Black Ivory, R. M. Ballantyne [reading like a writer txt] 📗

should think they have, just. W’y, you haven’t spoke like that, sir, for—but, surely—are you better, or is this on’y another dodge o’ yer madness?” asked Disco with a troubled look.

“Ah! I suppose I’ve been delirious, have I?” said Harold with a faint smile.

To this Disco replied that he had not only been delirious, but stark staring mad, and expressed a very earnest hope that, now he had got his senses hauled taut again, he’d belay them an’ make all fast for, if he didn’t, it was his, Disco’s opinion, that another breeze o’ the same kind would blow ’em all to ribbons.

“Moreover,” continued Disco, firmly, “you’re not to talk. I once nursed a messmate through a fever, an’ I remember that the doctor wos werry partikler w’en he began to come round, in orderin’ him to hold his tongue an’ keep quiet.”

“You are right Disco. I will keep quiet, but you must first tell me what you are about, for it has roused my curiosity, and I can’t rest till I know.”

“Well, sir, I’ll tell you, but don’t go for to make no obsarvations on it. Just keep your mouth shut an’ yer ears open, an’ I’ll do all the jawin’. Well, you must know, soon after you wos took bad, I felt as if I’d like some sort o’ okipation w’en sittin’ here watchin’ of you—Jumbo an’ me’s bin takin’ the watch time about, for Antony isn’t able to hold a boy, much less you w’en you gits obstropolous—Well, sir, I had took a sort o’ fancy for Yambo’s youngest boy, for he’s a fine, brave little shaver, he is, an’ I thought I’d make him some sort o’ toy, an’ it struck me that the thing as ’ud please him most ’ud be a jumpin’-jack, so I set to an’ made him one about a futt high.

“You never see such a face o’ joy as that youngster put on, sir, w’en I took it to him an’ pulled the string. He give a little squeak of delight he did, tuk it in his hands, an’ ran home to show it to his mother. Well, sir, wot d’ee think, the poor boy come back soon after, blubberin’ an’ sobbin’, as nat’ral as if he’d bin an English boy, an’ says he to Tony, says he, ‘Father’s bin an’ took it away from me!’ I wos surprised at this, an’ went right off to see about it, an’ w’en I come to Yambo’s hut wot does I see but the chief pullin’ the string o’ the jumpin’-jack, an’ grinnin’ an’ sniggerin’ like a blue-faced baboon in a passion—his wife likewise standin’ by holdin’ her sides wi’ laughin’. Well, sir, the moment I goes in, up gits the chief an’ shouts for Tony, an’ tells him to tell me that I must make him a jumpin’-jack! In course I says I’d do it with all the pleasure in life; and he says that I must make it full size, as big as hisself! I opened my eyes at this, but he said he must have a thing that was fit for a man—a chief—so there was nothin’ for it but to set to work. An’ it worn’t difficult to manage neither, for they supplied me with slabs o’ timber an inch thick an’ I soon blocked out the body an’ limbs with a hatchet an’ polished ’em off with my knife, and then put ’em together. W’en the big jack wos all right Yambo took it away, for he’d watched me all the time I wos at it, an’ fixed it up to the branch of a tree an’ set to work.

“I never, no I never, did,” continued Disco, slapping his right thigh, while Jumbo grinned in sympathy, “see sitch a big baby as Yambo became w’en he got that monstrous jumpin’-jack into action—with his courtiers all round him, their faces blazin’ with surprise, or conwulsed wi’ laughter. The chief hisself was too hard at work to laugh much. He could only glare an’ grin, for, big an’ strong though he is, the jack wos so awful heavy that it took all his weight an’ muscle haulin’ on the rope which okipied the place o’ the string that we’re used to.

“‘Haul away, my hearty,’ thought I, w’en I seed him heavin’, blowin’, an’ swettin’ at the jack’s halyards, ‘you’ll not break that rope in a hurry.’

“But I was wrong, sir, for, although the halyards held on all right, I had not calkilated on such wiolent action at the joints. All of a sudden off comes a leg at the knee. It was goin’ the up’ard kick at the time, an’ went up like a rocket, slap through a troop o’ monkeys that was lookin’ on aloft, which it scattered like foam in a gale. Yambo didn’t seem to care a pinch o’ snuff. His blood was up. The sweat was runnin’ off him like rain. ‘Hi!’ cries he, givin’ another most awful tug. But it wasn’t high that time, for the other leg came off at the hip-jint on the down kick, an’ went straight into the buzzum of a black warrior an’ floored him wuss than he ever wos floored since he took to fightin’. Yambo didn’t care for that either. He gave another haul with all his might, which proved too much for jack without his legs, for it threw his arms out with such force that they jammed hard an’ fast, as if the poor critter was howlin’ for mercy!

“Yambo looked awful blank at this. Then he turned sharp round and looked at me for all the world as if he meant to say ‘wot d’ee mean by that? eh!’

“‘He shouldn’t ought to lick into him like that,’ says I to Tony, ‘the figure ain’t made to be druv by a six-horse power steam-engine! But tell him I’ll fix it up with jints that’ll stand pullin’ by an elephant, and I’ll make him another jack to the full as big as that one an’ twice as strong.’

“This,” added Disco in conclusion, taking up the head on which he had been engaged, “is the noo jack. The old un’s outside working away at this moment like a win’-mill. Listen; don’t ’ee hear ’em?”

Harold listened and found no difficulty in hearing them, for peals of laughter and shrieks of delight burst forth every few minutes, apparently from a vast crowd outside the hut.

“I do believe,” said Disco, rising and going towards the door of the hut “that you can see ’em from where you lay.”

He drew aside the skin doorway as he spoke, and there, sure enough, was the gigantic jumping-jack hanging from the limb of a tree, clearly defined against the sky, and galvanically kicking about its vast limbs, with Yambo pulling fiercely at the tail, and the entire tribe looking on steeped in ecstasy and admiration.

It may easily be believed that the sight of this, coupled with Disco’s narrative, was almost too much for Harold’s nerves, and for some time he exhibited, to Disco’s horror, a tendency to repeat some antics which would have been much more appropriate to the jumping-jack, but, after a warm drink administered by his faithful though rough nurse, he became composed, and finally dropped into a pleasant sleep, which was not broken till late the following morning.

Refreshed in body, happy in mind, and thankful in spirit he rose to feel that the illness against which he had fought for many days was conquered, and that, although still very weak, he had fairly turned the corner, and had begun to regain some of his wonted health and vigour.