling half ashamed to go on deck again when I had fastened on my belt full of cartridges; but I got over my modesty, and joined my uncle, whom I found waiting for me with half a dozen black wine bottles, and as many bladders blown out tightly, while the bottles were empty and firmly corked.

"Now, Nat," he said, "here are your targets, and I reckon upon your having half a dozen shots at each before the steamer takes us too far away, unless you manage to sink it sooner."

I looked at my uncle to see if he was laughing at me, but he was quite serious, and, in obedience to his order, I loaded and stood ready.

"Now, look here, my boy," he said; "this will be rather a difficult task, for both your target and you are in motion. So you must aim as well as you can. I should draw trigger just as the bladder is rising."

"But how shall we know if I hit it?"

"You are not very likely to hit it, Nat," he said smiling; "but if you do, the bladder will collapse--the bottle be shivered to fragments, and sink. Now let us see."

It made me feel nervous to see so many people collect about me, one and all eager to witness my skill, and I knew enough French to understand a good many of their remarks. Some said I must be a very skilful shot, others that I could not shoot at all; and one way and another they disconcerted me so that, when my uncle threw the first bladder over the side, and I saw it floating away, I felt so confused that I let it get some distance before I fired.

"Reload," said my uncle; and I did so, and fired again.

"Reload," he said; and, having obeyed him, I waited till the bladder was on the top of a wave, and again fired without result.

"Again," said my uncle; "don't hesitate, and fire sharply."

The bladder was now getting a long way astern and looking very small, so small that I knew I should not hit it, and consequently I felt no surprise that it should go floating away.

"Don't lose time, Nat," my uncle continued, just as if it was quite a matter of course that I should go on missing shot after shot.

So once more I prepared to fire, and as I did so I saw that two of the French pa.s.sengers had their telescopes fixed upon the object at which, after taking very careful aim, speck as it seemed, I fired.

To my utter astonishment, as the smoke rose I saw no bladder was floating on the waves, a fact of which the lookers-on had already informed me by a round of applause.

"He would not hit them when they were close," cried one pa.s.senger. "I said, he would not try. It was un grand shot, messieurs, un coup merveilleux."

I felt scarlet in the face, and grew the more and more ashamed as first one and then another insisted upon shaking hands with me.

"Now, Nat," said my uncle in a low voice, "after that you will lose your character if you do not hit some more."

"Pray, don't send out another, uncle," I whispered.

"Why not, boy? What does it matter if you do miss? Keep on practising, and never mind what people say. Are you ready?"

"Yes, uncle."

"Fire, then, as soon as you get a good view of the bladder."

I waited until it was about forty yards away, and rising slowly to the top of a wave, when, calculating the distance as well as I could, I fired, and the bladder disappeared.

I could not believe it, and expected each moment to see it come back to the surface; but no, there was no bladder visible; and, having reloaded, my uncle sent another afloat, bidding me wait till it was farther away before I fired.

I obeyed him and missed. Fired again and missed, but the third time the bladder collapsed and sank, and my reputation as a marksman was made.