Coral Island. Robert Michael Ballantyne
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he did with the point of our useless pencil-case. Then he strung them on the cocoa-nut spine, and on putting a light to the topmost nut, we found to our joy that it burned with a clear, beautiful flame; upon seeing which, Peterkin sprang up and danced round the fire for at least five minutes in the excess of his satisfaction.
“Now lads,” said Jack, extinguishing our candle, the sun will set in an hour, so we have no time to lose. “I shall go and cut a young tree to make my bow out of, and you had better each of you go and select good strong sticks for clubs, and we’ll set to work at them after dark.”
So saying he shouldered his axe and went off, followed by Peterkin, while I took up the piece of newly discovered cloth, and fell to examining its structure. So engrossed was I in this that I was still sitting in the same attitude and occupation when my companions returned.
“I told you so!” cried Peterkin, with a loud laugh. “Oh, Ralph, you’re incorrigible. See, there’s a club for you. I was sure, when we left you looking at that bit of stuff, that we would find you poring over it when we came back, so I just cut a club for you as well as for myself.”
“Thank you, Peterkin,” said I. “It was kind of you to do that, instead of scolding me for a lazy fellow, as I confess I deserve.”
“Oh! as to that,” returned Peterkin, “I’ll blow you up yet, if you wish it—only it would be of no use if I did, for you’re a perfect mule!”
As it was now getting dark we lighted our candle, and placing it in a holder made of two crossing branches, inside of our bower, we seated ourselves on our leafy beds and began to work.
“I intend to appropriate the bow for my own use,” said Jack, chipping the piece of wood he had brought with his axe. “I used to be a pretty fair shot once. But what’s that you’re doing?” he added, looking at Peterkin, who had drawn the end of a long pole into the tent, and was endeavouring to fit a small piece of the hoop-iron to the end of it.
“I’m going to enlist into the Lancers,” answered Peterkin. “You see, Jack, I find the club rather an unwieldy instrument for my delicately-formed muscles, and I flatter myself I shall do more execution with a spear.”
“Well, if length constitutes power,” said Jack, “you’ll certainly be invincible.”
The pole which Peterkin had cut was full twelve feet long, being a very strong but light and tough young tree, which merely required thinning at the butt to be a serviceable weapon.
“That’s a very good idea,” said I.
“Which—this?” inquired Peterkin, pointing to the spear.
“Yes;” I replied.
“Humph!” said he; “you’d find it a pretty tough and matter-of-fact idea, if you had it stuck through your gizzard, old boy!”
“I mean the idea of making it is a good one,” said I, laughing. “And, now I think of it, I’ll change my plan, too. I don’t think much of a club, so I’ll make me a sling out of this piece of cloth. I used to be very fond of slinging, ever since I read of David slaying Goliath the Philistine, and I was once thought to be expert at it.”
So I set to work to manufacture a sling. For a long time we all worked very busily without speaking. At length Peterkin looked up: “I say, Jack, I’m sorry to say I must apply to you for another strip of your handkerchief, to tie on this rascally head with. It’s pretty well torn at any rate, so you won’t miss it.”
Jack proceeded to comply with this request when Peterkin suddenly laid his hand on his arm and arrested him.
“Hist, man,” said he, “be tender; you should never be needlessly cruel if you can help it. Do try to shave past Lord Nelson’s mouth without tearing it, if possible! Thanks. There are plenty more handkerchiefs on the cocoa-nut trees.”
Poor Peterkin! with what pleasant feelings I recall and record his jests and humorous sayings now!
While we were thus engaged, we were startled by a distant but most strange and horrible cry. It seemed to come from the sea, but was so far away that we could not clearly distinguish its precise direction. Rushing out of our bower, we hastened down to the beach and stayed to listen. Again it came quite loud and distinct on the night air,—a prolonged, hideous cry, something like the braying of an ass. The moon had risen, and we could see the islands in and beyond the lagoon quite plainly, but there was no object visible to account for such a cry. A strong gust of wind was blowing from the point whence the sound came, but this died away while we were gazing out to sea.
“What can it be?” said Peterkin, in a low whisper, while we all involuntarily crept closer to each other.
“Do you know,” said Jack, “I have heard that mysterious sound twice before, but never so loud as to-night. Indeed it was so faint that I thought I must have merely fancied it, so, as I did not wish to alarm you, I said nothing about it.”
We listened for a long time for the sound again, but as it did not come, we returned to the bower and resumed our work.
“Very strange,” said Peterkin, quite gravely. “Do you believe in ghosts, Ralph?”
“No,” I answered, “I do not. Nevertheless I must confess that strange, unaccountable sounds, such as we have just heard, make me feel a little uneasy.”
“What say you to it, Jack?”
“I neither believe in ghosts nor feel uneasy,” he replied. “I never saw a ghost myself, and I never met with any one who had; and I have generally found that strange and unaccountable things have almost always been accounted for, and found to be quite simple, on close examination. I certainly can’t imagine what that sound is; but I’m quite sure I shall find out before long,—and if it’s a ghost I’ll—”
“Eat it,” cried Peterkin.
“Yes, I’ll eat it! Now, then, my bow and two arrows are finished; so if you’re ready we had better turn in.”
By this time Peterkin had thinned down his spear and tied an iron point very cleverly to the end of it; I had formed a sling, the lines of which were composed of thin strips of the cocoa-nut cloth, plaited; and Jack had made a stout bow, nearly five feet long, with two arrows, feathered with two or three large plumes which some bird had dropt. They had no barbs, but Jack said that if arrows were well feathered, they did not require iron points, but would fly quite well if merely sharpened at the point; which I did not know before.
“A feathered arrow without a barb,” said he, “is a good weapon, but a barbed arrow without feathers is utterly useless.”
The string of the bow was formed of our piece of whip-cord, part of which, as he did not like to cut it, was rolled round the bow.
Although thus prepared for a start on the morrow, we thought it wise to exercise ourselves a little in the use of our weapons before starting, so we spent the whole of the next day in practising. And it was well we did so, for we found that our arms were very imperfect, and that we were far from perfect in the use of them. First, Jack found that the bow was much too strong, and he had to thin it. Also the spear was much too heavy, and so had to be reduced in thickness, although nothing would induce Peterkin to have it shortened. My sling answered very well, but I had fallen so much out of practice that my first stone knocked off Peterkin’s hat, and narrowly missed making a second Goliath of him. However, after having spent the whole day in diligent practice, we began to find some of our former expertness returning—at least Jack and I did. As for Peterkin, being naturally a neat-handed boy, he soon handled his spear well, and could run full tilt at a cocoa nut, and hit it with great precision once out of every five times.
But I feel satisfied that we owed much of our rapid success to the unflagging energy of Jack, who insisted that, since we had made him Captain, we should obey him; and he kept us at work from morning till night, perseveringly, at the same thing. Peterkin wished very much to run about and stick his spear into everything he passed; but Jack put up a cocoa nut, and would not let him leave off running at that for a moment, except when he wanted to rest.