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

ourselves.

I afterwards found that there were many such caverns among the

islands of the South Seas, some of them larger and more beautiful

than the one I have just described.

“Now, Ralph, are you ready?” said Jack, in a low voice, that seemed

to echo up into the dome above.

“Quite ready.”

“Come along, then,” said he; and, plunging off the ledge of the

rock into the water, we dived through the narrow entrance. In a

few seconds we were panting on the rocks above, and receiving the

congratulations of our friend Peterkin.

CHAPTER XIV.

Strange peculiarity of the tides - Also of the twilight -

Peterkin’s remarkable conduct in embracing a little pig and killing

a big sow - Sage remarks on jesting - Also on love.

IT was quite a relief to us to breathe the pure air and to enjoy

the glad sunshine after our long ramble in the Diamond Cave, as we

named it; for, although we did not stay more than half an hour

away, it seemed to us much longer. While we were dressing, and

during our walk home, we did our best to satisfy the curiosity of

poor Peterkin, who seemed to regret, with lively sincerity, his

inability to dive.

There was no help for it, however, so we condoled with him as we

best could. Had there been any great rise or fall in the tide of

these seas, we might perhaps have found it possible to take him

down with us at low water; but as the tide never rose or fell more

than eighteen inches or two feet, this was impossible.

This peculiarity of the tide - its slight rise and fall - had not

attracted our observation till some time after our residence on the

island. Neither had we observed another curious circumstance until

we had been some time there. This was the fact, that the tide rose

and fell with constant regularity, instead of being affected by the

changes of the moon as in our own country, and as it is in most

other parts of the world, - at least in all those parts with which

I am acquainted. Every day and every night, at twelve o’clock

precisely, the tide is at the full; and at six o’clock every

morning and evening it is ebb. I can speak with much confidence on

this singular circumstance, as we took particular note of it, and

never found it to alter. Of course, I must admit, we had to guess

the hour of twelve midnight, and I think we could do this pretty

correctly; but in regard to twelve noon we are quite positive,

because we easily found the highest point that the sun reached in

the sky by placing ourselves at a certain spot whence we observed

the sharp summit of a cliff resting against the sky, just where the

sun passed.

Jack and I were surprised that we had not noticed this the first

few days of our residence here, and could only account for it by

our being so much taken up with the more obvious wonders of our

novel situation. I have since learned, however, that this want of

observation is a sad and very common infirmity of human nature,

there being hundreds of persons before whose eyes the most

wonderful things are passing every day, who nevertheless are

totally ignorant of them. I therefore have to record my sympathy

with such persons, and to recommend to them a course of conduct

which I have now for a long time myself adopted, - namely, the

habit of forcing my attention upon ALL things that go on around me,

and of taking some degree of interest in them, whether I feel it

naturally or not. I suggest this the more earnestly, though

humbly, because I have very frequently come to know that my

indifference to a thing has generally been caused by my ignorance

in regard to it.

We had much serious conversation on this subject of the tides; and

Jack told us, in his own quiet, philosophical way, that these tides

did great good to the world in many ways, particularly in the way

of cleansing the shores of the land, and carrying off the filth

that was constantly poured into the sea there-from; which, Peterkin

suggested, was remarkably TIDY of it to do. Poor Peterkin could

never let slip an opportunity to joke, however inopportune it might

be: which at first we found rather a disagreeable propensity, as

it often interrupted the flow of very agreeable conversation; and,

indeed, I cannot too strongly record my disapprobation of this

tendency in general: but we became so used to it at last that we

found it no interruption whatever; indeed, strange to say, we came

to feel that it was a necessary part of our enjoyment (such is the

force of habit), and found the sudden outbursts of mirth, resulting

from his humorous disposition, quite natural and refreshing to us

in the midst of our more serious conversations. But I must not

misrepresent Peterkin. We often found, to our surprise, that he

knew many things which we did not; and I also observed that those

things which he learned from experience were never forgotten. From

all these things I came at length to understand that things very

opposite and dissimilar in themselves, when united, do make an

agreeable whole; as, for example, we three on this our island,

although most unlike in many things, when united, made a trio so

harmonious that I question if there ever met before such an

agreeable triumvirate. There was, indeed, no note of discord

whatever in the symphony we played together on that sweet Coral

Island; and I am now persuaded that this was owing to our having

been all tuned to the same key, namely, that of LOVE! Yes, we

loved one another with much fervency while we lived on that island;

and, for the matter of that, we love each other still.

And while I am on this subject, or rather the subject that just

preceded it - namely, the tides - I may here remark on another

curious natural phenomenon. We found that there was little or no

twilight in this island. We had a distinct remembrance of the

charming long twilight at home, which some people think the most

delightful part of the day, though for my part I have always

preferred sunrise; and when we first landed, we used to sit down on

some rocky point or eminence, at the close of our day’s work, to

enjoy the evening breeze; but no sooner had the sun sunk below the

horizon than all became suddenly dark. This rendered it necessary

that we should watch the sun when we happened to be out hunting,

for to be suddenly left in the dark while in the woods was very

perplexing, as, although the stars shone with great beauty and

brilliancy, they could not pierce through the thick umbrageous

boughs that interlaced above our heads.

But, to return: After having told all we could to Peterkin about

the Diamond Cave under Spouting Cliff, as we named the locality, we

were wending our way rapidly homewards, when a grunt and a squeal

were borne down by the land breeze to our ears.

“That’s the ticket!” was Peterkin’s remarkable exclamation, as he

started convulsively, and levelled his spear.

“Hist!” cried Jack; “these are your friends, Peterkin. They must

have come over expressly to pay you a friendly visit, for it is the

first time we have seen them on this side the island.”

“Come along!” cried Peterkin, hurrying towards the wood, while Jack

and I followed, smiling at his impatience.

Another grunt and half a dozen squeals, much louder than before,

came down the valley. At this time we were just opposite the small

vale which lay between the Valley of the Wreck and Spouting Cliff.

“I say, Peterkin,” cried Jack, in a hoarse whisper.

“Well, what is’t?”

“Stay a bit, man. These grunters are just up there on the hill

side. If you go and stand with Ralph in the lee of yon cliff, I’ll

cut round behind and drive them through the gorge, so that you’ll

have a better chance of picking out a good one. Now, mind you

pitch into a fat young pig, Peterkin,” added Jack, as he sprang

into the bushes.

“Won’t I, just!” said Peterkin, licking his lips, as we took our

station beside the cliff. “I feel quite a tender affection for

young pigs in my heart. Perhaps it would be more correct to say in

my s-.”

“There they come!” cried I, as a terrific yell from Jack sent the

whole herd screaming down the hill. Now, Peterkin, being unable to

hold back, crept a short way up a very steep grassy mound, in order

to get a better view of the hogs before they came up; and just as

he raised his head above its summit, two little pigs, which had

outrun their companions, rushed over the top with the utmost

precipitation. One of these brushed close past Peterkin’s ear; the

other, unable to arrest its headlong flight, went, as Peterkin

himself afterwards expressed it, “bash” into his arms with a sudden

squeal, which was caused more by the force of the blow than the

will of the animal, and both of them rolled violently down to the

foot of the mound. No sooner was this reached than the little pig

recovered its feet, tossed up its tail, and fled shrieking from the

spot. But I slang a large stone after it, which, being fortunately

well aimed, hit it behind the ear, and felled it to the earth.

“Capital, Ralph! that’s your sort!” cried Peterkin, who, to my

surprise and great relief, had risen to his feet. Apparently

unhurt, though much dishevelled, he rushed franticly towards the

gorge, which the yells of the hogs told us they were now

approaching. I had made up my mind that I would abstain from

killing another, as, if Peterkin should be successful, two were

more than sufficient for our wants at the present time. Suddenly

they all burst forth, - two or three little round ones in advance,

and an enormous old sow with a drove of hogs at her heels.

“Now, Peterkin,” said I, “there’s a nice little fat one; just spear

it.”

But Peterkin did not move; he allowed it to pass unharmed. I

looked at him in surprise, and saw that his lips were compressed

and his eyebrows knitted, as if he were about to fight with some

awful enemy.

“What is it?” I inquired, with some trepidation.

Suddenly he levelled his spear, darted forward, and, with a yell

that nearly froze the blood in my veins, stabbed the old sow to the

heart. Nay, so vigorously was it done that the spear went in at

one side and came out at the other!

“Oh, Peterkin!” said I, going up to him, “what have you done?”

“Done? I’ve killed their great-great-grandmother, that’s all,”

said he, looking with a somewhat awe-struck expression at the

transfixed animal.

“Hallo! what’s this?” said Jack, as he came up. “Why, Peterkin,

you must be fond of a tough chop. If you mean to eat this old hog,

she’ll try your jaws, I warrant. What possessed you to stick HER,

Peterkin?”

“Why, the fact is I want a pair of shoes.”

“What have your shoes to do with the old hog?’ said I, smiling.

“My present shoes have certainly nothing to do with her,” replied

Peterkin; “nevertheless she will have a good deal to do with my

future shoes. The fact is, when I saw you floor that pig so

neatly, Ralph, it struck