Fire Island Part 12

"Ay, 'twould ha' been nicer, I dessay, matey."

"Course it would. You see they allus has the right tackle for everything, and a proper pocket or case to keep it in. Look at Mr Panton there, with that there young double-barrelled spy-gla.s.s of his'n."

"Ay, they've each got one-sidy sort o' little barnacle things as they looks through to make bits o' stone and hinsecks seem big."

"Now, we wants to wash our hands, don't us?"

"Ay, we do, matey," said Smith, raising his to his nose.

"Mine smell a bit snakey and sarpentine, I must say."

"Steam or smoke?" said Drew.

"Both, I think," replied Panton, closing his gla.s.s.

"Then the savages has got the pot on and it's cooking," whispered Smith.

"I hope it don't mean a mate."

"Whatcher talking in that there Irish Paddy way?" grumbled Wriggs.

"Can't you say meat?"

"Course I can, old mighty clever, when I wants to. I said mate."

"I know you did, Tommy, and it's Irish when you means cooking meat."

"Which I didn't mean nothing o' the sort, old lad, but mate. I meant, I hoped the savages hadn't got hold of one of our messmates and was cooking he."

"What! Cannib.a.l.l.s?" whispered Wriggs, looking aghast. "Why not?

There's plenty on 'em out in these 'ere parts, where the missionaries ain't put a stopper on their little games, and made 'em eat short pig i'stead o' long."

"Come, my lads, forward!" said Oliver, who seemed to have quite got over his adventure.

"Beg pardon, sir," said Smith, "we ain't got no weepons 'cept our jack-knives; had we better sc.u.mmage up to 'em?"

"Skirmish? Oh, no; there is nothing to mind."

"That's what the farmer said to the man about his big dog, sir, but the dog took a bit out of the man's leg."

"But that wasn't a dog, Smith, it was a cat."

"What, out here, sir, 'long o' the savages? Think o' their keeping cats!"

"No, no, you don't understand. There are no savages here."

"Why, a-mussy me, sir, I see one looking over the stones yonder with my own eyes."

"You saw a big, cat-like creature, with its round, dark head. It must have been a panther, or leopard, or something of that kind."

The sailor looked at him and scratched his ear.

"Mean it, sir?" he said.

"Of course I do. Come along."

Oliver went on after his two companions, and the sailors followed.

"How about the cannib.a.l.l.s, Tommy?" asked Billy Wriggs with a chuckle.

"Here, don't you spoil your figger-head by making them faces," said Smith, shortly. "I was right enough, so own up like a man."

"You says, says you, that it was cannib.a.l.l.s as had got a pot on over a fire, and that they was cooking one of our mates."

"Loin! how I do hate a man as 'zaggerates! I only said I hoped it warn't. It's you as put the pot on."

"I didn't!"

"Yes, you did, old lad, and I dessay I was right arter all, 'cept as it was only one canniball, and he'd got four legs 'stead o' two."

Billy Wriggs chuckled again, and then smelt his hands, looked disgusted, and scooped up a little moist earth to rub them with.

"Look sharp, they're close up," said Smith, "and I want to see about what fire there is, and how it come."

"I know; it's one o' they red hot stones as come down and it's set fire to something."

A minute later they were within fifty yards of the rising vapours, when Wriggs roared,--"Look out!" and began to run.

For there was a peculiar rus.h.i.+ng noise close overhead, followed by a duet of hoa.r.s.e cries, and they had a glimpse of a couple of great, heavily-billed birds, pa.s.sing close to them in the direction of their leaders.

Oliver took a quick shot at one and missed, the smoke hiding the second bird, and they pa.s.sed on unharmed.

"Hornbills!" he cried, excitedly. "Come, we shall be able to collect here."

"Hear that, mate?" whispered Smith, "hornbills, and can't they blow 'em too?"

They stepped in among the stones and found the cat-like creature's lair just beneath one of them, and plenty of proofs of how it lived, for close around lay many of the brightly-coloured feathers it had stripped from different birds.

"Evidently preyed upon these," said Oliver, eagerly, picking up some of the feathers to examine.

"Hear that, Tommy?"

"Yes."

"Ain't it gammon?"

"No; nat'ral histry's all true, lad."

"But I never heard o' cats being religious. I've heard o' their being wicked and mischievous enough for anything."