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

Penguin Island lay on the other side of our own island, at about a

mile beyond the outer reef, and we calculated that it must be at

least twenty miles distant by the way we should have to go. We

might, indeed, have shortened the way by coasting round our island

inside of the lagoon, and going out at the passage in the reef

nearly opposite to Penguin Island, but we preferred to go by the

open sea; first, because it was more adventurous; and, secondly,

because we should have the pleasure of again feeling the motion of

the deep, which we all loved very much, not being liable to sea

sickness.

“I wish we had a breeze,” said Jack.

“So do I,” cried Peterkin, resting on his oar and wiping his heated

brow; “pulling is hard work. Oh dear, if we could only catch a

hundred or two of these gulls, tie them to the boat with long

strings, and make them fly as we want them, how capital it would

be!”

“Or bore a hole through a shark’s tail, and reeve a rope through

it, eh?” remarked Jack. “But, I say, it seems that my wish is

going to be granted, for here comes a breeze. Ship your oar,

Peterkin. Up with the mast, Ralph; I’ll see to the sail. Mind

your helm; look out for squalls!”

This last speech was caused by the sudden appearance of a dark blue

line on the horizon, which, in an incredibly short space of time,

swept down on us, lashing up the sea in white foam as it went. We

presented the stern of the boat to its first violence, and, in a

few seconds, it moderated into a steady breeze, to which we spread

our sail and flew merrily over the waves. Although the breeze died

away soon afterwards, it had been so stiff while it lasted, that we

were carried over the greater part of our way before it fell calm

again; so that, when the flapping of the sail against the mast told

us that it was time to resume the oars, we were not much more than

a mile from Penguin Island.

“There go the soldiers!” cried Peterkin as we came in sight of it;

“how spruce their white trousers look, this morning! I wonder if

they will receive us kindly. D’you think they are hospitable,

Jack?”

“Don’t talk, Peterkin, but pull away, and you shall see shortly.”

As we drew near to the island we were much amused by the manoeuvres

and appearance of these strange birds. They seemed to be of

different species, for some had crests on their heads while others

had none, and while some were about the size of a goose others

appeared nearly as large as a swan. We also saw a huge albatross

soaring above the heads of the penguins. It was followed and

surrounded by numerous flocks of sea-gulls. Having approached to

within a few yards of the island, which was a low rock, with no

other vegetation on it than a few bushes, we lay on our oars and

gazed at the birds with surprise and pleasure, they returning our

gaze with interest. We now saw that their soldier-like appearance

was owing to the stiff, erect manner in which they sat on their

short legs, - “Bolt-up-right,” as Peterkin expressed it. They had

black heads, long sharp beaks, white breasts, and bluish backs.

Their wings were so short that they looked more like the fins of a

fish, and, indeed, we soon saw that they used them for the purpose

of swimming under water. There were no quills on these wings, but

a sort of scaly feathers; which also thickly covered their bodies.

Their legs were short, and placed so far back that the birds, while

on land, were obliged to stand quite upright in order to keep their

balance; but in the water they floated like other water-fowl. At

first we were so stunned with the clamour which they and other sea-birds kept up around us, that we knew not which way to look, - for

they covered the rocks in thousands; but, as we continued to gaze,

we observed several quadrupeds (as we thought) walking in the midst

of the penguins.

“Pull in a bit,” cried Peterkin, “and let’s see what these are.

They must be fond of noisy company, to consort with such

creatures.”

To our surprise we found that these were no other than penguins

which had gone down on all fours, and were crawling among the

bushes on their feet and wings, just like quadrupeds. Suddenly one

big old bird, that had been sitting on a point very near to us,

gazing in mute astonishment, became alarmed, and, scuttling down

the rocks, plumped or fell, rather than ran, into the sea. It

dived in a moment, and, a few seconds afterwards, came out of the

water far a-head, with such a spring, and such a dive back into the

sea again, that we could scarcely believe it was not a fish that

had leaped in sport.

“That beats everything,” said Peterkin, rubbing his nose, and

screwing up his face with an expression of exasperated amazement.

“I’ve heard of a thing being neither fish, flesh, nor fowl, but I

never did expect to live to see a brute that was all three

together, - at once - in one! But look there!” he continued,

pointing with a look of resignation to the shore, “look there!

there’s no end to it. What HAS that brute got under its tail?”

We turned to look in the direction pointed out, and there saw a

penguin walking slowly and very sedately along the shore with an

egg under its tail. There were several others, we observed,

burdened in the same way; and we found afterwards that these were a

species of penguins that always carried their eggs so. Indeed,

they had a most convenient cavity for the purpose, just between the

tail and the legs. We were very much impressed with the regularity

and order of this colony. The island seemed to be apportioned out

into squares, of which each penguin possessed one, and sat in stiff

solemnity in the middle of it, or took a slow march up and down the

spaces between. Some were hatching their eggs, but others were

feeding their young ones in a manner that caused us to laugh not a

little. The mother stood on a mound or raised rock, while the

young one stood patiently below her on the ground. Suddenly the

mother raised her head and uttered a series of the most discordant

cackling sounds.

“She’s going to choke,” cried Peterkin.

But this was not the case, although, I confess, she looked like it.

In a few seconds she put down her head and opened her mouth, into

which the young one thrust its beak and seemed to suck something

from her throat. Then the cackling was renewed, the sucking

continued, and so the operation of feeding was carried on till the

young one was satisfied; but what she fed her little one with, we

could not tell.

“Now, just look yonder!” said Peterkin, in an excited tone; “if

that isn’t the most abominable piece of maternal deception I ever

saw. That rascally old lady penguin has just pitched her young one

into the sea, and there’s another about to follow her example.”

This indeed seemed to be the cue, for, on the top of a steep rock

close to the edge of the sea, we observed an old penguin

endeavouring to entice her young one into the water; but the young

one seemed very unwilling to go, and, notwithstanding the

enticements of its mother, moved very slowly towards her. At last

she went gently behind the young bird and pushed it a little

towards the water, but with great tenderness, as much as to say,

‘Don’t be afraid, darling! I won’t hurt you, my pet!’ but no

sooner did she get it to the edge of the rock, where it stood

looking pensively down at the sea, than she gave it a sudden and

violent push, sending it headlong down the slope into the water,

where its mother left it to scramble ashore as it best could. We

observed many of them employed in doing this, and we came to the

conclusion that this is the way in which old penguins teach their

children to swim.

Scarcely had we finished making our remarks on this, when we were

startled by about a dozen of the old birds hopping in the most

clumsy and ludicrous manner towards the sea. The beach, here, was

a sloping rock, and when they came to it, some of them succeeded in

hopping down in safety, but others lost their balance and rolled

and scrambled down the slope in the most helpless manner. The

instant they reached the water, however, they seemed to be in their

proper element. They dived and bounded out of it and into it again

with the utmost agility; and so, diving and bounding and

spluttering, for they could not fly, they went rapidly out to sea,

On seeing this, Peterkin turned with a grave face to us and said,

“It’s my opinion that these birds are all stark, staring mad, and

that this is an enchanted island. I therefore propose that we

should either put about ship and fly in terror from the spot, or

land valorously on the island, and sell our lives as dearly as we

can.”

“I vote for landing, so pull in, lads,” said Jack, giving a stroke

with his oar that made the boat spin. In a few seconds we ran the

boat into a little creek where we made her fast to a projecting

piece of coral, and, running up the beach, entered the ranks of the

penguins armed with our cudgels and our spear. We were greatly

surprised to find that, instead of attacking us or showing signs of

fear at our approach, these curious birds did not move from their

places until we laid hands on them, and merely turned their eyes on

us in solemn, stupid wonder as we passed. There was one old

penguin, however, that began to walk slowly toward the sea, and

Peterkin took it into his head that he would try to interrupt its

progress, so he ran between it and the sea and brandished his

cudgel in its face. But this proved to be a resolute old bird. It

would not retreat; nay, more, it would not cease to advance, but

battled with Peterkin bravely and drove him before it until it

reached the sea. Had Peterkin used his club he could easily have

felled it, no doubt; but, as he had no wish to do so cruel an act

merely out of sport, he let the bird escape.

We spent fully three hours on this island in watching the habits of

these curious birds, and, when we finally left them, we all three

concluded, after much consultation, that they were the most

wonderful creatures we had ever seen; and further, we thought it

probable that they were the most wonderful creatures in the world!

CHAPTER XVIII.

An awful storm and its consequences - Narrow escape - A rock proves

a sure foundation - A fearful night and a bright morning -

Deliverance from danger.

IT was evening before we left the island of the penguins. As we

had made up our minds to encamp for the night on a small island,

whereon grew a few cocoa-nut trees, which was about two miles off,

we lay to our oars with some energy. But a danger was in store for

us which we had not anticipated. The wind, which had carried us so

quickly