The Castaways

by Mayne Reid

  CHAPTER EIGHT.

  SHOOTING AT FRUIT.

  As soon as the three men had got well up to the ground and ascertainedthe cause of Helen's alarm, and the damage done to Henry's jacket andskin, Murtagh was the first to make a demonstration. He did so byrunning in under the tree, and stooping to lay hold of the fruit thathad caused the misfortune. Saloo saw him do this without giving a wordof warning. He was, perhaps, a little piqued that the Irishman shouldmake himself so conspicuous about things he could not possibly besupposed to understand, and which to the Malay himself were matters ofan almost special knowledge. There was a twinkle of mischief in his eyeas he contemplated the meddling of Murtagh, and waited for the_denouement_.

  The latter, rashly grasping the spiny fruit, did not get it six inchesabove the ground, before he let go again, as if it had been the hottestof hot "purtatees."

  "Och, and what have I done now!" he cried, "I'm jagged all over. Thereisn't a smooth spot upon it--not so much as a shank to take howlt of!"

  "You takee care, Multa," cautioned Saloo. "You lookee aloff. May beyou get jagee in de skull!"

  Murtagh took the hint, and, giving one glance upward, ran back with aroar from under the shadow of the tree.

  The Malay, seemingly satisfied with his triumph, now glided underneaththe durion, and keeping his eye turned upward, as if intently watchingsomething, he struck the fruit with the piece of pointed stick which hehad been using in the search after Singapore oysters, and sent itspinning out upon the open sand beach. Then following, he took out hisknife, and inserting the blade among its thickly set spines, cleft itopen, displaying the pulp inside.

  There was enough to give each person a taste of this most luscious offruits, and make them desirous of more; even had they not been hungry.But the appetites of all were now keen, and neither the chase nor thefishery had produced a single thing to satisfy them. All three hadreturned empty-handed. There were many more nuts on the durion-tree.They could see scores of the prickly pericarps hanging overhead, but sohigh as to make the obtaining of them apparently impossible. They wereas far away as the grapes from the fox of the fable.

  The stem of the tree rose over seventy feet before throwing out a singlebranch. It was smooth, moreover, offering neither knot nor excrescencefor a foothold. For all this Saloo could have climbed it, had he beenin proper strength and condition. But he was not so. He was still weakfrom the effects of his suffering at sea.

  Something more must be had to eat--whether game, fish or shell-fish.

  The one great oyster appeared to be a stray. Saloo had begun to despairof being able to find another. The fruit of the durion proved not onlypleasant eating, but exceedingly nutritious. It would sustain them,could they only get enough of it. How was this to be obtained?

  For a time they stood considering; when Captain Redwood became impressedwith an original idea.

  In addition to his own rifle, a large ship's musket had been put intothe pinnace. He thought of chain-shot, and its effects; and it occurredto him that by this means the durions might be brought down from theirlofty elevation.

  No sooner conceived than carried into execution. The musket was loadedwith a brace of balls united by a piece of stout tarred string. A shotwas fired into the tree, aimed at a place where the fruit appearedthickest. There was havoc made among the adjacent leaves; and five orsix of the great pericarps came crashing to the earth. A repetition ofthe firing brought down nearly a dozen, enough to furnish the wholeparty with food for at least another twenty-four hours.

  Having collected the fallen pericarps, they carried them to another treethat stood near, amid whose leafy branches appeared to be no fruitseither so sweet to the lips or dangerous to the skull.

  Thither also they transferred their quarters, along with theparaphernalia brought up from the boat, intending to make a morepermanent encampment under the newly chosen tree.

  For the time they kindled no fire, as the weather was warm enough, andthe durions did not require cooking; and while making their mid-day mealof the raw fruit, Saloo interested them by relating some particulars ofthe tree from which it had been obtained.

  We shall not follow the Malay's exact words, for, as spoken in "pigeonEnglish," they would scarce be understood; but shall lay before ourreaders some account of this strange and valuable fruit-tree, culledpartly from Saloo's description and partly from other sources.

  The durion is a forest tree of the loftiest order, bearing resemblanceto the elm, only with a smooth bark, which is also scaly. It is foundgrowing throughout most of the islands of the Indian Archipelago; and,like the mangosteen, does not thrive well in any other part of theworld. This is perhaps the reason its fruit is so little knownelsewhere, as when ripe it will not bear transportation to a greatdistance. The fruit is nearly globe-shaped, though a little oval, andin size equals the largest cocoa-nut.

  As the reader already knows, it is of a green colour, and covered withshort stout spines, very sharp-pointed, whose bases touch each other,and are consequently somewhat hexagonal in shape. With this_chevaux-de-frise_ it is so completely armed, that when the stalk isbroken close off it is impossible to take up the fruit without havingone's fingers badly pricked. The outer rind is so tough and strong,that no matter from what height the fruit falls it is never crushed orbroken. From the base of the fruit to its apex, five faint lines may betraced running among the spines. These form the divisions of thecarpels where the fruit can be cut open with a sharp knife, thoughrequiring a considerable exertion of strength. The five cells foundwithin are of a silken white colour, each filled with an oval-shapedmass of cream-coloured pulp containing several seeds of the size ofchestnuts. The pulp forms the edible portion of the fruit, and itsconsistence and flavour are both difficult to be described. MrWallace, the celebrated hunter naturalist, thus quaintly describes it:--

  "A rich, butter-like custard, highly flavoured with almonds, gives thebest general idea of it; but intermingled with it come wafts of flavourthat call to mind cream-cheese, onion-sauce, brown-sherry, and otherincongruities. Then there is a rich glutinous smoothness in the pulp,which nothing else possesses, but which adds to its delicacy. It isneither acid, nor sweet, nor juicy; yet one feels the want of none ofthese qualities, for it is perfect as it is. It produces no nausea, orother bad effects; and the more you eat of it the less you feel inclinedto stop. In fact, to eat durions is a new sensation, worth a voyage tothe East to experience. When the fruit is ripe it falls of itself; andthe only way to eat durions to perfection is to get them as they fall,and the smell is then less overpowering. When unripe, it makes a verygood vegetable if cooked, and it is also eaten by the Dyaks raw. In agood fruit season large quantities are preserved salted, in jars andbamboos, and kept the year round, when it acquires a most disgustingodour to Europeans, but the Dyaks appreciate it highly as a relish withtheir rice. There are in the forest two varieties of wild durions withmuch smaller fruits, one of them orange-coloured inside. It would notperhaps be correct to say that the durion is the best of all fruits,because it cannot supply the place of a sub-acid juicy kind; such as theorange, grape, mango, and mangosteen, whose refreshing and coolingqualities are so wholesome and grateful; but as producing a food of themost exquisite flavour, it is unsurpassed. If I had to fix on two onlyas representing the perfection of the two classes, I should certainlychoose the durion and the orange as the king and queen of fruits.

  "The durion is however sometimes dangerous. When the fruit begins toripen it falls daily and almost hourly, and accidents not unfrequentlyhappen to persons walking or working under the trees. When the durionstrikes a man in its fall it produces a dreadful wound, the strongspines tearing open the flesh, whilst the blow itself is very heavy; butfrom this very circumstance death rarely ensues, the copious effusion ofblood preventing the inflammation which might otherwise take place. ADyak chief informed me that he had been struck by a durion falling onhis head, which he thought would certainly have caused his death, yet herecover
ed in a very short time."

  Both the natives of the Malayan Archipelago and strangers residing thereregard the durion as superior to all other kinds of fruit--in short, thefinest in the world. The old traveller, Luischott, writing of it asearly as 1599, says that in flavour it surpasses all other fruits.While another old traveller, Doctor Paludanus, thus speaks of it: "Thisfruit is of a hot and humid nature. To those not used to it, it seemsat first to smell like rotten onions, but immediately they have tastedit they prefer it to all other food. The natives give it honourabletitles, exalt it, and make verses on it." [Note 1.]

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  Note 1. To these particulars we may add that the durion (_Duriozibethinus_) belongs to the natural family of _Sterculiaceae_, of thesame sub-order (_Bombaceae_) as the silk-cotton tree. It grows to agreat stature; its leaves are like those of the cherry, and its paleyellow flowers hang in large bunches. Each tree yields about twohundred fruit in a year. The fruit contains ten to twelve seeds, aslarge as pigeons' eggs, and these, when roasted, are as good as, andtaste very much like, roasted chestnuts.