3 books to know Pirates. R. M. Ballantyne

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      When we reached it we found wood laid out, the fire lighted and beginning to kindle up, with other signs of preparation for our encampment; but Peterkin was nowhere to be found. We wondered very much at this; but Jack suggested that he might have gone to fetch water, so he gave a shout to let him know that we had arrived, and sat down upon a rock, while I threw off my jacket and seized the axe, intending to split up one or two billets of wood. But I had scarce moved from the spot when, in the distance, we heard a most appalling shriek, which was followed up by a chorus of yells from the hogs, and a loud hurrah.

      “I do believe,” said I, “that Peterkin has met with the hogs.”

      “When Greek meets Greek,” said Jack, soliloquising, “then comes the tug of —”

      “Hurrah!” shouted Peterkin in the distance.

      We turned hastily towards the direction whence the sound came, and soon descried Peterkin walking along the beach towards us with a little pig transfixed on the end of his long spear!

      “Well done, my boy!” exclaimed Jack, slapping him on the shoulder when he came up. “You’re the best shot amongst us.”

      “Look here, Jack!” cried Peterkin as he disengaged the animal from his spear. “Do you recognise that hole?” said he, pointing to the pig’s ear; “and are you familiar with this arrow, eh?”

      “Well, I declare!” said Jack.

      “Of course you do,” interrupted Peterkin; “but, pray, restrain your declarations at this time, and let’s have supper — for I’m uncommonly hungry, I can tell you. And it’s no joke to charge a whole herd of swine with their great-grandmother bristling like a giant porcupine, at the head of them!”

      We now set about preparing supper; and, truly, a good display of viands we made when all was laid out on a flat rock in the light of the blazing fire. There was, first of all, the little pig; then there were the taro-root, and the yam, and the potato, and six plums; and lastly, the wood-pigeon. To these Peterkin added a bit of sugar-cane, which he had cut from a little patch of that plant which he had found not long after separating from us; “and,” said he, “the patch was somewhat in a square form, which convinces me it must have been planted by man.”

      “Very likely,” replied Jack. “From all we have seen, I’m inclined to think that some of the savages must have dwelt here long ago.”

      We found no small difficulty in making up our minds how we were to cook the pig. None of us had ever cut up one before, and we did not know exactly how to begin; besides, we had nothing but the axe to do it with, our knife having been forgotten. At last Jack started up and said:

      “Don’t let us waste more time talking about it, boys. — Hold it up, Peterkin. There, lay the hind leg on this block of wood — so;” and he cut it off; with a large portion of the haunch, at a single blow of the axe. “Now the other — that’s it.” And having thus cut off the two hind legs, he made several deep gashes in them, thrust a sharp-pointed stick through each, and stuck them up before the blaze to roast. The wood-pigeon was then split open, quite flat, washed clean in salt water, and treated in a similar manner. While these were cooking we scraped a hole in the sand and ashes under the fire, into which we put our vegetables and covered them up.

      The taro-root was of an oval shape, about ten inches long and four or five thick. It was of a mottled-grey colour, and had a thick rind. We found it somewhat like an Irish potato, and exceedingly good. The yam was roundish, and had a rough brown skin. It was very sweet and well flavoured. The potato, we were surprised to find, was quite sweet and exceedingly palatable, as also were the plums — and, indeed, the pork and pigeon too — when we came to taste them. Altogether, this was decidedly the most luxurious supper we had enjoyed for many a day. Jack said it was out-of-sight better than we ever got on board ship; and Peterkin said he feared that if we should remain long on the island he would infallibly become a glutton or an epicure, whereat Jack remarked that he need not fear that, for he was both already! And so, having eaten our fill, not forgetting to finish off with a plum, we laid ourselves comfortably down to sleep, upon a couch of branches, under the overhanging ledge of a coral rock.

      Chapter Eleven.

      EFFECTS OF OVEREATING, and Reflections Thereon — Humble Advice Regarding Cold Water — The “Horrible Cry” Accounted For — The Curious Birds Called Penguins — Peculiarity of the Cocoa-Nut Palm — Questions on the Formation of Coral Islands — Mysterious Footsteps — Strange Discoveries and Sad Sights.

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      WHEN WE AWOKE ON THE following morning we found that the sun was already a good way above the horizon, so I came to the conclusion that a heavy supper is not conducive to early rising. Never-the-less, we felt remarkably strong and well, and much disposed to have our breakfast. First, however, we had our customary morning bathe, which refreshed us greatly.

      I have often wondered very much in after years that the inhabitants of my own dear land did not make more frequent use of this most charming element, water — I mean in the way of cold bathing. Of course, I have perceived that it is not convenient for them to go into the sea or the rivers in winter, as we used to do on the Coral Island; but then I knew from experience that a large washing-tub and a sponge do form a most pleasant substitute. The feelings of freshness, of cleanliness, of vigour, and extreme hilarity that always followed my bathes in the sea — and even, when in England, my ablutions in the wash-tub — were so delightful that I would sooner have gone without my breakfast than without my bathe in cold water. My readers will forgive me for asking whether they are in the habit of bathing thus every morning; and if they answer “No”, they will pardon me for recommending them to begin at once. Of late years, since retiring from the stirring life of adventure which I have led so long in foreign climes, I have heard of a system called the cold-water cure. Now, I do not know much about that system; so I do not mean to uphold it, neither do I intend to run it down. Perhaps, in reference to it, I may just hint that there may be too much of a good thing — I know not. But of this I am quite certain, that there may also be too little of a good thing; and the great delight I have had in cold bathing during the course of my adventurous career inclines me to think that it is better to risk taking too much than to content one’s self with too little. Such is my opinion, derived from much experience; but I put it before my readers with the utmost diffidence and with profound modesty, knowing that it may possibly jar with their feelings of confidence in their own ability to know and judge as to what is best and fittest in reference to their own affairs. But to return from this digression, for which I humbly crave forgiveness.

      We had not advanced on our journey much above a mile or so, and were just beginning to feel the pleasant glow that usually accompanies vigorous exercise, when, on turning a point that revealed to us a new and beautiful cluster of islands, we were suddenly arrested by the appalling СКАЧАТЬ