Chapter Thirty.
Walter disappears—Narrative continued by Emily.
I had not forgotten my uncle’s wish to obtain another nautilus, but the weather had prevented us going on the water for some days. It having again moderated, I consulted Ali, through Mr Hooker, on the subject, and got him to explain what we proposed doing. We could not, however, make him understand clearly what we wanted. That morning he, Oliver, and I, with Potto Jumbo, went down to the beach to procure shell-fish. We had been some time on the rocks, when I saw an object floating in towards the shore. As it drew nearer, I discovered to my satisfaction that it was the empty shell of a nautilus. In my eagerness I was about to throw off my clothes and jump in to fetch it, when Potto Jumbo drew me back. “Take care, Massa Walter,” he said; “shark about here! Never swim out in open place like dis.” I, however, pointed out the shell to Ali, and tried to make him understand that it was that of which we were in search. He seemed to fancy that I wanted him to swim off for it, and, thoughtless about the sharks, he was on the point of doing so. Potto stopped him also, and by waiting patiently, the nautilus shell gradually floated in towards us, and seizing it eagerly, I returned with it to the house. Mr Hooker had now no difficulty in explaining to Ali that it was the creature in its shell which he so much desired, and Ali told him that he had great hopes of capturing one.
That evening Ali, Dick Tarbox, and I, went out to fish in our boat in the line of cliffs near which my uncle had shot the frigate-birds. First, however, we pulled out some way, and laid down our fish-pots at a spot where Ali seemed to think it was possible we might capture one of the much-wished-for nautili. It was at this place Ali made us understand that we were more likely to catch fish than any other. He came prepared with hooks, which he himself had manufactured from brass-wire, some of which had been found in the wreck. He had attached about a fathom of wire to each hook, at the upper end of which the line was fastened; this was in order to prevent the sharp teeth of the fish cutting the line. He had caught a few fish in a hand net for bait. Having anchored our boat by a stone sufficient to hold her, we lowered down our lines. To each hook a sort of sling of palm-leaf was fastened, and in this sling was a small stone, so arranged that on reaching the bottom it fell out. We very soon got bites, and Ali was the first to haul up a fine large fish. Immediately afterwards I got one, and Tarbox before long caught another. In the meantime, however, Ali hauled up a couple; indeed, to each of ours he managed somehow or other to get two. Their names I do not remember, but I know I never had better sport in my life. Gradually the rocks above our heads grew higher and higher in the gloom of approaching night, which seemed to soften the faint outlines of the landscape, and to increase the size of the objects round us. A little way from us was an opening in the cliffs, beyond which we could see the dark forest. From it there issued various sounds, which seemed to echo backwards and forwards among the rocks. Among them we could distinguish the moaning cries of monkeys—one seeming to be calling to the other for help in piteous tones. The effect was curious, and had a peculiarly melancholy sound; indeed we might easily have supposed them to be the cries of captive slaves, or perhaps a more fanciful person might describe them as disembodied spirits in some haunted island. Meanwhile the night wind, sighing through the lofty trees, came moaning down towards us. At length darkness compelled us to give up our sport, and, with an abundant supply of fish, we pulled slowly back towards our usual landing-place, where, having unladen our boat, we hauled her up to a safe spot above high-water mark.
I felt an unusual melancholy steal over me, why I cannot tell, while, by the light of a lamp fed by cocoa-nut oil manufactured by my uncle and his factotum Tanda, I sat writing these lines of my journal:—“To-morrow morning Ali and I are going off in the hopes of obtaining a nautilus, and he feels confident that we shall get one, probably at a reef which he knows of at some distance, almost out of sight of the island. It is so far off that, had he not mentioned it, we should not have been aware of its existence.”
Emily’s Journal.
Only yesterday, my dear brother Walter asked me to assist him in writing his journal from his dictation, begging me to put in any remarks of my own. Little did I think at the time that the whole would be my work. I obey his wishes, though sick at heart and full of anxiety. Yesterday morning he and Ali went off in the boat to fish, saying that they were sure of bringing back a nautilus, which our uncle and Mr Hooker so long to possess; but a whole day has passed, and they have not returned. They were seen to be pulling out to sea further than they have ever before gone. They had been some time absent, and we were expecting their return, when a fearful squall, such as has not occurred since the time when the brig was lost, broke over the island. Mr Thudicumb and the kind old boatswain tried to persuade me that I need not be alarmed, but I cannot help feeling most fearful anxiety. The boat is so small, and not at all calculated to contend with a heavy sea. And then that Malay Ali—ought he to have been trusted? I have heard that the Malays are dreadfully treacherous, and he may have taken this opportunity of getting away to join his own people. I could not have thought that he had been so heartless and cruel as to injure Walter, and yet I know it is possible. Poor dear Grace can scarcely lift up her head; she has been in tears all day, and Oliver feels it dreadfully. If we had another boat we might go and search for him, and Oliver has been trying to persuade Mr Thudicumb and the rest to build one; but he says it would take a long time to do so, as no timber is ready for the purpose. It would, indeed, take almost as much time to build a boat as it would to finish the vessel, and he thinks that it is more important to do that. Our uncle and Mr Hooker are very anxious, I see, notwithstanding all they say. This morning before daybreak a strange rumbling noise was heard, and we felt the house shake, and several articles which had been placed carelessly on shelves fell down. On running out into the verandah, a bright light was seen towards the mountains in the interior, caused by flames issuing from a high peak, above which black wreaths of smoke ascended to the sky. Mr Hooker says that although there might be an eruption of the mountain, yet, as we are a long way from it, we should have every prospect of escaping injury. I am nearly certain that they said this to calm our alarm, for, unintentional, I heard them talking together, when Mr Hooker observed he did not like the look of things; that we are living at the mouth of a broad ravine, and that if any large stream of lava were to come down, it would very likely take our direction.
“That is what I am afraid of,” said my uncle; “but as we have no means of avoiding it, it would be a pity to put the idea into the minds of the rest.”
“Don’t you think that we ought to have a large raft built?” Mr Hooker observed. “If the lava were to come down, we might get upon that and escape being burned, for the whole forest would quickly be in a blaze.”
Our uncle said he would consult Mr Thudicumb; but he thought it would take a considerable time to build a raft of sufficient size, and that the time might be better employed in getting on with the vessel. They therefore, it appears, have determined to proceed with that.
“But our collections—our cases—what shall we do with them?” said Mr Hooker.
“Well, my dear Hooker,” answered my uncle, “though I would willingly risk my own life for the sake of attempting to save them, yet I feel we ought not to imperil the lives of these young people or the others with us. It is sad enough to have lost young Walter, and I am afraid he is lost. That fellow Ali is a genuine Malay; had he been a Dyak, I should have had more confidence, although he might have been a heathen, or a head hunter, or a cannibal to boot. But those Malays, half Mohammedan and half idolaters, are very untrustworthy.”
Oh, how my heart sank when I heard these words. I wish that I had not been compelled to listen to them; it shows too clearly what they think. Oliver, though suffering himself, tries to console me. He tells me that I must trust in God, and go on trusting, whatever happens; that I must not suppose, even though Walter should be lost, that we have been deserted by God; and that we may depend upon it, that he has allowed it to happen for the best: at the same time, that he may have many ways of preserving Walter, however great the dangers he may have to go through, and of restoring him to us. Poor Frau Ursula, after she has been looking at the mountain, wrings her hands, and wishes that she had never come to this island. She left Ternate for fear of the burning mountain there, and now she finds herself in a similar position of danger. However, to do her justice, she tries to wear a smiling countenance when she speaks to Grace and me. We are left almost alone at the house, as the rest of the party are assisting at ship-building. Tanda only comes occasionally to feed the animals, and to bring us fruit and vegetables from the garden. We volunteered to go and assist also, as we could at all events carry the wood, and hold the planks while the others were nailing them on; but though they thanked us, they said there were enough hands employed. I believe, however, that only two or three are good workmen, and I suppose that we should be in the way.
Two more anxious days have passed by, and dear, dear Walter has not come back. We go down constantly to the sea-shore to watch for his boat, but it does not appear. I took Mr Hooker’s spy-glass, and Grace and I spent many hours on Flagstaff Rock, looking out over the ocean. First I took the glass, then she took it; and so we continued, as if looking would bring him back, till our eyes ached with gazing on the shining water: indeed, Ursula says we must not do it again, or we might bring on blindness, which would be very dreadful. If it were not for Oliver I think we should break down altogether, but he has such a calm, pious, hopeful spirit. He assures me, and I know he speaks the truth, that he yet hopes that Walter will return, or, at all events, that he has not lost his life, and that we may find him some day or other. He has persuaded our uncle to let him read the Bible to the party before they go out to work, and he does so now every morning; and then he offers up a beautiful prayer for our safety, and returns thanks for the care with which we have hitherto been watched over by our merciful God.
Again to-day we wished to go to the rock, when Ursula took the spy-glass from my hands, and said that we might go, but that we must not take it with us; that it could not help Walter to come back, and that we should see him without it as well as with it. We had been sitting there for some time when Oliver joined us. He said that my uncle had sent him to attend upon us, as he thought we ought not to be left to brood over our anxiety by ourselves. Merlin accompanied him; and he says that in future we must not go without Merlin. I suspect that there was some other reason, because Oliver came with a gun. Perhaps some wild beasts may have been seen lurking about in the neighbourhood, and they are afraid the creatures may find us out. Oliver brought a book in his pocket, which he took out and read to us. He reads beautifully, with a gentle, yet clear musical voice. His mother taught him, and he says that she is a well-educated woman, and a very excellent reader. It is a valuable gift—for I think it is a gift, although it is one which may be greatly improved by study and practice. Two or three times I stopped him, however, for I thought I saw an object in the distance which I took to be a boat. Oh, how my heart beat! But when Oliver looked—and his eyes are keener than mine—he assured me that there was nothing, and that it must have been fancy. Again and again I deceived myself in the same way, and so did Grace. Once I felt sure that I saw a boat—she said she saw something too; but we waited and waited, and Oliver read on, and yet the object, if object there was, did not approach nearer. Again I declared I saw a boat. Oliver looked up, and shading his eyes, gazed in the direction in which I pointed.
“You are mistaken, Miss Emily,” he answered quietly. “I wish you were not. You caught sight of a mass of sea-weed, and your imagination made it appear to your sight what it is not.”
Saying this, he again sat down, and continued reading. Tanda had manufactured some large parasols of palm-leaves, which sheltered us from the sun, or we could not have sat out on the rocks. Oliver had come without one of these, and we thoughtlessly allowed him to sit on with the hot sun burning down on his back. On a sudden, as I was looking at him I saw him turn very pale, and before I could spring to his side to support him, he sunk fainting on the rock. Only then I thought of the cause of his illness, and, holding up his head, placed the parasol above him, while Grace ran down with his hat, and brought it up full of water. The sea-water, however, was very warm. Though we sprinkled his face with it, it did but little to revive him. Oh, what would I not have given for some cold fresh water to pour down his throat! As I leaned over him I was afraid that he would not revive; he looked so deadly pale, and scarcely breathed. I entreated Grace to run to the house, and bring the Frau, with a shell of fresh water; and I thought that perhaps together we might carry Oliver back. Grace set off, followed by Merlin, who evidently seemed to understand that something had to be done. Oh, how anxious I felt for poor Oliver. I am sure that I would have given my own life to save his. He was dear Walter’s friend. I am sure Walter loved him as a brother; indeed, he is well worthy of such regard. No one also could be more attached to us. I took my bonnet and fanned his cheek with one hand, while I held the palm-formed parasol over his head with the other. Still he did not revive. I dreaded lest he should have received a sun-stroke, which I knew to be a very dangerous thing. It was very, very thoughtless of us to allow him thus to be exposed, but we had been so accustomed to see everybody out in the hot sun that we did not think about it, and used our parasols more for the sake of preventing our faces being burned than from any fear of danger.
How anxiously I awaited the return of Grace and Ursula! Every now and then I looked up, hoping to see them, but of course I had to watch Oliver, in the hope that he might begin to revive. I could not help occasionally, too, glancing seaward in search of Walter’s boat. I thought I saw a slight movement in Oliver’s eyes. I was gazing down upon his face when I heard a strange noise coming from the forest. I looked up, but could see nothing. I thought I must have been mistaken. Again the sounds reached my ears, and then, turning my eyes in the direction whence they came, I saw, appearing among the boughs of a tall tree, a hideous countenance. I had not forgotten the appearance of the monster we had seen at the lake. A second look convinced me that it was the face of a huge orang-outan. I trembled lest he should discover Oliver and me. He was at some distance, however, and evidently employed in eating fruit, as I saw a shower of husks and leaves falling down beneath him to the ground. Still I could not help dreading that his eyes were fixed on us. If he were alone, I hoped that there was less danger; but if accompanied by his wife and young ones, I knew that there was great risk, should he see us, of his attacking us, lest we might hurt them. Though anxious to watch Oliver, I could scarcely withdraw my eyes from the hideous monster, who, as he moved along the bough, now appeared full in sight. The sounds made me dread, too, that he was not alone; and presently I saw on another bough a smaller creature, and then, what I dreaded much, another large one among the boughs on the same tree. Still, as long as they remained on the boughs, I knew I had less reason to dread danger.
How long Ursula and Grace seemed in coming! I fancied they would have been with me in a much shorter time. At last I caught sight of Grace running along the shore round a point of rock, and when she saw me she signed that Ursula was following. A new alarm now seized me lest the orang-outan should see her as she passed by, and descend the tree in chase. I thought of Oliver’s gun, which lay near; but though I knew how to fire, I had never taken aim at an object, and I had little hope of shooting the mias. I was afraid, too, of crying out, lest that might also attract him; indeed, had I done so, Grace would probably not have known what to do, and was very likely to be pursued. I watched the tree with greater anxiety even than before, but the mias continued busily employed in plucking fruit and handing it to the young one; as I supposed, teaching him how to open it, and take the best parts. My heart beat as if it would break, so anxious did I become. Oh, how thankful I felt when Grace at length reached me with the shell of water.
“I could not help spilling some of it,” she said, as she put it to Oliver’s lips. “I am sure it will do him good. See! see! he is already opening his eyes.”
He did so, but closed them again. We poured a few drops down his throat, and then bathed his forehead and head; and in the meantime Ursula was approaching. She could never move conveniently very fast, and she was now evidently out of breath from running. This made her perhaps more inclined to cry out, to let us know that she was coming. Supposing the mias had not seen her, I dreaded lest her voice should attract its attention. That it had done so there was soon no doubt, for I saw him leaning over the bough, and looking eagerly about. Not till then did I tell Grace what I had seen.
“Oh dear! what shall we do?” she exclaimed. “It will seize poor Ursula, I am sure. See! see! it is already swinging itself down from the bough! Yes—there—it has almost reached the ground! Shall we let Ursula know of her danger, though I am afraid she will faint if she catches sight of the creature, she has such a dread of them?”
“No; say nothing: she is too far on to run back again, and it will be better for her to get on the rock, and she may reach it before the mias can do so.”
“But if she does not, I must fire!” exclaimed Grace, seizing Oliver’s gun. “I am not afraid of doing that.”
“But you cannot take good aim,” I said. “It will be better not till the last extremity.”
“No; I will only do so if the mias gets near Ursula,” she answered, taking up the gun, however, and advancing steadily along the rock.
I had never seen her exhibit so much coolness and courage; indeed, I did not think that she possessed them. Ursula had stopped at that moment for want of breath, and the mias also seemed to be sitting on a lower branch which he had reached, gazing towards us, as if considering whether the person he saw was coming to attack him. Happily all this time Ursula was not aware of her danger. Having recovered herself a little, she again began to hurry on towards the rock. Hoping that, as the mias stopped when she stopped, it might do so again, I now shouted out to her. The creature turned a quick glance towards us, and discovered, as it might suppose, that it had two enemies instead of one. “Quick! quick, Ursula! quick!” now shouted Grace, pointing to the mias. The poor Frau showed by her gestures how frightened she was. Still she managed to run on, while the mias continued descending the tree. Before, however, it had reached the ground she had got up to the rock, at no great distance from Grace.
“Run! run!” cried Grace; “get safely on to the rock, good Frau, and I will defend you.”
“No, no, my child,” answered the Frau. “It is for me to fight. Give me the gun. I know how to use it. You run back to Emily and Oliver. Here, take this shell of water, though. I will fire the gun, I say.”
She almost snatched the weapon out of the hand of Grace, who came on towards us with the water. I saw that the Frau was taking aim at the mias, and was considering whether she could hit it at so great a distance. I was afraid that she would not, and entreated her not to fire.
“No, no, my child,” she shouted out; “I will wait till he come nearer.”
Our position was truly a dreadful one, for the creature might in a few minutes have destroyed the good Frau, and then come and attacked us if it had been so disposed. We were now once more quiet, and this induced the mias to remain stationary. I wondered why Merlin had not come. I thought that he might have assisted us at all events; at the same time it was too probable that should he attack the creature, he would be speedily worsted.
We now again applied more water to Oliver’s brow, and gave him a few more drops to drink. The effect was satisfactory; and not only did he open his eyes, but his lips began to move, and a slight colour came back to his cheeks. At length I heard him speaking, but in so low a voice that I had to put my ear to his mouth.
“What is it all about?” he asked; “what has happened?”
“Do not be anxious, dear Oliver,” I said. “The sun was very hot, and you fainted.” I did not like to tell him of our alarm about the mias.
“But I shall soon be well,” he answered. “It is very hot here. I think I could reach the shade of some tree, where it would be cooler.”
“Oh no, no; you must not move,” I cried out. “We are safer here.”
The exertion of speaking, however, was evidently very great, and with a gentle sigh he again leaned back. Of course, with that horrid creature near us, I would not have ventured towards the forest, even had he been better able to move.
The mias had all the time been watching us, and perhaps, from seeing so many people together, it thought we were about to attack it. Now, to our horror, we saw it reach the ground and stand upright, holding on by one of the boughs, and grinning savagely at us, so we fancied. The Frau took the gun. “I’ll fire! I’ll kill him!” she cried out. “He must not come near to hurt you young people.” There was a firmness in her tone I had seldom heard. She felt herself to be our protectress, and was prepared to do battle in our behalf. Oliver heard her speak.
“What is it?” he asked in a faint voice.
“Oh, there is a horrid mias near us, and the Frau has taken your gun to shoot it,” answered Grace.
“She cannot aim properly! Let me fire. Don’t fire—don’t fire, Frau!” he said, attempting to rise. He was, however, too weak, and again sunk back on the rock, supported by Grace and me.
With horror we saw the mias let go the bough and begin to walk towards us on all fours. It advanced towards where a thick shrub grew, when again catching hold of a bough, it raised itself up on its hind legs. “Now I’ll fire!” cried the Frau. I was afraid even then that had it been much nearer she would not have hit it, or at all events wounded it mortally, and I knew that it would become more savage. I cried out to her to stop till it was nearer, but at that instant she pulled the trigger. She had missed, we feared, for the mias, uttering a savage cry, again moved towards us.
“Load again; load again!” Grace and I cried out.
“Bring the gun to me, pray,” said Oliver; “I will load it. I can do that.” He felt for his ammunition, which was at his side, but the Frau took it from him.
“I’ll load,” she said, beginning to do so. All this time the mias was advancing. Now and then it turned its head, however, as if to watch what had become of its family, and this delayed its progress. The Frau, having had experience of loading at the fort, was soon again ready. Kneeling down, she raised the fowling-piece to her shoulder. The mias was still standing upright. At the instant she fired we saw it fall.
“It is hit—it is hit!” cried Grace.
“I have killed the creature!” exclaimed the Frau.
But no, it had merely fallen to its usual walking position, and was once more approaching us. There appeared no longer time for her to load. All hope of escaping the savage monster abandoned us. The Frau, however, grasped the gun, evidently intending to do battle. At that instant Merlin’s loud bark was heard, and we saw him tearing along over the sand towards us. The mias stopped to look at him, seeming to think him a more dangerous antagonist than were we three females and our sick companion. Merlin caught sight of the mias, and bounded towards him. I now began to fear for our four-footed friend, for I knew the power of the creature, and how one grasp of its strong hands would in an instant destroy the dog. Just, however, before Merlin reached it, loud shouts were heard, and we saw coming round the point of the rock several of our friends with guns in their hands, evidently understanding that we were in danger. Mr Tarbox, the boatswain, led the way, followed by Mr Hooker and Potto Jumbo. The mias now turned round and moved towards the dog, but Merlin was too sagacious to allow himself to be caught, and when almost within the creature’s reach he bounded on one side, and then wheeled off, still barking, with the evident intention of drawing it away from us. How thankful I felt when I saw him do so, for his purpose was answered. The creature followed him, making springs which at each bound almost brought it up to him; but on every occasion the dog nimbly avoided it, till he had brought it within range of the boatswain’s musket. The mias, exasperated by disappointment, made two or three successive springs towards the dog, which brought it still nearer to our friends. The boatswain fired, when the creature seemed to discover, for the first time, how near it was to its enemies. The ball took effect upon its shoulder. We saw it stand upright, stretching out its huge arms as if to grasp hold of them and tear them to pieces; but at that instant Mr Hooker stopped and levelled his gun, and the savage monster rolled over on the sand. Still it was not dead, and we were even yet afraid our friends might be injured; but the boatswain stopping, reloaded his gun, and Potto Jumbo rushing in with a spear thrust it at the creature. There was another report, and we knew that we were perfectly safe.
How thankful I felt that we had escaped, for I cannot describe thoroughly how fearfully alarmed we were. There is something so dreadful in the appearance of those huge baboons. Our friends arriving, proposed carrying Oliver into the shade; but we told them that we had seen another mias and a young one, on which Mr Hooker and the boatswain set off in search of the creatures, while Potto Jumbo lifted up Oliver in his powerful arms, almost as if he had been a child, and carried him off to the edge of the forest, where we could all be sufficiently shaded from the hot rays of the sun. Potto Jumbo then set off to join Mr Hooker and the boatswain. Oliver now quickly recovered, and after taking another draught of water, declared that he was able to walk home. We persuaded him, however, to wait till the return of our friends. In a short time we saw them coming through the forest, dragging a prisoner between them. It appeared to be a largish monkey. It was evident it was in no way pleased at being taken prisoner, for it turned its head round now on one side, now on the other, attempting to bite its captors, but we saw that its snout had been muzzled.
“We have brought a prize for my friend’s menagerie,” exclaimed Mr Hooker. “Here is a young mias, and I hope to tame and civilise it, though at present its manners are far from cultivated. We killed the mother, who now hangs to the bough of a tree. Potto Jumbo soon afterwards caught the young gentleman by a noose round the neck.”
By this time Oliver, having greatly recovered, was able, with the assistance of the Frau and Potto Jumbo, to set off for the house. I was anxious to remain that I might continue watching for Walter, but the Frau and Mr Hooker would on no account allow me to do so, and at last I yielded to their wishes and accompanied them home. We reached it without further adventure, having to stop, however, several times to rest Oliver, who was far weaker than he had supposed. The fright and excitement we had gone through made Grace and me very ill; and all night long I was dreaming that we were pursued by the hideous monster, from whom we in vain endeavoured to escape.
By the morning, however, we had much recovered. Our small captive showed its ferocious nature by trying to bite and scratch every one who approached it. It caught Tanda by the arm when taking it some food, and not till it had received several blows on the head would it let go. It was then shut up in a strong cage; but the following morning was found dead, after having made a vain attempt to force its way out.
Chapter Thirty One.
Mr Sedgwick’s unfortunate expedition.
My uncle and Mr Hooker are very, very kind; they do all they can to keep up my spirits, though I see they are very anxious about Walter—indeed, how could they be otherwise? Oliver was much better in the morning, though he was still suffering from the effects of the sun-stroke, which might have proved fatal; and Mr Sedgwick will not allow him to leave the house, or in any way to exert himself. Some of the party go down constantly to the rock and look out for Walter; but when each comes back he gives the same answer, “No boat in sight.” Both the gentlemen do their best to interest me in other matters, so as to take off my thoughts from Walter. My uncle reminded me that I had not been for some time to the plantation, which is at a considerable distance from the house. He took Grace and me there this afternoon.
“There, young ladies,” he observed, pointing to some of the tall stalks with beautiful leaves surrounding them. “A month ago these were little yellow seeds of maize. See how rapidly the germ within them has been developed. See! already there are some ears which we will carry home to cook; and in another month’s time they will be ripe, and fit for making into bread.”
There was a large plantation of them. We cut off a number of the heads which grew on the side of the stalk, several on one. Each head consisted of a long piece of pith, to which the grain was thickly attached, the whole sheathed in broad oblong leaves, which protect them from injury, till the seed is perfectly hard and ripe. Here also was a plantation of sugar-cane. They also were tall, graceful, reed-like plants, and were nearly ripe.
Tanda was working in the plantation—or garden, shall I call it? My uncle told him to bring home a quantity of the canes, and he began cutting them at once. He cut off the tops, and left them and the root on the ground. I thought I could have carried a number, but I found a single cane heavy, so loaded was it with juice.
In another part of the ground there was a plantation of rice. It was on the lowest level, where it could be well irrigated by a stream which ran near. The rice grew on the top of each blade, the head alone being cut off. The rice, before the husk is taken off, is called paddy, and rice-fields are therefore generally called paddy fields.
Among other productions of the garden are several bushes which produce the red pepper. They are covered with fruit of all sizes. Some of them are small and green, and some which are fully grown and ripe are of a bright pink colour. These are now fit for gathering, and after being dried are ready for use. It is called lombok by the Malays. They always carry about a quantity of it, and use it at every meal. One small plot was devoted to the cultivation of tobacco. That also was almost ready for use, and my uncle said we should have a good supply for the voyage. The leaves, as soon as they have grown to a sufficient size, are plucked off, and the petiole and part of the midrib are cut away. The leaves are then cut transversely into strips about one-sixteenth of an inch wide. These are then hung up to dry in the sun, and have very much the appearance of bunches of oakum. It is in this state ready for smoking in pipes. When employed for making cigars, the leaves are not cut, but dried more carefully in their whole state. Neither tobacco nor maize are natives of this region, but were brought from the New World two hundred years ago.
In the evening Tanda arrived with the bundles of sugar-cane. Fortunately the machine which my uncle had invented for crushing them was at some distance from the house, and had escaped destruction. It was sufficient for the object, though rather roughly made. After the juice had been pressed out it was boiled, and allowed to run into a number of pots, where it was to cool and crystallise. It was then of a dark brown colour. While so doing, a quantity of clay and water, of about the consistency of cream, was poured over it. The effect of the water filtering through was to purify the crystals and make them almost white. My uncle told us that it was discovered that the clay would produce this effect by a native, who observed that when birds stepped on the brown sugar with their muddy feet, wherever their claws had been placed it became curiously white. When the finer part of the juice had been pressed out, the remainder, which is thick brown molasses, is allowed to ferment with a little rice. Palm-wine is afterwards added, and from this compound arrack, the common spirit of the East, is distilled. My uncle manufactured it for the sake of preserving his specimens; but he said he considered it one of the most destructive stimulants which can be taken into the human body, especially in this hot country.
We had all gone to bed last night, and I believe everybody was asleep, when Grace and I were awoke by a curious sensation, as if our beds were being rocked. We sat up and began talking to each other, both having experienced the same feeling. Again the movement began, at first very gently, and then rapidly increasing till the whole house seemed to be moving up and down, like a ship at sea, while all the timbers creaked and cracked as if it were about to fall to pieces.
“What is the matter? What is it?” cried Frau Ursula, starting up. “Oh dear! oh dear! there’s an earthquake!” and she sprang from her bed. “Come! fly, girls, fly! The house will come down!” she screamed out.
Her voice awakened those in the other rooms who were still asleep. “Don’t be alarmed!” I heard my uncle saying. “A marble palace would be thrown to the ground long before this house will be. We are as safe here as anywhere.”
Scarcely had he spoken, however, when several crashes were heard in succession, and the house shook so much that I felt almost sea-sick. In spite of my uncle’s exhortation, the Frau hastily threw on her clothes, and we, imitating her example, followed her down the steps, where we were speedily joined by the rest of the inmates. There were strange noises in the forest, and it seemed as if the trees were knocking together, while the animals round us uttered unusual cries. My uncle and Tanda were the only people who remained inside. He again cried to us to come back, and at length the Frau was persuaded to return. He had struck a light, and enabled us to see our way.
“There, go to bed again,” he said; “a few bottles and cases only have been tumbled down, and no harm has been done.”
It was some time, however, after we had gone to our room, before we could again go to sleep. It seemed to me that we had scarcely been asleep many minutes before we felt another shock, very nearly as violent as the first. We again started up, and my uncle’s voice was once more heard, urging us all to remain quiet, and not expose ourselves to the damp night air. This time we obeyed him, though the Frau sitting up wrung her hands, wishing herself in some region where earthquakes were not experienced, and burning mountains were not to be seen. Neither Grace nor I could sleep for the remainder of the night; and I found that Oliver had been kept awake.
The next morning, when we met at breakfast, we looked somewhat pale, I suspect. My uncle was inclined to banter us, and told us that we should not mind such things, as he had felt several since he had been on the island, and no harm had come from them. I saw him, however, soon after that looking somewhat anxiously, I thought, up at the mountain, from which wreaths of smoke were ascending somewhat thicker than usual; and I heard him urging Mr Thudicumb to hasten on with the vessel. “Tanda and I will prepare stores as fast as we can,” he observed. The ship-builders hurried off with their tools, but he and Tanda and Oliver remained behind. They afterwards set off to what we call Cocoa-nut Grove, as a large number of cocoa-nuts grow there. Tanda led one of the buffaloes with huge panniers on his back. After a time they returned, having procured a number of cocoa-nuts. They were very different from the cocoa-nuts we had been some time before eating, far more like those I had been accustomed to see in England. When the nut is young the shell is soft, and of a pale green colour. It shortly afterwards, when the shell is formed, turns to a light yellow, and on the other side is a thin layer of so soft a consistency, that it can easily be cut with a spoon. In this condition it is always eaten by the natives. When it grows older, the outside assumes a wood colour. The husk becomes dry, and the hard shell is surrounded within by a thick, tough oily substance, and, indeed, just as we see it in England. The natives look upon it in this condition as very indigestible, and seldom eat it. It is of value, however, for the oil which it now contains. Such were the nuts which Tanda brought to the house. We all set to work to break the nuts and to scrape out the interior substance with knives. When this was done, it was put into a large pan and boiled over the fire. After a time the oil was separated from the pulp, and floated on the top. We then, under my uncle’s directions, skimmed it off, and poured it into bowls and bottles. It was now fit for use—a very sweet, pure oil. As our pan was not very large, it took some time to make a quantity. We wanted some for present use, but the chief object was to have a supply for our lamps on board the vessel. This oil, my uncle said, is generally used throughout the archipelago for lamps; indeed, it is almost the only substance used for lighting.
We were so busily employed during the day, that we almost forgot all about the earthquake. There was one thing, however, we did not forget; for, in spite of occupation, my thoughts were constantly recurring to Walter. As soon as our work was over, we ran down to the beach, accompanied by Oliver, who carried his gun for our defence, lest another mias might appear. In vain we scanned the horizon. No sail appeared, no object which we could even mistake for the boat, and with sad hearts we returned to the house. The sun had just set. As we were coming along the path to the house, we saw some large creatures moving about in the air with a peculiar motion unlike birds. Going a little way we saw two more, and then another couple appeared. Oliver raised his gun and fired, when down fell a huge creature which looked like a quadruped with wings. Though unable to fly, it began to defend itself bravely, and Oliver had to give it several severe blows before he could venture to touch it. “It will be a prize to Mr Sedgwick, whatever it is,” he observed, fastening a line round the animal’s neck. He dragged it up to the house, and when we brought it up to the light we found that it was a huge bat. The Frau, when she saw it, declared that it was a flying-fox. Mr Sedgwick, however, said it was really a bat, and when he measured it he found that is was four feet six inches from tip to tip of its wings. Oliver said it looked quite like an antediluvian animal. Mr Hooker said he had often seen them; that one day he found one hanging to the bough of a tree with its head downwards. He fired several shots before the creature would release its crooked claws from the bough to which it held. Tanda proposed skinning and cooking it, saying it was good to eat. However, Grace and I begged that we might not be asked to sup upon it, as the appearance of the animal was far from tempting. Mr Hooker called the creature Oliver had shot a Pteropus.
Although, through the industry of my uncle and Tanda, we were well supplied with vegetable food, we were greatly in want of meat. He therefore invited Oliver to accompany him on an expedition to shoot wild ducks on a lagoon at some distance. He advised us, during their absence, to keep within sight of the house, or at all events not to go far from it. Ursula begged that Merlin should remain with us.
“Yes, yes,” said my uncle: “he might act as a retriever for us; at the same time, I dare say, we can do without him, and he will serve as your guard, and a very faithful one he seems to be.”
I do not know why, but I felt rather anxious about my uncle and Oliver when they set out. I could not help thinking of the serpents and wild beasts they might encounter. They were going also to a district where crocodiles abounded. I was more anxious because they despised the crocodiles, and said they were stupid creatures, and would never hurt any one who was on his guard; and that only animals when very thirsty and drinking, or people incautiously bathing, were ever caught. As soon as they were gone, we set to work with our various duties in the house. I have not described them, but we had plenty to do, and wished to employ ourselves usefully. After that, Grace and I agreed to go down to the beach in the vain hope—I am almost compelled to acknowledge that it is so—that Walter might be returning. I can now understand how those who have lost some dear one at sea go to the shore day after day and month after month, hoping against hope, that they might return. When I am away from the beach, I am constantly wishing to return to it, and often in the house I look down the pathway leading to the shore, fancying that possibly I might see Walter coming up it. Oh, what joy it would be to my heart! My dear, dear brother!—the only person in the world nearly related to me, whom I know well and love thoroughly. Our uncle is very kind, but I as yet do not know him well, and he is odd in some things. Oliver truly acts the part of a brother, and I am sure loves me as a sister, and I value his regard. Merlin seemed also to watch the horizon as anxiously as we did. I am sure he knows that Walter is away, and is also looking for him.
We watched and watched, till the sun, sinking low in the horizon, warned us that we must go back and prepare supper for our friends. The ship-builders would soon be coming back, and we hoped that my uncle and Oliver would also be coming home. Again we cast one lingering look towards the horizon, but there was no break in its clear, well-marked line. We found the Frau somewhat anxious about us. “I do always think of that horrid mias, for though Merlin would fight for you, yet the creature would kill the dog with one grip of his big hands,” she observed. We had got the table spread, and the Frau was putting some dishes on it, when Mr Hooker and the rest arrived from Hope Harbour. They had seen nothing of my uncle and Oliver. Why had they not come back? I remembered my forebodings in the morning, and again began to fear that some accident had happened to them. Mr Hooker, however, said he thought they would have been led, by their anxiety to obtain game, further than they intended; and as all the party were very hungry, they commenced supper without waiting for them. Grace and I sat down, but could eat nothing. Oliver had scarcely recovered his strength, and I was afraid that he might have been seized with the same sort of attack as he was a short time ago. It grew darker and darker, and very rapidly night came down upon us. Still no sign of the missing ones. Mr Tarbox proposed going out to search for them with torches. Roger Trew and Potto Jumbo agreed to accompany him. A supply of dammar torches was soon manufactured, and each carrying a bundle on his back, with one in one hand and a gun in the other, they sallied forth. As long as they could find their way, there would be less danger moving through the forest at night with torches than in the day-time, as savage beasts and snakes avoid the light, and only harmless moths and bats fly against it. In my eagerness I should have liked to have gone with them, but they would not hear of it. Merlin, however, having performed his duty in watching over us, when he saw them going out, quickly followed, and of course he was likely to be of use in searching for the lost ones. Mr Hooker and the mate were not so strong as they were before their illness, and were therefore easily persuaded to stay behind. They tried to keep up my spirits, and reminded me that my uncle was so well acquainted with the country, that he was not likely to have got into any danger himself, or to have allowed his companions to do so.
Often Grace and I ran out to the verandah to watch for them, hoping to see the bright light of the torches re-appearing along the path. How my heart bounded when at length I heard a shout and saw a gleam of light in the distance! It grew brighter and brighter, and then I could make out several people carrying torches. I tried to count them. I saw three, and then a fourth figure. There ought to have been six. I could distinguish my uncle from his tall figure and peculiar dress. Then it seemed to me as if they were carrying something between them. In vain I looked for Oliver, whom I should have known by his being shorter than the rest. We ran down the steps to welcome them, and inquired what had happened.
“Don’t be alarmed, Miss Emily,” I heard Roger Trew, who came first, exclaim. “Your uncle is all right, but Oliver—” Oh, how my heart sank. “Well, he has been somewhat hurt. He will come round, though; don’t be afraid, miss. Poor Tanda, it has been a bad job for him.”
Before I could make any more inquiries, the rest of the party, who bore Oliver among them, arrived, and he was carried up the steps. I ran to his side. He could speak but faintly. My uncle seemed very much out of spirits, as his faithful Tanda had lost his life.
“I do not know which of us may go next,” he observed. “Oliver has had a narrow escape, let me tell you; and he deserved to escape, for a very bold thing he did. He is a brave lad. It would have been a pity to lose him.”
“But what has happened? What has happened?” exclaimed the Frau. “Why Oliver again ill?”
“You shall hear all about it by-and-by, Frau. But here, give Oliver some food, he requires it, for even I am almost faint for want of my supper.”
The Frau attended to Oliver’s wants, and my uncle sat down to the supper-table and began eating away without speaking further. He was not a man of many words, and when anything had annoyed him, I observed that he was more silent even than usual. As I did not think Oliver was in a fit state to speak, I resolved to bridle my curiosity till the next day. Food and a night’s rest greatly restored Oliver, and he was up next morning at the usual hour. He then gave me a short account of what had happened:—
“Instead of taking our usual course across the bamboo bridge,” he observed, “we struck away to the right to explore a part of the country Mr Sedgwick had not visited. We caught sight of several wild creatures, and among others a mias which led us a long chase, and even then managed to climb up into his nest in a tall tree where we could not reach him. You see, Emily, these creatures build nests for themselves and their young ones, and indeed, from what Tanda told Mr Sedgwick, I believe they build one every night when they go to sleep in the boughs of a large tree. Certainly this one seemed to have no inclination to attack us, and I could easily believe that they would not generally do so, unless alarmed and afraid of being attacked themselves. After a little time we reached a most curious spot, all around destitute of vegetation. The ground rose towards it, and in the centre was a miniature conical hill, out of which there bubbled a stream of water running down on one side of it. Mr Sedgwick hurried forward to examine this curious spring, and on tasting the water, he took some grease out of his wallet to wash his hands in the fountain. Immediately he produced a thick lather, and shouted out to me to come near and wash my hands if so disposed, as he had discovered a veritable soap-spring. (Note. There is a soap-spring of this description in Timor, an island our friends did not visit.) I proposed that as the spot was at no great distance, we should mark it, so as to be able to repair there to wash our clothes, preparatory to our voyage. Mr Sedgwick said he had no doubt it contained a large quantity of alkali and iodine, which had been the cause of the destruction of the surrounding vegetation. Not far off were some beautiful clear springs, which possessed none of these qualities. We drank the water from the latter, which tasted thoroughly pure, and was beautifully clear. Above them rose several lofty banyan-trees, their numberless stems forming cool arbours which tempted us greatly to rest there, and I could not help wishing that you had accompanied us thus far. I think, had Mr Sedgwick discovered it before, he would have built his house in the neighbourhood. How delighted Walter would have been with the picturesque beauty of the scene. Going on for some way over a variety of hills, we descended to a beautiful lake, where we soon discovered a flock of brown ducks. On getting down, however, to the edge, we found a border so marshy that we could not get a good shot at them. On the side where we were was a band of dead trees. We proceeded along the lake, through the tall, sharp-edged grass, till we got exactly opposite the spot where the flock had settled. They could not see us, as we were thoroughly sheltered by the grass and trunks of trees; at the same time it was difficult to shoot them on account of the trees which intervened. We kept as close as we could, expecting them every instant to take to flight, when Mr Sedgwick sprang up, and I followed his example. We both fired at the same time. Although a number of the ducks flew away, six or seven at least remained floating on the water. Had Merlin been with us, we thought we should soon have had them; but now, how to get them out was the question. I proposed swimming off for them, but Mr Sedgwick said that after my illness I ought not to make the attempt, and then Tanda offered to go. ‘Very well,’ said Mr Sedgwick; ‘you, Oliver, stay and take care of the guns, and Tanda and I will go.’ Accordingly, throwing off his clothes, he and Tanda began to wade through the mud and reeds. It appeared dangerous work, as the mud was very soft and the reeds very tall, and often they were hid from sight. I had never felt so anxious before. Presently I saw them emerge from the reeds and begin to swim towards the ducks. Some of them not having been killed outright, had floated to a distance from the others. Towards these Tanda made his way, while Mr Sedgwick swam towards the four which were still floating. He was already bringing them back, when, to my horror, I saw between him and Tanda a huge snout appear above the surface. I knew it to be that of a crocodile. I trembled for the fate of our kind friend. Tanda, I thought, would be safe, as he was near the shore. Could I save Mr Sedgwick? Whether Tanda saw the crocodile or not, I do not know; but he had already seized the ducks, and had once more plunged into the water, swimming towards his master. Mr Sedgwick struck out boldly. He had caught sight of the creature, but it did not unnerve his arm, nor would he let go his ducks. I heard his voice shouting. ‘Fire!’ I thought he said. Putting the other guns down, I immediately loaded with ball, knowing that shot would be utterly useless. I approached the edge of the lake, and fired at the monster’s head, feeling that the lives of my companions might depend on my aim. The ball struck the monster, but I saw it bound off into the water. The creature sank, and I dreaded to see it come up near our friend. The next instant, what was my horror to observe it rise again, and with open jaws rush at Tanda. The brave fellow shouted out and thrust the ducks forward, hoping, apparently, to draw back in time to escape those terrible jaws; but the monster was a large one and hungry, and so great was his impetus that it seemed almost as if not an instant had passed before the upper part of the unfortunate Tanda’s body was seized and he was dragged to the bottom of the pond. Not a shriek escaped him; not a sound was heard.
“Great as was my horror, I still had presence of mind again to load, to be prepared to assist Mr Sedgwick, should it be necessary. I scarcely think he saw what had occurred, and with powerful strokes he made his way towards the bank. Even when he had reached the sedges, I knew that he might not be safe, as those terrible monsters could easily follow him. To assist him, however, I kept shouting at the top of my voice, holding my gun ready to fire should one appear. At length he made his way across the sedges, and landed on the bank, holding up the birds, and exclaiming with a laugh, ‘We have done well! I hope Tanda has been equally successful!’ Sad was the change which came over his countenance when I told him what had occurred. Not till then did I know how anxious I had been. The sun all the time was burning down on my head, and a sudden sickness overpowered me. I knew no more till I found myself in the shade of the banyan-trees, near the cool fountain I have described. Mr Sedgwick was sitting near me, and looking very sad. He felt greatly the loss of Tanda, and, I believe, thought that I also was dying. The cool air of evening, and the water with which Mr Sedgwick had liberally bathed my head, had revived me. It had been a great exertion to him carrying me thus far, and he seemed to doubt whether he could manage to convey me to the house. However, he at length took me up, but he was very nearly overcome, I suspect, when we were met by our friends.”