"Nat the Naturalist" (continued 3)

“Hi!” I shouted, as the childish pantomime went on, and the savage stared in all directions as if wonder-stricken at a strange noise coming he knew not whence, and ending by kneeling down and laying his ear to the ground.

“Hi!” I shouted again; but it was of no use, he could not possibly see either us, our chest, our fire, or the hut, but kept sidling along, staring in every direction but the right.

“Go and fetch him, Nat, while I toast another bloater. We’ll give him some breakfast, and it will make him friendly.”

I got up and went off, wondering what Uncle Joe and Aunt Sophia would have said to see me going to speak to that great spear-armed savage, and for a moment I wondered what would happen if he attacked me.

“Uncle Dick would shoot him dead with his rifle,” I said to myself by way of comfort, and I walked boldly on.

Still he would not see me, but kept sidling on till I got close up to him and gave him a smart spank on his naked shoulder.

In an instant he had spun round, leaped to a couple of yards away, and poised his spear as if to hurl. Then, acting his astonishment with great cleverness, his angry countenance broke up into a broad smile, he placed his spear into the hollow of his left arm, and stepped forward to shake hands, chattering away eagerly, though I could not understand a word.

“Come and have some breakfast,” I said, and he chattered again. “Come and have some breakfast,” I shouted; and then to myself: “How stupid I am! He can’t understand.”

So I took him by the arm, and pointed towards where my uncle was watching us with his rifle leaning against the table; and I knew that he must have been looking after my safety.

The savage stared here and there and everywhere, but he could not see my uncle till I dragged him half-way to the fire and pointed again, when he uttered a shout of surprise, as much as to say, “Well, who would have thought of seeing him there!”

He then walked up with me, grinning pleasantly, shook hands, and looked astonished as we pointed to the ground for him to sit down.

He seated himself though, at last, after sticking his spear in the sandy earth, and then watched us both as I spread some salt butter out of a pot on a piece of biscuit, and then handed him over some hot coffee, which I made very sweet, while my uncle, after shaking hands, had gone on toasting the bloater upon a stick of bamboo.

“Don’t give him the coffee too hot, Nat,” said my uncle. “There, that’s done, I think.”

“I could drink it myself, uncle,” I replied, and we placed the food before our guest, pointing to it, but he kept on shaking his head, and put his hands behind him.

“Perhaps he thinks it is not good, uncle,” I said, after we had several times partaken of our own to set him an example.

“Or that it is poisoned,” said my uncle. “Taste it to show him it is good, Nat.”

I took up the tin mug of coffee and tasted it twice, then broke a piece off the biscuit, put a little of the herring upon it, and ate it, the savage watching me closely the while.

Then his face broke into a broad smile once more, and he made believe to have suddenly comprehended that the food was meant for him, for, taking a good draught of the coffee, he leaped up, tossing his arms on high, and danced round us, shouting with delight for quite a minute before he reseated himself, and ate his breakfast, a good hearty one too, chattering all the while, and not troubling himself in the least that we could not understand a word.

“I’m sorry about one thing, Nat,” my uncle said. “He would not eat that food because he was afraid that it was poisoned.”

“Well, wasn’t that right of him, uncle?” I said, “as we are quite strangers.”

“Yes, my boy; but it teaches us that he knows what poison is, and that these savages may make use of it at times.”

Our black guest looked at us intently whenever we spoke, and seemed to be trying to comprehend what we said, but began to laugh again as soon as he saw that we observed him, ending by jumping up and shaking hands again, and pointing to the rifle, seizing his spear, holding it up to his shoulder, and then making a very good imitation of the report with his mouth.

He then pointed to a bird flying at a distance, and laughed and nodded his head several times.

“That relieves us of a little difficulty, Nat,” said my uncle. “The Malay captain seems to have told him why we have come; but there is another difficulty still, and that is about leaving our stores.”

“It seems to me, uncle, that what we ought to do first is to learn the language.”

“Yes, Nat, and we must. It would be more useful to us now than your Latin and French.”

“Yes, uncle, and we shall have to learn it without books. Hallo! what’s he going to do?”

Chapter Nineteen.

Our Very Black friend.

The reason for my exclamation was that our visitor suddenly began to drag the chest we had used for a table into the hut, and after this he carried in the kettle, and two or three other things that we had had out, the rifle included; after which, as we watched him, he patted us both on the chest to call our attention to what he was going to do, and, picking up his spear, he thrust it down into the ground close up to the doorway, its point standing up above the thatch.

“What does he mean by that, uncle?” I asked.

“I think I know, Nat,” he replied; “but wait a minute. This fellow is no fool.”

For after calling our attention to what he was going to do, he ran off into the jungle; and as we watched the spot where he had disappeared, he peered at us from behind a tree trunk, then from another, and another, popping up in all sorts of out-of-the-way places where we least expected to see him, and then suddenly creeping out on hands and knees from among some bushes, raising his head every now and then as if looking to see if he was watched, and again crawling on towards the hut.

Just in the midst of the pantomime he became aware of what we had seen before, about a dozen boys coming cautiously through the forest, when, jumping up in a rage, he dashed at them, and they disappeared, he after them, to come back panting and continue his performance, hiding and creeping out again, and going nearer and nearer to the hut.

“I say, uncle, isn’t this all nonsense?” I said.

“No, my boy. He can’t talk to us to make us understand, so he is trying to show us something by signs.”

As he spoke the black crept on and on, rising to his knees and peering round to see if he was watched, and at last, having arrived within half a dozen yards of the hut, he rose and made a dash for the door, making believe to see the spear, stuck up there like a sentry, for the first time, and then stopping short, uttering a howl of dread, and shivering all over as he crept crouching away, holding out his hands behind him as if to ward off a blow.

Then suddenly springing up, he ceased acting, looked at us, and laughed.

“Why, what does he mean, uncle?” I said.

“I know,” said Uncle Dick quickly; and pointing to some of the savages down on the shore he went up to the door of the hut, and made as if to go in, but stopped and pointed again to the savages at a distance.

The black nodded and laughed, danced about with delight, and then pointing to the savages himself he ran to the door, and came shivering and crouching away once more as if too much alarmed to go in.

“It is all right, Nat,” said my uncle; “he is evidently a chief, and he means that no one will dare go into the hut while his spear is stuck there. We have made a friend.”

All this time the savage was looking sharply from one to the other, as if to make sure that we comprehended him; and then, seeing that we did, he made signs for us to follow him, talking excitedly the while.

We walked with him to a grove of cocoa-nut trees, passing a number of the people as we passed through, but no one attempted to follow us; and after about a quarter of an hour’s walk he led us to a roughly-built palm-thatched shed, where we could hear the sounds of chopping and hammering, and on entering we found, to our surprise, that the shed was far larger than we had expected, and that in it were four men busy at work making a boat similar to one that lay there evidently but lately built.

Our new friend pointed to the finished boat, and we looked it over at once to find that it was beautifully made and perfect, with its oars, anchor, mast, and sail, and finished with such neatness that I began to wonder what tools the man must use, while my wonder was increased upon my uncle pointing out to me the fact that there was not a single nail in the whole boat, which was entirely put together by means of wooden pegs, and fastened with thin bands of rattan cane.

The black noticed our appreciation of the boat, and had we felt any doubt before of his power, it was silenced at once, for, giving his orders, the boat was half carried, half run down over the soft sand out into the pure blue water, when he signed to us to enter, leaped in afterwards, and we were run right out by the men.

The breeze was light, but strong enough for the boat, and the sail being hoisted, away we went upon the long rollers, rising and falling so easily that I could not help thinking how clever these islanders must be.

“Why, Nat,” said my uncle, “we ought to have waited until we came here, for this boat is worth a dozen of the one I bought. It is so light and buoyant, and suited to the seas we are on. It will hold quite as much as our own, and be stronger and far easier to manage.”

All this time the black was watching him intently, striving to understand his words, but shaking his head in a disappointed manner from time to time.

We had a fair trial of the boat, and became each minute better satisfied. Sometimes my uncle steered, sometimes I, and always to find that the light vessel went over the roughest rollers like a cork, and without shipping a drop of water.

My uncle managed as well that we should run along the coast, so as to see something of the country, with the result that I grew quite excited by my desire to land and see some of the wonders of the place; and at last the boat’s head was put about and we ran back.

Now, however, the black chief took the rudder in hand, and ran us ashore on the top of a great roller, which left us high and dry upon the soft white sand, our companion jumping out and pulling us beyond reach of the next wave with the greatest ease.

The spot he had chosen was close to the boat we had brought from Singapore, up to which our companion had walked, kicking it with a look of contempt; and I must say that I could not help feeling ashamed of the rough, common, clumsy-looking thing, after our ride in that from which we had just disembarked.

Just then our companion shouted, and half a dozen blacks came racing and clattering to our side, taking charge of the boat, while we walked up to the hut, not without some misgivings as to the state of its contents.

It was quite evident, though, that no one had been near it, and our companion, with a look of consequence that was very comical in a naked savage, took up his spear and stood aside while we entered and obtained our guns and ammunition.

At this, however, he made signs indicative of his displeasure, shaking his head and pointing to the boat and then to our stores.

“I shall have to trade for the boat,” said my uncle; “and to tell the truth, Nat, I don’t feel at all unwilling.”

So setting to, there was a long pantomime scene, in which my uncle offered the black chief our heavy, clumsy boat for the new, light, canoe-like vessel we had tried.

The offer was refused with a show of disgust, but not so great as I expected; for, as I afterwards found, there were iron and copper fittings in our boat that were looked upon by the islanders as a great acquisition. So then my uncle proceeded to lay in the boat a bit at a time the additions that he would give in exchange, his offerings consisting of showy cloth, brass wire, and axes, till the chief was satisfied and the boat was our own, after which he made signs for us to get our guns, and we started inland for our first shooting expedition, I with my pulses throbbing, and every nerve in a state of tension as I wondered what would be the first gloriously feathered trophy that I should secure.

Chapter Twenty.

Amongst Nature’s Treasures.

It was a land of marvels to me, as now for the first time I saw in all their beauty the tall cocoa-nut trees and other palms, like vast ferns, towering up on their column-like stems and spreading their enormous feathery leaves so gracefully towards the earth. Then after a few steps we came upon bananas, with their long ragged leaves and mighty clusters of curiously-shaped fruit, with hundreds of other trees, such as I had never even heard of before, and among which, every now and then, we heard the sharp harsh cry of some bird of the parrot tribe.

These cries set us both on the qui vive, but though we walked for some little distance we did not obtain a shot nor see a single bird, but we found that there was plenty of forest land full of vast trees with here and there patches of beautiful undergrowth, so that, as Uncle Dick said, it was only a matter of time.

“I feel as excited over it, Nat, as you seem to be, my boy; for it is intensely interesting always to me, this search for unknown birds. What’s that?”

We stopped to listen, but could not make out what the noise was that kept falling upon our ears. It was a kind of soft pleasant croak, ending in a kind of deep hum, sometimes coming from one direction, sometimes from another.

“It can’t be a bull-frog, Nat, for we are not near any marsh or water as far as I can see.”

“Are there tree bull-frogs, uncle?” I said, “because that noise comes out of one of the tall trees. Oh! look, there’s a big bird,” I cried, and raising my gun I took quick aim and fired, when far above us there was a heavy flapping noise of wings amongst the trees, and then silence.

“A miss, or a hit too weak to bring him down, Nat,” said my uncle smiling. “Better luck next time. Load again, my boy.”

I hastily reloaded, and we went on again, rising higher and higher over very difficult ground; and then we entered another grove of high trees and heard the same soft croaking noise as before.

“Pigeons, Nat, without doubt,” said my uncle. “No other birds, I think, would have made that curious flapping of the wings.”

“But that bird I shot at was too big for a pigeon, uncle,” I replied.

“You’ll find pigeons out here, Nat, four times as big as you have seen at home. Look, my boy, on the top branches of that great tree there is quite a cluster of them. Steal up softly; you round that way, I will go this. We shall one of us get a shot, I dare say.”

I made a little circuit in obedience to my uncle’s orders, and we crept up softly towards where a huge tree rose like a pillar to a tremendous height before sending out a branch, and there, just dimly seen in the soft twilight beneath the canopy of leaves, were several huge birds, which took flight with a great rattle of wings as we came near.

There was the quick report of my uncle’s gun, closely followed by mine, and one bird fell heavily to the ground, the others disappearing from view beyond the trees; but just then our companion uttered a shout and dashed on ahead, to return in a few minutes with a second bird which his quick eyes had detected as wounded, and he had seen it drop into a tree some distance off, and then fall, to lead him a long chase before he secured it and brought it back.

Meanwhile we were both kneeling beside the first, which had fallen in a patch of open ground where the sun came down, and I shall never forget the delight with which I gazed at its wonderfully beautiful plumage.

“A pigeon, you see, Nat,” said my uncle; “and a fine one too.”

“Is that a pigeon, uncle?” I said wonderingly.

“To be sure it is, my boy, and—”

Crack!

“That was a thrush, if I am not mistaken.”

I ran and picked up a bird that he shot in the middle of his speech, as it flew over some low bushes, and brought it back in triumph.

“No, uncle, it is not a thrush,” I cried. “It is a lovely blue and grey bird.”

“What is it, then, Nat?” he said, smiling. “Have you forgotten all I told you about the representatives of our home birds being bright in colour?”

“But I did not think a thrush could be all of a lovely pale blue, uncle,” I said; “and I never saw such a pigeon as that. Why, its back and wings are almost as green as those cuckoos—the trogons—and what beautiful feet and eyes! Oh! uncle,” I said, “I am glad we came.”

He smiled as he knelt down and carefully smoothed the feathers of the great pigeon, thrusting a little cotton-wool into its beak to soak up any moisture that might escape and damage the feathers.

“We shall, I believe, find plenty of magnificent pigeons out here, Nat,” he said, as I eagerly watched his acts, so as to know what to do next time.

“But I never expected to find pigeons, uncle, with gold and violet reflections on their feathers.”

“Why not, Nat,” he replied laughing, “when in dull, foggy old England, where there is so little sunshine, the pigeons and doves have beautiful iris-like reflections on their necks and breasts? Now for the thrush. There, Nat, that is a beauty. I should have felt that I had done a good day’s work if I had only secured that dainty prize with its delicately harmonious coat of soft grey and blue.”

“And it is a thrush, uncle?”

“Certainly. Look at the beak. This is one of the Pittas or ground-thrushes, Nat, of which there are a good many out in these islands. Some of them are, I believe, much more brightly coloured than this; but bright plumage is not all we want, my boy; it is new specimens, Nat. We must be discoverers as well as collectors.”

By this time the lovely thrush was hung with the two pigeons carefully by the beaks to a long bamboo, and after we had explained to our black companion, by means of a little dumb-show, that he must carry the bamboo carefully, a task which, after a few skips and bounds to show his delight, he undertook to perform. We went on again, trusting to him to find the way back through the wilderness of great tree trunks, some of which rose, without a branch, to a vast height above our heads, but only to make up for it afterwards, for the branches then clustered so thickly that all the sunshine was shut out, and we walked in the deep shadow, save where here and there we found an opening which looked quite dazzling by contrast. Here it was that we found flowers growing, and saw traces enough of insects to make us determine to bring collecting-boxes another time, on purpose to obtain the glorious beetles and butterflies that we saw here and there.

“Look, uncle,” I cried; “there’s another, and another. Oh, if I had my butterfly-net!”

For I kept seeing beetles of dazzling lustre, and butterflies marked with such brilliant colours, that I was ready to throw down my gun and rush off in chase.

“Yes, this is a better collecting ground than Clapham Common, Nat,” said my uncle. “We ought to have plenty of pinning out to do to-morrow night. To-day I hope to be busy enough making skins. Hist! Look at the black.”

I had just time to save the bamboo with the birds from being thrown down upon the ground by our companion, who went upon hands and knees, and crawled forward a short distance to the shelter of some bushes at the edge of a bright opening, where the sun poured down like showers of silver light.

“He has found something,” I whispered.

“Then you run forward, Nat, and see. Be cool, and take a good quick aim. I’ll mind the birds.”

He took the bamboo, and I ran forward to where the black was waving me on; but went more cautiously as I drew nearer, and a few moments later I was crouching in the shadow of the bushes at the edge of the opening, watching the objects at which the black was pointing.

I knew by means of my ears what birds he had found, before I caught sight of them, for every now and then a harsh shrill scream was uttered, and before long I could see across the opening quite a little flock of beautiful scarlet lories busily feeding on the clustering fruit of a tall forest tree, which, being close to the sunny opening, was covered with leaves and twigs, from the top to the very ground.

I was so utterly taken up by the beauty of the sight that I forgot all about my gun, but knelt there watching the lovely little long-tailed birds, climbing by the help of their beaks, in and out amongst the branches, sometimes hanging by their strong curved bills, sometimes head downwards by one or both legs, and always busily hunting for food.

I had seen stuffed specimens before, but they seemed so poor and common-looking beside the velvety softness and brilliant colouring of these smooth-feathered, lively, rounded birds, and I kept on enjoying the sight to so great an extent that I am sure the flock would have escaped had not my black companion shook my arm violently, and pointed to my gun, when, recalling the object of my journey, I raised it, took careful aim, and fired.

There was a shrill cry from the birds, and the flock took flight, but not until I had managed to get another shot, the result being that I secured three very beautiful specimens to take back to my uncle, showing them to him with a glow of pride.

“I want to be of some use, uncle,” I said, for I had been afraid that he would think I could not shoot.

“Use, Nat! why, you shot one of those pigeons this morning.”

“Did I, uncle?” I said.

“To be sure, my boy. At all events I did not, so it must have been you.”

He was delighted with the three specimens I had secured, and saying that these would be as many as he could comfortably preserve that day, we went on exploring more than collecting, in what was to me quite a fairyland of wonders.

Perhaps long confinement on shipboard had something to do with it; but all the same, every place we came to had its beauties of some kind or another. Now it was a noisy stream leaping from the rocks in a feathery cascade; at another time, a grove full of curious orchids. Every now and then some lovely butterfly would start from flower or damp spot in the openings, but it was of no use to chase them then, my uncle said, for we had no means of preserving them.

“Let’s collect, Nat,” he said, “and make a splendid set of cases of birds and insects; but let’s have no wanton destruction. I hate to see birds shot except for a purpose.”

“We shall have to look out, uncle,” I said, laughing, “for it is hard enough work to walk on this ground; I don’t know how we shall run.”

In fact, when we got back to our hut, after shooting a couple more pigeons, our shoes were showing already how sharp the rocks were that formed a great part of the ground over which we tramped.

I almost wondered at my uncle shooting two more pigeons, as we had already a couple, but I found out the reason when we reached home, as we called it, to find that everything was in its place; no one apparently having entered the hut, from which our black guide now took his spear, and without another word hurried away.

Chapter Twenty One.

Feeding in the Wilderness.

“I hope Master Ebony is not offended,” said my uncle, wiping his face. “Perhaps it is only his way. Now, Nat, get some sticks and make a good fire, while I lay the cloth and cook. That’s the evil of being alone, we have to prepare and cook for ourselves; but we’ll have a treat to-day.”

I soon had a fire burning, and then watched Uncle Dick as with sharp knife and clever fingers he quickly skinned the four pigeons, placing their skins where they would not dry, and then busying himself over the birds.

“Won’t you have some dinner first, uncle?” I said, for I was terribly hungry.

“First? No, my boy, not till we have cooked it. You don’t want to eat your birds raw, do you?”

“What! are you going to eat those—those—”

“Pigeons?” he said, as I hesitated. “To be sure, Nat; why not? Do you suppose that because birds have bright feathers they are not good to eat?”

“Well, no, uncle,” I replied, as I thought of pheasants, and that at one time people used to eat the peacock; “but these birds have green feathers.” It was a very stupid remark, but it seemed the only thing I could then say.

“Ah! they’ll be none the worse for that, my boy,” he said, laughing, as he removed the birds’ crops on to a great leaf which I held for him. “We’ll examine those after dinner, Nat, so as to see on what the birds feed. If I’m not mistaken they eat the large fruit of the nutmeg for one thing.”

“Then they ought to taste of spice, uncle,” I said, laughing.

“Wait a bit, Nat, and you’ll see how good these fruit-pigeons are. Now, cut with that great jack-knife of yours a good sharp pair of bamboo skewers, or spits, and we’ll soon have the rascals roasting. We can’t eat the insects, but we can the birds, and a great treat they will be after so much shipboard food.”

“That they will be, uncle,” I said, as the pigeons, each quite double or three times the size of one of our home birds, were stuck before the fire, and began to send out a nice appetising smell.

“Then you won’t be too prejudiced to eat them?” he said, laughing.

“Oh, uncle!” I said, “I’m so hungry I could eat anything now.”

“Well done, Nat. Well, my boy, as long as we get plenty of specimens to skin we sha’n’t starve. Turn that skewer round. That’s right; stick it tightly into the sand, and now let’s have on a little more wood. Pick up those old cocoa-nut shells and husks, and put on, Nat.”

“Will they burn well?” I said. “I was afraid of putting out the fire.”

“Splendidly, my boy. The shells are full of oil, and will send out a capital heat.”

We were obliged to nibble a biscuit while we waited, and anxiously watched the frizzling and browning birds, for we were terribly hungry.

“I hope they won’t be long, uncle,” I said.

“So do I, Nat,” he replied; “but what a splendid dining-room we have got out here! Isn’t it lovely, my boy, under this blue sky and shading trees?”

“Hundreds of times better than going to a picnic at Bushey Park, uncle,” I said. “But you talked of eating the birds we shot. Thrushes would be good, wouldn’t they?”

“Delicious, Nat, only so very small.”

“But you wouldn’t eat parrots, uncle, lories, and paroquets, and these sort of birds?”

“Why not?” he replied, turning his skewer, while I imitated him, it seeming to be settled that we were each to have a couple of pigeons for our dinner.

“I don’t know why not, uncle,” I said thoughtfully, “only it seems so queer to eat a Poll parrot;” and as I spoke I could not help thinking of poor Humpty Dumpty, and all the trouble I had had. “It seems queer,” I said again.

“But why does it seem queer, Nat?” he said, smiling. “Come, my boy, you must throw aside prejudices.”

“Well, you see, uncle, they have got such hooked beaks,” I said, in a helpless sort of way.

“Ha! ha! ha!” he laughed. “Why, what a reason, Nat! I might as well say I would not eat snipe, or woodcock, because it has such a long straight beak. Turn your skewer, Nat. They are beginning to smell maddeningly nice. They’re as fat as butter. Nothing like a walk such as ours to give you an appetite. There, take the big tin and go and fill it with Adam’s ale.”

I ran to the rock pool and filled the tin with the cool clear water, and came back to the fire.

“They’ll soon be done, Nat,” said my uncle. “Yes, my boy, I should eat parrots, and shall eat a good many, I hope. Why, look here, Nat, what do parrots eat?”

“Sop and seed and sugar,” I said.

“Yes, when they are shut up in a cage at home, Nat; but fruit, my boy, in their native state. There, you may take that as a rule, that all birds that live on seed or fruit are good for food.”

“And those that live on prey, uncle, are bad,” I said.

“Well, no; that won’t do, Nat. Parrots are delicious. I’ve eaten dozens. And so are some birds that live on small prey—ducks and geese, for instance, eat a great many live things; and the birds that live on insects are, some of them, very good. I think we may say birds of light diet are all good, and draw the line at all carrion or raptorial birds. I should not like to eat hawk, owl, or anything of the crow family; but there is no knowing, Nat, what we might do if half-starved, and that’s what I am now. Nat, my boy, the birds are done. Now for a glorious feast! I’m sure I shall pick the bones of my two.”

“And I’m sure I shall, uncle. I was never so hungry in my life.”

“Then now to begin, my boy; give me that tin plate and say grace, if we are in the wilds. What’s become of all the savages?”

“Oh, uncle!” I cried, “here comes our guide. He wasn’t offended.”

“Thunder!” cried Uncle Dick, with a comical look of disgust; “he has come back to dinner.”

“Yes, uncle,” I groaned, as I looked at the pigeons; “and he has brought two great hungry fellows with him.”

“Fetch the guns, Nat,” cried my uncle in comical wrath; “let’s fight in defence of our prey. No, don’t; we must bribe them with biscuits to go.”

Uncle Dick looked at me in a miserably resigned way, and it all seemed so droll that these blacks should come up just as we were preparing for such a feast, that I leaned back against the cocoa-nut tree by the fire and laughed till I cried.

Chapter Twenty Two.

Company to Dinner.

I was wiping the tears from my eyes as Mr Ebony, as uncle called him, came up, carrying something in a great palm leaf, while his companions had something else in a basket.

Mr Ebony was grinning tremendously. Then he said something, and the two others went away, while our black guest, for that he evidently meant to be, sniffed at the pigeons, rubbed himself, and danced with delight.

But we had wronged him, for he was not going to behave shabbily, for, taking the basket, he rolled out of it a dozen great fruit, half being cocoa-nuts, the other something nearly as large that I had never seen before.

Then he nodded and grinned, and had another bit of a dance before unrolling the huge palm leaf, and showing us four good-looking fishes, each twice as big as a large mackerel, and so fresh that one was hardly now dead.

Mr Ebony grinned and danced again, nodding at us both, and saying something in his tongue which sounded to me like, “Now we’ll have such a jolly tuck-out;” but of course it was not that, though it evidently meant as much.

The next minute with wonderful skill our visitor had cut some bamboos with a kind of adze he had in the cord round his waist, slit open and cleaned the fish with a sharp-pointed piece of wood, and then got each one stuck on a piece of bamboo to roast before the fire.

He was like a man on springs; he did things so jerkily and quick, jumping up and rushing off, to come back laden with wood for the fire, some of which he carefully put on, and then nodded and grinned and rubbed himself.

“Well, Mr Ebony,” said my uncle, smiling, “you are really not a bad fellow after all; and as you have come to dinner in full dress I am very glad to see you, and let’s fall to. By all the rules of etiquette, my dear sir, soup comes first, sir. We have no soup. Fish follows next, but, my dear carbonaceous-looking friend, the fish is not done, while the pigeons are, so sit down. Nat, my boy, give our honoured guest a tin plate and a biscuit. Monsieur Ebony—pigeon?”

As my uncle spoke he pulled up his bamboo spit, and, taking hold of the sandy end, he presented the other to our visitor, who took hold tightly, watching my uncle the while as he drew his hunting-knife, and, with a dexterous chop, divided the bamboo in two, leaving each with a pigeon.

“Come, Nat, boy, fall to. That other pigeon will have to be divided.”

Then there was silence as I helped myself to the great pigeon, and we began to eat with such a sense of enjoyment as I never felt before; but when my uncle and I were half through our pigeons Mr Ebony had finished his, and was casting furtive glances at the one still frizzling and browning before the fire in company with the fishes, which our guest carefully turned.

“Give him the other pigeon, Nat,” said my uncle, “and we will make up with fish;” so I offered it to our visitor, but he shook his head, and began chattering, pointing to the fish, which he kept turning; and as soon as one was done, looked with a good deal of natural politeness to see if we were ready; but as we were not, he threw his bones over his head—of course I do not mean his own bones, but the bones of the pigeon, which he had crunched up with his white teeth, like a dog, and began at once upon his fish.

Leaving the fourth pigeon stuck upon the spit, we now in our turn each tried a fish, which Uncle Dick said were a kind of perch, and very delicious they were, especially with the addition of a little pepper, of which, after the first taste, our visitor showed himself to be very fond; and taken altogether, we made a most delicious repast, without thinking of the dessert which had yet to come.

This our visitor commenced after he had eaten a second fish, chattering away to us, and opening the nuts with great skill, giving one to each of us, so that for the first time I tasted what cocoa-nut really was like. Not a hard, indigestible, sweet, oily kind of woody kernel fast round the shell, so that it was hard to get it off; but a sweet, soft pulp that we cut and scraped out like cream-cheese, while it had a refreshing slightly acid flavour that was most delicious.

I never saw anyone before like our black friend, for no sooner did he see by our looks that we enjoyed his cocoa-nuts than he jumped up and danced, laughing with pleasure, but stopping every now and then to have a taste himself, till we had finished, when he took one of the other great nuts, which I saw were thorny, and marked down the sides with seams, as if ready for opening by means of a knife.

“That is not cocoa-nut, is it, uncle?” I said, looking curiously at the great wooden fruit, as the black proceeded to split it open with his hatchet, inserting the blade very cleverly so as to get it open, with the result that a very unpleasant odour arose.

“It don’t seem to be good, whatever it is,” said my uncle. “Why, it must be the durian, Nat,” he said eagerly. “I wanted to see that fruit.”

“But it does not seem good to eat, uncle,” I said, as I looked at the portion given to me, which appeared to be full of a kind of custard with big seeds inside, about as large as a chestnut.

“They say it is delicious,” he replied, helping himself to a little with the blade of his knife. “Taste away.”

I tasted, and he tasted, the black watching us attentively; and no sooner did he see the face I made than he became tremendously excited, jumping about, making smacking sounds with his lips, and rubbing himself to show how good it was. Then, still seeing that we did not get on, he opened another, and taking half began to eat rapidly, dancing about with delight and rolling his eyes, to explain to us that he was having a most delicious feast.

“Perhaps this is a better one,” said my uncle, stretching out his hand for the untouched half, but upon tasting it he did not find it so satisfactory as that which we had, and we made a very poor dessert, as far as the durian was concerned, greatly to our friend’s chagrin.

The meal being at an end, we each took a hearty draught of the pure water, and offered the tin to our guest, but he shook his head and kept on making signs as he cried out:

“Rack-rack-rack-rack!”

“What does he mean, uncle?” I said. “Look, he is pretending to pour something into the water. He means arrack.”

“Yes, and he will not get any, Nat—neither arrack nor brandy. Those are for medicines, my boy; but go and get one of those small bottles of raspberry vinegar, and I’ll give him some of that.”

The black watched me intently as I fetched the little bottle of rich red syrup, and kept his eyes upon his host, when, after emptying all but about half a pint of water out of the tin, my uncle poured out a table-spoonful of the syrup into the clear water and stirred it up, offering it afterwards to the black, who took it, smelt it suspiciously, and then handed it to me.

I drank a portion, and found it so good that I finished it, to our guest’s amazement and disgust; but the cup was soon replenished, and now he tasted eagerly, drinking it up, and then indulging in a fresh dance.

“Now for work,” said my uncle. “Let’s clear away, Nat;” and the remains of the dinner having been carried into the tent, the box of requisites was brought out, and with the black squatting down upon his heels to watch us attentively, I helped Uncle Dick prepare his first skins.

Chapter Twenty Three.

How to prepare Skins, and go Fishing.

The process was very simple, for he took the thrush and the lories, inserted a sharp-pointed penknife just through the skin, and then with clever fingers turned the delicate skin back, taking care not to injure the feathers either by the moisture of the bird’s flesh or by handling and roughening the plumage, the result being that he skilfully turned the skin inside out after cutting through the legs and wings, cleaning the bones of flesh, and leaving in the skull, after stripping the bird right to the beak.

It was surprising how beautifully clean everything came away, so that when the fleshy side of the skin had been brushed over with moistened arsenical soap, the wing-bones tied together, the hollow of the skull and orbits of the eyes filled up with cotton-wool, and a ball of the same placed for the body, the skin being turned back over all and slightly shaken, a stranger would hardly have known that the flesh of the bird had been removed.

There was no odour except the aromatic scent of the preserving soap; and when a little sugar-paper had been twisted up into which to thrust the bird’s head and shoulders to keep the neck short, and the bird had lain in the sun for a few hours, it became quite stiff and dry, exactly like the skins with which I was familiar.

Uncle Dick insisted upon my doing the thrush and one of the lories, while he did the pigeons, whose skins were so tender, and so covered with oily fat, that they required a great deal of care to keep the feathers unsullied.

I set to work then, skinning my birds pretty readily from old practice, and after a little bungling I managed to make of them respectable-looking skins.

“You’ll soon improve, Nat,” said my uncle, as we laid our specimens all together in the sun, the black nodding his approval at all we did; but the skins had not been lying there long, and our hands washed previous to putting on the kettle for tea, before our new friend jumped up in a great state of excitement, pointing to a reddish-brown streak that seemed to run from the wood nearly to where our specimens lay.

“Ants!” exclaimed my uncle, darting to the skins, and shaking off a few of the enemies that had come to the attack; and it was not until we had contrived to make a little channel all round one of our boxes upon which the skins were laid, and connected it with the little spring of water, so that our treasure was surrounded by a tiny moat, that we could keep the insects away.

Our black friend, who was evidently a great chief among his people, made no scruple about stopping to have some tea with us, watching the boiling of the kettle and our preparations with the greatest of curiosity, but always in a calm, composed way.

“It is rather a nuisance always having him here, Nat,” said my uncle; “but we should be bothered with a good many more if he were to go, and really he does not seem a bad sort of fellow.”

He certainly was not, for though he ate heartily of anything we gave him, he was as generous as could be, going off to return with men laden with fruit, fish, and a kind of sago, which was not at all bad boiled up and sweetened.

I missed a good many things such as I had been used to, but so far it all seemed to be glorious fun, and that night I lay down to rest looking through the open doorway at the stars, breathing the soft warm air, and dropping off into a delicious sleep, to dream of home, and Uncle Joe in his garden, smoking his long clay pipe.

I was awakened at daybreak by some one touching me, and on opening my eyes I started with dread as I saw a black face close to my own, and a grinning set of white teeth.

I knew directly who it was, though, and getting up I saw that my uncle was still peacefully sleeping off the previous day’s fatigue.

I was going to rouse him, but Mr Ebony pulled me by the arm to come without waking him.

My next movement was to get my gun; but again our black friend objected, pulling at me half angrily, and I accompanied him outside into the cool grey morning.

I hesitated to follow him for a minute, thinking that I ought not to leave my uncle; but I could not help thinking that we were quite helpless amongst these savages if they chose to turn against us, and therefore all we could do was to cultivate their good-will.

Mr Ebony, whose black mop of hair stood out more fiercely than ever, was watching me attentively, scowling fiercely, as I thought; but as soon as I prepared to follow him he began to grin and chatter away to me, keeping on repeating the word “Ikan-Ikan,” till we were down in the half darkness by where the waves lapped the sand; and now I saw a good-sized canoe with half a dozen men waiting, all looking, with their paddles in their hands, like so many fierce black executioners, prepared to make an end of me.

Mr Ebony signed to me to get into the boat, and feeling that perhaps they might be going to make a prisoner of me and take me to another island, I asked myself whether I ought not to resist; but seeing how useless it would be, I resigned myself to my fate, jumped into the canoe, Mr Ebony followed; and with no singing and splashing now, but in utter silence, we pushed off over the grey sea.

“Where are we going, I wonder?” I said to myself.

“Ikan, Ikan,” said Mr Ebony, shaking something in the bottom of the canoe.

“Ikan! where’s that, I wonder?” I said to myself. “Why, these are fishing-lines. Ikan, fish,” I exclaimed, pointing to the lines and then to the sea, making as if to throw in one of the lines.

“Ikan, Ikan,” cried Mr Ebony, grinning with delight, and then he touched my hands and the lines, and patted my back—dancing about afterwards till he nearly danced overboard, after which he became a little more calm, but kept on smiling in the most satisfied way, and shouting “Ikan, Ikan;” all the others saying it after him, as if highly satisfied, and when to please them I said “Ikan, Ikan,” they uttered a shout, and I felt quite at home, and delighted at having come.

I don’t know how it was, but as soon as I felt satisfied that they were not going to do me any harm I began to learn how much they were all like a set of schoolboys of my own age, for big, strong, well-made men as they were, they seemed to be full of fun, and as young as they could be.

They paddled swiftly out and away from the land, working hard to send the great canoe well along over the long rollers that we seemed to climb, to glide down the other side; and, with the exception of the heaving, slow rolling motion of the sea, all being deliciously calm, I thoroughly enjoyed my ride, especially as Mr Ebony, who was evidently a very big man amongst his people, had taken a great liking to me and kept on drawing my attention to every splash on the surface of the water, and then to the busy way in which he was preparing his coarse fishing-lines.

I suppose there are some boys who never cared for fishing; but however cruel it may be as a sport, I must confess that I was always passionately fond of it, and now to be out on this tropic sea before sunrise, with the stars seen faintly here and there, the blacks keeping up a rhythmical motion of the paddles, and the water lapping up against the bow of the canoe, I felt an indescribable kind of delight that no words of mine will put on paper.

I should think we paddled about a couple of miles, and then at a word from Mr Ebony the paddles were all laid in, and a line, with its great coarsely-made hooks formed out of well-sharpened pieces of brass wire, was handed to me, my guide showing me how to throw it over the side; not that I needed showing, for it seemed to come quite natural; and I began to think, as I passed the line over, of the sticklebacks on Clapham Common, and the occasional carp that we schoolboys used to catch.

Mr Ebony grinned with satisfaction, and threw his own line over the side just as a splash behind me made me turn in time to see a rope running out rapidly, evidently attached to some kind of anchor.

This checked the canoe, which was floating along so fast that it had begun to ride over our lines, which now, however, floated away upon the swift current.

There was no noise or chattering now, but all the blacks sat or stood very quietly in the canoe, and I saw that three of them had long spears, barbed like hooks, and looking as if they were meant for catching fish.

There was a good length of line in my hands, which I kept on paying out, as the sailors call it, just as Mr Ebony was letting out his till it was nearly all gone, and I saw that the end was tied to the edge of the canoe. But still there was no sign of any fish, and I was beginning to stare about me, for just then a patch of golden light seemed to start out into view, and I could see that the tops of the mountains in the island were just catching the first rays of the sun, while the stars that had been looking so pale seemed to go out quickly one after another.

“I wonder whether Uncle Dick is awake yet,” I thought to myself, “and what he will say to my being away, and—”

An exclamation from my black companion brought me back from my dreamy thoughts; not that it was necessary, for something else had roused me, and that was a sharp jerk at the line, which snatched it quite out of my hands, and had it not been fastened to the side of the boat I should have lost it.

Mr Ebony was coming to my help, but seeing me dart at it again and, catching hold, begin to haul in and struggle hard with my fish, he rubbed himself and grinned, especially when he saw that I had to hang on with all my might to keep from being dragged out of the canoe.

The next moment he had enough to do to manage a fish that had taken his bait, and to keep it from crossing my line so as to get them into a tangle.

It was quite startling for the moment to have hold of so strong a fish, one which darted here, there, and everywhere; now diving straight down, now running away out to sea, and then when I thought the line must snap, for it made tugs that cut my hands and jerked my shoulders, I uttered a cry of disappointment, for the line came in slack, and the fish was gone.

It puzzled me to see how coolly the others took it, but I supposed that they were used to losing fish from the badness of their tackle, and besides, there was evidently a big one on Mr Ebony’s line to take their attention.

“I wonder whether he has taken the hook,” I thought to myself as I carefully drew in the line, coiling it neatly down between my legs, yard after yard, till I had pulled in at least fifty yards of the coarse cord, when, to my utter astonishment, there was a sudden check or rush, and the line began to run rapidly out again, my fish being still there, and I saw now that it had made a rush in towards the canoe, and then lain quite still close to the bottom till I had disturbed it by jerking the line as I hauled it in.

The rest that it had had seemed to have made it stronger than ever, for it darted about at a tremendous pace, and I was still playing it, letting it run when it made fierce dashes, and hauling in the line whenever it grew a little slack, when there was a bit of a bustle by my side as Mr Ebony drew his fish close up to the side of the canoe, and one of the blacks darted a barbed spear into it and lifted it into the canoe.

It was a beautifully-marked fish about three feet long, and as I glanced at it I wondered whether mine would be as big; and then I thought it must be bigger, it pulled with such tremendous force; but at last its struggles grew less and less powerful, and twice over I was able to draw it nearly to the surface, but only for it to dart away again, and I thought it was lost.

It seemed to excite a good deal of interest amongst the savages, two of whom stood, one on either side of me, ready with their spears to make a thrust at the fish, and one of them stretched out his hand to take the line from me, but Mr Ebony uttered such a fierce exclamation, and caught so angrily at a paddle, that the man drew back, and after a long and gallant fight I at last drew my fish so close in that, just as it was in the act of dashing off again, a couple of spears transfixed it, and it was drawn over the side amidst a shout of triumph.

Mr Ebony, who was the most excited of all, patting me on the shoulders and shaking hands most eagerly with one of the savages, took out the hook, the line was thrown over again, and I had time to examine my prize, a splendid fish, flashing with glorious colours in the morning light. It was over a yard long, and very thick and round, while its glistening scales were as big as shillings at the very least; in fact I don’t think I should exaggerate if I said that some in the centre rows were as large as two-shilling pieces, fluted and gilded, and some tinged with orange and glistening scarlet and green.

So great was the delight of all on board that they began to dance and sing with such vigour that the canoe rocked about, and one man went head over heels out into the sea.

I was horrified as I saw him disappear, but he was up again, grinning hugely, and slipped in over the side of the canoe like a great black eel, giving himself a shake to send the water out of his mop of hair, and then sitting down to watch us fish.

For quite half an hour now we caught nothing, but it did not seem to matter, for there was so much to look at as the glorious sun rose over the sea, turning it into orange and gold; while, when I was tired of that, the beauty of the trees and mountains on the island, with the endless changes of light and shade, made my heart beat with pleasure as I thought of what a lovely home these savages possessed, and it seemed to explain to me why it was that they were all so childlike and happy.

I caught another fish then of seven or eight pounds weight, different to the others, and Mr Ebony caught seven or eight quickly one after the other, I suppose out of a shoal, and then, laughing and chattering once again, the anchor, which proved to be a curious elbow, evidently the root of a tree, sharped at its points and weighted with a lump of coral, was hauled up, placed in the stern of the canoe, and we turned for the shore.

“What a morning for a bathe!” I thought, as we drew nearer; and starting up in the canoe when we were about a quarter of a mile from the land, I began to take off my things, meaning to swim ashore, where we were within a couple of hundred yards; but Mr Ebony stopped me, saying something I could not understand of course.

“I’m going to swim ashore,” I said, making believe to leap overboard, and then striking out with my arms; but my companions all chattered angrily, and Mr Ebony, to my horror, came at me, snapping at my arms and legs with his great white teeth, and looking terribly fierce, while, as I shrunk away, one of the blacks touched me on the back, and as I turned sharply, with Mr Ebony holding on to my trouser leg and apparently trying to tear out a piece, the black behind me pointed down into the clear water, now brightly lit-up by the sun, and I saw two long grey fish gliding slowly amongst the coral rocks, and I wanted no telling that they were sharks.

I pointed to the sharks in my turn, shuddering as I thought of what an escape I had had; and not being able to express myself in language, I did what Mr Ebony had done to me, made a dash at his leg and pretended to bite it, not doing so, however, for I did not care to touch his great black limb with my teeth.

He understood me, though, and chattered with delight, getting up and relieving his feelings by a short dance before settling down again and shaking hands.

In another minute the canoe was run up on the beautiful soft sand, the savages leaping out into the shallow water and carrying it beyond reach of the waves, when I stepped out with Mr Ebony, who made one of the men pick up my fish and carry it before us in triumph to our hut, the others taking the rest of the fish towards the village.

Chapter Twenty Four.

A Butterfly Hunt.

“Why, Nat,” cried my uncle, “I was beginning to be alarmed. Been fishing, eh?” he said, as he shook hands with our black friend, who had evidently made up his mind to stay breakfast; for, seizing the big fish, he snapped off a couple of great banana leaves upon which to lay it, and the man who had carried it went away; but not until I had made him show his teeth by giving him a couple of biscuits and a handful of sugar.

I explained to my uncle how I had been carried off that morning, and my feeling of alarm, and he nodded.

“I don’t think there is anything to be alarmed about, Nat,” he replied, “so long as we do not in any way touch upon their prejudices; but what a splendid fish, Nat, my boy! It must be a kind of mullet, I should say, by its soft mouth and the long barbs hanging from the corners of its chubby lips. Yes, that’s what it must be; but I’m sorry to say that I am very ignorant about fish.”

My uncle had not been idle, for he had made a good fire, the kettle was boiling, and we should have begun breakfast at once if it had not been for Mr Ebony’s preparations. He had lost no time, but had slit off some great chunks of solid fish, placing them on great bamboo skewers to roast, washing his hands afterwards with great nicety, and then scooping up the dry warm sand and letting it trickle over his fingers, palms, and wrists, until they were dry.

“I have not been idle, you see, Nat,” said my uncle, pointing to a newly made skin, that of a very lovely little green lory with a delicate peach-coloured head, the separation from the green feathers being marked by a deep black collar which gave the bird a neatness and beauty that was very attractive to the eye.

But Mr Ebony was not satisfied with his contribution to the breakfast, for, striking me on the breast, pointing to the fire, and saying, “Ikan, Ikan, youf, youf,” several times over, I repeated them to his satisfaction, understanding that he meant I was to mind the fish, and then he went off quickly.

“Ikan,” said my uncle, “that’s the Malay word for fish, so I suppose they use some Malay words though their language is quite different.”

“Then he said, ‘youf, youf,’ uncle.”

“Yes: youf must mean cooking or fire, which is api in the Malay tongue. But this fresh morning air gives me an appetite, Nat. I hope he won’t be long; turn the fish, my lad, it’s burning.”

“No, uncle, it’s only brown,” I replied, altering the position of the great collops; “but how beautiful it smells!”

“Yes, Nat, we want no fish sauces out here, my boy.”

“Where did you shoot that beautiful lory, uncle?” I asked.

“It was in that palm-tree close to us, Nat,” he replied; “and now, while we are waiting, I’ll put together a few boxes and the butterfly-nets and the cyanide bottle, ready for a start directly after breakfast.”

“Shall you take the guns, uncle?”

“Only one, Nat, and we’ll carry it in turn,” he replied. “This is to be a butterfly and beetle day, so we will not go far in any direction, but keep within reach of the camp so as to come back for food and rest. It will save us from having to carry provisions.”

Just then we saw Mr Ebony coming towards us loaded with a basket of fruit, which he placed on the sand, and then after a dance round us he plumped down by the fire and picked out the skewers where the fish was most done, handing one to each, and our breakfast began.

Mr Ebony thoroughly enjoyed his coffee with plenty of sugar, for he had no distrust now, but ate and drank as we did, laughing and talking all the while, and stopping every now and then to point to butterfly or bird that went by, eating a prodigious breakfast, but mostly of fish and fruit.

Breakfast over, as soon as he saw us ready for a start he stuck his spear down again in front of the door, excited and eager to be off, and ready to draw our attention to the fact that one of us had no gun.

We pointed, however, to the butterfly-nets and that satisfied him, and when we were ready to start I suggested to my uncle that we should put the uncooked remains of the fish and the fruit inside the hut so as to have them when we came back.

“To be sure, Nat,” he said, “I had forgotten them.”

But at the first attempt to remove them Mr Ebony stopped me, and uttered a loud, ringing cry, whose effect was to bring about a couple of dozen little naked black boys out of the jungle, where they must have been watching us, safely hidden all the time.

To these comical-looking little objects the chief said a few words, when there was a rush, and the remains from our breakfast were carried off like magic, Mr Ebony pointing to the sea and to the trees as much as to say, “There is plenty more when we want it.”

We were not long in getting to work, for no sooner were we in the denser part of the island where the foliage grew thick and moist, than we were astounded at the number of little lizards that swarmed about, darting here and there and puzzling me at first as to what colour they were. One moment they seemed to be bright green, the next like a wriggling line of the most beautiful blue.

I found out their colour, though, as soon as I had one in the butterfly-net, for while their bodies were of a brilliant green, their tails were a blue as pure as the sky.

A couple of them were consigned to the spirit bottle for preservation, and then we tramped on, growing more and more delighted with the country the farther we went.

For some time butterflies were absent, so we had to take to collecting birds, but hardly had we shot three different kinds of parrots, all of a most lovely colour, than we seemed to tumble upon the butterflies, and in the course of that one day we captured some of the most lovely specimens I had ever seen out of a museum. Blue, yellow, black, crimson, no tint was wanting to make them attractive, and we went on for hour after hour, forgetting all about our dinner in the excitement of the chase, and filling our boxes before we thought of leaving off.

Not only butterflies had been captured, but beetles of many kinds, most of them clad in armour that seemed to have been burnished, so brilliant were they in their green, purple, and violet when held up in the sun.

Chapter Twenty Five.

Why Ebony would not say Good-bye.

It was with feelings full of regret that we said good-bye to our black friend at the end of a month; for by that time the want of fresh specimens made my uncle say that it was time to be on the move. We could have gone on shooting scarlet lories, nutmeg pigeons, and pittas as long as we liked, but that would have been wanton work, and uncle discovered that the neighbouring islands would, wherever we went, give us fresh supplies and present to us birds and insects such as we had never seen before, so at last we prepared to start, and with some little difficulty made Mr Ebony understand that we wanted a good supply of sago, fruit, and fish for our voyage.

At first he could not understand that we were going right away, but as soon as he did comprehend our signs the poor fellow looked miserable, for he had regularly attached himself to us all the time of our stay, and he was inconsolable at the idea of our going.

He helped us, however, to load our boat, and would have given us fish enough for twenty people would we have taken it; and at last, just after an early breakfast, we bade farewell to the beautiful island, and waving an adieu to the people, of whom we had seen very little, we turned to shake hands with our black friend, both my uncle and I having ready a present for him; mine being a handy little hatchet, my uncle’s a large two-bladed knife.

To our surprise, though, as we stood down on the sands he refused to shake hands with us, looking very serious and glum, and when we gave him our presents, thinking that they would bring a smile to his face, he took them quickly and threw them into the bottom of the boat.

“It is a pity,” said my uncle, “for I do not like the idea of parting bad friends, Nat, my boy. I’d give something if I could speak to the poor fellow in his own language and tell him that we are not ungrateful for all his kindness.”

“I often wish we could speak in their own tongue, uncle,” I said.

“Yes, Nat, but it is next to impossible, for there are fifty or sixty different dialects spoken. There, offer to shake hands with him again. You two were always such good friends.”

I offered my hand to the black chief, but he put his own behind him and pointed to the boat, as much, it seemed to me, as to say, “There, you’ve got all you want now; go away.”

My uncle tried with no better success, and as the natives were gathering about us we reluctantly got in where the beautiful canoe lay heaving on the sands as the great rollers came in.

Everything was in readiness, our boxes snugly stowed, our provisions ready, our guns in their waterproof cases, the sail lay ready for hoisting, and all that was wanted now was to wait until a good wave came in and then shove off and ride out on it as it retired.

The canoe was so large that I wondered whether we should be able to manage it ourselves; but I had full confidence in my uncle’s skill, and it seemed to me that my help now ought to be of some use. So I seized the pole that lay ready, and prepared to use it; but Mr Ebony, as we had somehow got into the habit of calling him now, said something to the little crowd on the sands, when, as he took the lead, eight or nine ran into the water, seized the boat by the sides, and ran her right out forty or fifty yards to where the water was up to their breasts, when, giving us a final thrust, away we went upon the top of a roller, my uncle hoisting the sail at the right moment, and we glided on.

I had seized a great paddle used for steering and taken care to keep the boat’s head right, laughing to myself the while, and wondering what my uncle would say when he turned round, for he was hauling up the sail and too busy to notice anything but his work.

When at last he did turn round, just as we had glided lightly a good five hundred yards from the shore, he cried out: “Hallo!”

For there, just in front of me, squatting down upon his heels and with all his white teeth displayed, was Mr Ebony, apparently quite at home, and without the slightest intention of going back.

“Why, what does this mean?” said my uncle, and he pointed to the shore.

But Mr Ebony had no intention of going, and if we had not learned much of his language, he had picked up something of ours, for he began to shout, “No, no, no, no, no,” till he was out of breath, and laying himself down he took tight hold of one of the thwarts of the canoe, as if to say that he meant to cling to that if we tried to throw him over.

“This is why he wouldn’t shake hands, Nat,” said my uncle. “He couldn’t swim ashore now, for the sharks, so I suppose he means to come with us. Let’s see.”

My uncle pointed to the shore, but Mr Ebony shook his head, so Uncle Dick pointed right ahead eastward, in the direction we were going, and our black friend nodded, and jumping up danced about, grinning and muttering excitedly the while.

“Well, Nat,” said my uncle, “what’s to be done? He wants to go with us.”

“Can’t we take him, uncle?” I replied.

“Oh yes, Nat, we can take him,” he replied; “and he would be very useful. Only it comes upon me like a surprise. It is, of course, a good thing to have a black with us, for it will teach the people we come across that we are friendly, even if we cannot make them understand, though, I dare say, Ebony here will be able sometimes to act as interpreter.”

“Ebo-Nee, Ebo-Nee, Ebo-Nee,” cried our passenger loudly; and he began to beat his chest to show that he comprehended whom we meant.

Then touching me on the chest he cried with great eagerness, “Nat, my boy—Nat, my boy,” looking delighted when we laughed; and to give further example of his powers as a linguist, he next touched my uncle as he had touched me.

“Ung-go-Dit, Ung-go-Dit,” he cried, finishing off by slapping his naked flesh, and shouting, “Ebo-Nee, Ebo-Nee.”

“Very good, Master Ebo-Nee,” said Uncle Dick; “since you are so apt at learning, you may as well go on and pick up our words, for I quite despair of learning yours.”

The black was shrewd enough to see that we accepted his presence, and upon this he shook hands with us both twice over and then took the great paddle from my hand, steering and showing himself thoroughly skilful in the management of our canoe.

My uncle pointed east as the course he wanted to go; but our crew, as we called him, rose in mutiny directly, pointing south, and handing the paddle back to me he grew very excited, saying, “Bird, bird,” flapping his arms like wings and uttering screeches, whistles, and cries, before lifting an imaginary gun to his shoulder and uttering the word “Bang!”

“That is plain enough to understand, Nat,” said my uncle.

“Yes,” I replied; “he means that there are plenty of parrots and other birds on some island where he will take us.”

“Bird, bird,” cried Ebo-Nee, as we called him henceforth, and he pointed south-west.

“It does not much matter where we go, Nat,” said my uncle, “so long as we visit islands where naturalists have never been before, so I shall trust to our friend here. We can get to New Guinea at any time now, for it lies all along the north. All right, go on then,” said my uncle to Ebo-Nee, and he nodded and smiled, pointing to what looked like a mist upon the water far away.

“Nat, ung, shoot,” cried Ebo eagerly; “shoot, shoot, shoot.”

“Why, we shall have quite an English scholar on board soon, Nat,” said my uncle laughing; and then in turns we held the sheet as the swift canoe glided over the sunlit waves till the island we had left began to grow dim in the distance and its mountains to sink, as it were, beneath the wave, while the place to which we were going grew less misty and indistinct.

It was evidently very high land, and as we drew nearer we could see that right and left of it there were other islands apparently of goodly size.

Mid-day came and we made a hearty meal, the canoe, urged by the soft brisk breeze, still gliding onwards till towards evening, when we were sufficiently near the land we approached to make out that it was very bleak and bare and sterile. There was a ridge of mountains in the central portion, but as we examined the place with the glass it looked as blank and uninviting as could be.

“Not a sign of an inhabitant,” said my uncle. “I’m afraid we have made a mistake, Nat; but perhaps one of the other islands may prove more inviting.”

He continued his inspection and went on talking. “There are plenty of traces of sea-birds,” he continued, “for the cliffs are covered with guano; but it is not their breeding season, and I cannot see a single bird. But he is not making straight for the sands. Why don’t you try to land there?”

Ebo shook his head, and then laughed and said, “No,” steering the canoe to the left of the island. And so we sailed on till it was so near sunset that it would be dark in half an hour, when our crew, who had evidently been here before, suddenly steered the canoe into a cove well sheltered from the rollers, and lowering the sail we ran her up on the soft sands quite clear of the sea, Ebo at once setting to work collecting dry drift-wood to make a fire.

He pointed out a sheltered spot among some heaped-up rocks where the sand had been blown up by tempests into a soft bed, and here, after a very hearty meal well cooked over the fire Ebo had made, we lay down to sleep; my uncle having climbed to the top of the rocks and swept the island with his glass, returning to say that there was not a trace of a human being.

We slept soundly and well out there in that little storm-swept island, but no storms disturbed us, and the first thing I heard after lying down was the crackling of wood as Ebo piled it up to make a good fire.

As soon as he saw me awake he beckoned me to go to the boat, and there, taking the fish we had brought out of the basket, he smelt it, made me do the same, and then threw all but one small silvery fellow into the sea.

“Hullo!” cried my uncle, “isn’t that waste, Nat?” for he had advanced over the sands unheard.

“I think so, uncle, but he means to catch some fresh.”

That was evidently Ebo’s intentions, for he cut up the silvery fish into scraps for bait, and then signing to us to help him, we launched the canoe, paddled out half a mile, and then threw over a couple of lines, Ebo showing his teeth with delight as he drew in quickly a couple of good-sized mullet-looking fish, a couple more, and another soon coming to my line.

But Ebo was not satisfied till we had caught five or six times as many as seemed necessary. Then and then only did we paddle ashore.

It was soon evident why Ebo had wanted so many fish, for after cleaning and setting enough for our breakfasts to roast, he prepared the rest and put them to cook while we made a hearty meal.

This being ended my uncle rose.

“Well, Nat,” he said, “this seems a terribly sterile place, but we may as well have a look round; one finds good specimens sometimes in unlikely spots. Let’s get our guns.”

Ebo was watching us intently all the time, evidently trying to comprehend us and directly after he, to our utter astonishment, shouted out: “no gun; no shoot; no gun; no bird. Boat, boat, boat, boat.”

He pointed to the canoe, and then right to sea again, and seeing us laugh he burst into a hearty fit himself, ending by dancing about and putting the freshly cooked fish on board, where we followed him and once more launched upon the tropic sea.

It was plain enough that this was only a resting-place upon our way, for as soon as the sail was hoisted Ebo took the paddle and steered us south-west, leaving larger islands to right and left though nothing was visible ahead.

“I suppose we must trust him, Nat,” said my uncle; “but it does look rather wild work cruising these seas in an open canoe, quite at the mercy of a savage whose language we cannot speak.”

“But I think he must have been here before, uncle,” I replied.

“No doubt about it, my boy.”

“Nat, my boy,” cried Ebo laughing, for he had caught part of my uncle’s speech.

“Yes, he has been here before, and probably has touched at some place where he has seen, or thinks he has seen, plenty of birds. At any rate, if the weather holds fair it will not be such a very difficult thing to run for some island for shelter.”

I had been thinking the same thing, that it seemed a very risky proceeding to sail right out to sea under the guidance of this savage; but there was so much romance and novelty in the idea of sailing away like Columbus in search of a new land, that I thoroughly enjoyed it, and the farther we sailed the more excited I grew.

It was now plain enough why Ebo had insisted upon a good supply of fish, for we dined off it and then made our evening meal of the same, no land being in sight, and when at last the lower edge of the sun seemed to touch the crimson water, sending a path of light right to our canoe, whose sail it seemed to turn to ruddy gold, there was still no land in sight.

My uncle stood up and used the glass, gazing straight before him in the direction that seemed to be our goal; but Ebo shook his head, and then closed his eyes and made believe to sleep, pointing to us in turn.

“He wants us to lie down and sleep, Nat,” said my uncle, “but it is out of the question;” and he shook his head.

Ebo tried again and again to get us to lie down, but finding that we would not, he sat there laughing and looking as merry as could be, although there was no land in sight, and at last, when the sun was disappearing, he placed the paddle in my uncle’s hand, pointing south-south-west as the course to be steered, after which he lay down and went off fast asleep.

I sat talking to my uncle and holding the sheet, though the breeze was so steady it seemed to be quite unnecessary, while he steered the canoe onward through the darkness, taking the stars for his compass, till the motion of the boat and the darkness combined to send me off into a deep sleep. I had closed my eyes and started up several times before, but this last time, when I opened my eyes again a was to see the black figure of Ebo seated there steering, with the sun just above the horizon, and my uncle stretched in the bottom of the canoe fast asleep.

Ebo grinned as I stared at him, and then as I looked about I found that far away to the west there was land that we must have passed in the night, but still we were sailing on as it were into space.

The water now was bright golden again, and the air felt delicious; but I began to wish that we were at our journey’s end, and pointing ahead I tried to learn from our steersman how much farther he was going to take us.

His reply was to point straight ahead, and we were still speeding on, when, after five or six hours’ sleep, my uncle jumped up into wakefulness, ready to partake of the waiting meal of cold fish, biscuits, and fruit; the coffee, which in a case like this I made by means of a spirit-lamp, being kept in abeyance for a time.

“Well, Nat,” he said, “is our wild-goose chase nearly at an end? Is land in sight?”

“No, uncle,” I said, after gazing carefully ahead. Just then Ebo pointed to the telescope, and made signs to my uncle to use it.

“Look through?” he said to the black. “All right, my friend, I will;” and placing it to his eye as he stood up in the boat he cried to me as I eagerly watched him, “Land ahead, Nat, and apparently a wooded shore!”

Chapter Twenty Six.

An Unknown Island.

By the time we had made a hearty meal Ebo pointed with triumph to the faint hazy speck in the distance, now growing minute by minute plainer to our eyes.

Ebo watched our countenances very intently, and then suddenly broke out with:

“Bird—shoot—bird.”

“He seems to have brought us here under the impression that it is a good place, Nat, and I trust it will prove so,” said my uncle. “I hope there will be no unpleasant savages to hinder our work.”

As we drew nearer the glass was frequently brought to bear, but neither my uncle nor I could detect any sign of habitation, not even when we were within a quarter of a mile of the shore; but, to Uncle Dick’s great delight, the place proved to be densely wooded in some parts, while the lofty hills looked green and park-like, with the large trees dotted here and there.

The beach was a soft white sand, upon which the waves curled gently over; and not twenty yards from the highest marks made by the tide, the tall palms, loaded with fruit, drooped their great feathery leaves.

As far as we could see the island was not large, but the interior was very mountainous, the green hills running up to a great height, for the most part well-clothed with wood; and to our great delight, as we ran the boat cautiously upon the sand, we could hear the screams of parrots and the whistling and twittering of innumerable birds.

“We may as well be prepared against danger,” said Uncle Dick, loading his gun, and I followed suit; but Ebo began to chatter and expostulate with us for leaving the boat, and signed to us to help him run it up on the next wave well ashore, so that a rope could be made fast round the nearest palm stem.

This we did, and the black’s next movement was to collect wood for a fire.

To humour him we waited about while he lit the fire, but kept making little incursions amongst the openings to see if we could spy out any signs of human habitation.

But look where we would we saw nothing, and it soon became evident that we were the only occupants of that part of the island.

Ebo seemed so satisfied and contented that it was very evident that there was nothing to fear; so we obeyed his signs after we had helped him to make a good fire, and followed him through an open park-like piece of the country till we were about half a mile from the sea, when his object in guiding us was plain enough, for he pointed out a little flock of half a dozen pigeons, as big, it seemed to me, as ordinary fowls, and getting within range we fired together, and shot four.

Ebo rushed forward in triumph, and I followed, to regret that I had not attended to Uncle Dick’s instructions about reloading, for I could have obtained a specimen of a curious great black parrot or cockatoo, I could not quite see which, as it flew across an opening.

But we secured the birds we had shot, and going back my uncle and I set to and skinned them, handing over the bodies to Ebo to cook, while we carefully preserved the skins, admiring them all the while.

For they were of a rich warm slate colour, and each bird bore a delicate grey crest upon his head, which gave him a noble look, making each bird seem a very prince among pigeons.

Handsome as was the appearance of the birds, they were none the less delicious in the eating. No doubt our open-air life had a good deal to do with the keen enjoyment we had in eating the birds we shot; but feeding as these pigeons did on spices, nuts, and other sweet food, the flavour given to their flesh was very fine.

Dinner over, we were for an expedition; but Ebo protested loudly. Taking an axe and beckoning us to follow we accompanied him to a patch of bamboo, and helped him to cut down a good selection of stout pieces, and after them a number of lengths of rattan cane, which grew here in a wonderful way. I had seen it growing before, but never to such perfection; for it seemed to run up one tree and down another, running along over the bushes for a short distance and then ascending another, till Uncle Dick computed that some of these canes were quite a hundred yards long.

It was very evident what Ebo meant, and he was telling us all the time, though not a word could we understand, as we helped him.

“As we are to make a hut for shelter, Nat, I suppose he expects us to stay here for some time, which is a good sign, for he evidently knows that there are plenty of specimens to be had.”

“Do you think any naturalist has been here before, uncle?” I said.

“I hardly dare think such a thing, Nat,” he replied; “but I cannot help feeling hopeful. As I judge it this seems to be an island to which he and his fellows have sailed some time or another, and it is possible that European foot has never trodden here before.”

“Let’s hope it is so, uncle,” I said; “and then, what a collection we shall get!”

“You will make me as sanguine as you are yourself, Nat,” he said laughing; and then we began to be too hot and busy to talk much, for after carrying the bamboos and rattans to the edge of the forest, just beneath a widely spreading tree, in whose branches every now and then some beautiful lory came and perched, but only to fly off screaming, Ebo began to build. Sharpening four stout bamboos and forcing them into the soft sandy soil for the four corners of the hut, he very soon bound as many more to them horizontally about five feet from the ground, tying them in the cleverest way with the cane.

Then he tied a couple more across at each end, and laid a long stout bamboo in the forks they made for a ridge-pole, binding all as strongly as could be with an ingenious twist, and after that making rafters of smaller bamboos, so that in a couple of hours he had made the rough framework.

Towards the latter part of the time, in obedience to his instructions, which were given by word of mouth and wave of hand, Uncle Dick and I cut a great number of palm leaves of a very large size, with which Ebo rapidly thatched the hut, making by the time it was dark a very rough but very efficient shelter, where we lay down to sleep that night upon a pile of soft dry grass, of which there was any quantity naturally made into hay and close at hand.

We were so tired out that night that we did not trouble ourselves about there being no sides to the hut, being only too glad to have a roof to keep off the dew, and, trusting to there being no dangerous wild beasts, we followed Ebo’s example, lying down and sleeping soundly till the sun was once more above the sea.

Chapter Twenty Seven.

Fresh Treasures.

Ebo set to work earnestly to finish the hut, binding down the palm leaves of the thatch with more long canes, which he cleverly threaded in and out, and afterwards secured their ends. Then he cut off the long ends of the bamboos so as to leave all tidy before commencing the sides.

My uncle was as anxious as I was to go upon some expedition; but as there was no shelter to be obtained here, and it became more and more evident that we were upon an uninhabited island, he saw the necessity for having our boxes and stores under a roof.

So we set manfully to work helping the black, cutting bamboos, bringing large palm leaves, fetching long rattan canes, and handing them to him; while, saving when he left off for meals, Ebo toiled like a slave, working with an industry that we should not have expected to find in an inhabitant of one of these sleepy isles.

At last, though, he finished, and his childish delight seemed to know no bounds. He danced and shouted, ran in and out, walked round the hut, and then strutted up to us full of self-satisfaction, his tongue going all the while, and evidently feeling highly delighted at our smiles and words of praise.

No time was lost in transferring our boxes and stores beneath the roof; and then, as it wanted quite three hours to sunset, my uncle proposed, by way of recompense for all our drudgery, that we should take our guns and see if we could not obtain a few specimens.

Ebo looked delighted, and, without being told, obtained a short piece of bamboo ready for carrying the birds we shot.

Then, taking his spear out of the canoe, he smiled to show how ready he was; but Uncle Dick took him by the arm and led him up to the door of the hut.

“Put your spear there, as you did before, to keep off all visitors, Master Ebo,” he said; and he accompanied his request with signs to express what he wished.

Ebo understood him at once, and made as if to stick the spear in the ground before the door, but he stopped short and shook his head, ran a few yards, and peered in amongst the trees; turned round and shook his head again; ran in another direction and peeped about, coming back shaking his head again.

Ebo’s motions said as plainly as could be:

“There is nobody here but ourselves,” and as if to satisfy us he led the way to a high hill about a mile away, from whence we had a splendid view all but in one direction, where there lay a clump of mountains. Look which way we would there was nothing but rich plain and dense jungle, with occasional patches of park-like land. Not a sign was there of huts, and once more Ebo looked at us and shook his head, counting us afterwards in his own way—one, two, three, and then tossing his arms in the air.

“We are in luck, Nat,” said my uncle. “This island must swarm with natural history specimens, and he has brought us here because he thought it a good place; so now to make the best use of our time. Look out!”

As he spoke he raised his gun and fired at a bird darting down a narrow rift between two rocks that looked as if they had been riven asunder.

I thought he had missed it, but Ebo ran ahead and returned directly with a most lovely kingfisher in glorious plumage.

“If we get nothing more in this island, Nat, I shall be satisfied,” said my uncle as we gazed at the lovely creature which Ebo had brought; and seeing the satisfaction in our faces he indulged in another dance.