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Strange Adventures of Eric Blackburn

<h3>Chapter Nine.</h3> <h4>We settle down on Eden.</h4> We found the wreck, as of course we had quite expected, in precisely the same condition as we had left her. As I stowed the boat’s sails and made her securely fast to the wreck it was my fixed intention to continue our exploration on the following day, but as I sat on deck that night, smoking a final pipe before turning in, my plans underwent a certain amount of modification. I had quite come to the conclusion that the tiny islet that formed the easternmost extremity of the group was the spot on which we ought to take up our abode in view of our hope of eventual rescue; and while considering the matter it also occurred to me that since it was impossible to forecast the duration of our detention upon the group—it might run to months, for aught that I could tell—a reasonably comfortable dwelling of some sort—something less susceptible to the vicissitudes of weather than a mere tent, for instance—was an absolute necessity. I therefore spent the ensuing four days in planning such a house as Billy and I might, between us, be able to construct; and by the end of that time I had got it satisfactorily planned out on paper. I determined to build it entirely of wood, first, because the wreck afforded us abundance of material, and next, because I could do all the cutting-out, the sawing, planing, mortising, and fitting aboard the ship, where such tools and conveniences as we possessed were at immediate command, and where I could work from early morn to dewy eve without fear of interruption of any kind. Then, when all my timbers were cut, shaped, and fitted, it would be a comparatively simple matter to transfer them to the islet by means of the boat, and there erect them and fit them together. From such observations as I had already been able to make I had come to the conclusion that the barrier reef upon which the Yorkshire Lass lay stranded would probably be found to encircle the group completely—with, perhaps, a breach or two in it somewhere; and, as the determination of this point seemed to me a matter of some importance, I decided that our next exploration should be conducted with that object. Accordingly, upon the morning of the fifth day after our first expedition we again left the wreck, the boat being well stocked with everything we could think of as likely to be required during a week’s cruise. As before, we started by steering a northerly course, and in due time arrived off the entrance of the channel which we had explored on our first trip, and which had proved to lead to the centre of the group. But on this occasion, instead of entering the channel as before, I continued to push northward, the barrier reef still holding intact on our port hand while to starboard lay what proved to be the most northerly island of the group. As we coasted along its north-westerly shore we were able to see that, while the southern portion of it was low and flat, a range of hills occupied its eastern side, while another less lofty and less extensive range marked its north-western extremity. But the land looked savage, unattractive, uninviting. We therefore made no attempt to land, contenting ourselves with the maintenance of a strict and continuous scrutiny of the country through the telescope. Uninviting, however, as was the aspect of the island, it became markedly more so when we were presently favoured with a glimpse of some of its inhabitants, of which, thus far, we had seen nothing. We had just rounded the headland that was the most northerly point of the group visible from the deck of the Yorkshire Lass, and had hauled up close to the wind to fetch another point, some four miles distant to the north-eastward, when, scrutinising the shore through the telescope, I saw two creatures suddenly burst through the dense scrub that seemed to be the only form of vegetation growing thereabout, and begin—or, possibly, it might have been, continue—what had all the appearance of a desperate fight, on the open beach. We were at that moment not more than a quarter of a mile from the shore and but little farther than that from the spot where the fight was taking place. The creatures were therefore within plain view of us, while the telescope clearly revealed every detail of what was happening, and of the creatures themselves, but so incredibly agile were they in their movements that several minutes elapsed before I was able to do more than just form a rough estimate of their size; but presently the boat drew up fairly abreast of them, and then I directed Billy, who was steering, to haul the fore-sheet to windward to deaden the boat’s way, for I was curious to see what would be the outcome of the struggle. The combatants were well matched as to size and activity, there appearing to be not a pin to choose between them in those respects. I set them down to be about the same size as an ordinary donkey, but they did not in the least resemble donkeys as to shape; indeed at first sight they seemed to be more like gigantic frogs. That, however, was merely a first impression, for there presently occurred a momentary pause in the fight—presumably to enable them to get their second wind—and then I was enabled to note details accurately. Their hind legs were, proportionately, as long as those of frogs, but much more muscular, while their fore legs appeared to be not more than a foot long, all four extremities being armed with exceedingly stout and formidable claws. Unlike frogs, however, they boasted powerful tails that seemed to serve very much the same purpose as that of the kangaroo, both as a weapon and a propellant. At the base it was the same thickness as the body, tapering away to a point, and it appeared to be about the same length as the body. The head was, however, the most remarkable feature of the animal. When seen in profile it was not unlike those of the apes we had encountered, but it was evidently even more formidable, for projecting from its nose was a stout, sharp horn, similar to that of a rhinoceros, while a pair of long tusks projected from its upper jaw. In colour the animal was a greyish brown, dark on the upper part of the body, fading to a dirty white on the lower. A serrated ridge of what might be loose skin ran along its back from the nape of the neck to the extremity of the tail, and the body appeared to be thickly dotted with wart-like excrescences. Altogether it had very much more the appearance of a reptile than of any other class of the animal kingdom. These details I was able to observe during the short pause in the fight to which I have already alluded, but in less than a minute the struggle was resumed with apparently greater ferocity than ever. Their method of fighting was as remarkable as their general appearance. Facing his opponent and crouching low, at a distance of some three or four yards apart, one of them would suddenly spring high in the air and land upon the body of his adversary, striking furiously with claws, tusks, and tail, while the other, throwing himself on his back, would lash out as vigorously with his own weapons. Then the two would grip, rolling over and over each other, and for a few minutes it would be impossible to see what was happening, so quick were their movements and dense the cloud of dust that they raised. Then would occur a brief pause, to be followed by a further renewal of the fight. But after about a quarter of an hour it became evident that the struggle was nearly over. The end came with dramatic suddenness: the one which happened to be lying upon his back made a lucky upward stroke with his hind claws, disembowelling his antagonist as the latter descended upon him, and a moment later he was tearing great morsels of flesh from the still writhing body of his late adversary. “Let draw the fore-sheet, Billy,” I exclaimed. “We’ll get away from here as quickly as the wind will take us.” For the sight was a horrible and disgusting one. An hour later we arrived off a gap about a mile wide between two headlands, this gap forming the entrance of a noble bay some eight miles long by five miles wide at its widest part. And, curiously enough, immediately opposite that gap there occurred a corresponding gap or break, about two miles wide, in the barrier reef, so that, had the place been known to mariners, a ship in distress might have passed through this break in the reef and sailed straight into the bay, even in the hardest gale that ever blew. Naturally, I at once headed the boat into the bay, and we sailed to its farther extremity, hugging the western shore all the way, and still maintaining a close watch upon the country generally through the telescope. It was very rugged and broken until we reached the bottom of the bay, where the hills, from a height of some eight hundred feet, sank into the plain. The hill-sides, inside as outside the bay, nourished a fairly dense growth of low, coarse scrub, that I searched with the glass, in vain, for any sign of life. But I noticed, very early after our passage between the two headlands, that, for some reason which I was quite unable to guess at, the waters of the bay were swarming with sharks—the first that we had seen since the occurrence of the wreck—wherefore I at once christened the great sheet of water “Shark Bay”, while to the island itself I gave the name of “North Island.” The headlands that guarded the entrance to Shark Bay were a pair of lofty promontories rising to a height of some four or five hundred feet, forming part of the range of hills that engirdled the bay on either hand; but while the range on the western side sloped down to the water’s edge, sinking into a plain at a distance of about ten miles from the entrance, the range on the eastern side, some sixteen miles long, gradually receded from the shore line as it swept southwards, the space between its foot and the beach being occupied by a swamp lying so low that it was difficult to judge, in places, the precise line of demarcation between land and water. The southern half of the island consisted entirely of low, flat ground, sparsely covered with coarse grass and isolated clumps of scrub, across which, at a distance of some eight miles, the high, precipitous cliffs of the island where we encountered the apes could be distinctly seen. By the time that we arrived at the inner, or southern extremity of the bay the sun had declined to within a finger’s width of the ridge of the western range of hills. It was clear, therefore, that there could be no further exploration for us until the morrow, and I began to look about in search of a suitable spot whereon to pitch our camp for the night. And to choose seemed difficult. The western shore of the bay, with its broken ground and scrubby vegetation looked uninviting to say the least of it, in addition to which it was on the other side of those same hills, at a spot only a few miles distant, that we had, that afternoon, witnessed the terrific fight between those two horrible, unknown creatures; and I had no inclination to place ourselves where we might perchance make closer acquaintance with other creatures of a similar or perhaps even more ferocious kind. The eastern shore of the bay was a swamp, and consequently out of the question. I therefore turned my attention to the plain that formed the southern part of the island, when, looking in that direction, I saw an animal of some sort squatting on its hind-quarters on the beach, staring at us. It was only about a quarter of a mile distant and, bringing the telescope to bear upon it, I at once identified it as either the victorious fighter of the afternoon or a creature similar in every respect. It was hardly likely to be the same beast, however, for I thought it doubtful whether the long arm of coincidence would bring the same creature within our ken again so soon; moreover the animal at that moment focused by the lenses of the telescope showed no wounds or other signs of recent battle. “I’ll have a shot at the beggar if he will only remain as he is half a minute longer,” I exclaimed. “Take the telescope, Billy, and watch. I’ll aim for his heart, and you will be able to see whether or not I score a hit.” And, thrusting the telescope into Billy’s hands, I snatched up a rifle. “Four hundred and fifty yards should be about right,” I muttered as I adjusted the back sight of the weapon to that range; then, raising the rifle to my shoulder and bringing the sights into line on that part of the still motionless beast’s body where I supposed its heart to be, I pressed the trigger. The “plop” of the bullet upon the creature’s hide distinctly reached my ear a second or two after the crack of the rifle; but instead of toppling over, dead, as I fully expected, the beast simply wheeled about and, in a sequence of enormous bounds, quickly vanished in the distance. “By Jove!” I exclaimed, in amazement, “what an extraordinary thing. I’ll swear I hit him. I had him as neatly covered as possible; my hands were as steady as rocks; and there is not enough wind to deflect the bullet; furthermore, I heard it strike.” “Yes; so did I,” agreed Billy. “I am certain that you hit the brute, Mr Blackburn. I can’t say for certain that I actually saw the bullet hit, but I believe that a second or two after you fired, and an instant before the beast turned and bounded away, I saw a tiny dark spot on the dirty white skin of its breast.” “I wonder whether you really did, or whether it was merely imagination,” said I. “Anyway, the beggar must be a tough one to kill; for while I feel as certain as you do that I hit him, the fact remains that he was very far from being dead when we last saw him; furthermore, that yonder plain harbours such creatures is a strong argument against our camping there to-night; the only thing, therefore, that I can see for it is to stand off-shore for a mile or two, anchor the boat, and rough it aboard her for the night.” Which we did. And ample reason had we to congratulate ourselves upon our decision, for shortly after nightfall and all through the hours of darkness our ears were assailed by an almost continuous succession of such hair-raising shrieks and howls, roars and bellowings, as thoroughly convinced me that North Island was no sort of dwelling-place for human beings with a penchant for peace and quietness. Furthermore, there was a moon, that night, well advanced in her second quarter, and at frequent intervals during a particularly restless night I caught glimpses of shadowy forms moving restlessly hither and thither ashore. With the arrival of dawn next morning we were astir; and after an early breakfast the anchor was hove up and we got under way to resume our voyage of exploration. On the previous afternoon we pretty closely skirted the western shore of the bay; now, on our way out, we as closely hugged the eastern shore, which I kept under continuous scrutiny with the help of the telescope. But nothing worthy of record was seen; and that day’s voyage might be dismissed with the mere mention of it, but for the fact that when we were about half-way down the bay we reached a spot where the water and the swamp were so intermingled that we actually ran right into a vast bed of rushes without grounding. There was, perhaps, nothing very remarkable about that, but there was a peculiarity about those rushes that Billy was the first to observe and remark upon, namely, their absolutely perfect straightness. This inspired me with an idea: our stock of ammunition was limited, and when it should become exhausted, what were we to do? So long as we remained upon the group we must have weapons of some sort, and the only substitute for the rifle and revolver that I could think of was the bow and arrow. I cut one of the rushes and found it to consist of an exceedingly hard outer casing filled with soft pith; it was remarkably light; and it instantly occurred to me that the smaller, thinner rushes—they ranged from about an eighth of an inch up to quite two inches in diameter—would make ideal arrows. We therefore set to work, there and then, and cut about two hundred reeds of suitable diameter, each of them being long enough to make at least two arrows. When, toward sunset that evening, we again reached the little islet that I had resolved to make our home—and which I named Eden because it was so like a garden—the first thing we did was to spread our reeds out on the grass to dry; next we rigged the tent—for we intended to spend the night on the island—and then Billy and I took a walk up as far as the shoulder of the hill, from which was to be obtained a view of the sea, upon the off-chance of there being a sail of some sort in sight. But, as I more than half expected, the ocean was bare. We met with no adventures, unpleasant or otherwise, that night, but enjoyed several hours of sound, dreamless sleep, and awoke refreshed the next morning to pursue our voyage of exploration. Nor did we meet with any adventures worth recording on the third day of our voyage. We sailed past the eastern end of the island inhabited by the natives, leaving it about two miles on our starboard hand as we steered south; then we sailed past another and much bigger island, which I estimated to measure some sixteen miles long by about fourteen miles wide. It was in the form of a double-coned hill sloping on all sides down to the water’s edge, the higher of the two cones being about nine hundred feet high, and the other perhaps two hundred feet less. It was thickly wooded from beach to summit, and I had no doubt that many of the trees we saw bore edible fruits; but we did not land to test the matter. Rather late in the afternoon we arrived abreast another and much smaller island that proved to be the southernmost of the group. This we named “South Island”; and about sunset we ran into a tiny bay close to its western extremity and, anchoring the boat, passed the night in her, this time without disturbance of any kind. Continuing our circumnavigation of the group, we reached the wreck again about an hour before sunset on the fourth day of our travels, keeping within the lagoon all the time and thus confirming my theory that the reef completely encircled the whole group. I estimated that in the course of those four days we sailed a distance of about one hundred and fifty miles, but it was well worth it, for I now had considerable knowledge of the general characteristics of the entire group, to which I could add when I set out to traverse the intersecting channels. The matter about which I was now most anxious was the erection of our projected house on our little islet of Eden; and to the cutting and shaping of the timber that was to be employed in its construction Billy and I at once devoted ourselves energetically, making remorseless inroads upon the wreck for the required materials, but maintaining the cabins and after part of the ship intact, that we might not deprive ourselves of the one dwelling-place until the other was ready to receive us. And I was all the more anxious to get this important piece of work completed without loss of time because I had a suspicion that in those latitudes there is what is known as a “hurricane season”, during which extremely violent gales are prevalent, and I knew that the very first of these—when it came—might destroy the wreck and so turn us out of house and home. No sooner had we begun our work than I recognised the wisdom that had prompted me to prepare a carefully drawn detailed plan of our future house beforehand, for now I was able to determine, by reference to my plan, the exact dimensions and shape of every piece of timber required, thus saving a vast amount of time and labour that must otherwise have been spent in consideration, and in the tentative fitting together of the several pieces. There is no need to tax the patience of the reader by describing in detail our daily progress. Let it suffice to say that we worked all day and every day from dawn to sunset, until at length, after five weeks of strenuous but uneventful labour, punctuated at intervals by thunderstorms of terrific violence, accompanied by torrential downpours of rain—which we thankfully utilised for the replenishment of our fresh-water supply—the carpenter work of our projected house was finished, and then came the still more formidable task of erection. We began by loading our boat with as much as she would carry of the building materials and the requisites for a few days’ stay upon the islet; and then we left the wreck, arriving at our destination rather late the same evening, taking the short cut through those parts of the intersecting channels that we had already traversed upon the occasion of our discovery of the islet. The choice of a site for the house, and the unloading and conveyance of the tools and building materials to that site occupied the whole of another day, for the site chosen was on the eastern slope of the hill, about a mile distant from the cove where the boat lay, involving the carrying of several heavy loads of timber all that distance up-hill; but it was well worth the labour, for the situation afforded a magnificent and uninterrupted view of the open sea to the eastward, while toward the west and south-west we had a view of a considerable portion of the island with the remarkable precipitous cliffs, and a broad stretch of lagoon to the south of it. Spending the night of that very fatiguing day on Eden, we returned to the wreck on the day following, a fair wind the whole way enabling us to accomplish the trip in time to load up the boat that same evening in readiness for an early start next day. This mode of procedure was followed for nearly a month; by the end of which period we had transported from the wreck to our islet the whole of the material for our house, the chests of treasure, the ship’s medicine-chest, all the tools of every description that were to be found in the ship, all the arms and ammunition, the chronometer and other navigating instruments, the charts, and a considerable quantity of the most valuable contents of the lazarette; after which we were practically independent of the wreck; for as soon as we had built our house we should be in possession of everything absolutely necessary to the maintenance of life and health. The house, however, still remained to be built, and this task kept Billy and me busy for another six weeks; but when it was finished we found ourselves, relatively speaking, in clover, for our house consisted of a strongly-built, weather-proof bungalow containing living-room, store-room, two bedrooms, kitchen, scullery, fuel house, and other outbuildings, with a stoep and veranda extending all round it; and it was roofed with deck planking, caulked, thoroughly well tarred, and then coated with sand. The furniture was of course a bit rough, but it served its purpose, and it was eked out by the addition of a couple of comfortable arm-chairs and six deck-chairs from the wreck, with, of course, beds and bedding, table linen, crockery, cutlery, and all the cooking gear. This great task accomplished, my next business was to run the boat, single-handed, to and fro between the islet and the wreck, removing from the latter everything that might by any chance be of the slightest value to us, while Billy, having developed an ambition to lay out a considerable expanse of the slope in front of the house as a garden, put in his time in the realisation of that ambition. After a time I was able to lend a hand at this job; and I finished up by setting on end, in front of the house, the brigantine’s spare main topmast, which made a fine flagstaff, upon which I proposed to hoist the ship’s ensign, union-down, if ever a ship should heave in sight. <hr> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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