Chapter 17 - Ran Away to Sea by Mayne Reid
Next morning, just after daybreak, Brace and I started upon our excursion. A couple of sailors, friends of my companion, rowed us ashore and then took back the boat I was not easy in my mind until I saw the boat return without us; for I was still apprehensive that my tyrants might repent of their generosity, hail the boat, and have me taken back. I was not happy until I had put some bushes between myself and the river’s bank, that hid me from the view of the barque.
Then, indeed, did I feel happy—so much so that I danced over the ground and flung my arms wildly around me—until my companion began to think I had suddenly taking leave of my senses. If I felt happy at the prospect of this temporary freedom, how much more was I joyed by the reality? I cannot describe the peculiar sensations I experienced at that moment. My feet once more rested on the welcome earth, after having for two long months pressed only the slippery deck; once more I walked under the shadow of noble trees, and around and above me, instead of stiff spars and black tarred ropes, I beheld graceful boughs and bright-green leaves. Instead of the wind drumming upon the sails, or the storm screeching harshly through the taut rigging, I heard only a soft breeze, singing playfully through the twigs, and bearing upon its wings the melody of many a sweet songster. Far more than all—I was once more free—free to think, and speak, and act—not one of which had I been free to do since the day I stepped on board the Pandora.
No longer were those frowning faces before my eyes; no longer rang in my ears those harsh voices—harsher from jests, ribald and blasphemous utterings. No; I saw only the jovial face of my companion; I heard only his cheerful voice—more cheerful because he too was in high spirits with the prospect of our day’s enjoyment.
We soon buried ourselves in the woods—far beyond hear and hail of the barque—and then conversing agreeably with one another, we took our time about it, and trudged leisurely along.
I have said that Ben was a bit of a sportsman. Of course then our excursion was a hunting one, and we carried the implements of the chase—though it would hardly be just to give this title to the weapons we carried. Ben shouldered a ship’s musket of very large dimensions—an old piece of Queen Anne, with a flintlock and heavy iron ramrod—the whole making a load that would have borne down a grenadier; but Ben was strong enough to have carried a small cannon, and thought nothing of the weight. For me he had provided a stout pistol—such as are used by dragoons, and by sailors when boarding an enemy’s ship—and these were our weapons. For the rest we had about a pound of small shot, which my companion carried in his tobacco-pouch, and a quantity of powder safely corked in a bottle that had once held that favourite English beverage “ginger beer,” and the identity of whose stout form and grey complexion could not be mistaken even in the forests of Africa. For wadding, we had brought with us some oakum, well ‘flaxed’ out, and thus armed and equipped we were ready to do slaughter upon all birds and beasts that should chance to come in our way.
We walked a good distance without seeing either one or the other, though we met with many signs and traces of both. We were constantly within hearing of birds, that sang or chattered among the trees, both above our heads and around us. From the noises we knew we were within shot of them, but we could not see a feather to guide us in taking aim. The reason of this was, that the leaves were so thick upon the trees the birds were hidden by them. No doubt they saw us well enough and no doubt we might have seen them, had we known the exact spot in which to look; for it is a well-known fact, that Nature has given to her wild creatures such forms and colours as peculiarly adapt them to their several haunts; as the brown of the hare, resembling the withered gorse or fallow; the speckle of the partridge, to assimilate it to the stubble, and many other examples that might be adduced. In tropic climes this law of Nature is also carried out. The spotted leopard or panther, though of bright colours that strike the eye when the animal is viewed in its cage, are scarce discernible among the red and yellow leaves that strew the ground in a forest; the parrots that frequent the evergreen foliage are themselves of this colour; while others who haunt more upon rocks, or the grey and brown trunks of giant trees, are usually of more sombre hue—for there are rock-parrots both in Africa and America, as well as those that dwell only among trees.
For this reason my companion and I went a long way without finding a feather. It was not destined, however, that we should be altogether unsuccessful in our day’s sport. Our patience was at length rewarded by the sight of a large dark-coloured bird, which we observed sitting very quietly upon a tree that was dead and leafless, though still standing. The bird was upon one of the lower branches, and apparently buried in deep thought; for it sat without moving either head or neck, limb or wing.
I stopped a little behind, and Ben advanced to obtain a shot. He possessed some hunter craft; for, as he had told me, he had done a little poaching in his younger days, and this skill now stood him in stead. Keeping behind the trunks of the trees, and silently gliding from one to another, he at length arrived within shot of the one on which the bird was perched. The simple creature appeared to take no heed of him, although part of his body was several times within sight of it, and any English bird would have long before taken to flight. Ben crept very near, in order to make sure of the shot. He concluded that we were not likely to meet with many chances, and, as he was resolved not to go back empty-handed, he was determined to be on the safe side and not make a miss of it. But if the bird had been dead and stuffed it could not have awaited him more composedly, and Ben crept on until he was within about a cable’s length from the dead tree. He then levelled his “Queen Anne” and fired, and, since it was almost impossible for him to have missed, the bird fell to the shot, as an Irishman might say, “killed dead.”
Of course we both ran forward and secured the prize; though neither of us knew what sort of game we had got. It was a very large bird—quite as big as a turkey—and bore considerable resemblance to one, being of a red colour about the head and neck, and upon these parts having no feathers.
Ben believed it was a turkey—a wild one, of course; but I could not agree with him in this point, for I remembered having read that wild turkeys are found only in America and Australia, and that there are none in Africa; though there are bustards and floricans, and several other kinds that bear considerable resemblance to turkeys, and hence are often called by the name. It might be one of these we concluded, and, therefore, just as good to eat as a turkey. So, with this idea, my companion tied the huge bird across his shoulders, and, once more loading his musket, we kept on.
We had not proceeded more than ten paces farther when we came upon the carcass of an animal, badly torn and partially devoured. It looked like it had been a deer, and Ben said that it was one; but, as I observed that its horns were without antlers, and as I had also read that there are no deer in Africa, except one species far north of where we were, I told Ben that I thought, the carcass must be that of an antelope; for these animals take the place of deer on the African continent, and sailors, who know no better, call them deer. Ben had never heard of an antelope, though he had of a gazelle; and if I had called it by this name he might have agreed with me.
An “ant’lope,” however, he knew nothing about; and as his hunter-pride would have been offended by contradiction, I allowed him to persist in calling it a deer.
“Ay, ay! it be a deer, Will,” he said, emphatically, as we walked away from it—“nothin’ else, my boy. What a pity we can’t scare up a livin’ ’un—that ’ud be a nice cargo for our return-trip, w’udn’t, my lad?”
“Yes,” I answered, mechanically, without hearing what Ben said; for I was at that moment thinking of something else.
We had observed how the carcass of the antelope—for antelope it was—had been mangled and half eaten by some preying creature. Ben said it was wolves or jackals. Likely one or more of these had made a meal upon it; but there was one thing I had particularly noticed, and that was the eyes. I should rather say the places where the eyes had been; for the eyes themselves were quite gone, and the sockets cleaned out to the very bottom. Now, I reasoned that no quadruped could do this. The holes were too small even for a jackal to get his slender snout into. The work must have been done by the beak of a bird; and what sort of bird. Why, a vulture, of course!
Now, what kind of bird was Ben carrying upon his back? Beyond all doubt it was a vulture! The locality in which we had found it, with the carcass near at hand; its stupid behaviour in allowing the hunter to approach so near; its general appearance, with the naked head and neck; all these points confirmed my suspicion. I had read that such is the habit of vultures; that they are so tame in some parts of the world, that one can get near enough to knock them over with a stick; and this is especially the case immediately after they have gorged themselves with carrion. Now, the appearance of the carcass indicated that this very bird had just finished its breakfast, and that would account for its tameness. Beyond a doubt our game was a vulture!
I had arrived at this conviction, but disliked to declare it to my companion, and walked on after him saying nothing. I thought I would leave him to find it out for himself.
I had not long to wait for this event. Before we had advanced a hundred paces, I saw Ben suddenly untie the cord by which the bird was fastened, and, lifting it over his shoulders, hold the body up nearer his nose—then, uttering a loud exclamation, he pitched the game as far from him as he could, at the same time crying out:—
“Turkey, i’deed—dang it, Will, ’tan’t no turkey. Shiver my timbers if ’tan’t a stinking vulture!”