The Coral Island by Robert Michael Ballantyne (top rated books of all time .txt) 📕

“When Greek meets Greek,” said Jack, soliloquizing, “then comes the

tug of - “

“Hurrah!” shouted Peterkin in the distance.

We turned hastily towards the direction whence the sound came, and

soon descried Peterkin walking along the beach towards us with a

little pig transfixed on the end of his long spear!

“Well done, my boy!” exclaimed Jack, slapping him on the shoulder

when he came up, “you’re the best shot amongst us.”

“Look here Jack!” cried Peterkin, as he disengaged the animal from

his spear. “Do you recognise that hole?” said he, pointing to the

pig’s ear; “and are you familiar with this arrow, eh?”

“Well, I declare!” said Jack.

“Of course you do,” interrupted Peterkin; “but, pray, restrain your

declarations at this time, and let’s have supper, for I’m

uncommonly hungry, I can tell you; and it’s no joke to charge a

whole herd of swine with their great-grandmother bristling like a

giant porcupine at the head of them!”

We now set about preparing supper; and, truly, a good display of

viands we made, when all was laid out on a flat rock in the light

of the blazing fire. There was, first of all, the little pig; then

there was the taro-root, and the yam, and the potato, and six

plums; and, lastly, the wood-pigeon. To these Peterkin added a bit

of sugar-cane, which he had cut from a little patch of that plant

which he had found not long after separating from us; “and,” said

he, “the patch was somewhat in a square form, which convinces me it

must have been planted by man.”

“Very likely,” replied Jack. “From all we have seen, I’m inclined

to think that some of the savages must have dwelt here long ago.”

We found no small difficulty in making up our minds how we were to

cook the pig. None of us had ever cut up one before, and we did

not know exactly how to begin; besides, we had nothing but the axe

to do it with, our knife having been forgotten. At last Jack

started up and said, -

“Don’t let us waste more time talking about it, boys. Hold it up,

Peterkin. There, lay the hind leg on this block of wood, so;” and

he cut it off, with a large portion of the haunch, at a single blow

of the axe. “Now the other, - that’s it.” And having thus cut off

the two hind legs, he made several deep gashes in them, thrust a

sharp-pointed stick through each, and stuck them up before the

blaze to roast. The wood-pigeon was then split open, quite flat,

washed clean in salt water, and treated in a similar manner. While

these were cooking, we scraped a hole in the sand and ashes under

the fire, into which we put our vegetables, and covered them up.

The taro-root was of an oval shape, about ten inches long and four

or five thick. It was of a mottled-gray colour, and had a thick

rind. We found it somewhat like an Irish potato, and exceedingly

good. The yam was roundish, and had a rough brown skin. It was

very sweet and well-flavoured. The potato, we were surprised to

find, was quite sweet and exceedingly palatable, as also were the

plums; and, indeed, the pork and pigeon too, when we came to taste

them. Altogether this was decidedly the most luxurious supper we

had enjoyed for many a day; and Jack said it was out-of-sight

better than we ever got on board ship; and Peterkin said he feared

that if we should remain long on the island he would infallibly

become a glutton or an epicure: whereat Jack remarked that he need

not fear that, for he was BOTH already! And so, having eaten our

fill, not forgetting to finish off with a plum, we laid ourselves

comfortably down to sleep upon a couch of branches under the

overhanging ledge of a coral rock.

CHAPTER XI.

Effects of over-eating, and reflections thereon - Humble advice

regarding cold water - The “horrible cry” accounted for - The

curious birds called penguins - Peculiarity of the cocoa nut palm -

Questions on the formation of coral islands - Mysterious footsteps

- Strange discoveries and sad sights.

WHEN we awoke on the following morning, we found that the sun was

already a good way above the horizon, so I came to the conclusion

that a heavy supper is not conducive to early rising.

Nevertheless, we felt remarkably strong and well, and much disposed

to have our breakfast. First, however, we had our customary

morning bathe, which refreshed us greatly.

I have often wondered very much in after years that the inhabitants

of my own dear land did not make more frequent use of this most

charming element, water. I mean in the way of cold bathing. Of

course, I have perceived that it is not convenient for them to go

into the sea or the rivers in winter, as we used to do on the Coral

Island; but then, I knew from experience that a large washing-tub

and a sponge do form a most pleasant substitute. The feelings of

freshness, of cleanliness, of vigour, and extreme hilarity, that

always followed my bathes in the sea, and even, when in England, my

ablutions in the wash-tub, were so delightful, that I would sooner

have gone without my breakfast than without my bathe in cold water.

My readers will forgive me for asking whether they are in the habit

of bathing thus every morning; and if they answer “No,” they will

pardon me for recommending them to begin at once. Of late years,

since retiring from the stirring life of adventure which I have led

so long in foreign climes, I have heard of a system called the

cold-water-cure. Now, I do not know much about that system, so I

do not mean to uphold it, neither do I intend to run it down.

Perhaps, in reference to it, I may just hint that there may be too

much of a good thing. I know not; but of this I am quite certain,

that there may also be too little of a good thing; and the great

delight I have had in cold bathing during the course of my

adventurous career inclines me to think that it is better to risk

taking too much than to content one’s self with too little. Such

is my opinion, derived from much experience; but I put it before my

readers with the utmost diffidence and with profound modesty,

knowing that it may possibly jar with their feelings of confidence

in their own ability to know and judge as to what is best and

fittest in reference to their own affairs. But, to return from

this digression, for which I humbly crave forgiveness.

We had not advanced on our journey much above a mile or so, and

were just beginning to feel the pleasant glow that usually

accompanies vigorous exercise, when, on turning a point that

revealed to us a new and beautiful cluster of islands, we were

suddenly arrested by the appalling cry which had so alarmed us a

few nights before. But this time we were by no means so much

alarmed as on the previous occasion, because, whereas at that time

it was night, now it was day; and I have always found, though I am

unable to account for it, that daylight banishes many of the fears

that are apt to assail us in the dark.

On hearing the sound, Peterkin instantly threw forward his spear.

“Now, what can it be?” said he, looking round at Jack. “I tell you

what it is, if we are to go on being pulled up in a constant state

of horror and astonishment, as we have been for the last week, the

sooner we’re out o’ this island the better, notwithstanding the

yams and lemonade, and pork and plums!”

Peterkin’s remark was followed by a repetition of the cry, louder

than before.

“It comes from one of these islands,” said Jack.

“It must be the ghost of a jackass, then,” said Peterkin, “for I

never heard anything so like.”

We all turned our eyes towards the cluster of islands, where, on

the largest, we observed curious objects moving on the shore.

“Soldiers they are, - that’s flat!” cried Peterkin, gazing at them

in the utmost amazement.

And, in truth, Peterkin’s remark seemed to me to be correct; for,

at the distance from which we saw them, they appeared to be an army

of soldiers. There they stood, rank and file, in lines and in

squares, marching and countermarching, with blue coats and white

trousers. While we were looking at them, the dreadful cry came

again over the water, and Peterkin suggested that it must be a

regiment sent out to massacre the natives in cold blood. At this

remark Jack laughed and said, -

“Why, Peterkin, they are penguins!”

“Penguins?” repeated Peterkin.

“Ay, penguins, Peterkin, penguins, - nothing more or less than big

sea-birds, as you shall see one of these days, when we pay them a

visit in our boat, which I mean to set about building the moment we

return to our bower.”

“So, then, our dreadful yelling ghosts and our murdering army of

soldiers,” remarked Peterkin, “have dwindled down to penguins, -

big sea-birds! Very good. Then I propose that we continue our

journey as fast as possible, lest our island should be converted

into a dream before we get completely round it.”

Now, as we continued on our way, I pondered much over this new

discovery, and the singular appearance of these birds, of which

Jack could only give us a very slight and vague account; and I

began to long to commence to our boat, in order that we might go

and inspect them more narrowly. But by degrees these thoughts left

me, and I began to be much taken up again with the interesting

peculiarities of the country which we were passing through.

The second night we passed in a manner somewhat similar to the

first, at about two-thirds of the way round the island, as we

calculated, and we hoped to sleep on the night following at our

bower. I will not here note so particularly all that we said and

saw during the course of this second day, as we did not make any

further discoveries of great importance. The shore along which we

travelled, and the various parts of the woods through which we

passed, were similar to those which have been already treated of.

There were one or two observations that we made, however, and these

were as follows:-

We saw that, while many of the large fruit-bearing trees grew only

in the valleys, and some of them only near the banks of the

streams, where the soil was peculiarly rich, the cocoa-nut palm

grew in every place whatsoever, - not only on the hill sides, but

also on the sea shore, and even, as has been already stated, on the

coral reef itself, where the soil, if we may use the name, was

nothing better than loose sand mingled with broken shells and coral

rock. So near to the sea, too, did this useful tree grow, that in

many places its roots were washed by the spray from the breakers.

Yet we found the trees growing thus on the sands to be quite as

luxuriant as those growing in the valleys, and the fruit as good

and refreshing also. Besides this, I noticed that, on the summit

of the high mountain, which we once more ascended at a different

point from our first ascent, were found abundance of shells