 13. Notable discovery at the spouting cliffs. The mysterious green monster explained. We are thrown into unutterable terror by the idea that Jack is drowned. 14. The Diamond Cave. Come, Jack! cried Peterkin one morning about three weeks after our return from our long excursion. Let's be jolly today and do something vigorous. I'm quite tired of hammering and bambering, hewing and screwing, cutting and budding at that little boat of ours that seems as hard to build as Noah's Ark. Let us go on an excursion to the mountaintop, or have a hunt after the wild ducks, or make a dash at the pigs. I'm quite flat, flat as bad ginger beer, flat as a pancake. In fact, I want something to rouse me, to toss me up as it were. Eh? What do you say to it? Well, answered Jack, throwing down the axe with which he was just about to proceed towards the boat. If that's what you want, I would recommend you to make an excursion to the waterspouts. The last one we had to deal with tossed you up a considerable height. Perhaps the next will send you higher, who knows, if you're at all reasonable or moderate in your expectations. Jack, my dear boy, said Peterkin gravely, you are really becoming too fond of jesting. It's a thing I don't at all approve of, and if you don't give it up, I fear that, for our mutual good, we shall have to part. Well, then, Peterkin, replied Jack with a smile, what would you have? Have, said Peterkin, I would have nothing. I didn't say I wanted to have. I said I wanted to do. By the by, said I, interrupting their conversation, I am reminded by this that we have not yet discovered the nature of yawn-curious appearance that we saw near the waterspouts on our journey round the island. Perhaps it would be well to go for that purpose. Hmph! ejaculated Peterkin, I know the nature of it well enough. What was it? said I. It was of a mysterious nature to be sure, said he with a wave of his hand, while he rose from the log on which he had been sitting and buckled on his belt into which he thrust his enormous club. Well, then, let us away to the waterspouts, cried Jack. Going up to the bower for his bow and arrows, and bring your spear, Peterkin, it may be useful. We now, having made up our minds to examine into this matter, sallied forth eagerly in the direction of the waterspout rocks, which, as I have before mentioned, were not far from our present place of abode. When arriving there, we hastened down to the edge of the rocks and gazed over into the sea, where we observed the pale green object still distinctly visible, moving its tail slowly to and fro in the water. Most remarkable, said Jack, exceedingly curious, said I. Beats everything, said Peterkin. Now, Jack, he added, you made such a poor figure in your last attempt to stick that object that I would advise you to let me try it. If it has got a heart at all, I'll engage to send my spear right through the core of it. If it hasn't got a heart, I'll send it through the spot where its heart ought to be. Fire away, then, my boy, replied Jack with a laugh. Peterkin immediately took the spear, poised it for a second or two above his head, and darted it like an arrow into the sea. Down it went straight into the center of the green object, passed quite through it, and came up immediately afterwards, pure and unsullied, while the mysterious tail moved quietly as before. Now, said Peterkin gravely, that brute is a heartless monster. I'll have nothing more to do with it. I'm pretty sure now, said Jack, that it is merely a phosphoric light, but I must say I'm puzzled at it staying always in the same spot. I also was much puzzled, and inclined to think with Jack that it must be phosphoric light, of which luminous appearance we had seen much while on our voyage to the seas. But, said I, there is nothing to hinder us from diving down to it, now that we are sure it is not a shark. True, returned Jack, stripping off his clothes, I'll go down, Ralph, as I'm better at diving than you are. Now then, Peterkin, out of the road. Jack stepped forward, joined his hands above his head, bent over the rocks, and plunged into the sea. For a second or two the spray caused by his dive hit him from view. Then the water became still, and we saw him swimming far down in the midst of the green object. Suddenly he sank below it, and vanished altogether from our sight. We gazed anxiously at the spot where he had disappeared for nearly a minute, expecting every moment to see him rise again for breath. But fully a minute passed, and still he did not reappear. Two minutes passed, and then a flood of alarm rushed in upon my soul when I considered that, during all my acquaintance with him, Jack had never stayed underwater for more than a minute at a time. Indeed, seldom so long. Oh, Peterkin, I said in a voice that trembled with increasing anxiety. Something has happened. It is more than three minutes now. But Peterkin did not answer, and I observed that he was gazing down into the water with a look of intense fear, mingled with anxiety, while his face was overspread with a deadly paleness. Suddenly he sprang to his feet and rushed about in a frantic state, wringing his hands and exclaiming, Oh, Jack! Jack! He is gone. It must have been a shark, and he is gone forever. For the next five minutes I know not what I did. The intensity of my feelings almost the refne of my senses. But I was recalled to myself by Peterkin, seizing me by the shoulders and staring wildly into my face while he exclaimed, Ralph! Ralph! Perhaps he has only fainted. Die for him, Ralph! It seems strange that this did not occur to me sooner. In a moment I rushed to the edge of the rocks, and without waiting to throw off my garments was on the point to spring into the waves when I observed something black rising up through the green object. In another moment Jack's head rose to the surface, and he gave a wild shout, flinging back the spray from his locks as was his waltz after a dive. Now we were almost as much amazed at seeing him reappear, well and strong, as we had been at first at his non-appearance, for to the best of our judgment he had been nearly ten minutes underwater, perhaps longer, and it required no exertion of our reason to convince us that this was utterly impossible for mortal man to do, and retain his strength and faculties. It was, therefore, with a feeling akin to superstitious awe that I held down my hand and assisted him to clamour up the steep rocks. But no such feeling affected Peterkin. No sooner did Jack gain the rocks and seat himself on one, panting for breath, than he threw his arms round his neck and burst into a flood of tears. Oh, Jack! Jack! said he. Where were you? What kept you so long? After a few moments Peterkin became composed enough to sit still and listen to Jack's explanation, although he could not restrain himself from attempting to wink every two minutes at me in order to express his joy at Jack's safety. I say he attempted to wink, but I am bound to add that he did not succeed, for his eyes were so much swollen with weeping, that his frequent attempts only resulted in a series of violent and all-together idiotical contortions of the face that were very far from expressing what he intended. However, I knew what the poor fellow meant by it, so I smiled to him in return and endeavored to make him believe that he was winking. Now, lads, said Jack when we were composed enough to listen to him. Yon green object is not a shark. It is a stream of light issuing from a cave in the rocks. Just after I made my dive, I observed that this light came from the side of the rock above which we are now sitting, so I struck out for it and saw an opening into some place for other that appeared to be luminous within. For one instant I paused to think about whether I ought to venture. Then I made up my mind and dashed into it. For you see, Peterkin, although I take some time to tell this, it happened in the space of a few seconds, so that I knew I had wind enough in me to serve to bring me out of the hole and up to the surface again. Well, I was just on the point of turning, for I began to feel a little uncomfortable in such a place, when it seemed to me as if there was a faint light right above me. I darted upwards and found my head out of water. This relieved me greatly, for I now felt that I could take in air enough to enable me to return the way I came. Then it all at once occurred to me that I might not be able to find the way out again, but on glancing downwards my mind was put quite at rest by seeing the green light below me streaming into the cave, just like the light that we had seen streaming out of it. Only what I saw now was much brighter. At first I could scarcely see anything as I gazed around me. It was so dark, but gradually my eyes became accustomed to it, and I found that I was in a huge cave, part of the walls of which I observed on each side of me. The ceiling just above me was also visible, and I fancied that I could perceive beautiful glittering objects there, but the farther end of the cave was shrouded in darkness. While I was looking around me in great wonder, it came into my head that you two would think I was drowned, so I plunged down through the passage again in a great hurry, rose to the surface, and here I am. When Jack concluded his recital of what he had seen in this remarkable cave, I could not rest satisfied till I had dived down to see it, which I did, but found it so dark as Jack had said that I could scarcely see anything. When I returned we had a long conversation about it, during which I observed that Peterkin had a most lugubrious expression on his countenance. What's the matter, Peterkin, said I. The matter, he replied, it's all very well for you two to be talking away like mermaids about the wonders of this cave, but you know I must be content to hear about it, while you are enjoying yourselves down there like mad dolphins, it's really too bad. I'm very sorry for you, Peterkin, indeed I am, said Jack, but we cannot help you, if you would only learn to dive. Learn to fly, you might as well say, retorted Peterkin, in a very sulphy tone. If you would only consent to keep still, said I, we could take you down with us in ten seconds. Hmm, replied Peterkin. Suppose a salamander was to propose to you only to keep still, and he would carry you through a blazing fire in a few seconds, what would you say? We both laughed and shook our heads, for it was evident that nothing was to be made of Peterkin in the water, but we could not rest satisfied till we had seen more of this cave. So, after further consultation, Jack and I determined to try if we could take down a torch with us and set fire to it in the cavern. This we found to be an undertaking of no small difficulty, but we accomplished it at last by the following means. First, we made a torch of a very inflammable nature out of the bark of a certain tree, which we cut into strips and, after twisting, cemented together with a kind of resin or gum, which we also obtained from another tree, neither of which trees, however, was known by name to Jack. This, when prepared, we wrapped up in a great number of plies of coconut cloth, so that we were confident it could not get wet during the short time it should be underwater. Then we took a small piece of the tinder, which we had carefully treasured up lest we should require it, as before said, when the sun should fail us. Also, we rolled up some dry grass and a few chips, which, with a little bow and drill, like those described before, we made into another bundle and wrapped it up in coconut cloth. When all was ready, we laid aside our garments, with the exception of our trousers, which, as we did not know what rough scraping against the rocks we might be subjected to, we kept on. Then we advanced to the edge of the rocks, Jack carrying one bundle with the torch, I the other, with the things for producing fire. Now, don't worry for us, Peterkin, should we be gone for some time, said Jack. We'll be sure to return in half an hour at the very latest, however interesting the cave should be, that we may relieve your mind. Farewell, said Peterkin, coming up to us with a look of teeth, a pretendent solemnity, while he shook hands and kissed each of us on the cheek. Farewell, and while you are gone, I shall repose my weary limbs under the shelter of this bush, and meditate on the changefulness of all things earthly, with special reference to the forsaken condition of a poor, ship-direct sailor boy. So saying, Peterkin waved his hand, turned from us, and cast himself upon the ground with a look of melancholy resignation, which was so well-famed that I would have thought it genuine had he not accompanied it with a gentle wink. We both laughed, and springing from the rocks altogether plunged head-first into the sea. We gained the interior of the submarine cave without difficulty, and, on emerging from the waves, supported ourselves for some time by treading water, while we held the two bundles above our heads. This we did in order to let our eyes become accustomed to the obscurity. Then, when we could see sufficiently, we swam to a shelving rock and landed in safety. Having wrung the water from our trousers and dried ourselves as well as we could under the circumstances, we proceeded to ignite the torch. This we accomplished without difficulty in a few minutes, and no sooner did it flare up than we were struck dumb with the wonderful objects that were revealed to our gaze. The roof of the cavern just above us seemed to be about ten feet high, but grew higher as it receded into the distance until it was lost in darkness. It seemed to be made of coral, and was supported by massive columns of the same material. Immense icicles, as they appeared to us, hung from it in various places. These, however, were formed not of ice, but of a species of limestone, which seemed to flow in a liquid form towards the point of each, where it became solid. A good money drops fell, however, to the rock below, and these formed little cones which rose to meet the points above. Some of them had already met, and thus we saw how the pillars were formed, which at first seemed to us as if they had been placed there by some human architect to support the roof. As we advanced farther in, we saw that the floor was composed of the same material as the pillars, and it presented the curious appearance of ripples such as are formed on water when gently ruffled by the wind. There were several openings on either hand in the walls that seemed to lead into other caverns, but these we did not explore at this time. We also observed that the ceiling was curiously marked in many places, as if it were the fretwork of a noble cathedral, and the walls, as well as the roof, sparkled in the light of our torch, and threw back gleams and flashes as if they were covered with precious stones. Although we proceeded far into this cavern, we did not come to the end of it, and we were obliged to return more speedily than we would otherwise have done, as our torch was nearly expended. We did not observe any openings in the roof, or any indications whereby light might enter, but near the entrance to the cavern stood an immense mass of pure white coral rock, which caught and threw back the little light that found an entrance through the cave's mouth, and thus produced, we conjectured, the pale green object which had first attracted our attention. We concluded also that the reflecting power of this rock was that which gave forth the dim light that faintly illumined the first part of the cave. Before diving through the passage again, we extinguished the small piece of our torch that remained, and left it in a dry spot, conceiving that we might possibly stand in need of it, if at any future date was your chance to wet our torch while diving into the cavern. As we stood for a few minutes after it was out, waiting till our eyes became accustomed to the gloom, we could not help remarking the deep, intense stillness and the unutterable gloom of all around us, and as I thought of the stupendous dome above, and the countless gems that had sparkled in the torchlight a few minutes before, it came into my mind to consider how strange it is that God should make such wonderful and exquisitely beautiful works never to be seen at all, except indeed by chance visitors such as ourselves. I afterwards found that there were many such caverns among the islands of the South Seas, some of them larger and more beautiful than the one I have just described. Now, Ralph, are you ready? said Jack, in a low voice, that seemed to echo up into the dome above. Quite ready. Come along then, said he, and plunging off the ledge of the rock into the water, we dived through the narrow entrance. In a few seconds we were panting on the rocks above, and receiving the congratulations of our friend Peterkin. End of chapter 13, Recording by Tom Weiss Chapter 14 of the Coral Island This Librebox recording is in the public domain, Recording by Tom Weiss The Coral Island by R. M. Ballantyne Chapter 14 Strange peculiarity of the tides, also of the twilight, Peterkin's remarkable conduct in embracing a little pig and killing a big sow. Sage remarks ungesting, also on love. It was quite a relief to us to breathe the pure air and to enjoy the glad sunshine after our long ramble in the Diamond Cave, as we named it. For although we did not stay more than half an hour away, it seemed to us much longer. While we were dressing and during our walk home, we did our best to satisfy the curiosity of poor Peterkin, who seemed to regret, with lively sincerity, his inability to dive. There was no help for it, however, so we condoled with him as we best could. Had there been any great rise or fall in the tide of these seas, we might perhaps have found it possible to take him down with us at low water, but as the tide never rose or fell more than 18 inches or two feet, this was impossible. This peculiarity of the tide, its slight rise and fall, had not attracted our observation till some time after our residence on the island. Neither had we observed another curious circumstance until we had been some time there. This was the fact that the tide rose and fell with constant regularity, instead of being affected by the changes of the moon as in our own country, and as it is in most other parts of the world, at least in all parts with which I am acquainted. Every day and every night, at twelve o'clock precisely, the tide is at full, and at six o'clock every morning and every evening it is ebb. I can speak with much confidence on this singular circumstance, as we took particular note of it and never found it to alter. Of course, I must admit, we had to guess the hour of twelve midnight, and I think we could do this pretty correctly, but in regard to twelve noon we are quite positive, because we easily found the highest point that the sun reached in the sky by placing ourselves at a certain spot, whence we observed the sharp summit of a cliff resting against the sky, just where the sun passed. Jack and I were surprised that we had not noticed this the first few days of our residence here, and could only account for it by our being so much taken up with the more obvious wonders of our novel situation. I have since learned, however, that this want of observation is a sad and very common infirmity of human nature, there being hundreds of persons before whose eyes the most wonderful things are passing every day, who nevertheless are totally ignorant of them. I therefore have to record my sympathy with such persons, and to recommend to them a course of conduct which I have now for a long time myself adopted, namely, the habit of forcing my attention upon all things that go on around me, and of taking some degree of interest in them, whether I feel it naturally or not. I suggest this the more earnestly, though humbly, because I have very frequently come to know that my indifference to a thing has generally been caused by my ignorance in regard to it. We had much serious conversation on this subject of the tides, and Jack told us, in his own quiet philosophical way, that these tides did great good to the world in many ways, particularly in the way of cleansing the shores of the land, and carrying off the filth that was constantly poured into the sea therefrom, which Peterkin suggested was remarkably tidy of it to do. Poor Peterkin could never let slip an opportunity to joke, however inopportune it might be, which at first we found rather a disagreeable propensity, as it often interrupted the flow of very agreeable conversation. And indeed I cannot too strongly record my disapprobation of this tendency in general, but we became so used to it at last that we found it no interruption whatever. Indeed, strange to say, we came to feel that it was a necessary part of our enjoyment, such is the force of habit, and found that the sudden outbursts of mirth resulting from his humorous disposition, quite natural and refreshing to us in the midst of our more serious conversations. But I must not misrepresent Peterkin. We often found, to our surprise, that he knew many things which we did not, and I also observed that those things which he learned from experience were never forgotten. From all these things I came at length to understand that things very opposite and dissimilar in themselves, when united, do make an agreeable whole. As for example, we three on this are island, although most unlike in many things, when united, made a trio so harmonious that I question if they're ever met before such an agreeable triumvirate. There was indeed no note of discord whatever in the symphony we played together on that sweet choral island, and I am now persuaded that this was owing to our having been all tuned to the same key, namely that of love. Yes, we loved one another with much pervency while we lived on that island, and for the matter of that we love each other still. And while I am on this subject, or rather the subject that just preceded it, namely the tides, I may here remark on another curious natural phenomenon. We found that there was little or no twilight in this island. We had a distinct remembrance of the charming long twilight at home, which some people think the most delightful part of the day, though for my part I have always preferred sunrise, and when we first landed we used to sit down on some rocky point or eminence at the close of our day's work to enjoy the evening breeze, but no sooner had the sun sunk below the horizon than all became suddenly dark. This rendered it necessary that we should watch the sun when we happened to be out hunting, for to be suddenly left in the dark while in the woods was very perplexing, as although the stars shone with great beauty and brilliancy, they could not pierce through the thick embracious bows that interlaced above our heads, but to return. After having told all we could to Peterkin about the diamond cave under spouting cliff, as we named the locality, we were wending our way rapidly homewards when a grunt and a squeal were borne down by the land breeze to our ears. That's that ticket was Peterkin's remarkable exclamation as he started convulsively and leveled his sphere. Hiss, cried Jack, these are your friends, Peterkin. They must come over expressly to pay you a friendly visit, for it is the first time we have seen them on this side of the island. Come along, cried Peterkin, hurrying towards the wood, while Jack and I followed, smiling at his impatience. Another grunt and half a dozen squeals, much louder than before, came down the valley. At this time we were just opposite the small veil which lay between the valley of the wreck and spouting cliff. I say, Peterkin, cried Jack and a horse whisper. Well, what is it? Stay a bit, man. These grunders are just up there on the hillside. If you go and stand with Ralph in the lee of Yon Cliff, I'll cut round behind and drive them through the gorge, so that you'll have a better chance of picking out a good one. Now, mind you pitch into a fat young pig, Peterkin, had it Jack as he sprang into the bushes. Won't I just, said Peterkin, licking his lips as we took our station beside the cliff. I feel quite a tender affection for young pigs in my heart. Perhaps it would be more correct to say, in my tum. There they come, cried I, as a terrific yell from Jack sent the whole herd screaming down the hill. Now Peterkin, being unable to hold back, crept a short way up a very steep grassy mound in order to get a better view of the hogs before they came up. And just as he raised his head above the summit, two little pigs, which had outrun their companions, rushed over the top with the utmost precipitation. One of these rushed close past Peterkin's ear. The other, unable to arrest its headlong flight, went, as Peterkin himself afterwards expressed it, bash into his arms of the sudden squeal, which was caused more by the force of the blow than the will of the animal, and both of them rolled violently down to the foot of the mound. No sooner was this reached than the little pig recovered its feet, tossed up its tail, and fled shrieking from the spot. But I slung a large stone after it, which, being fortunately well aimed, hid it behind the ear and felled it to the earth. Capital Ralph. That's your sort, cried Peterkin, who, to my surprise and great relief, had risen to his feet apparently unhurt, though much disheveled. He rushed frantically towards the gorge, which the yells of the hogs told us they were now approaching. I had made up my mind that I would abstain from killing another, as if Peterkin should be successful two were more than sufficient for our wants at the present time. Suddenly they all burst forth, two or three little round ones in advance, and an enormous old sow with a drove of hogs at her heels. Now Peterkin said, I, there's a nice little fat one, just spirit, but Peterkin did not move. He allowed it to pass unharmed. I looked at him in surprise, and saw that his lips were compressed, and his eyebrows knitted, as if he were about to fight with some awful enemy. What is it, I inquired with some trepidation. Suddenly he leveled his spear, darted forward, and with a yell that nearly froze the blood in my veins, stabbed the old sow to the heart. Nay, so vigorously was it done that the spear went in at one side and came out at the other. Oh, Peterkin said I, going up to him. What have you done? Done. I've killed their great-great-grandmother, that's all, said he, looking with a somewhat awestruck expression at the transfixed animal. Hello, what's this? said Jack as he came up. Why, Peterkin, you must be fond of a tough chop. If you mean to eat this old hog, she'll try your jaws, I warn't. What possessed you to stick her, Peterkin? Why, the fact is, I want a pair of shoes. What have your shoes to do with this old hog, said I, smiling? My present shoes have certainly nothing to do with her, replied Peterkin. Nevertheless, she will have a good deal to do with my future shoes. The fact is, when I saw you floor that pig so neatly, Ralph, it struck me that there was little use in killing another. Then I remembered all at once that I had long won at some leather or tough substance to make shoes of. And this old grandmother seemed so tough that I just made up my mind to stick her, and you see I've done it. That you certainly have, Peterkin, said Jack as he was examining the transfixed animal. We now considered how we were to carry our game home, for although the distance was short, the hog was very heavy. At length we hit on the plan of tying its four feet together and passing the spear-handle between them. Jack took one end on his shoulder, I took the other on mine, and Peterkin carried the small pig. Thus we returned in triumph to our bower, laden, as Peterkin remarked, with the glorious spoils of a noble hunt. As he afterwards spoke in similarly glowing terms in reference to the supper that followed, there is every reason to believe that we retired that night to our leafy beds in a high state of satisfaction. End of Chapter 14, Recording by Tom Weiss Chapter 15 of the Coral Island This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Tom Weiss The Coral Island by R. M. Ballantyne Chapter 15, Boat Building Extraordinary Peterkin tries his hand at cookery and fails most signally. The boat finished. Curious conversation with the cat and other matters. For many days after this, Jack applied himself with unremitting acidity to the construction of our boat, which at length began to look something like one. But those only who have had the thing to do can entertain a right idea of the difficulty involved in such an undertaking, with no other implements than an axe, a bit of hoop-iron, a sail-needle, and a broken pen-knife. But Jack did it. He was of that disposition which will not be conquered. When he believed himself to be acting rightfully, he overcame all obstacles. I have seen Jack, when doubtful whether what he was about to do were right or wrong, as timid and vacillating as a little girl, and I honor him for it. As this boat was a curiosity in its way, a few words here relative to the manner of its construction may not be amiss. I have already mentioned the chestnut tree with its wonderful buttresses or planks. This tree then furnished us with the chief part of our material. First of all, Jack sought out a limb of a tree of such poor Jack sought out a limb of a tree of such form and size as, while it should form the keel, a bend at either end should form the stem and stern post. Such a piece, however, was not easy to obtain. But at last he procured it by rooting up a small tree which had a branch growing at the proper angle about ten feet up its stem, with two strong roots growing in such form as enabled him to make a flat stern boat. This place he procured three branching roots of suitable size, which he fitted to the keel at equal distances, thus forming three strong ribs. Now the squaring and shaping of these and the cutting of the grooves in the keel was an easy enough matter, as it was all worked for the axe, in the use of which Jack was become wonderfully expert. But it was quite a different affair when he came to nailing the ribs to the keel, for we had no instrument capable of boring a large hole and no nails to fasten them with. We were indeed much perplexed here, but Jack at length devised an instrument that served very well. He took the remainder of our hoop iron and beat it into the form of a pipe or cylinder about as thick as a man's finger. This he did by means of our axe and the old rusty axe we had found at the house of the poor man at the other side of the island. This, when made red hot, bored slowly through the timbers, and the better to retain the heat, Jack shot up one end of it and filled it with sand. True, the work was very slowly done, but it mattered not we had little else to do. Two holes were bored in each timber, about an inch and a half apart, and also down into the keel, but not quite through. Into these were placed stout pegs made of a tree called iron wood, and when they were hammered well home the timbers were as firmly fixed as if they had been nailed with iron. The gun whales, which were very stout, were fixed in a similar manner. But besides the wooden nails they were firmly lashed to the stem and stern posts and ribs by means of a species of cordage which we had contrived to make out of the fibrous husk of the coconut. This husk was very tough, and when a number of the threads were joined together they formed excellent cordage. At first we tied the different lengths together, but this was such a clumsy and awkward complication of knots that we contrived by careful interlacing of the ends together before twisting to make good cordage of any size or length we chose. Of course it cost us much time and infinite labor, but Jack kept up our spirits when we grew weary, and so all that we required was at last constructed. Planks were now cut off the chestnut trees of about an inch thick. These were dressed with the axe, but clumsily for an axe is ill-adapted for such work. Five of these planks on each side were sufficient, and we formed the boat in a very rounded, varro-like shape in order to have as little twisting of the planks as possible. For although we could easily bend them, we could not easily twist them. Having no nails to rivet the planks with, we threw aside the ordinary fashion of boat-building and adopted one of our own. The planks were therefore placed on each other's edges and sewed together with the tough cordage already mentioned. They were also thus sewed to the stem, the stern, and the keel. Each stitch or tie was six inches apart and was formed thus. Three holes were bored in the upper plank and three in the lower, the holes being above each other, that is, in a vertical line. Through these holes the cord was passed and, when tied, formed a powerful stitch of three-ply. Besides this, we placed between the edges of the planks layers of coconut fiber, which, as it swelled when wetted, would, we hoped, make our little vessel watertight. But in order further to secure this end, we collected a large quantity of pitch from the breadfruit tree, with which, when boiled in our old iron pot, we paid the whole of the inside of the boat, and while it was yet hot, placed large pieces of coconut cloth on it and then gave it another coat above that. Thus the interior was covered with a tough watertight material, while the exterior, being uncovered and so exposed to the swelling action of the water, was, we hoped, likely to keep the boat quite dry. I may add that our hopes were not disappointed. While Jack was thus engaged, Peterkin and I sometimes assisted him. But as our assistance was not much required, we more frequently went hunting on the extensive mud flats at the entrance of the long valley which lay nearest to our bower. Here we found large flocks of ducks of various kinds, some of them bearing so much resemblance to the wild ducks of our own country, that I think they must have been the same. On these occasions we took the bow and the sling, with both of which we were often successful, though I must confess that I was the least so. Our suppers were thus pleasantly varied, and sometimes we had such a profusion spread out before us that we frequently knew not with which of the dainties to begin. I must also add that the poor old cat which we had brought home had always a liberal share of our good things, and so well was it looked after, especially by Peterkin, that it recovered much of its former strength, and seemed to improve in sight as well as hearing. The large flat stone, or rock of coral, which stood just in front of the entrance to our bower, was our table. On this rock we had spread out the few articles we possessed the day we were ship-drecked, and on the same rock, during many a day afterwards, we spread out the bountiful supply with which we have been blessed on our coral island. Sometimes we sat down at this table to a feast, consisting of hot rolls, as Peterkin called the newly baked breadfruit, a roast pig, roast duck, boiled and roasted yams, coconuts, taro, and sweet potatoes, which we followed up with the dessert of plums, apples, and plantains, the last being a large-sized and delightful fruit, which grew on a large shrub or tree not more than 12 feet high, with light green leaves of enormous length and breadth. These luxurious feasts were usually washed down with coconut nut lemonade. Occasionally Peterkin tried to devise some new dish, a conglomerate, as he used to say, but these generally turned out such atrocious compounds that he was ultimately induced to give up his attempts in extreme disgust. Not forgetting, however, to point out to Jack that his failure was a direct contradiction to the proverb which he, Jack, was constantly thrusting down his throat, namely that, where there's a will there's a way, for he had a great will to become a cook but could by no means find a way to accomplish that end. One day while Peterkin and I were seated beside our table, on which dinner was spread, Jack came up from the beach and flinging down his axes explained, There lads, the boats finished at last, so we've nothing to do now but shape two pair of oars, and then we may put to see as soon as we like. This piece of news threw us into a state of great joy, for although we were aware that the boat had been gradually getting near its completion, it had taken so long that we did not expect it to be quite ready for at least two or three weeks. But Jack had wrought hard and said nothing in order to surprise us. My dear fellow, cried Peterkin, you're a perfect trump, but why did you not tell us it was so nearly ready? Won't we have a jolly sail tomorrow, eh? Don't talk so much, Peterkin, said Jack, and pray, hand me a bit of that pig. Certainly, my dear, cried Peterkin, seizing the axe. Which part will you have? A leg, or a wing, or a piece of the breast? Which? A hind leg, if you please, answered Jack, and pray, be so good as to include the tail, with all my heart, said Peterkin, exchanging the axe for his hoop-iron knife, with which he cut off the desired portion. I'm only too glad, my dear boy, to see that your appetite is so wholesale, and there's no chance whatever of its dwindling down into retail again, at least in so far as this pig is concerned. Ralph, lad, why don't you laugh, eh? He had it turning suddenly to me with a severe look of inquiry. Laugh, said I. What at, Peterkin? Why should I laugh? Both Jack and Peterkin answered this inquiry by themselves, laughing so immoderately, that I was induced to believe I had missed noticing some good joke, so I begged that it might be explained to me, but as this only produced repeated roars of laughter, I smiled and helped myself to another slice of plantain. Well, but, continued Peterkin, I was talking of a sale tomorrow. Can't we have one, Jack? No, replied Jack. We can't have a sale, but I hope we shall have a row, as I intend to work hard at the oars this afternoon, and if we can't get them finished by sunset, we'll light our candle-nuts and turn them out of hands before we turn into bed. Very good, said Peterkin, tossing a lump of pork to the cat, who received it with a mew of satisfaction. I'll help you, if I can. Afterwards, continued Jack, we will make a sale out of the coconut-cloth and rig up a mast, and then we shall be able to sail to some of the other islands and visit our old friends, the penguins. The prospect of being so soon in a position to extend our observations to the other islands and enjoy a sale over the beautiful sea afforded us much delight, and after dinner we set about making the oars in good earnest. Jack went into the woods and blocked them roughly out with the axe, and I smoothed them down with a knife, while Peterkin remained in the bower spinning, or rather twisting, some strong thick cordage with which to fasten them to the boat. We worked hard and rapidly, so that when the sun went down Jack and I returned to the bower with four stout oars, which required little to be done to them save a slight degree of polishing with the knife. As we drew near we were suddenly arrested by the sound of a voice. We were not a little surprised at this. Indeed, I may almost say alarmed, for although Peterkin was undoubtedly fond of talking, we had never up to this time found him talking to himself. We listened intently and still heard the sound of a voice as if in conversation. Jack motioned me to be silent, and advancing to the bower on tiptoe we peeped in. The sight that met our gaze was certainly not a little amusing. On the top of a log, which we sometimes used as a table, sat the black cat with a very demure expression on its continents, and in front of it, sitting on the ground with his legs extended on either side of the log, was Peterkin. At the moment we saw him, he was gazing intently into the cat's face, with his nose about four inches from it, his hands being thrust into his breech's pockets. Cat, said Peterkin, turning his head a little on one side, I love you. There was a pause, as if Peterkin awaited a reply to this affectionate declaration. But the cat said nothing. Do you hear me? cried Peterkin sharply. I love you. I do. Don't you love me? To this touching appeal the cat said, you know, faintly. Ah, that's right. You're a jolly old rascal. Why did you not speak up at once, eh? And Peterkin put forward his mouth and kissed the cat on the nose. Yes, continued Peterkin after a pause. I love you. Do you think I'd say so if I didn't, you black villain? I love you because I've got to take care of you, and to look after you, and to think about you, and to see that you don't die. Mew, meow, said the cat. Very good, continued Peterkin. Quite true. I have no doubt. But you've no right to interrupt me, sir. Hold your tongue till I have done speaking. Moreover, cat, I love you because you came to me the first time you ever saw me, and didn't seem to be afraid, and appear to be fond of me, though you didn't know that I wasn't going to kill you. Now that was brave. That was bold and very jolly, old boy, and I love you for it. I do. Again there was a pause of a few minutes, during which the cat looked placid, and Peterkin dropped his eyes upon its toes as if in contemplation. Suddenly he looked up. Well, cat, what are you thinking now? Won't speak, eh? Now tell me, don't you think it's a monstrous shame that those two scoundrels, Jack and Ralph, should keep us waiting for our supper so long? Here the cat arose, put up its back, and stretched itself, yawned slightly, and licked the point of Peterkin's nose. Just so, oh boy, you're a clever fellow. I really do believe the brute understands me, said Peterkin, while a broad grin overspread his face as he drew back and surveyed the cat. At this point Jack burst into a loud fit of laughter. The cat uttered an angry, puff, and fled, while Peterkin sprang up and exclaimed, Bad luck to you, Jack. You've nearly made the heart jump out of my body, you have. Perhaps I have, replied Jack, laughing as we entered the bower, but as I don't intend to keep you or the cat any longer from your supper, I hope that you'll both forgive me. Peterkin endeavored to turn this affair off with a laugh, but I observed that he blushed very deeply at the time we discovered ourselves, and he did not seem to relish any illusion to the subject afterwards, so we refrained from remarking on it ever after, though it tickled us not a little at the time. After supper we retired to rest and to dream of wonderful adventures in our little boat and distant voyages upon the sea. End of Chapter 15 Recording by Tom Weiss Chapter 16 of The Coral Island This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Tom Weiss The Coral Island by R. M. Valentine Chapter 16 The Boat Launched We Visit The Coral Reef The Great Breaker That Never Goes Down Coral Insects The Way In Which Coral Islands Are Made The Boats Sail We Tax Our Ingenuity To Form Fish Hooks Some Of The Fish We Saw And A Monstrous Whale Wonderful Shower Of Little Fish Water Spouts It was a bright, clear, beautiful morning when we first launched our little boat and rode out upon the placid waters of the lagoon. Not a breath of wind ruffled the surface of the deep, not a cloud spotted the deep blue sky. Not a sound that was discordant broke the stillness of the morning, although there were many sounds, sweet, tiny, and melodious, that mingled in the universal harmony of nature. The sun was just rising from the Pacific's ample bosom, and tipping the mountaintops with a red glow. The sea was shining like a sheet of glass, yet heaving with the long, deep swell that all the world round indicates the life of ocean, and the bright seaweeds and the brilliant corals shown in the depths of that pollucid water as we rode over it like rare and precious gems. Oh, it was a sight fitted to stir the soul of man to its profoundest depths, and if he owed a heart at all to lift the heart in adoration and gratitude to the great creator of this magnificent and glorious universe. At first, in the strength of our delight, we rode hither and thither without aim or object. But after the effervescence of our spirits was abated, we began to look about us and to consider what we should do. I vote that we rode to the reef, cried Peterkin. And I vote that we visit the islands within the lagoon, said I. And I vote we do both, cried Jack. So pull away, boys. As I have already said, we had made four oars, but our boat was so small that only two were necessary. The extra pair were reserved in case any accident should happen to the others. It was therefore only needful that two of us should row, while the third steered by means of an oar, and relieved the rowers occasionally. First we landed on one of the small islands and ran all over it, but saw nothing worthy of particular notice. Then we landed on a larger island, on which were growing a few coconut trees. Having not eaten anything that morning, we gathered a few of the nuts and breakfasted. After this, we pulled straight out to sea and landed on the coral reef. This was indeed a novel and interesting sight to us. We had now been so long unsure that we had almost forgotten the appearance of breakers, for there were none within the lagoon. But now as we stood beside the foam-crested billow of the open sea, all the enthusiasm of the sailor was awakened in our breasts, and as we gazed on the widespread ruin of that single, magnificent breaker that burst in thunder at our feet, we forgot the coral island behind us. We forgot our bower and the calm repose of the scented woods. We forgot all that had passed during the last few months, and remembered nothing but the storms, the calms, the fresh breezes, and the surging billows of the open sea. This huge ceaseless breaker, to which I have so often eluded, was a much larger and more sublime object than we had it all imagined it to be. It rose many yards above the level of the sea, and could be seen approaching at some distance from the reef. Slowly and majestically it came on, acquiring greater volume and velocity as it advanced, until it assumed the form of a clear, watery arch, which sparkled in the bright sun. On it came with resistless and solemn majesty. The upper edge lipped gently over, and it fell with a roar that seemed as though the heart of the ocean were broken in the crash of tumultuous water, while the foam-clad coral reef reappeared to tremble beneath the mighty shock. We gazed long and wonderingly at this great sight, and it was with difficulty we could tear ourselves away from it. As I have once before mentioned, this wave broke in many places over the reef, and scattered some of its spray into the lagoon, but in most places the reef was sufficiently broad and elevated to receive and check its entire force. In many places the coral rocks were covered with vegetation, the beginning as it appeared to us of future islands. Thus on this reef we came to perceive how most of the small islands of those seas are formed. On one part we saw the spray of the breaker washing over the rocks and millions of little active, busy creatures continuing the work of building up this living rampart. At another place, which was just a little too high for the waves to wash over it, the coral insects were all dead, for we found that they never did their work above water. They had faithfully completed the mighty work which their creator had given them to do, and they were now all dead. Again in other spots the ceaseless lashing of the sea had broken the dead coral in pieces and cast it up in the form of sand. Here sea birds had alighted, little pieces of seaweed, and stray bits of wood had been washed up, seeds of plants had been carried by the wind, and a few lonely blades of bright green had already sprung up, which when they died would increase the size and fertility of these emeralds of ocean. At other places these islets had grown apace and were shaded by one or two coconut trees which grew literally in the sand and were constantly washed by the ocean spray, yet as I have before remarked their fruit was most refreshing and sweet to our taste. Again at this time Jack and I pondered the formation of the large coral islands. We could now understand how the low ones were formed, but the larger islands cost us much consideration, yet we could arrive at no certain conclusion on the subject. Having satisfied our curiosity and enjoyed ourselves during the whole day in our little boat, we returned somewhat wearied and with all rather hungry to our bower. Now said Jack, as our boat answers so well we will get a mast and sail made immediately. So we will, tried Peterkin, as we all assisted to drag the boat above high water mark, we'll light our candle and set about it this very night. Hurrah my boys, pull away. As we dragged our boat, we observed that she grated heavily on her keel, and as the sands were in this place mingled with broken coral rocks, we saw portions of the wood being scraped off. Hello cried Jack on seeing this, that won't do. Our keel will be worn off in no time at this rate. So it will, said I, pondering deeply as to how this might be prevented. But I am not of a mechanical turn naturally, so I could conceive no remedy, save that of putting the plate of iron on the keel, but as we had no iron, I knew not what was to be done. It seems to me, Jack, I added, that it is impossible to prevent the keel being worn off thus. Impossible, cried Peterkin, my dear Ralph, you are mistaken, there is nothing so easy. How, I inquired in some surprise, why by not using the boat at all, replied Peterkin. Hold your impotent tongue, Peterkin, said Jack, as he shouldered the oars. Come along with me, and I'll give you work to do. In the first place, you will go and connect coconut fiber and set to work to make sewing twine with it. Please, Captain, interrupted Peterkin, I've got lots of it made already, more than enough, as a little friend of mine used to be in the habit of saying every day after dinner. Very well, continued Jack, then you'll help Ralph to collect coconut cloth and cut it into shape, after which we'll make a sale of it. I'll see to getting the mast in the gearing, so let's to work, and to work we went, right busily, so that in three days from that time we had set up a mast and sail, with the necessary rigging in our little boat. The sail was not indeed very handsome to look at, as it was worn by a number of oblong pieces of cloth, but we had sewed it well by means of our sail needle, so that it was strong, which was the chief point. Jack had also overcome the difficulty about the keel, by pinning to it a false keel. This was a piece of tough wood, of the same length and width as the real keel, and about five inches deep. He made it of this depth, because the boat would be, thereby, rendered not only much more safe, but more able to beat against the wind, which in a sea where the trade winds blow so long and so steadily in one direction was a matter of great importance. This piece of wood was pegged very firmly to the keel, and we now launched our boat with the satisfaction of knowing that when the false keel should be scraped off we could easily put on another, whereas should the real keel have been scraped away, we could not have renewed it without taking our boat to pieces, which Peterkin said made his marrow quick to think upon. The mast and sail answered excellently, and we now sailed about in the lagoon with great delight, and examined with much interest the appearance of our island from a distance. Also we gazed into the depths of the water, and watched for hours the gambles of the curious and bright-colored fish among the corals and seaweed. Peterkin also made a fishing line, and Jack constructed a number of hooks, some of which were very good, others remarkably bad. Some of these hooks were made of iron wood, which did pretty well, the wood being extremely hard, and Jack made them very thick and large. Fish there are not particular, some of the crooked bones in fish heads also answered for this purpose pretty well. But that which formed our best and most serviceable hook was the brass finger ring belonging to Jack. It gave him not a little trouble to manufacture it. First he cut it with the ax, then twisted it into the form of a hook. The barb took him several hours to cut. He did it by means of constant sawing with the broken pan knife, as for the point, an hour's rubbing on a piece of sandstone made an excellent one. It would be a matter of much time and labor to describe the appearance of the multitudes of fish that were day after day drawn into our boat by means of the brass hook. Peterkin always caught them, for we observed that he derived much pleasure from fishing, while Jack and I found ample amusement in looking on, also in gazing down at the coral groves and invading the hook. Among the fish that we saw, but did not catch, were corpuses and swordfish, whales, and sharks. The corpuses came frequently into our lagoon and shoals and amused us not a little by their bold leaps into the air and their playful gambles in the sea. The swordfish were wonderful creatures, some of them apparently ten feet in length, with an ivory spear six or eight feet long projecting from their noses. We often saw them darting after other fish, and no doubt they sometimes killed them with their ivory swords. Jack remembered having heard once of a swordfish attacking a ship, which seemed strange indeed, but as they are often in the habit of attacking whales, perhaps it mistook the ship for one. This swordfish ran against the vessel with such force that it drove its sword quite through the thick planks, and when the ship arrived in harbor long afterwards, the sword was found still sticking in it. Sharks did not often appear, but we took care never again to bathe in deep water without leaving one of our number in the boat to give us warning if he should see a shark approaching. As for the whales, they never came into our lagoon, but we frequently saw them spouting in the deep water beyond the reef. I shall never forget my surprise the first day I saw one of these huge monsters close to me. We had been rambling about on the reef during the morning, and were about to re-embark in our little boat to return home when a loud blowing sound caused us to wheel rapidly round. We were just in time to see a shower of spray falling, and the flukes or tail of some monstrous fish disappear in the sea a few hundred yards off. We waited some time to see if he would rise again. As we stood, the sea seemed to open up at our very feet. An immense spout of water was sent with a snort high into the air, and the huge blunt head of a sperm whale rose before us. It was so large that it could easily have taken our little boat, along with ourselves, into its mouth. It plunged slowly back into the sea, like a large ship foundering, and struck the water with its tail so forcibly as to cause a sound like a cannon shot. We also saw a great number of flying fish, although we caught none, and we noticed that they never flew out of the water except when followed by their bitter foe, the dolphin, for whom they thus endeavored to escape. But of all the fish that we saw, none surprised us so much as those that we used to find in shallow pools after a shower of rain, and this not on account of their appearance, for they were ordinary looking and very small, but on account of their having descended in a shower of rain. We could account for them in no other way, because the pools in which we found these fish were quite dry before the shower, and at some distance above high watermark. Jack, however, suggested a cause which seemed to me very probable. We used often to see water spouts in the sea. A water spout is a whirling body of water which rises from the sea like a sharp pointed pillar. After rising a good way, it is met by a long tongue which comes down from the clouds, and when the two have joined they look something like an hourglass. The water spout is then carried by the wind, sometimes gently, sometimes with violence, over the sea, sometimes up into the clouds, and then bursting asunder it descends in a deluge. This often happens over the land as well as over the sea, and it sometimes does much damage, but frequently it passes gently away. Now Jack thought that the little fish might perhaps have been carried up in a water spout, and so sent down again in a shower of rain. But we could not be certain as to this point, yet we thought it likely. During these delightful fishing and boating exertions, we caught a good many eels, which we found to be very good to eat. We also found turtles among the coral rocks, and made excellent soup in our iron kettle. Moreover, we discovered many shrimps and prawns, so that we had no lack of variety in our food, and indeed we never passed a week without making some new and interesting discovery of some sort or other, either on the land or in the sea. End of Chapter 16 Recording by Tom Weiss Chapter 17 of The Coral Island This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Tom Weiss The Coral Island by R. M. Valentine Chapter 17 A monster wave and its consequences The boat lost and found Peterkin's terrible accident Supplies of food for a voyage in the boat We visit Penguin Island and are amazed beyond measure Account of the penguins One day, not long after our little boat was finished, we were sitting on the rocks at spouting cliff and talking of an excursion which we intended to make to Penguin Island the next day. You see, said Peterkin, it might be all very well for a stupid fellow like me to remain here and leave the penguins alone, but it would be quite inconsistent with your characters as philosophers to remain any longer in ignorance of the habits and customs of these birds, so the sooner we go, the better. Very true, said I, there is nothing I desire so much as to have a closer inspection of them. And I think, said Jack, that you had better remain at home, Peterkin, to take care of the cat, for I am sure the hogs will be at it in your absence out of revenge for your killing their great-grandmother so recklessly. Stay at home, cried Peterkin, my dear fellow, you would certainly lose your way or get upset if I were not there to take care of you. Ah, true, said Jack gravely, that did not occur to me. No doubt you must go. Our boat does require a good deal of ballast, and all that you say, Peterkin, carries so much weight with it that we wouldn't need stones if you go. Now, while my companions were talking, a notable event occurred which, as it is not generally known, I shall be particular in recording here. While we were talking, as I have said, we noticed a dark line like a low cloud or fog bank on the seaward horizon. The day was a fine one, though cloudy, and a gentle breeze was blowing, but the sea was not rougher for the breaker on the reef higher than usual. At first we thought that this looked like a thunder cloud, and as we had had a good deal of broken weather of late, accompanied by occasional peals of thunder, we supposed that a storm must be approaching. Gradually, however, this line seemed to draw nearer without spreading up over the sky, as would certainly have been the case if it had been a storm cloud. Still nearer it came, and soon we saw that it was moving swiftly towards the island, but there was no sound till it reached the islands out at sea. As it passed these islands, we observed, with no little anxiety, that a cloud of white foam encircled them, and burst in spray into the air. It was accompanied by a loud roar. This led us to conjecture that the approaching object was an enormous wave of the sea, but we had no idea how large it was till it came near to ourselves. When it approached the outer reef, however, we were awestruck with its unusual magnitude, and we sprang to our feet and clambered hastily up to the highest point of the precipice, under an indefinable feeling of fear. I have said before that the reef opposite Spouting Cliff was very near the shore, while just in front of the bower it was at a considerable distance out to sea. Owing to this formation, the wave reached the reef at the latter point before it struck at the foot of Spouting Cliff. The instant it touched the reef we became aware, for the first time of its awful magnitude. It burst completely over the reef at all points with a roar that seemed louder to me than thunder, and this roar continued for some seconds, while the wave rolled gradually along towards the cliff on which we stood. As its crest reared before us, we felt that we were in great danger and turned to flee, but we were too late. With a crash that seemed to shake the solid rock, the gigantic billow fell, and instantly the spouting holes sent up a gush of water spouts with such force that they shrieked on issuing from their narrow vents. It seemed to us as if the earth had been blown up with water. We were stunned and confused by the shock, and so drenched and blinded with spray that we knew not for a few moments withered a flea for shelter. At length we all three gained an eminence beyond the reach of the water. But what a scene of devastation met our gaze as we looked along the shore. This enormous wave not only burst over the reef, but continued its way across the lagoon and fell on the sandy beach of the island with such force that it passed completely over it and dashed into the woods, leveling the smaller trees and bushes in its headlong course. On seeing this, Jack said he feared our bower must have been swept away, and that the boat, which was on the beach, must have been utterly destroyed. Our hearts sank within us as we thought of this, and we hastened round through the woods towards our home. On reaching it we found, to our great relief of mine, that the force of the wave had been expended just before reaching the bower, but the entrance to it was almost blocked up by the torn up bushes and tangled heaps of seaweed. Having satisfied ourselves as to the bower, we hurried to the spot where the boat had been left. But no boat was there. The spot on which it had stood was vacant, and no sign of it could we see on looking around us. It must have been washed up into the woods, said Jack, hurrying up the beach as he spoke. Still no boat was to be seen, and we were about to give ourselves over to despair when Peterkin called the Jack and said, Jack, my friend, you were once so exceedingly sagacious and wise as to make me acquainted with the fact that coconuts grow upon trees. Will you now be so good as to inform me what sort of fruit that is growing on the top of yonder bush? For I confess to being ignorant, or at least doubtful on the point. We looked towards the bush, indicated, and there, to our surprise, beheld our little boat snugly nestled among the leaves. We were very much overjoyed at this, for we would have suffered any loss rather than the loss of our boat. We found that the wave had actually borne the boat on its crest from the beach into the woods, and there launched it into the heart of this bush, which was extremely fortunate. Or had it been tossed against a rock or tree, it would have been dashed the pieces, whereas it had not received the smallest injury. It was no easy matter, however, to get it out of the bush and down to the sea again. This cost us two days of hard labor to accomplish. We had also much adieu to clear away the rubbish from before the bower, and spent nearly a week in constant labor ere we got the neighborhood to look as clean and orderly as before, for the uprooted bushes and seaweed that lay on the beach formed a more dreadfully confused looking mass than one who had not seen the place after the inundation could conceive. Before leaving this subject, I may mention, for the sake of those who interest themselves in the curious natural phenomenon of our world, that this gigantic wave occurs regularly on some of the islands of the Pacific once and sometimes twice in the year. I heard this stated by the missionaries during my career in those seas. They could not tell me whether it visited all of the islands, but I was certainly assured that it occurred periodically in some of them. After we had got our home put to rights, and cleared of the debris of the inundation, we again turned our thoughts to paying the penguins a visit. The boat was therefore overhauled and a few repairs done. Then we prepared a supply of provisions for we intended to be absent at least a night or two, perhaps longer. This took us some time to do. For while Jack was busy with the boat, Peterkin was sent into the woods to spear a hog or two, and had to search long, sometimes ere he found them. Peterkin was usually sent on this errand when we wanted a pork chop, which was not seldom, because he was so active and could run so wonderfully fast that he found no difficulty in overtaking the hogs. But being dreadfully reckless, he almost invariably tumbled over stumps and stones in the course of his wild chase, and seldom returned home without having knocked the skin off his shins. Once indeed a more serious accident happened to him. He had been out all the morning alone, and did not return at the usual time to dinner. We wondered if this, for Peterkin was always very punctual at the dinner hour. As supper time drew near, we began to be anxious about him, and at length sallied forth to search the woods. For a long time we sought in vain, but little before dark we came upon the tracks of the hogs, which we followed up until we came to the brow of a rather steep bank or precipice. Looking over this, we beheld Peterkin lying in a state of insensibility at the foot, with his cheek resting on the snout of a little pig which was pinned to the earth by the spear. We were dreadfully alarmed, but hastened to bathe his forehead with water, and had soon the satisfaction of seeing him revive. After we had carried him home, he related to us how the thing had happened. You must know, said he, I walked about all the forenoon till I was as tired as an old donkey, without seeing a single runner, not so much as a track of one. But as I was determined not to return empty-handed, I resolved to go without my dinner, and wait, exclaimed Jack, did you really resolve to do that? Now, Jack, hold your tongue, returned Peterkin. I said that I had resolved to forego my dinner and to push to the head of the small valley, where I felt pretty sure of discovering the hogs. I soon found that I was on the right scent, for I had scarcely walked half a mile in the direction of the small plum tree we found there the other day, when a squeak fell on my ear. Ho-ho, said I, there you go, my boys, and I hurried up the glen. I soon started them, and singling out a fat pig ran tilt at him. In a few seconds I was up with him and stuck my spear right through his dumpy body. Just as I did so, I saw that we were on the edge of a precipice, whether high or low I knew not, but I had been running at such a pace that I could not stop, so the pig and I gave a howl in concert and went plunging over together. I remembered nothing more after that till I came to my senses and found you bathing my temples and Ralph ringing his hands over me. But although Peterkin was often unfortunate in the way of getting tumbles, he was successful on the present occasion in hunting and returned before evening with three very nice little hogs. I also was successful in my visit to the mud flats, where I killed several ducks, so that when we launched and loaded our boat at sunrise the following morning we found our store of provisions to be more than sufficient, part had been cooked the night before, and on taking note of the different items we found the account to stand thus. Ten breadfruits, two bake, eight unbake. Twenty yams, six roasted, the rest raw. Six taro roots. Fifty fine large plums. Six coconuts ripe. Six ditto, green for drinking. Four large ducks and two small ones, raw. Three cold roast pigs with stuffing. I may hear remark that the stuffing had been devised by Peterkin especially for the occasion. He kept the manner of its compounding a profound secret, so I cannot tell what it was, but I can say with much confidence that we found it to be atrociously bad, and after the first tasting scraped it carefully out and threw it overboard. We calculated that this supply would last us for several days, but we afterwards found that it was much more than we required, especially in regard to the coconuts of which we found large quantities wherever we went. However, as Peterkin remarked, it was better to have too much than too little, as we knew not to what straits we might be put during our voyage. It was a very calm, sunny morning when we launched forth and rode over the lagoon towards the outlet in the reef and passed between the two green islets that guarded the entrance. We experienced some difficulty and no little danger in passing the surf of the breaker and shipped a good deal of water in the attempt, but once past the billow we found ourselves floating placently on the long oily swell that rose and fell slowly as it rolled over the wide ocean. Penguin Island lay on the other side of our own island at about a mile beyond the outer reef, and we calculated it must be at least 20 miles distant by the way we should have to go. We might indeed have shortened the way by coasting round our island inside of the lagoon and going out at the passage in the reef nearly opposite to Penguin Island, but we preferred to go by the open sea. First, because it was more adventurous, and secondly, because we should have the pleasure of again feeling the motion of the deep, which we all loved very much, not being liable to seasickness. I wish we had a breeze, said Jack. So do I, cried Peterkin, resting on his oar and wiping his heated brow. Pulling is hard work. Oh, dear, if we could only catch a hundred or two of these gulls, tie them to the boat with long strings, and make them fly as we want them, how capital it would be. Or bore a hole through a shark's tail, and weave a rope through it, eh? remarked Jack. But I say, it seems that my wish is going to be granted, for here comes a breeze. Ship your oar, Peterkin. Up with the mast, Ralph. I'll see to the sail. Mind your helm. Look out for squalls. This last speech was caused by the sudden appearance of a dark blue line on a horizon which, in an incredibly short space of time, swept down on us, lashing up the sea in white foam as it went. We presented the stern of the boat to its first violence, and in a few seconds it moderated into a steady breeze, to which we spread our sail and flew merrily over the waves. Although the breeze died away soon afterwards, it had been so stiff while it lasted that we were carried over the greater part of our way before it fell calm again, so that when the flapping of the sail against the mast told us it was time to resume the oars, we were not much more than a mile from Penguin Island. There go the soldiers, cried Peterkin, as we came inside of it. How spruce their white trousers looked this morning. I wonder if they will receive us kindly. Do you think they are hospitable, Jack? Don't talk, Peterkin, but pull away, and you shall see shortly. As we drew near to the island, we were much amused by the maneuvers and appearance of these strange birds. They seemed to be of different species, for some had crests on their heads, while others had none, and while some were about the size of a goose, others appeared nearly as large as a swan. We also saw a huge albatross soaring above the heads of the penguins. It was followed and surrounded by numerous flocks of seagulls. Having approached within a few yards of the island, which was a low rock, with no other vegetation on it than a few bushes, we lay on our oars and gazed at the birds with surprise and pleasure, they returning our gaze with interest. We now saw that their soldier-like appearance was owing to the stiff erect manner in which they sat on their short legs, bolts upright, as Peterkin expressed it. They had black heads, long sharp beaks, white breasts, and bluish backs. Their wings were so short that they looked more like the fins of a fish, and indeed we soon saw that they used them for the purpose of swimming underwater. There were no gills on these wings, but a sort of scaly feathers which also thickly covered their bodies. Their legs were short and placed so far back that the birds, while on land, were obliged to stand quite upright in order to keep their balance, but in the water they floated like other waterfowl. At first we were so stunned with a clamour which they and other seabirds kept up around us that we knew not which way to look, for they observed the rocks in thousands, but as we continued to gaze, we observed several quadrupeds, as we thought, walking in the midst of the penguins. Pull in a bit, cried Peterkin, and let's see what these are. They must be fond of a noisy company to consort with such creatures. To our surprise, we found that these were no other than penguins, which had gone down on all fours, and were crawling among the bushes on their feet and wings, just like quadrupeds. Suddenly one big old bird that had been sitting on a point very nearer to us, gazing in mute astonishment, became alarmed, and scuttling down the rocks, plumped or fell rather than ran, into the sea. It dived in a moment, and, a few seconds afterwards, came out of the water ahead with such a spring, and such a dive back into the sea again, that we could scarcely believe it was not a fish that had leaped in sport. That beats everything, said Peterkin, rubbing his nose, and screwing up his face with an expression of exasperated amazement. I heard of a thing being neither fish, flesh, nor fowl, but I never did expect to live to see a brute that was all free together, at once, in one. But look there, he continued, pointing with a look of resignation to the shore. Look there, there's no end to it. What has that brute got under its tail? We turned a look in the direction pointed out, and there saw a penguin walking slowly, and very sedately, along the shore, with an egg under its tail. There were several others we observed, burdened in the same way, and we found afterwards that these were a species of penguin that always carried their eggs so. Indeed, they had a most convenient cavity for the purpose just between the tail and the legs. We were very much impressed with the regularity and order of this colony. The island seemed to be apportioned out into squares, of which each penguin possessed one, and sat in stiff solemnity in the middle of it, or took a slow march up and down the spaces between. Some were hatching their eggs, but others were feeding their young ones in a manner that caused us to laugh not a little. The mother stood on a mound or raised rock, while the young ones stood patiently below her on the ground. Suddenly, the mother raised her head and uttered a series of the most discordant cackling sounds. She's going to choke, cried Peterkin. But this was not the case, although I confess she looked like it. In a few seconds, she put down her head and opened her mouth into which the young one thrust its beak and seemed to suck something from her throat. Then the cackling was renewed, the sucking continued, and so the operation of feeding was carried on till the young one was satisfied. But what she fed her little one with, we could not tell. Now look just yonder, said Peterkin, in an excited tone, if that isn't the most abominable piece of maternal deception I ever saw. That rascally old lady penguin has just pitched her young one into the sea, and there's another one about to follow her example. This indeed seemed to be the case, for on the top of a steep rock close to the edge of the sea, we observed an old penguin endeavoring to entice her young one into the water. But the young one seemed very unwilling to go, and notwithstanding the enticements of its mother moved very slowly towards her. At last she went gently behind the young bird and pushed it a little towards the water, but with great tenderness, as much as to say, don't be afraid, darling, I won't hurt you, my pet, but no sooner did she get it to the edge of the rock where it stood looking pensively down at the sea than she gave it a sudden and violent push, send it headlong down the slope into the water, where its mother left it to scramble ashore as it best could. We observed many of them employed in doing this, and we came to the conclusion that this is the way in which old penguins teach their children to swim. Scarcely had we finished making our remarks on this when we were startled by about a dozen of the old birds hopping in the most clumsy and ludicrous manner towards the sea. The beach here was a sloping rock, and when they came to it some of them succeeded in hopping down in safety, but others lost their balance and rolled and scrambled down the slope in the most helpless manner. The instant they reached the water, however, they seemed to be in their proper element. They dived and bounded out of it and into it again with the utmost agility, and so diving and founding and sputtering, for they could not fly, they went rapidly out to sea. On seeing this Peter can turned with a grave face to us and said, It s my opinion that these birds are all stark, staring mad, and that this is an enchanted island. I therefore propose that we should either put about ship and fly in terror from the spot, or land valorously on the island and sell our lives as dearly as we can. I vote for landing, so pull in lands, said Jack, giving a stroke with his oar that made the boat spin. In a few seconds we ran the boat into a little creek where we made her fast to a projecting piece of coral and running up the beach entered the ranks of the penguins armed with our cudgels and our spear. We were greatly surprised to find that instead of attacking us or showing signs of fear at our approach, these curious birds did not move from their places until we laid hands on them and merely turned their eyes on us in solemn, stupid wonder as we passed. There was one old penguin, however, that began to walk slowly towards the sea, and Peterkin took it into his head that he would try to interrupt its progress, so he ran between it and the sea and brandished his cudgel in its face. But this proved to be a resolute old bird. It would not retreat, nay more it would not cease to advance, but battle with Peterkin bravely and drove him before it until it reached the sea. Had Peterkin used his club he could easily have felt it no doubt, but as he had no wish to do so cruel an act merely out of sport, he let the bird escape. We spent fully three hours on this island in watching the habit of these curious birds, but when we finally left them we all three concluded, after much consultation, that they were the most wonderful creatures we had ever seen, and further we thought it probable that they were the most wonderful creatures in the world. End of Chapter 17. Recording by Tom Weiss Chapter 18 of The Coral Island This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Tom Weiss The Coral Island by R. M. Ballantyne Chapter 18 An awful storm and its consequences. Narrow escape A rock proves a sure foundation. A fearful night and a bright morning. Deliverance from danger. It was evening before we left the island of the penguins. As we had made up our minds to encamp for the night on a small island whereon grew a few coconut trees, which was about two miles off, we lay to our oars with some energy. But a danger was in store for us which we had not anticipated. The wind, which had carried us so quickly to Penguin Island, freshened as evening drew on to a stiff breeze, and before we had made half the distance to the small island, it became a regular gale. Although it was not so directly against us as to prevent our rowing in the course we wished to go, yet it checked us very much, and although the force of the sea was somewhat broken by the island, the waves soon began to rise and to roll their broken crests against our small crack, so that she began to take in water, and we had much adieu to keep ourselves afloat. At last the wind and sea together became so violent that we found it impossible to make the island, so Jack suddenly put the head of the boat round and ordered Peterkin and me to hoist a corner of the sail, intending to run back to Penguin Island. We shall at least have the shelter of the bushes, he said, as the boat flew before the wind, and the penguins will keep us company. As Jack spoke, the wind suddenly shifted and blew so much against us that we were forced to hoist more of the sail in order to beat up for the island, being by this change thrown much to leeward of it. What made matters worse was that the gale came in squalls, so that we were more than once nearly upset. Stand by, both of you, cried Jack in a quick earnest tone. Be ready to deuce the sail. I very much fear we won't make the island after all. Peterkin and I were so much in the habit of trusting everything to Jack that we had fallen into the way of not considering things, especially such things as were under Jack's care. We had, therefore, never doubt it, for a moment that all was going well, so it was with no little anxiety that we heard him make the above remark. However, we had no time for question or surmise, for at the moment we spoke a heavy squall was bearing down upon us, and as we were then flying with our lee gun whale dipping occasionally under the waves, it was evident that we should have to lower our sail altogether. In a few seconds the squall struck the boat, but Peterkin and I had the sail down in a moment, so that it did not upset us. But when it was passed we were more than half full of water. This I soon bailed out, while Peterkin again hoisted a corner of the sail. But the evil which Jack had feared came upon us. We found it quite impossible to make Penguin Island. The gale carried us quickly past it towards the open sea, and the terrible truth flashed upon us that we should be swept out and left to perish miserably in a small boat in the midst of the wide ocean. This idea was forced very strongly upon us, because we saw nothing in the direction whether the wind was blowing us, save the raging billows of the sea, and indeed we trembled as we gazed around us, for we were now beyond the shelter of the islands, and it seemed as though any of the huge billows which curled over in masses of foam might swallow us up in a moment. The water also began to wash in over our sides, and I had to keep constantly bailing, for Jack could not quit the helm nor Peterkin the sail for an instant without endangering our lives. In the midst of this distress, Jack uttered an exclamation of hope, and pointed towards a low island or rock which lay directly ahead. It had been hitherto unobserved, owing to the dark clouds that obscured the sky, and the blinding spray that seemed to fill the whole atmosphere. As we neared this rock, we observed that it was quite destitute of trees and verdure, and so low that the sea broke completely over it. In fact, it was nothing more than the summit of one of the coral formations, which rose only a few feet above the level of the water, and was, in stormy weather, all but invisible. Over this island the waves were breaking in the utmost fury, and our hearts sank within us as we saw that there was not a spot where we could thrust our little boat without its being dashed to pieces. Show a little bit more sail, cried Jack, as we swept past the weather side of the rock with fearful speed. I I, answered Peterkin, hoisting about a foot more of our sail. Little though the addition was, it caused the boat to lie over and creak so loudly, as we cleft the foaming waves that I expected to be upset every instant, and I blamed Jack in my heart for his rashness. But I did him injustice, for although during two seconds the water rushed inboard in a torrent, he succeeded in steering us sharply round to the leeward side of the rock, where the water was comparatively calm and the force of the breeze broken. Out your oars now, lads, that's well done, give way! We obeyed instantly. The oars splashed into the waves together. One good hearty pull, and we were floating in a comparatively calm creek that was so narrow as to be barely able to admit our boat. Here we were in perfect safety, and as we leaped on shore and fastened our cable to the rocks, I thanked God in my heart for our deliverance from so great danger. But although I have said we were now in safety, I suspect that few of my readers would have envied our position. It is true we had no lack of food, but we were drenched to the skin. The sea was foaming around us, and the spray flying over our heads, so that we were completely enveloped as it were in water. The spot on which we had landed was not more than twelve yards in diameter, and from this spot we could not move without the risk of being swept away by the storm. At the upper end of the creek was a small hollow or cave in the rock, which shelled us from the fury of the winds and waves, and as the rock extended in a sort of ledge over our heads it prevented the spray from falling upon us. Why, said Peterkin, beginning to feel cheery again, it seems to me that we have got into a mermaid's cave, for there is nothing but water all round us, and as for earth and sky, they are things of the past. Peterkin's idea was not inappropriate. For what with the sea roaring in white foam up to our very feet, and the spray flying in white sheets continually over our heads, and the water dripping heavily from the ledge above like a curtain in front of our cave, it did seem to us very much more like being below than above water. Now, boys, cried Jack, be stir your cells, and let's make ourselves comfortable. Toss out our provisions, Peterkin, and hear Ralph lend a hand to haul up the boat. Look sharp. Aye-aye, captain, we cried as we hastened to obey, much cheered by the hearty manner of our comrade. Fortunately the cave, although not very deep, was quite dry, so that we succeeded in making ourselves much more comfortable than could have been expected. We landed our provisions, rung the water out of our garments, spread our sail below us for a carpet, and after having eaten a hearty meal began to feel quite cheerful. But as night drew on, our spirits sank again, for with the daylight all evidence of our security vanished away. We could no longer see the firm rock on which we lay, while we were stunned with the violence of the tempest that raged around us. The night grew pitchy dark as it advanced, so that we could not see our hands when we held them up before our eyes, and were obliged to feel each other occasionally to make sure that we were safe, for the storm at last became so terrible that it was difficult to make our voices audible. A slight variation of the wind, as we supposed, caused a few drops of spray ever and anon to blow into our faces, and the eddy of the sea in its mad boiling washed up into our little creek until it reached our feet and threatened to tear away our boat. In order to prevent this latter calamity, we hauled the boat farther up and held the cable in our hands. Occasional flashes of lightning shone with a ghastly glare through the watery curtains around us, and lent additional horror to the scene. Yet we longed for those dismal flashes, for they were less appalling than the thick blackness that succeeded them. Crashing peals of thunder seemed to tear the skies in twain, and fell upon our ears through the wild yelling of the hurricane as if it had been but a gentle summer breeze, while the billows burst upon the weather side of the island, until we fancied that the solid rock was giving way, and in our agony we clung to the bare ground, expecting every moment to be whirled away and whelmed into the black, hulling sea. Oh, it was a night of terrible anxiety, and no one can conceive the feelings of intense gratitude and relief with which we at last saw the dawn of daybreak through the vapory mist around us. For three days and three nights, we remained on this rock, while the storm continued to rage with unabated fury. On the morning of the fourth day it suddenly ceased, and the wind fell all together, but the waves still ran so high that we did not dare to put off in our boat. During the greater part of this period, we scarcely slept above a few minutes at a time, but on the third night we slept soundly, and awoke early on the fourth morning to find the sea very much down, and the sun shining brightly again in the clear blue sky. It was with light hearts that we'd launched forth once more in our little boat, and steered away for our island home, which we were overjoyed to find, was quite visible on the horizon, for we had fear that we had been blown out of sight of it altogether. As it was a dead calm, we had to row during the greater part of the day, but towards the afternoon a fair breeze sprang up, which enabled us to hoist our sail. We soon passed Penguin Island and the other island which we had failed to reach on the day the storm commenced, but as we had still enough of provisions and were anxious to get home, we did not land to the great disappointment of Peterkin, who seemed to entertain quite an affection for the penguins. Although the breeze was pretty fresh for several hours, we did not reach the outer reef of our island till nightfall, and before we had sailed more than a hundred yards into the lagoon, the wind died away altogether, so that we had to take to our oars again. It was late, and the moon and stars were shining brightly when we arrived opposite the bower, and leaped upon the strand. So glad were we to be safe back again on our beloved island that we scarcely took time to drag the boat a short way up the beach, and then ran up to see that all was right at the bower. I must confess, however, that my joy was mingled with a vague sort of fear, lest our home had been visited and destroyed during our absence. But on reaching it we found everything just as it had been left, and the poor black cat curled up, sound asleep, on the coral table in front of our humble dwelling. End of Chapter 18, Recording by Tom Weiss