The Coral Island - Robert Michael Ballantyne (little readers txt) 📗

example, and in half-an-hour the whole camp was buried

in repose.

 

How long we slept I cannot tell, but this I know, that when we lay

down the sun was setting and when we awoke it was high in the

heavens. I awoke Jack, who started up in surprise, being unable at

first to comprehend our situation. “Now, then,” said he, springing

up, “let’s see after breakfast. Hallo! Peterkin, lazy fellow, how

long do you mean to lie there?”

 

Peterkin yawned heavily. “Well!” said he, opening his eyes and

looking up after some trouble, “if it isn’t to-morrow morning, and

me thinking it was to-day all this time. Hallo! Venus, where did

you come from? you seem tolerably at home, any how. Bah! might as

well speak to the cat as to you - better, in fact, for it

understands me, and you don’t.”

 

This remark was called forth by the sight of one of the elderly

females, who had seated herself on the rock in front of the bower,

and, having placed her child at her feet, was busily engaged in

devouring the remains of a roast pig.

 

By this time the natives outside were all astir, and breakfast in

an advanced state of preparation. During the course of it we made

sundry attempts to converse with the natives by signs, but without

effect. At last we hit upon a plan of discovering their names.

Jack pointed to his breast and add “Jack,” very distinctly; then he

pointed to Peterkin and to me, repeating our names at the same

time. Then he pointed to himself again, and said “Jack,” and

laying his finger on the breast of the chief, looked inquiringly

into his face. The chief instantly understood him and said

“Tararo,” twice, distinctly. Jack repeated it after him, and the

chief, nodding his head approvingly, said “Chuck.” On hearing

which, Peterkin exploded with laughter; but Jack turned and with a

frown rebuked him, saying, “I must look even more indignantly at

you than I feel, Peterkin, you rascal, for these fellows don’t like

to be laughed at.” Then turning towards the youngest of the women,

who was seated at the door of the bower, he pointed to her;

whereupon the chief said, “Avatea;” and pointing towards the sun,

raised his finger slowly towards the zenith, where it remained

steadily for a minute or two.

 

“What can that mean, I wonder,” said Jack, looking puzzled.

 

“Perhaps,” said Peterkin, “the chief means she is an angel come

down to stay here for a while. If so, she’s an uncommonly black

one!”

 

We did not feel quite satisfied with this explanation, so Jack went

up to her and said, “Avatea.” The woman smiled sadly, and nodded

her head, at the same time pointing to her breast and then to the

sun, in the same manner as the chief had done. We were much

puzzled to know what this could signify, but as there was no way of

solving our difficulty we were obliged to rest content.

 

Jack now made signs to the natives to follow him, and, taking up

his axe, he led them to the place where the battle had been fought.

Here we found the prisoners, who had passed the night on the beach

having been totally forgotten by us, as our minds had been full of

our guests, and were ultimately overcome by sleep. They did not

seem the worse for their exposure, however, as we judged by the

hearty appetite with which they devoured the breakfast that was

soon after given to them. Jack then began to dig a hole in the

sand, and, after working a few seconds, he pointed to it and to the

dead bodies that lay exposed on the beach. The natives immediately

perceived what he wanted, and, running for their paddles, dug a

hole in the course of half an hour that was quite large enough to

contain all the bodies of the slain. When it was finished they

tossed their dead enemies into it with so much indifference that we

felt assured they would not have put themselves to this trouble had

we not asked them to do so. The body of the yellow-haired chief

was the last thrown in. This wretched man would have recovered

from the blow with which Jack felled him, and, indeed, he did

endeavour to rise during the melee that followed his fall, but one

of his enemies, happening to notice the action, dealt him a blow

with his club that killed him on the spot.

 

While they were about to throw the sand over this chief, one of the

savages stooped over him, and with a knife, made apparently of

stone, cut a large slice of flesh from his thigh. We knew at once

that he intended to make use of this for food, and could not

repress a cry of horror and disgust.

 

“Come, come, you blackguard,” cried Jack, starting up and seizing

the man by the arm, “pitch that into the hole. Do you hear?”

 

The savage of course did not understand the command, but he

perfectly understood the look of disgust with which Jack regarded

the flesh, and his fierce gaze as he pointed towards the hole.

Nevertheless he did not obey. Jack instantly turned to Tararo and

made signs to him to enforce obedience. The chief seemed to

understand the appeal, for he stepped forward, raised his club, and

was on the point of dashing out the brains of his offending

subject, when Jack sprang forward and caught his uplifted arm.

 

“Stop!” he shouted, “you blockhead, I don’t want you to kill the

man.” He then pointed again to the flesh and to the hole. The

chief uttered a few words, which had the desired effect; for the

man threw the flesh into the hole, which was immediately filled up.

This man was of a morose, sulky disposition, and, during all the

time he remained on the island, regarded us, especially Jack, with

a scowling visage. His name, we found, was Mahine.

 

The next three or four days were spent by the savages in mending

their canoe, which had been damaged by the violent shock it had

sustained on striking the shore. This canoe was a very curious

structure. It was about thirty feet long, and had a high towering

stern. The timbers, of which it was partly composed, were fastened

much in the same way as those of our little boat were put together;

but the part that seemed most curious to us was a sort of out-rigger, or long plank, which was attached to the body of the canoe

by means of two stout cross beams. These beams kept the plank

parallel with the canoe, but not in contact with it, for it floated

in the water with an open space between; thus forming a sort of

double canoe. This we found was intended to prevent the upsetting

of the canoe, which was so narrow that it could not have maintained

an upright position without the out-rigger. We could not help

wondering both at the ingenuity and the clumsiness of this

contrivance.

 

When the canoe was ready, we assisted the natives to carry the

prisoners into it, and helped them to load it with provisions and

fruit. Peterkin also went to the plum-tree for the purpose of

making a special onslaught upon the hogs, and killed no less than

six of them. These we baked and presented to our friends on the

day of their departure. On that day Tararo made a great many

energetic signs to us, which, after much consideration, we came to

understand were proposals that we should go away with him to his

island; but, having no desire to do so, we shook our heads very

decidedly. However, we consoled him by presenting him with our

rusty axe, which we thought we could spare, having the excellent

one which had been so providentially washed ashore to us the day we

were wrecked. We also gave him a piece of wood with our names

carved on it, and a piece of string to hang it round his neck as an

ornament.

 

In a few minutes more we were all assembled on the beach. Being

unable to speak to the savages, we went through the ceremony of

shaking hands, and expected they would depart; but, before doing

so, Tararo went up to Jack and rubbed noses with him, after which

he did the same with Peterkin and me! Seeing that this was their

mode of salutation, we determined to conform to their custom, so we

rubbed noses heartily with the whole party, women and all! The

only disagreeable part of the process was, when we came to rub

noses with Mahine, and Peterkin afterwards said, that when he saw

his wolfish eyes glaring so close to his face, he felt much more

inclined to BANG than to RUB his nose. Avatea was the last to take

leave of us, and we experienced a feeling of real sorrow when she

approached to bid us farewell. Besides her modest air and gentle

manners she was the only one of the party who exhibited the

smallest sign of regret at parting from us. Going up to Jack, she

put out her flat little nose to be rubbed, and thereafter paid the

same compliment to Peterkin and me.

 

An hour later the canoe was out of sight, and we, with an

indefinable feeling of sadness creeping round our hearts, were

seated in silence beneath the shadow of our bower, meditating on

the wonderful events of the last few days.

 

CHAPTER XXI.

 

Sagacious and moral remarks in regard to life - A sail! - An

unexpected salute - The end of the black cat - A terrible dive - An

incautious proceeding and a frightful catastrophe.

 

LIFE is a strange compound. Peterkin used to say of it, that it

beat a druggist’s shop all to sticks; for, whereas the first is a

compound of good and bad, the other is a horrible compound of all

that is utterly detestable. And indeed the more I consider it the

more I am struck with the strange mixture of good and evil that

exists not only in the material earth but in our own natures. In

our own Coral Island we had experienced every variety of good that

a bountiful Creator could heap on us. Yet on the night of the

storm we had seen how almost, in our case, - and altogether, no

doubt, in the case of others less fortunate - all this good might

be swept away for ever. We had seen the rich fruit-trees waving in

the soft air, the tender herbs shooting upwards under the benign

influence of the bright sun; and, the next day, we had seen these

good and beautiful trees and plants uprooted by the hurricane,

crushed and hurled to the ground in destructive devastation. We

had lived for many months in a clime for the most part so

beautiful, that we had often wondered whether Adam and Eve had

found Eden more sweet; and we had seen the quiet solitudes of our

paradise suddenly broken in upon by ferocious savages, and the

white sands stained with blood and strewed with lifeless forms;

yet, among these cannibals, we had seen many symptoms of a kindly

nature. I pondered these things much, and, while I considered

them, there recurred to my memory those words which I had read in

my Bible, - the works of God are wonderful, and his ways past

finding out.

 

After these poor savages had left us, we used to hold long and

frequent conversations about them, and I noticed that Peterkin’s

manner was now much altered. He did not, indeed, jest less

heartily than before, but he did so less frequently, and often