by Adrien Paul
CHAPTER XXI.
LYING TO--HEART AND INSTINCT--SPARROWS VIEWED ASCONSUMERS--MIGRATIONS--POSTING A LETTER IN THEPACIFIC--CANNIBALS--ADVENTURES OF A LOCKET.
The glimpse of moonshine only lasted a second, but it was sufficientto light up the valley of the shadow of death. All around was againenveloped in obscurity. The moon, like a modest benefactor who hideshimself from those to whose wants he has ministered, concealed itselfbehind its screen of blackness.
The pinnace was thrown into stays, and they resolved to lie-to tilldaybreak. There might be rocks to windward as well as to leeward; atall events, they felt that their safest course lay in maintaining, asfar as possible, their actual position; and, after having returnedthanks for their almost miraculous escape, they made the usualarrangements for passing the night.
Next morning they found themselves in the midst of a labyrinth ofrocks, from which, with the help of Providence, they succeeded inextricating themselves. The rocks, or rather reefs, amongst which theywere entangled, are very common in these seas. As they are scarcelyvisible at high water, they are extremely dangerous, and often bafflethe skill of the most expert navigator.
Whilst Willis steered the pinnace amongst the islands and rocks of theHawaian Archipelago, Fritz kept a look-out for savages, fresh water,and eligible landing-places. And Jack, after having posted up his log,set about inditing a letter for home.
"The voyage," said he, "has lately been so prolific in adventure, thatI scarcely know where to begin."
"Begin by saluting them all round," suggested Fritz.
"But, brother of mine, that is usually done at the end of theletter," objected Jack.
"What then? you can repeat the salutations at the end, and you mightalso, for that matter, put them in the middle as well."
"I have written lots of letters on board ship for my comrades,"remarked Willis, "and I invariably commenced by saying--_I take a penin my hand to let you know I am well, hoping you are the same_."
"What else could you take in your hand for such a purpose, O Rono?"inquired Jack.
"Sometimes, after this preamble, I added, '_but I am afraid_.'"
"I thought you old salts were never afraid of anything, short of theFlying Dutchman."
"Yes; but the letters I put that in were for young lubbers, who,instead of sending home half their pay, were writing for extrasupplies, and were naturally in great fear that their requests wouldbe refused."
"I scarcely think I shall adopt that style, Willis, even though itwere recognized by the navy regulations."
"Do you think the pigeon will find its way with the letter from hereto New Switzerland?" inquired Willis.
"I have no doubt about that," replied Fritz, "it naturally returns toits nest and its affections. If you had wings, would you not flystraight off in the direction of the Bass Rock or Ailsa Craig, to huntup your old arm-chair?"
"Don't speak of it; I feel my heart go pit-pat when I think of home,sweet home."
"So do the birds. When they soften the grain before they throw it intothe maw of their fledgelings--when they fly off and return laden withmidges to their nests--when they tear the down from their breasts toprotect their eggs and their young, do you think their hearts do notbeat as well as yours?"
"But all that is said to be instinct."
"Heart or instinct, where is the difference? The Abbe Spallanzani sawtwo swallows that were carried to Milan return to Pavia in fifteenminutes, and the distance between the two cities is seven leagues."
"That I can easily believe."
"When you see a little, insignificant bird flying backwards andforwards, perching on one branch and hopping off to another,whistling, carolling, perching here and there, you think that it hasno cares, that it does not reflect, and that it does not love!"
"Well, I have heard in my time a great many wonderful stories ofrobin-redbreasts and jenny-wrens, but I always understood that theywere intended only to amuse little boys and girls."
"You consider, doubtless, that a field-sparrow is not a creature ofmuch importance; but do you know that he consumes half a bushel ofcorn annually?"
"If that is his only merit, the farmers, I dare say, would be glad toget rid of him."
"But it is not his only merit. What do you think of his killing threethousand insects a week."
"That is more to the purpose. But, to return to the pigeon, supposingit is possible for it to find its way, how long do you suppose it willtake to get there?"
"It is estimated that birds of passage fly over two hundred miles aday, if they keep on the wing for six hours."
"Two hundred miles in six hours is fast sailing, anyhow."
"Swallows have been seen in Senegal on the 9th of October, that is,eight or nine days after they leave Europe; and that journey theyrepeat every year."
"They must surely make some preparations for such a lengthyexcursion."
"When the period of departure approaches, they collect together introops on the chimneys or roofs of houses, and on the tops of trees.During this operation, they keep up an incessant cry, which bringsfamilies of them from all quarters. The young ones try the strength oftheir wings under the eyes of the parents. Finally, they make somestrategic dispositions, and elect a chief."
"You talk of the swallows as if they were an army preparing forbattle, with flags flying, trumpets sounding, and ready to march atthe word of command."
"The resemblance between flocks of birds and serried masses of men inmartial array is striking. Wild ducks, swans, and cranes fly in a kindof regimental order; their battalions assume the form of a triangle orwedge, so as to cut through the air with greater facility, anddiminish the resistance it presents to their flight.
"But how do you know it is for that?"
"What else could it be for? The leader gives notice, by a peculiarcry, of the route it is about to take. This cry is repeated by theflock, as if to say that they will follow, and keep the directionindicated. When they meet with a bird of prey whose attacks they mayhave to repulse, the ranks fall in so as to present a solid phalanx tothe enemy."
"If they had a commissariat in the rear and a few sappers in front,the resemblance would be complete."
"If a storm arises," continued Fritz, without noticing Willis'scommentary, "they lower their flight and approach the ground."
"Forgotten their umbrellas, perhaps."
"When they make a halt, outposts are established to keep a look outwhile the troop sleeps."
"And, in cases of alarm, the outposts fire and fall in as a matter ofcourse."
"Great Rono," said Jack, "you are become a downright quiz. I havefinished my letter whilst you have been discussing the poultry," headded, handing the pen to his brother, "and it only waits yourpostscriptum." Fritz having added a few lines, the epistle was sealed,and was then attached to one of the pigeons, which, after hovering ashort time round the pinnace, took a flight upwards and disappeared inthe clouds.
They were now in sight of a large island, which bore no traces ofhabitation. There was a heavy surf beating on the shore, but the casewas urgent, so Willis and Jack embarked in the canoe, and, after ahard fight with the waves, landed on the beach.
Each of them were armed with a double-barrelled rifle, and furnishedwith a boatswain's whistle. The whistle was to signal the discovery ofwater, and a rifle shot was to bring them together in case of danger.These arrangements being made, Jack proceeded in the direction of athicket, which stood at the distance of some hundred yards from theshore. He had no sooner reached the cover in the vicinity of the treesthan he was pounced upon by two ferocious-looking savages. They gavehim no time to level his rifle or to draw a knife. One of his captorsheld his hands firmly behind his back, whilst the other dragged himtowards the wood. At this moment the Pilot's whistle rang sharplythrough the air. This put an end to any hopes that Jack might haveentertained of being rescued through that means. Had he sounded thewhistle, it would only have led Willis to suppose that he had heardthe signal, and was on his way to join him.
Poor Jack judged, from the aspect of the men who held him, that theywere cannibals, and consequently that his fate was sealed, for if hissurmises were correct, there was little chance of the wretchesrelinquishing their prey. Jack had often amused himself at the expenseof the anthropophagi, but here he was actually within their grasp.Though death terminates the sorrows and the sufferings of man, andthough the result is the same in whatever shape it comes, yet thereare circumstances which cause its approach to be regarded with terrorand dismay. In one's bed, exhausted by old age or disease, the lipsonly open to give utterance to a sigh of pain; life, then, is a burdenthat is laid down without reluctance; we glide imperceptibly andalmost voluntarily into eternity.
At twenty years of age, however, when we are full of health and ardor,the case is very different. Then we are at the threshold of hope andhappiness; our illusions have not had time to fade, the future is abrilliant meteor sparkling in sunshine. At that age our seas arealways calm, and the rocks and shoals are all concealed. Our barksglide jauntily along, the sailors sing merrily, the perils areshrouded in romance, and the flag flutters gaily in the breeze. Thenlife is not abandoned without a tear of regret.
To die in the midst of one's friends is not to quit them entirely.They come to see us through the marble or stone in which we areshrouded. It is another thing to have no other sepulchre than theaesophagus of a cannibal. How the recollections of the past darted intoJack's mind! He felt that he loved those whom he was on the point ofleaving a thousand times more than he did before. What would he nothave given for the power to bid them one last adieu? The idea ofquitting life thus was horrible.
It was in vain that he tried to shake off his assailants; hisadolescent strength was as nothing in the arms of steel that boundhim. He saw that he was powerless in their hands, and at length ceasedmaking any further attempts to escape.
The savages, finding that he had relaxed his struggles, commenced torifle and strip him. They tore off his upper garments, and discovereda small locket, containing a medallion of his mother, which theunfortunate youth wore round his neck. This prize, which the savagesno doubt regarded as a talisman of some sort, they both desired topossess. They quarrelled about it, and commenced fighting over it.Jack's hands were left at liberty. In an instant he had seized hisrifle. He ran a few paces back, turned, took deliberate aim at themost powerful of his adversaries, who, with a shriek, fell to theground. The other savage, scared by the report of the shot and itseffects upon his companion, took to flight, but he carried off thelocket with him.
Jack had now regained his courage. He felt, like Telemachus in themidst of his battles, that God was with him, and he flew, perhapsimprudently, after the fugitive. Seeing, however, that he had nochance with him as regards speed, he discharged his second rifle. Theshot did not take effect, but the report brought the savage to hisknees. The frightened wretch pressed his hands together in an attitudeof supplication. Jack stopped at a little distance, and, by animperious gesture, gave him to understand that he wanted the locket.The sign was comprehended, for the savage laid the talisman on theground.
"Now," said Jack, "in the name of my mother I give you your life."
By another sign, he signified to the man that he was at liberty, whichhe no sooner understood than he vanished like an arrow.
Great was the consternation of Fritz when he heard the reports; hefeared that the whole island was in commotion, and that both hisbrother and the Pilot were surrounded by a legion of copper-coloreddevils. From the conformation of the coast he could see nothing, and,like Sisiphus on his rock, he was tied by imperious necessity to hispost.
The Pilot, on hearing the first shot, ran to the spot, and both he andJack arrived at the same instant, where the savage lay bleeding on theground.
"You are safe and sound, I hope?" said Willis, anxiously.
"With the exception of some slight contusions, and the loss of myclothes, thank God, I am all right, Willis."
"We are born to bad luck, it seems."
"Say rather we are the spoilt children of Providence. I have justpassed through the eye of a needle."
"Is this the only savage you have seen?"
"No, there were two of them; and, to judge from their actions, Iverily believe the rascals intended to eat me. As for this one, he ismore frightened than hurt."
And so it was, he had escaped with some slugs in his shoulders; but heseemed, by the contortions of his face, to think that he was dying.
"Fortunately," said Jack, "my rifle was not loaded with ball. I shouldbe sorry to have the death of a human being on my conscience."
"Well," said Willis, "I am not naturally cruel, but, beset as you havebeen, I should have shot both the fellows without the slightestcompunction."
"Still," said Jack, giving the wounded savage a mouthful of brandy,"we ought to have mercy on the vanquished--they are men likeourselves, at all events."
"Yes, they have flesh and bone, arms, legs, hands, and teeth like us;but I doubt whether they are possessed of souls and hearts."
"The chances are that they possess both, Willis; only neither the onenor the other has been trained to regard the things of this world in aproper light. Their notions as to diet, for example, arise fromignorance as to what substances are fit and proper for human food."
"As you like," said Willis; "but let us be off; there may be more ofthem lurking about."
"What! again without water?"
"No, this time I have taken care to fill the casks; the canoe is ladenwith fresh water."
"Fritz must be very uneasy about us; but this man may die if we leavehim so."
"Very likely," said the Pilot; "but that is no business of ours."
"Good bye," said Jack, lifting up the wounded savage, and propping himagainst a tree; "I may never have the pleasure of seeing you again,and am sorry to leave you in such a plight; but it will be a lessonfor you, and a hint to be a little more hospitable for the future inyour reception of strangers."
The savage raised his eyes for an instant, as if to thank Jack for hisgood offices, and then relapsed into his former attitude of dejection.
Twenty minutes later the canoe was aboard the pinnace.
"Fritz," said Jack, throwing his arms round his brother's neck, "I amdelighted to see you again; half an hour ago I had not the shadow of achance of ever beholding you more."
