The Island Queen, R. M. Ballantyne [sight word readers .txt] 📗

us, some ship or other will pass close enough to see our signals and take us off so—”

“By the way,” interrupted Dominick, “have you tried to climb our signal-tree, as you said you would do, to replace the flag that was blown away by last night’s gale?”

“Of course not. There’s no hurry, Dom,” answered Otto, who, if truth must be told, was not very anxious to escape too soon from his present romantic position, and thought that it would be time enough to attract the attention of any passing vessel when they grew tired of their solitude. “Besides,” he continued, with that tendency to self-defence which is so natural to fallen humanity, “I’m not a squirrel to run up the straight stem of a branchless tree, fifty feet high or more.”

“No, my boy, you’re not a squirrel, but, as I have often told you, you are a monkey—at least, monkey enough to accomplish your ends when you have a mind to.”

“Now, really you are too hard,” returned Otto, who was busily employed as he spoke in boring a hole through a cocoa-nut to get at the milk, “you know very well that the branch of the neighbouring tree by which we managed to reach the branches of the signal-tree has been blown away, so that the thing is impossible, for the stem is far too big to be climbed in the same way as I get up the cocoa-nut trees.”

“That has nothing to do with the question,” retorted Dominick, “you said you would try.”

Otto looked with an injured expression at his sister and asked what she thought of a man being required to attempt impossibilities.

“Not a man—a monkey,” interjected his brother.

“Whether man or monkey,” said Pauline, in her quiet but decided way, “if you promised to attempt the thing, you are bound to try.”

“Well, then, I will try, and here, I drink success to the trial.” Otto applied the cocoa-nut to his lips, and took a long pull. “Come along, now, the sooner I prove the impossibility the better.”

Rising at once, with an injured expression, the boy led the way towards a little eminence close at hand, on the top of which grew a few trees of various kinds, the tallest of these being the signal-tree, to which Dominick had fixed one of the half-burnt pieces of sheeting, brought from the wreck. The stem was perfectly straight and seemingly smooth, and as they stood at its foot gazing up to the fluttering little piece of rag that still adhered to it, the impossibility of the ascent became indeed very obvious.

“Now, sir, are you convinced?” said Otto.

“No, sir, I am not convinced,” returned Dominick.

“You said you would try.”

Without another word Otto grasped the stem of the tree with arms and legs, and did his best to ascend it. He had, in truth, so much of the monkey in him, and was so wiry and tough, that he succeeded in getting up full twelve or fourteen feet before being utterly exhausted. At that point, however, he stuck, but instead of slipping down as he had intended, and again requesting to know whether his brother was convinced, he uttered a sharp cry, and shouted—

“Oh! I say, Dom, what am I to do?”

“Why, slip down, of course.”

“But I can’t. The bark seems to be made of needle-joints, all sticking upwards. If I try to slip, my trousers vill remain behind, and—and—I can’t hold on much longer!”

“Let go then, and drop,” said Dominick, stepping close to the tree.

“Oh no, don’t!” cried Pauline, with a little shriek; “if you do you’ll—you’ll—”

“Bust! Yes, I know I shall,” shouted Otto, in despair.

“No fear,” cried Dominick, holding out his arms, “let go, I’ll cat—”

He was stopped abruptly by receiving a shock from his little brother which sent him sprawling on his back. He sprang up, however, with a gasp.

“Why, boy, I had no idea you were so heavy,” he exclaimed, laughing.

“Now, don’t you go boasting in future, you prime minister, that I can’t knock you down,” said Otto, as he gathered himself up. “But I say, you’re not hurt, are you?” he added, with a look of concern, while Pauline seized one of Dominick’s hands and echoed the question.

“Not in the least—only a little wind knocked out of me. Moreover, I’m not yet convinced that the ascent of that tree is an impossibility.”

“You’ll have to do it yourself, then,” said Otto; “and let me warn you beforehand that, though I’m very grateful to you, I won’t stand under to catch you.”

“Was it not you who said the other night at supper that whatever a fellow resolved to do he could accomplish, and added that, where there’s a will, there’s a way?”

“I rather think it was you, Dom, who gave expression to those boastful sentiments.”

“It may be so. At all events I hold them. Come, now, lend a hand and help me. The work will take some time, as we have no other implements than our gully-knives, but we’ll manage it somehow.”

“Can I not help you?” asked Pauline.

“Of course you can. Sit down on the bank here, and I’ll give you something to do presently.”

Dominick went, as he spoke, to a small tree, the bark of which was long, tough, and stringy. Cutting off a quantity of this, he took it to his sister, and showed her how to twist some of it into stout cordage. Leaving her busily at work on this, he went down to the nearest bamboo thicket and cut a stout cane. It took some time to cut, for the bamboo was hard and the knife small for such work. From the end of the cane he cut off a piece about a foot in length.

“Now, Otto, my boy, you split that into four pieces, and sharpen the end of each piece, while I cut off another foot of the bamboo.”

“But what are you going to do with these bits of stick?” asked Otto, as he went to work with a will.

“You shall see. No use in wasting time with explanations just now. I read of the plan in a book of travels. There’s nothing like a good book of travels to put one up to numerous dodges.”

“I’m not so sure o’ that,” objected the boy. “I have read Robinson Crusoe over and over, and over again, and I don’t recollect reading of his having made use of pegs to climb trees with.”

“Your memory may be at fault, perhaps. Besides, Robinson’s is not the only book of travels in the world,” returned Dominick, as he hacked away at the stout bamboo.

“No; but it is certainly the best,” returned Otto, with enthusiasm, “and I mean to imitate its hero.”

“Don’t do that, my boy,” said Dominick; “whatever you do, don’t imitate. Act well the part allotted to you, whatever it may be, according to the promptings of your own particular nature; but don’t imitate.”

“Humph! I won’t be guided by your wise notions, Mr Premier. All I know is, that I wish my clothes would wear out faster, so that I might dress myself in skins of some sort. I would have made an umbrella by this time, but it never seems to rain in this country.”

“Ha! Wait till the rainy season comes round, and you’ll have more than enough of it. Come, we’ve got enough of pegs to begin with. Go into the thicket now; cut some of the longest bamboos you can find, and bring them to me; six or eight will do—slender ones, about twice the thickness of my thumb at the ground.”

While Otto was engaged in obeying this order, his brother returned to the signal-tree.

“Well done, Pina,” he said; “you’ve made some capital cordage.”

“What are you going to do now, brother?”

“You shall see,” said Dominick, picking up a heavy stone to use as a hammer, with which he drove one of the hard, sharp pegs into the tree, at about three feet from the ground. We have said the peg was a foot long. As he fixed it in the tree about three inches deep, nine inches of it projected. On this he placed his foot and raised himself to test its strength. It bore his weight well. Above this first peg he fixed a second, three feet or so higher, and then a third about level with his face.

“Ah! I see,” exclaimed Otto, coming up at that moment with several long bamboos. “But, man, don’t you see that if one of these pegs should give way while you’re driving those above it, down you come by the run, and, if you should be high up at the time, death will be probable—lameness for life, certain.”

Dominick did not condescend to answer this remark, but, taking one of the bamboos, stood it up close to the tree, not touching, but a few inches from the trunk, and bound it firmly with the cord to the three pegs. Thus he had the first three rounds or rungs of an upright ladder, one side of which was the tree, the other the bamboo. Mounting the second of these rungs he drove in a fourth peg, and fastened the bamboo to it in the same way, and then, taking another step, he fixed a fifth peg. Thus, step by step, he mounted till he had reached between fifteen and twenty feet from the ground, where the upright bamboo becoming too slender, another was called for and handed up by Otto. This was lashed to the first bamboo, as well as to three of the highest pegs, and the operation was continued. When the thin part of the second long bamboo was reached, a third was added; and so the work progressed until the ladder was completed, and the lower branches of the tree were gained.

Long before that point, however, Otto begged to be allowed to continue and finish the work, which his brother agreed to, and, finally, the signal flag was renewed, by the greater part of an old hammock being lashed to the top of the tree.

But weeks and months passed away, and the flag continued to fly without attracting the attention of any one more important, or more powerful to deliver them, than the albatross and the wild sea-mew.

During this period the ingenuity and inventive powers of the party were taxed severely, for, being utterly destitute of tools of any kind, with the exception of the gully-knives before mentioned, they found it extremely difficult to fashion any sort of implement.

“If we had only an axe or a saw,” said Otto one morning, with a groan of despair, “what a difference it would make.”

“Isn’t there a proverb,” said Pauline, who at the time was busy making cordage while Otto was breaking sticks for the fire, “which says that we never know our mercies till we lose them?”

“Perhaps there is,” said Otto, “and if there isn’t, I don’t care. I don’t like proverbs, they always tell you in an owlishly wise sort o’ way what you know only too well, at a time when you’d rather not know it if possible. Now, if we only had an axe—ever so small—I would be able to fell trees and cut ’em up into big logs, instead of spending hours every day searching for dead branches and breaking them across my knee. It’s not a pleasant branch of our business, I can tell you.”

“But you have the variety of hunting,” said his sister, “and that, you know, is an agreeable as well as useful branch.”

“Humph! It’s not so agreeable as I used to think it would be, when one has to run after creatures that run faster than one’s-self, and one is obliged to use wooden spears, and slings, instead of guns. By the way, what a surprising, I may say awful, effect a well-slung stone has on the side of a little pig! I came upon a herd yesterday in the cane-brake, and, before they could get away, I slung a big stone at them, which caught the smallest of the