Danny Dunn on a Desert Island

by Jay Williams

  They dropped the blanket. Dr. Grimes grabbed Danny by one arm, and Professor Bullfinch took him by the other.

  “Look out,” he said. “You’ll pull me in half. Joe ran up into the jungle. We were playing. When I went after him he was gone, and I found footprints all over the place. Big ones, of bare feet. They took him toward the banana grove.”

  “Great heavens!” exclaimed the Professor. “It’s my fault. I should never have let you two go up to the bathtub alone.”

  “It’s much more my fault,” Dr. Grimes said somberly. “I was the one who proposed it. I should have thought—”

  “No point in our competing for guilt,” Professor Bullfinch cut in. “We must go after him.”

  “But the ship—?”

  They all turned to look at the sea. By now the distant ship was visible, although still too far away for details to be seen.

  “They may not be here for another hour,” said the Professor. “We can’t wait. Who knows what may be happening to Joe? I’d never forgive myself if we didn’t at least try to help him.”

  “Nor I. You’re right,” said Dr. Grimes. “I have an idea. We can leave a large note here in camp, and blaze our trail as we go so that we can be followed.”

  “Splendid!” Professor Bullfinch seized the fruit carrier and, extracting the carton from it, ripped a large piece of cardboard free. On it, in bold letters, Dr. Grimes wrote: ONE OF OUR PARTY SEIZED BY NATIVES. FOLLOW BLAZES. BRING WEAPONS.

  “That ought to do it,” he said.

  Meantime, Professor Bullfinch had taken up the obsidian ax, and he hefted it thoughtfully. “I should hate to have to turn this against a person,” he said. “Still, a scientist should not shrink from new experiences. We can’t let anything happen to Joe.”

  Dr. Grimes got himself a stone-tipped club, and Danny took his spear and the raft knife. Then, somewhat grimly, the three set off into the jungle.

  From the banana grove the footprints led upward, toward the cone-shaped peak in the island’s center. This territory was all strange to them. Their first ten days had been spent in such intense activity, working on their various projects and gathering enough food to stay alive, that they had no time for exploration. The jungle grew thicker and they could see clearly the broken twigs and trampled underbrush where the natives had passed with their prisoner.

  The ground became steeper and the going more difficult. Outcroppings of rock appeared, black and sharply ribbed, and Danny had to scout on either side to find the traces of the men they were following. Dr. Grimes cut one more blaze in a stunted tree, and then they climbed over a ledge of lava and found themselves looking down the other side of the mountain.

  They wiped their streaming faces and stared out over the green sea of treetops. Far below, near the shore, they could see the gleam of a beach and some grayish, rounded humps that must be the roofs of huts.

  “Look!” said Danny. “There’s a trail here.”

  They saw a pile of stones and beyond it another. They went down a little way and saw that there was a regular pathway, very narrow but clearly marked, running down into the forest.

  Danny went first, without hesitation, and the two men followed him more slowly. They began to speak in whispers, and to tread more softly, and unconsciously they all gripped their rude weapons more tightly.

  The trail wound down the mountainside and soon they passed groves of banana, papaya, guava, and other fruit trees. A little farther on, in a grassy space, some goats bounded away. Then, abruptly, they emerged on the edge of a high bank which led down to a clearing. They stopped short. They were looking directly into the native village.

  Rough, simple huts, thatched with banana fronds, were arranged in a large circle around an open space. Other, smaller huts could be seen among the trees beyond. Here and there were small plantings, and a few pigs rooted about the outskirts of the village. But all their attention was fixed on what was happening in the clearing.

  A crowd of dark-skinned people were gathered about Joe, who was being held by two men. A short fat man was talking excitedly to the boy, who stood as if dazed, for he made no attempt to struggle. And behind him was a large iron pot resting on flat stones over a pit. In the pit a fire crackled and blazed.

  As the three watched, the fat man placed a garland of green leaves on the boy’s head.

  “Parsley!” gasped Dr. Grimes.

  They had sunk down in the underbrush to avoid being seen, but now Danny started to his feet.

  “Get down!” whispered Professor Bullfinch, clutching at Danny’s arm.

  “But we’ve got to save him!” Danny replied, trying to pull his arm free.

  “There’s nothing we can do,” Dr. Grimes said, keeping his voice low. “If we rush down there against that mob, they’ll pick our bones clean in no time. Get down!”

  Danny stared at Dr. Grimes. Then suddenly his eyes went wide.

  “Pick our bones—!” he began. “Of course!”

  Without another word, he broke away and went charging down the bank into the clearing.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The Moment of Battle

  “He’s hysterical,” said Dr. Grimes.

  Professor Bullfinch had risen to his feet and was preparing to rush after the boy, ax in hand.

  Dr. Grimes grabbed him by the shirt and held him back. “Don’t be a fool, Bullfinch,” he whispered.

  “Let go!” The Professor’s face was pale but determined, and behind his glasses his eyes gleamed in a warlike way.

  “You and I, against fifty savages? Don’t be silly. We must make a plan.”

  Dr. Grimes dragged the Professor back up the trail, out of earshot of the village.

  “Well? What sort of plan?” asked the Professor.

  “Perhaps we could create a diversion. One of us could throw stones at them, and when they come charging up the bank the other could run around into the clearing and rescue the boys.”

  “What if they catch the one who throws the stones? Then only one would be left to rescue three.”

  “Then suppose we set fire to some of those thatched roofs? In the confusion—”

  “In the confusion the boys may be roasted instead of boiled.”

  “Bullfinch, you’re a pest,” Dr. Grimes said in exasperation. “If I were alone, I’d have no difficulty deciding on an idea.”

  “But those ideas are impractical.”

  “Have you a better one?”

  “Yes. It has just occurred to me—”

  Before Professor Bullfinch could continue there was a noise behind them, higher up the trail. Branches snapped and stones came rattling down.

  “More natives! We’re surrounded!” said Dr. Grimes. He raised his club.

  “Wait. I don’t think so,” Professor Bullfinch said, calmly.

  At the same instant, a group of men came into sight. They were seamen, and two or three were holding rifles. Their leader, a tall, portly man, whose white hair stuck out under the peak of his cap, was carrying a pistol.

  “The men from the ship!” Grimes said.

  “Exactly. As I was about to say, it occurred to me that they’d be along soon,” said Professor Bullfinch. He stepped forward and held out his hand. “How do you do?” he said. “I’m Professor Euclid Bullfinch and this is Dr. A. J. Grimes.”

  “Howdy,” said the tall man, shaking hands. “I’m Larkin, first mate of the Inca Queen. We know all about you. There was a bulletin from Lima asking everybody to be on the watch for you. Then we picked up your signal, but it failed, and we’ve been searching the sector for an island. There isn’t one marked on the charts in this region.”

  “Let’s not stand about gossiping!” Dr. Grimes put in sharply. “The boys—”

  “Oh, yeah. There’s supposed to be two kids with you. I got your note. The natives caught ’em eh?”

 
“Yes.”

  “Well, we’ll get ’em back,” the mate said confidently. “We’ll blow those savages to bits. Which way?”

  “Follow me,” said the Professor, and turned down the trail. The others pressed close behind, holding their rifles ready.

  They came to the top of the bank and paused. In the clearing they saw a dreadful sight. The two husky guards were holding Joe face down over the pot. Danny stood nearby with three or four of the natives about him.

  “Quick!” Dr. Grimes exclaimed. “There’s no time to lose!”

  “Get ’em!” shouted Larkin.

  He burst through the thicket and started down the bank, holding his pistol high. The rest streamed after him.

  The natives turned openmouthed at the intrusion. Larkin leveled his weapon.

  “Stand back!” he ordered in a harsh voice. “Don’t move or we’ll open fire!”

  At that Danny leaped forward, holding up both his hands.

  “Stop!” he cried. “You don’t understand!”

  CHAPTER NINTEEN

  “A Pot by Any Other Name”

  Everyone stared at him. Danny looked round and beckoned to the short, fat man who was staring in fright.

  “This is Chief Omata,” Danny said. “He speaks English.”

  The fat man bobbed his head, and with a wide grin said, “That right. I headman these fellas.”

  “Never mind that stuff,” said Larkin. “Let those two boys go.”

  “No!” Danny interrupted. “It’s all right, I tell you.”

  “Danny, have you lost your mind?” snapped Dr. Grimes.

  The Professor, looking worried, said, “I—I think the strain has been too much for him.”

  “It hasn’t!” Danny cried. “Look at me, Professor Bullfinch. Do I look crazy?”

  “Well…” the Professor began hesitantly.

  “Listen,” Danny said. “Do you remember what you once told me about a tool having two uses? And about not judging by appearances?”

  “But—”

  “But listen to me. That pot—that’s a tool, too.”

  “A tool?”

  “Sure. It can be a tool to cook with, or—a tool to wash with.”

  The Professor’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.

  “That’s right,” Danny said. “It’s a kind of bathtub.”

  “You mean to say—”

  “They’re cleaning Joe off,” Danny finished.

  “Yes, by goodness,” Chief Omata put in, beaming. “This boys, friends belong me. I see him friend hurry-up walkabout, face belong him make green, same thing ground. This green belong to big Papa, belong men we plant him. Me fella make wash him along this pot, not make him bulla-makau. Yes?”

  Dr. Grimes looked blank. “I know that’s English, but what’s he saying?”

  “It’s perfectly clear,” Danny said. “He says we are his friends. He says my friend—that’s Joe—was running away, and his face was all green, covered with mud. That color of mud belongs to the spirits, to the dead men. He says they wanted to make him clean in the pot, not cook him like meat. See?”

  Professor Bullfinch rubbed the top of his head. “I understand. It’s a kind of religious ceremony.”

  “That’s right,” said Danny. “He told me before that they were afraid Joe would be haunted by dead men if he didn’t get that color off. So they are purifying him. They put that wreath on his head to make him smell sweet. It’s all part of the ceremony.”

  “Good heavens!” the Professor sighed. “How could we have been so blind? You have only to look at these people’s faces to see that they have no evil intentions. This time I was a careless thinker. I let myself be carried away by appearances.” He held out his hand to the plump little chief. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I apologize.”

  “That good fella something,” said the chief, shaking the Professor’s hand.

  “You see,” Danny said, “when Dr. Grimes talked about picking us clean, it flashed into my head that that’s what they were doing. So I ran down—”

  “But suppose you had been wrong?” Dr. Grimes said.

  Danny smiled. “If they had been cannibals, they’d have killed Joe before they cooked him. Wouldn’t they?”

  “Of course,” said the Professor. “But we were so excited that it never occurred to us. Worst of all, we had already made up our minds that they were cannibals.”

  “Yes. Well, as soon as I saw that, then I could see everything,” Danny went on. “I saw that they had gentle faces, and that they were all smiling. Remember what you said, Professor, about our surroundings being friendly until they were proved otherwise?”

  Professor Bullfinch nodded. “Where did they get an iron pot like that one?” he asked.

  “From a ship that stopped here a long time ago. I don’t know how long, because they don’t seem to have any words for time. A missionary came with that ship and stayed here awhile. He brought bananas and papayas to plant on the island. And he taught the chief English. When you came rushing in, the chief was just saying the Lord’s Prayer—”

  At these words Omata at once began, in a sing-song voice, as if someone had turned him on like a phonograph: “Papa belong me fella, you stop along heaven, holy santu him name belong you…”

  “Thank you very much,” said the Professor politely, stopping him. “But how is it you never came to see us? I mean, if you were friendly, Mr. Omata, why didn’t you visit us?”

  Omata threw out his hands and opened his eyes wide. He began a long explanation in pidgin English which went on for many minutes. As they got used to the odd phrases, the others began to grasp the sense of what he was saying. Nevertheless, when he was finished the chief turned to Danny, who seemed to understand most easily.

  “He says,” Danny smiled, “that they were shy and didn’t want to disturb us. He thought that Joe and I were the sons of Professor Bullfinch and Dr. Grimes, and when they came quietly to watch us they saw Joe running, and thought spirits were chasing him. So they decided to do our fathers a favor and stop the haunting. To be on the safe side, when they took Joe, they left a plain trail that we could follow.”

  “And we thought they were savages!” murmured Professor Bullfinch.

  “Yes!” the chief said emphatically. “Now me fellas eat. Good fella bulla-makau, not boys belong you.”

  He laughed heartily. He turned to the villagers, and began talking rapidly in his own tongue. Obviously he was explaining the mistake, because they all began laughing with him, and some of the men came forward and patted Danny in a friendly way. The women ran to fetch large wooden platters and build up the fires. The sailors put their guns away, and Larkin, holstering his revolver, sent one of them back along the trail to signal the ship, which was waiting offshore.

  At the same time the guards put Joe back on his feet. Most of the sticky green mud was gone from his face and arms. A woman wiped the rest off with a piece of cloth.

  “Whew!” said Joe. “Now I know how a steamed clam feels.”

  “Clean enough to eat,” Dr. Grimes commented, with an unexpected twinkle in his eye. “You smell better, too.”

  “I didn’t have any idea what they wanted when they grabbed me,” Joe explained, combing back his wet hair with his fingers. “They were all smiling and jabbering at me, and I just froze up. I was so scared, I couldn’t even understand what the chief was saying. I couldn’t even yell. But when Danny came tearing down and began talking to them, he explained to me what they were after and I—well, I just resigned myself to it.”

  “I’m not surprised Danny could understand Omata,” the Professor said. “After all, he thought of him as a friend. Perhaps there would be less misunderstanding among men if they stopped being so afraid of each other. And if they didn’t make up their minds about each other before they found out the facts.”

  “Th
at’s true enough,” said Larkin, who was listening. “I once knew a guy with a broken nose. I made up my mind he was a fighter just because his nose was flat. I found out later he was the quietest fellow in the world—he broke his nose playing baseball when he was fourteen years old.”

  Chief Omata came up to them and beckoned. They followed him to the center of the clearing, where large leaves had been set out for plates. Crude bowls filled with fruit were placed among them, and from the fires came the smells of roasting meat and fish. Women bustled about, preparing food, and three of the men settled themselves before wooden drums and began chanting as they beat a rhythmic accompaniment.

  “Dinner music,” Larkin said.

  Chief Omata held up his hands, and smiled hugely at the visitors. Then he said, “Sit. Eat.”

  “Well, at any rate,” said Dr. Grimes, “I have no trouble understanding that.”

  And they all took their places for the feast.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The Winner

  The freighter Inca Queen weighed anchor and stood out from shore. Her whistle blew a long blast of farewell. From the beach brown-skinned men and women waved their hands and lifted up their children to shout good-bye to the visitors. Slowly the island grew smaller until the tiny figures could no longer be seen. It seemed to sink behind the horizon, and at last it was gone.

  Only then did the four adventurers leave the rail and go to tell their story to the ship’s captain. His name was Edwin Gilbert, and he was a bluff, grizzled, hearty-looking man.

  “You’re lucky to be alive,” he said. “Your plane was expected in Lima and when you were overdue, after the storm, they sent search planes out to look for you. But the ocean’s a mighty big place. We’d have found you sooner except that when we first got your signal it died out again before we could get a fix on it. There’s no island shown on the maps and we had to keep searching. Then, about a week later, we picked up the signal again. Anyway, everyone knew you were alive. It was just a matter of finding you.”

  He turned them over to the chief steward, who stuffed them with a good meal, and then they were examined by the ship’s doctor, who pronounced them in excellent shape. They made a tour of the ship with Mr. Larkin, and were fitted out with clean clothing from members of the crew. The boys wore jerseys and dungarees, and Dr. Grimes and the Professor looked like respectable pirates in their nautical clothes.