Shifting Winds - Robert Michael Ballantyne (poetry books to read TXT) 📗

as if in tremendous haste.

"Aha! Squeaky, I knew _you_ would smell out the supper double quick," cried Billy with a laugh, as he looked towards the door.

"He never misses it," said Gaff with a quiet smile. Next moment a small pig came scampering into the cave and rushed up to the fire, where it sat down promptly as if the sole object it had in view were to warm itself!

And this was indeed its only object, for that pig was passionately, ludicrously fond of the fire! It was a pet pig.

One day when Billy was out hunting, he had caught it in a somewhat singular fashion. He usually went out hunting with a bow and arrow of his own making, and was very successful in bringing down white doves, parroquets, and such creatures, but could make nothing of the pigs, whose skins were too tough for his wooden and unshod arrows. He let fly at them, nevertheless, when he got a chance.

Well, on the day referred to, Billy had shot nothing, and was returning home in a somewhat pensive mood when he heard a squeak, and at once fitted an arrow to his bow. A rush followed the squeak, and dreadful yells accompanied the rush--yells which were intensified, if possible, when Billy's arrow went into an old sow's ear after glancing off the back of one of her little ones.

Billy ran after them in wild despair, for he knew that the shot was thrown away. One of the pigs had sprained its ankle, apparently, for it could only run on three legs. This pig fell behind; Billy ran after it, overtook it, fell upon it, and almost crushed it to death--a fact which was announced by an appalling shriek.

The mother turned and ran to the rescue. Billy gathered up the pig and ran for his, (and its), life. It was a hard run, and would certainly have terminated in favour of the sow had not the greater part of the chase been kept up among loose stones, over which the lad had the advantage. In a few minutes he descended a steep cliff over which the bereaved mother did not dare to run.

Thus did Billy become possessed of a live pig, which in a few weeks became a remarkably familiar and fearless inmate of the cavern home.

Billy also had a pet parroquet which soon became tame enough to be allowed to move about at will with a cropped wing, and which was named Shrieky. This creature was a mere bundle of impudent feathers, and a source of infinite annoyance to the pig, for, being possessed of considerable powers of mimicry, it sometimes uttered a porcine shriek, exciting poor Squeaky with the vain hope that some of its relations had arrived, and, what was far worse, frequently imitated the sounds of crackling fire and roasting food, which had the effect of causing Squeaky to rush into the cave, to meet with bitter disappointment.

"Now, Squeaky," said the Bu'ster, hitting the pig on its snout with a bit of firewood, "keep your dirty nose away from yer cousin."

Squeaky obeyed meekly, and removed to another spot.

"Isn't it a strange thing, daddy, that you and I should come to feel so homelike here?"

"Ay, it is strange," responded Gaff with a sigh, as he laid down the hook he was working at and glanced round the cavern. "Your mother would be astonished to see us now, lad."

"She'll hear all about it some day," said Billy. "You've no notion what a splendid story I'll make out of all this when we get back to Cove!"

It was evident that the Bu'ster inherited much of his mother's sanguine disposition.

"P'raps we'll never git back to Cove," said Gaff sadly; "hows'ever, we've no reason to complain. Things might ha' bin worse. You'd better go and haul down the flag, lad. I'll look arter the roast till ye come back."

"The roast'll look after itself, daddy," said the Bu'ster; "you look after Squeaky, however, for that sly critter's always up to mischief."

Billy hastened to the top of Signal Cliff just as the sun was beginning to descend into the sea, and had commenced to pull down the flag when his eye caught sight of a sail--not on the far-off horizon, like a sea-gull's wing, but close in upon the land!

The shout that he gave was so tremendous that Gaff heard it in the cave, and rushed out in great alarm. He saw Billy waving a shred of cocoa-nut cloth frantically above his head, and his heart bounded wildly as he sprang up the hill like a stag.

On reaching the flagstaff he beheld the vessel, a large full-rigged ship, sailing calmly, and, to his eye, majestically, not far from the signal cliff.

His first impulse was to wave his hand and shout. Then he laid hands on the halliards of the flag and gave it an extra pull to see that it was well up, while Billy continued to stamp, cheer, yell, and wave his arms like a madman!

Only those who have been long separated from their fellow-men can know the wild excitement that is roused in the breast by the prospect of meeting with new faces. Gaff and Billy found it difficult to restrain themselves, and indeed they did not try to do so for at least ten minutes after the discovery of the ship. Then a feeling of dread came suddenly upon the former.

"Surely they'll never pass without takin' notice of us."

"Never!" exclaimed Billy, whose sudden fall of countenance belied the word.

Gaff shook his head.

"I'm not so sure o' that," said he; "if she's a whaler like the one we came south in, lad, she'll not trouble herself with us."

Billy looked very grave, and his heart sank.

"My only consolation is that she looks more like a man-o'-war than a whaler."

"I wish we had a big gun to fire," exclaimed Billy, looking round in perplexity, as if he half hoped that a carronade would spring up out of the ground. "Could we not make a row somehow?"

"I fear not," said Gaff despondingly. "Shoutin' is of no use. She's too far-off for that. Our only chance is the flag."

Both father and son stood silent for some moments earnestly gazing at the ship, which was by this time nearly opposite to their flagstaff, and seemed to be passing by without recognising the signal. This was not to be wondered at, for, although the flag was visible enough from landward, being well defined against the bright sky, it was scarce perceptible from seaward, owing to the hills which formed a background to it.

"_I_ know what'll do it!" exclaimed Billy, as he leaped suddenly to one side. "Come along, daddy."

A few yards to one side of the spot on which the flagstaff was reared there was a part of the precipice which sloped with a steep descent into the sea. Here there had been a landslip, and the entire face of the cliff was laid bare. At the top of this slope there was a great collection of stones and masses of rock of considerable size. At various points, too, down the face of the steep, masses of rock and _debris_ had collected in hollows.

Billy now went to work to roll big stones over the edge of this cliff, and he did it with such good-will that in a few minutes masses of a hundred weight were rolling, bounding, and crashing down the steep. These, in many cases, plunged into the collections of _debris_, and dislodged masses of rock that no efforts of which Billy was capable could have otherwise moved.

The rattling roar of the avalanche was far more effective than a salvo of artillery, because, besides being tremendous, it was unceasing, and the result was that the vessel ran up a flag in reply to the strange salute. Then a white puff of smoke from her side preceded the roar of a heavy gun. Immediately after, the vessel's head came round, and she lay-to.

"It's a man-o'-war," cried Billy excitedly.

"Ay, and a British one too," exclaimed Gaff; "let's give him a cheer, lad."

Billy complied with a will! Again and again did they raise their strong voices until the woods and cliffs became alive with full, true, ringing British cheers!


CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.


DELIVERED, WRECKED, AND RESCUED.

It is unnecessary, indeed impossible, to describe the feelings with which Gaff and Billy descended from Signal Cliff to the beach to meet the boat which put off from the man-of-war and made for the little creek just below the cave.

As the boat's keel grated on the sand, the midshipman in command leaped ashore. He was a particularly small and pert midshipman, a smart conceited vigorous little fellow, who delighted to order his big men about in the voice of a giant; and it was quite interesting to observe how quietly and meekly those big men obeyed him, just as one sometimes sees a huge Newfoundland dog or mastiff obey the orders of a child.

"Why, where on earth did you come from, and what are you doing here?" demanded the little middy, as he approached Gaff, and looked up in that man's rugged and unshorn countenance.

Poor Gaff could scarce command himself sufficiently to reply--

"We're Englishmen--bin cast away--five years now--"

He could go no farther, but, seizing the boy's hand, shook it warmly. The Bu'ster, being equally incapable of speaking, seized the hand of the sailor next him, and also shook it violently. Then he uttered a cheer, and turning suddenly round ran along the beach for half a mile like a greyhound, after which he returned and asserted that his feelings were somewhat relieved!

Meanwhile the middy continued to question Gaff.

"What! d'ye mean to say you've been five years here--all alone?"

"Ay, all but a few days," said Gaff, looking round on the men with a bewildered air. "How strange yer voices sound! Seems as if I'd a'most forgotten what men are like!"

"Well, you _are_ a queer fish," said the boy with a laugh. "Are there no more here but you two?"

"No more; just Billy and me--also Squeaky and Shrieky."

Gaff said this quite gravely, for nothing was farther from his thoughts at that time than jesting.

"And pray, who may Squeaky and Shrieky be?"

"Squeaky's a pig, and Shrieky's a little parrot."

"Well," observed the middy with a laugh, "that's better than no company at all."

"Yours is an English man-o'-war, I think?" said Gaff.

"You're right, old fellow; she's the `Blazer,' 74, Captain Evans, bound for England. Took a run farther south than usual after a piratical-looking craft, but missed her. Gave up the chase, and came to this island to get water. Little thought we should find _you_ on it. Astonish the captain rather when we go back. Of course you'll want us to take you home. Will you go off with me at once?"

Gaff and Billy hesitated, and both looked back with a strange mixture of feelings at their island-home.

"Oh, we won't hurry you," said the boy, with a kindly and patronising air; "if there are any traps you want to pack up, we'll wait for