Fire Island Part 58

"Nay, not you, Tommy. It warn't my legs as run away with me, it was me as run away with my legs from them black-looking tar-swabs, and I'm ashamed on it, that I am. Now, then, what have you got to say to that?"

"Nothin' at all, Billy," said Smith. "But just look, she's shutting her mouth again."

"Who is?" said Wriggs, staring about. "I can't see no she's here."

"Old mother earth, arter trying to swaller that lot o' n.i.g.g.e.rs, only they was too quick for her."

There, plainly enough as he spoke, was the opening, but it was closing more rapidly now, and a minute later the two sides touched after a violent hissing noise, while one edge was several inches above the other, marking where the rift had been.

"Ready?" said Oliver just then.

Panton rose to his feet, and, shouldering their guns, the little party marched steadily back toward the brig, which they reached without adventure soon after dark, the latter part of their way having been guided by a lantern hoisted right up to the main truck for their benefit.

"Take that light down at once," were Oliver's first words as he climbed the side.

"Well, yes, I was going to take it down," said Mr Rimmer, "but it did you some good, didn't it?"

Oliver explained the reason, for there had been no alarm of savages at the brig.

Mr Rimmer uttered a low whistle.

"So near as that, eh?" he said. "Well, we were quite ready for them; but, my dear lads, what a narrow escape for you. There, welcome back.

I shall be rather chary of letting you all out of my sight another time.

Get down into the cabin and have a good meal and a rest; I'll join you as soon as I can."

He left the returned party and busied himself in seeing that all lights likely to be visible from outside were carefully extinguished and the men posted ready in case of an attack when the enemy had recovered from their fright; but they had evidently received too great a shock to return that night, and at last half the men were sent below and later on several more, but the mate stayed on deck till morning came without there having been the slightest alarm.

CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT.

TOMMY SMITH'S TREASURE.

After a little consultation in the morning it was decided to lead out a strong well armed party to make sure whether the enemy was down by the lagoon, for the state of uncertainty seemed worse than the danger likely to be incurred in an advance and careful retreat. The mate determined to go himself, and selecting four men with Smith and Wriggs they set off, leaving Drew in charge of the s.h.i.+p.

The expedition proved to be quite uneventful, and the scouting party were back soon after noon, having been right down to the sh.o.r.es of the lagoon and searched it well from the highest point they could find without there being a sign of a canoe.

From that day forward for quite two months, the occupants of the s.h.i.+p ash.o.r.e enjoyed perfect peace, and no sign was seen of an enemy. It was evident that the natural childish fear and superst.i.tion of the blacks had kept them away from the island, but all the same no fis.h.i.+ng or shooting excursion was ventured upon without the feeling that the party might return to find the savages making a fresh attack, or being in possession of the brig. Consequently no precautions could be relaxed on board, and not a step was taken without every one being armed to the teeth.

The change during that time had been wonderful. Vegetation was so rapid in its growth, and seed spread so quickly, wind swept, that the traces of the earthquake wave were pretty well obliterated by bright young growth. Many of the pools had dried up, but four of the largest kept fairly well filled with brackish water, evidently supplied by some underground communication with the sea, possibly merely by slow filtration through the porous coral rock, sufficient, however, to keep them fit habitations for fish and reptiles.

On board the brig the carpenter with three aides worked hard at the lugger being constructed. This was to be hauled down to the sand, and then slowly taken down to the sea on rollers in a cradle specially constructed for the purpose.

"Give us time," said Mr Rimmer, "and we'll have a light boat that will take us from island to island till we get to some civilised port. But first of all we must sail round where we are."

"There's no hurry," said Oliver, "but get the lugger done, and then make another, for we shall want plenty of room for our specimens if we go on like this."

For in spite of having to work as it were with one eye on the look-out for danger, and the other for specimens, each of the three naturalists rapidly increased his collection. Oliver Lane filled case after case with series of the splendid paradise birds which came and went in the most unaccountable manner. For days together they would be plentiful, then for a whole week it seemed as if they had forsaken the island and taken flight to some other spot invisible from the highest points to which they had climbed, but known well to the birds.

And there the choice, carefully prepared skins lay in their cases, well dried and aromatic with the preserving paste which kept insect enemies at bay. Here would lie the great bird of Paradise, all cinnamon, metallic green and buff, with its loose plumage and long wire-shafted feathers. In another case a series of the lesser bird. Then Lane found a few of the beautiful metallic rifle bird, all glossy purply green.

The standard wing with its elongated tufts of green upon its breast, and from each shoulder a pair of long, gracefully curved, white willow-leaved feathers standing almost straight out at times, while at others they lay neatly down along with the larger quills.

Another day in his favourite hunting ground at the foot of the volcano slope he had the good fortune to shoot a bird of which he had read and never seen. It was the king bird of Paradise, monarch for its beauty and not from its size.

Drew and Panton were out with him collecting, the one plants, the other crystals, and running to him on hearing him whistling, they were ready to laugh at his excitement over his one bird, a little fellow somewhere about the size of a thrush, but with an exceedingly short tail balanced by a couple of beautiful curled plumes at the end of their wire-like, exquisitely curved feather, starting above the tail and crossing just at its end.

But their ridicule soon turned into delight as they gazed at the wondrous display of tints, beautifully blended, so that no two colours jarred. But it was not only in its hues that there was so much fascination to the eye, for all three gazed in wonder at the peculiar appendages which added to the strangeness and beauty of this bird.

But there was no end to Oliver's bird treasures now, and knowing the interest he took in the beautiful creatures, every man on board tried his best to add to his stores by means of trap and gun, the mate encouraging the use of the latter, so that the men might be quite at home with it.

"Here y'are, sir," said Smith, "right sort, and nothing wrong in it, 'cept a spot o' blood on its back, over two o' the feathers. I was going to pull 'em out and bring him quite clean, on'y you're so perticler about every feather being there."

"How could it be perfect without?" said Oliver.

"Oh, I dunno, sir. Birds got so many feathers in 'em that n.o.body'd miss fifty or sixty, let alone one or two. Why, many's the time I've seen 'em pick out lots themselves, specially ducks."

"I daresay," replied Oliver, "but don't you ever pick any out; I can always wash away the blood."

"All right, sir, but ain't yer going to look at it, and what Billy Wriggs got, too?"

"I will directly," replied Oliver. "Wait till I've turned this skin."

"Oh, yes, sir, we'll wait," said the sailor, and he dropped the b.u.t.t of his gun to the earth, and stood holding a bird he had shot, while Oliver was seated by an upturned cask, whose head formed a table just under the brig's bows, where, with a large piece of canvas rigged to a stay, he worked in shelter, skinning his specimens for hours in the early morning and late evening.

"Looks gashly nasty, now, sir," said the man, after a few minutes'

watching, while Oliver carefully painted over the wet, soft, newly-stripped-off skin of a bird with the aromatic poisonous cream he had in a pot. Now the bristles of the brush sought out every crease and hollow about where the flesh-denuded bones of the wings hung by their tendons; then the bones of the legs were painted, the young man intent upon his work--too much so to look up when the two sailors came round from the other side of the vessel. Now the brush ran carefully along the skin, so as not to smirch the feathers at the edge; now it was pa.s.sed along the thin stretched neck and up to the skull, which had been left whole all but the back, where brains and eyeb.a.l.l.s had been carefully extracted, leaving nothing but the paper-like bone of wondrously delicate texture and strength. Here the brush was sedulously applied with more and more cream, which shed a pleasant odour around.

"Pyson, ain't it, sir?" said Wriggs, at last.

"Yes, my man, dangerously poisonous," said Oliver, as he worked away.

"Wouldn't do to set me that job, sir," said Smith.

"Why not? You could soon learn."

"'Cause I got a bad habit, sir."

"Lots!" said Wriggs, laconically.

"Here, don't you be so jolly fond o' running down your messmate, Bill.

'Course I've got lots a' bad habits--everybody has--don't s'pose I got more more nor you, mate."

"Dessay not, Tommy," said Wriggs, with a chuckle.

"What I meant was as I've got a bad habit a' poppin' my fingers in my mouth every now and then, when I'm doin' anythin', so as to get a better hold. Some chaps spit in their hands--Billy here does, sir."

"Ay, mate, that's a true word," growled Wriggs.