The Coral Island, Robert Michael Ballantyne [inspirational novels .TXT] 📗

cried Peterkin. “You will make the bows, Jack, and

I’ll try my hand at the arrows. The fact is, I’m quite tired of

throwing stones at the birds. I began the very day we landed, I

think, and have persevered up to the present time, but I’ve never

hit anything yet.”

 

“You forget,” said I, “you hit me one day on the shin.”

 

“Ah, true,” replied Peterkin, “and a precious shindy you kicked up

in consequence. But you were at least four yards away from the

impudent paroquet I aimed at; so you see what a horribly bad shot I

am.”

 

“But,” said I, “Jack, you cannot make three bows and arrows before

to-morrow, and would it not be a pity to waste time, now that we

have made up our minds to go on this expedition? Suppose that you

make one bow and arrow for yourself, and we can take our clubs?”

 

“That’s true, Ralph. The day is pretty far advanced, and I doubt

if I can make even one bow before dark. To be sure I might work by

fire-light, after the sun goes down.”

 

We had, up to this time, been in the habit of going to bed with the

sun, as we had no pressing call to work o’ nights; and, indeed, our

work during the day was usually hard enough, - what between

fishing, and improving our bower, and diving in the Water Garden,

and rambling in the woods; so that, when night came, we were

usually very glad to retire to our beds. But now that we had a

desire to work at night, we felt a wish for candles.

 

“Won’t a good blazing fire give you light enough?” inquired

Peterkin.

 

“Yes,” replied Jack, “quite enough; but then it will give us a

great deal more than enough of heat in this warm climate of ours.”

 

“True,” said Peterkin; “I forgot that. It would roast us.”

 

“Well, as you’re always doing that at any rate,” remarked Jack, “we

could scarcely call it a change. But the fact is, I’ve been

thinking over this subject before. There is a certain nut growing

in these islands which is called the candle-nut, because the

natives use it instead of candles, and I know all about it, and how

to prepare it for burning - “

 

“Then why don’t you do it?” interrupted Peterkin. “Why have you

kept us in the dark so long, you vile philosopher?”

 

“Because,” said Jack, “I have not seen the tree yet, and I’m not

sure that I should know either the tree or the nuts if I did see

them. You see, I forget the description.”

 

“Ah! that’s just the way with me,” said Peterkin with a deep sigh.

“I never could keep in my mind for half an hour the few

descriptions I ever attempted to remember. The very first voyage I

ever made was caused by my mistaking a description, or forgetting

it, which is the same thing. And a horrible voyage it was. I had

to fight with the captain the whole way out, and made the homeward

voyage by swimming!”

 

“Come, Peterkin,” said I, “you can’t get even ME to believe that.”

 

“Perhaps not, but it’s true, notwithstanding,” returned Peterkin,

pretending to be hurt at my doubting his word.

 

“Let us hear how it happened,” said Jack, while a good-natured

smile overspread his face.

 

“Well, you must know,” began Peterkin, “that the very day before I

went to sea, I was greatly taken up with a game at hockey, which I

was playing with my old school-fellows for the last time before

leaving them. You see I was young then, Ralph.” Peterkin gazed,

in an abstracted and melancholy manner, out to sea! “Well, in the

midst of the game, my uncle, who had taken all the bother and

trouble of getting me bound ‘prentice and rigged out, came and took

me aside, and told me that he was called suddenly away from home,

and would not be able to see me aboard, as he had intended.

‘However,’ said he, ‘the captain knows you are coming, so that’s

not of much consequence; but as you’ll have to find the ship

yourself, you must remember her name and description. D’ye hear,

boy?’ I certainly did hear, but I’m afraid I did not understand,

for my mind was so taken up with the game, which I saw my side was

losing, that I began to grow impatient, and the moment my uncle

finished his description of the ship, and bade me good-bye, I

bolted back to my game, with only a confused idea of three masts,

and a green painted tafferel, and a gilt figurehead of Hercules

with his club at the bow. Next day I was so much cast down with

everybody saying good-bye, and a lot o’ my female friends cryin’

horribly over me, that I did not start for the harbour, where the

ship was lying among a thousand others, till it was almost too

late. So I had to run the whole way. When I reached the pier,

there were so many masts, and so much confusion, that I felt quite

humblebumbled in my faculties. ‘Now,’ said I to myself, ‘Peterkin,

you’re in a fix.’ Then I fancied I saw a gilt figurehead and

three masts, belonging to a ship just about to start; so I darted

on board, but speedily jumped on shore again, when I found that two

of the masts belonged to another vessel, and the figurehead to a

third! At last I caught sight of what I made sure was it, - a fine

large vessel just casting off her moorings. The tafferel was

green. Three masts, - yes, that must be it, - and the gilt figurehead of Hercules. To be sure it had a three-pronged pitchfork in

its hand instead of a club; but that might be my uncle’s mistake;

or perhaps Hercules sometimes varied his weapons. ‘Cast off!’

roared a voice from the quarterdeck. ‘Hold on!’ cried I, rushing

frantically through the crowd. ‘Hold on! hold on!’ repeated some

of the bystanders, while the men at the ropes delayed for a minute.

This threw the captain into a frightful rage; for some of his

friends had come down to see him off, and having his orders

contradicted so flatly was too much for him. However, the delay

was sufficient. I took a race and a good leap; the ropes were cast

off; the steam-tug gave a puff, and we started. Suddenly the

captain was up to me: ‘Where did you come from, you scamp, and

what do you want here?’

 

“‘Please, sir,’ said I, touching my cap, ‘I’m you’re new ‘prentice

come aboard.’

 

“‘New ‘Prentice,’ said he, stamping, ‘I’ve got no new ‘prentice.

My boys are all aboard already. This is a trick, you young

blackguard. You’ve run away, you have;’ and the captain stamped

about the deck and swore dreadfully; for, you see, the thought of

having to stop the ship and lower a boat and lose half an hour, all

for the slake of sending a small boy ashore, seemed to make him

very angry. Besides, it was blowin’ fresh outside the harbour, so

that, to have let the steamer alongside to put me into it was no

easy job. Just as we were passing the pier-head, where several

boats were rowing into harbour, the captain came up to me, -

 

“‘You’ve run away, you blackguard,’ he said, giving me a box on the

ear.

 

“‘No I haven’t,’ said I, angrily; for the box was by no means a

light one.

 

“Hark’ee, boy, can you swim?’

 

“‘Yes,’ said I.

 

“‘Then do it,’ and, seizing me by my trousers and the nape of my

neck, he tossed me over the side into the sea. The fellows in the

boats at the end of the pier, backed their oars on seeing this; but

observing that I could swim, they allowed me to make the best of my

way to the pier-head. So, you see, Ralph, that I really did swim

my first homeward voyage.”

 

Jack laughed and patted Peterkin on the shoulder. “But tell us

about the candle-nut tree,” said I; “you were talking about it.”

 

“Very true,” said Jack, “but I fear I can remember little about it.

I believe the nut is about the size of a walnut; and I think that

the leaves are white, but I am not sure.”

 

“Eh! ha! hum!” exclaimed Peterkin, “I saw a tree answering to that

description this very day.”

 

“Did you?” cried Jack. “Is it far from this?”

 

“No, not half a mile.”

 

“Then lead me to it,” said Jack, seizing his axe.

 

In a few minutes we were all three pushing through the underwood of

the forest, headed by Peterkin.

 

We soon came to the tree in question, which, after Jack had closely

examined it, we concluded must be the candle-nut tree. Its leaves

were of a beautiful silvery white, and formed a fine contrast to

the dark-green foliage of the surrounding trees. We immediately

filled our pockets with the nuts, after which Jack said, -

 

“Now, Peterkin, climb that cocoa-nut tree and cut me one of the

long branches.”

 

This was soon done, but it cost some trouble, for the stem was very

high, and as Peterkin usually pulled nuts from the younger trees,

he was not much accustomed to climbing the high ones. The leaf or

branch was a very large one, and we were surprised at its size and

strength. Viewed from a little distance, the cocoa-nut tree seems

to be a tall, straight stem, without a single branch except at the

top, where there is a tuft of feathery-looking leaves, that seem to

wave like soft plumes in the wind. But when we saw one of these

leaves or branches at our feet, we found it to be a strong stalk,

about fifteen feet long, with a number of narrow, pointed leaflets

ranged alternately on each side. But what seemed to us the most

wonderful thing about it was a curious substance resembling cloth,

which was wrapped round the thick end of the stalk, where it had

been cut from the tree. Peterkin told us that he had the greatest

difficulty in separating the branch from the stem, on account of

this substance, as it was wrapped quite round the tree, and, he

observed, round all the other branches, thus forming a strong

support to the large leaves while exposed to high winds. When I

call this substance cloth I do not exaggerate. Indeed, with regard

to all the things I saw during my eventful career in the South

Seas, I have been exceedingly careful not to exaggerate, or in any

way to mislead or deceive my readers. This cloth, I say, was

remarkably like to coarse brown cotton cloth. It had a seam or

fibre down the centre of it, from which diverged other fibres,

about the size of a bristle. There were two layers of these

fibres, very long and tough, the one layer crossing the other

obliquely, and the whole was cemented together with a still finer

fibrous and adhesive substance. When we regarded it attentively,

we could with difficulty believe that it had not been woven by

human hands. This remarkable piece of cloth we stripped carefully

off, and found it to be above two feet long, by a foot broad, and

we carried it home with us as a great prize.

 

Jack now took one of the leaflets, and, cutting out the central

spine or stalk, hurried back with it to our camp. Having made a

small fire, he baked the nuts slightly, and then pealed off the

husks. After this he wished to bore a