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

Peterkin tossed his straw hat in the air, and ran along the

beach hallooing like a madman with delight.

 

We afterwards found, however, that these lovely islands were very

unlike Paradise in many things. But more of this in its proper

place.

 

We had now come to the point of rocks on which the ship had struck,

but did not find a single article, although we searched carefully

among the coral rocks, which at this place jutted out so far as

nearly to join the reef that encircled the island. Just as we were

about to return, however, we saw something black floating in a

little cove that had escaped our observation. Running forward, we

drew it from the water, and found it to be a long thick leather

boot, such as fishermen at home wear; and a few paces farther on we

picked up its fellow. We at once recognised these as having

belonged to our captain, for he had worn them during the whole of

the storm, in order to guard his legs from the waves and spray that

constantly washed over our decks. My first thought on seeing them

was that our dear captain had been drowned; but Jack soon put my

mind more at rest on that point, by saying that if the captain had

been drowned with the boots on, he would certainly have been washed

ashore along with them, and that he had no doubt whatever he had

kicked them off while in the sea, that he might swim more easily.

 

Peterkin immediately put them on, but they were so large that, as

Jack said, they would have done for boots, trousers, and vest too.

I also tried them, but, although I was long enough in the legs for

them, they were much too large in the feet for me; so we handed

them to Jack, who was anxious to make me keep them, but as they

fitted his large limbs and feet as if they had been made for him, I

would not hear of it, so he consented at last to use them. I may

remark, however, that Jack did not use them often, as they were

extremely heavy.

 

It was beginning to grow dark when we returned to our encampment;

so we put off our visit to the top of a hill till next day, and

employed the light that yet remained to us in cutting down a

quantity of boughs and the broad leaves of a tree, of which none of

us knew the name. With these we erected a sort of rustic bower, in

which we meant to pass the night. There was no absolute necessity

for this, because the air of our island was so genial and balmy

that we could have slept quite well without any shelter; but we

were so little used to sleeping in the open air, that we did not

quite relish the idea of lying down without any covering over us:

besides, our bower would shelter us from the night dews or rain, if

any should happen to fall. Having strewed the floor with leaves

and dry grass, we bethought ourselves of supper.

 

But it now occurred to us, for the first time, that we had no means

of making a fire.

 

“Now, there’s a fix! - what shall we do?” said Peterkin, while we

both turned our eyes to Jack, to whom we always looked in our

difficulties. Jack seemed not a little perplexed.

 

“There are flints enough, no doubt, on the beach,” said he, “but

they are of no use at all without a steel. However, we must try.”

So saying, he went to the beach, and soon returned with two flints.

On one of these he placed the tinder, and endeavoured to ignite it;

but it was with great difficulty that a very small spark was struck

out of the flints, and the tinder, being a bad, hard piece, would

not catch. He then tried the bit of hoop iron, which would not

strike fire at all; and after that the back of the axe, with no

better success. During all these trials Peterkin sat with his

hands in his pockets, gazing with a most melancholy visage at our

comrade, his face growing longer and more miserable at each

successive failure.

 

“Oh dear!” he sighed, “I would not care a button for the cooking of

our victuals, - perhaps they don’t need it, - but it’s so dismal to

eat one’s supper in the dark, and we have had such a capital day,

that it’s a pity to finish off in this glum style. Oh, I have it!”

he cried, starting up; “the spy-glass, - the big glass at the end

is a burning-glass!”

 

“You forget that we have no sun,” said I.

 

Peterkin was silent. In his sudden recollection of the telescope

he had quite overlooked the absence of the sun.

 

“Ah, boys, I’ve got it now!” exclaimed Jack, rising and cutting a

branch from a neighbouring bush, which be stripped of its leaves.

“I recollect seeing this done once at home. Hand me the bit of

whip-cord.” With the cord and branch Jack soon formed a bow. Then

he cut a piece, about three inches long, off the end of a dead

branch, which he pointed at the two ends. Round this he passed the

cord of the bow, and placed one end against his chest, which was

protected from its point by a chip of wood; the other point he

placed against the bit of tinder, and then began to saw vigorously

with the bow, just as a blacksmith does with his drill while boring

a hole in a piece of iron. In a few seconds the tinder began to

smoke; in less than a minute it caught fire; and in less than a

quarter of an hour we were drinking our lemonade and eating cocoa

nuts round a fire that would have roasted an entire sheep, while

the smoke, flames, and sparks, flew up among the broad leaves of

the overhanging palm trees, and cast a warm glow upon our leafy

bower.

 

That night the starry sky looked down through the gently rustling

trees upon our slumbers, and the distant roaring of the surf upon

the coral reef was our lullaby.

 

CHAPTER V.

 

Morning, and cogitations connected therewith - We luxuriate in the

sea, try our diving powers, and make enchanting excursions among

the coral groves at the bottom of the ocean - The wonders of the

deep enlarged upon.

 

WHAT a joyful thing it is to awaken, on a fresh glorious morning,

and find the rising sun staring into your face with dazzling

brilliancy! - to see the birds twittering in the bushes, and to

hear the murmuring of a rill, or the soft hissing ripples as they

fall upon the sea-shore! At any time and in any place such sights

and sounds are most charming, but more especially are they so when

one awakens to them, for the fist time, in a novel and romantic

situation, with the soft sweet air of a tropical climate mingling

with the fresh smell of the sea, and stirring the strange leaves

that flutter overhead and around one, or ruffling the plumage of

the stranger birds that fly inquiringly around, as if to demand

what business we have to intrude uninvited on their domains. When

I awoke on the morning after the shipwreck, I found myself in this

most delightful condition; and, as I lay on my back upon my bed of

leaves, gazing up through the branches of the cocoa-nut trees into

the clear blue sky, and watched the few fleecy clouds that passed

slowly across it, my heart expanded more and more with an exulting

gladness, the like of which I had never felt before. While I

meditated, my thoughts again turned to the great and kind Creator

of this beautiful world, as they had done on the previous day, when

I first beheld the sea and the coral reef, with the mighty waves

dashing over it into the calm waters of the lagoon.

 

While thus meditating, I naturally bethought me of my Bible, for I

had faithfully kept the promise, which I gave at parting to my

beloved mother, that I would read it every morning; and it was with

a feeling of dismay that I remembered I had left it in the ship. I

was much troubled about this. However, I consoled myself with

reflecting that I could keep the second part of my promise to her,

namely, that I should never omit to say my prayers. So I rose

quietly, lest I should disturb my companions, who were still

asleep, and stepped aside into the bushes for this purpose.

 

On my return I found them still slumbering, so I again lay down to

think over our situation. Just at that moment I was attracted by

the sight of a very small parrot, which Jack afterwards told me was

called a paroquet. It was seated on a twig that overhung

Peterkin’s head, and I was speedily lost in admiration of its

bright green plumage, which was mingled with other gay colours.

While I looked I observed that the bird turned its head slowly from

side to side and looked downwards, fist with the one eye, and then

with the other. On glancing downwards I observed that Peterkin’s

mouth was wide open, and that this remarkable bird was looking into

it. Peterkin used to say that I had not an atom of fun in my

composition, and that I never could understand a joke. In regard

to the latter, perhaps he was right; yet I think that, when they

were explained to me, I understood jokes as well as most people:

but in regard to the former he must certainly have been wrong, for

this bird seemed to me to be extremely funny; and I could not help

thinking that, if it should happen to faint, or slip its foot, and

fall off the twig into Peterkin’s mouth, he would perhaps think it

funny too! Suddenly the paroquet bent down its head and uttered a

loud scream in his face. This awoke him, and, with a cry of

surprise, he started up, while the foolish bird flew precipitately

away.

 

“Oh you monster!” cried Peterkin, shaking his fist at the bird.

Then he yawned and rubbed his eyes, and asked what o’clock it was.

 

I smiled at this question, and answered that, as our watches were

at the bottom of the sea, I could not tell, but it was a little

past sunrise.

 

Peterkin now began to remember where we were. As he looked up into

the bright sky, and snuffed the scented air, his eyes glistened

with delight, and he uttered a faint “hurrah!” and yawned again.

Then he gazed slowly round, till, observing the calm sea through an

opening in the bushes, he started suddenly up as if he had received

an electric shock, uttered a vehement shout, flung off his

garments, and, rushing over the white sands, plunged into the

water. The cry awoke Jack, who rose on his elbow with a look of

grave surprise; but this was followed by a quiet smile of

intelligence on seeing Peterkin in the water. With an energy that

he only gave way to in moments of excitement, Jack bounded to his

feet, threw off his clothes, shook back his hair, and with a lion-like spring, dashed over the sands and plunged into the sea with

such force as quite to envelop Peterkin in a shower of spray. Jack

was a remarkably good swimmer and diver, so that after his plunge

we saw no sign of him for nearly a minute; after which he suddenly

emerged, with a cry of joy, a good many yards out