Chapter 25 - Ran Away to Sea by Mayne Reid
It was the intention of Ben and myself to return direct to the barque. We were quite satisfied with our day’s hunting, and wanted no more game.
We set out therefore in a direction, that as we thought would bring us back to the river.
We had not gone far, however, when we began to fancy that we were going in the wrong course, and then we turned aside from it and took another.
This new one we followed for more than a mile, but, as no river appeared, we believed we were now certainly going the wrong way, and once more turned back.
After walking another mile or two, without coming to the river, we began to think we were lost. At all events we had certainly lost our way, and had not the slightest idea on what side of us lay the river, or the barque, or the barracoon of King Dingo Bingo.
After resting a bit—for we had got quite tired, fagging backward and forward through the woods—we took a fresh start, and this time walked on for three miles or more in a straight course. It was all guess-work, however, and a bad guess it turned out to be; for, instead of getting into the low bottom lands that lay along the banks of the river, we found ourselves coming out into a hilly country, which was open and thinly timbered. We saw plenty of game on all sides—antelopes of several kinds—but we were now so anxious about our way, that we never thought of stopping to have a shot at them. At that moment we would rather have seen the royal-mast of the Pandora than the largest herd of antelopes in the world.
One of the hills in advance of us appeared to be higher than the rest; and as it also appeared the nearest, Ben proposed we should continue on to its top. By so doing we should gain a view of the surrounding country, and would be likely to see the river, and perhaps the barque herself.
Of course I made no objection—as I was entirely guided by my companion’s advice—and we at once set out for the hill.
It appeared to be only a mile or two distant; but, to our great surprise, when we had walked a full mile it seemed no nearer than ever!
But this was not the worst of it, for when we had walked another mile, we still appeared no nearer to the hill than when we had first started for it; and then a third mile was passed over, and the distance that intervened between us and the eminence was, to all appearance, but slightly diminished!
Had it been left to me, I should have given up all hope of reaching that hill, and would have gone back as we had come; but my companion was a man of wonderful perseverance in anything he undertook, and now that he had started for the hill, he was determined that no halt should be made until we had got to the very summit of it—even though it should take us till sunset to accomplish the journey. So on we trudged, keeping the top of the hill in view, and facing straight for it all the while.
It was a far longer journey than we had anticipated. It could not have been less than ten good English miles from the place where we had first observed it, to the highest part, though when starting for it, it looked only one! But such is the pureness of the atmosphere in some parts of the tropics, where there is no cloud in the sky and no mist over the earth, that any one accustomed to an English view is easily deceived.
It was within an hour of sunset when Ben and I reached the summit of the hill, after a tramp of ten miles at least; but we were rewarded for our trouble by the splendid view we obtained, and particularly by the sight of the river, which ran along one side, and which stretched away from our position, like a belt of shining silver, till it met the white sea in the distance. We could just make out the Pandora riding upon her anchor, and we thought we could distinguish the cabins and barracoons of King Dingo Bingo, peeping out from among the green trees. The barque looked no larger than a little boat, and although she appeared very near the river’s mouth, that was also an ocular deception, for we knew that she was more than a mile up stream.
Of course the sight gave us joy—for we had really believed ourselves lost, and had been feeling very uneasy all the afternoon. Now, however, that we saw the bearings and course in which the river ran, we could easily make our way to it, and, by following its banks, would in time reach the place of our destination.
One thing, however, was unpleasant enough. We should not be able to get back to the Pandora that night. We might get as far as the bank of the river before the sun would be quite gone down; but we saw that the country on both sides of the stream was covered with thick woods; and unless a path could be found it would be slow travelling through the timber, and after twilight it would be impossible to proceed. It appeared plain enough that we could not reach the Pandora that night, and we should have to spend the night in the woods.
Since this was to be, Ben thought we might as well stay upon the hill, as go anywhere else. We might have gone down to the bank of the river—for it ran close to one side of the hill, perhaps not quite a mile from the bottom of the slope—and we at first thought of doing so; but upon reflection it seemed better for us to stay where we were. We should be in less danger from wild beasts by remaining upon the hill—upon which there was not much timber—than by going down into the thick woods. The banks of the river we knew to be the place where wild beasts most abounded, and the danger of being attacked by them would be much greater there. As to water, we could not be better off, for we had found a beautiful spring near the summit, and had already quenched our thirst at it. We did not need to go to the river, so far as that was concerned.
The only thing of which we really stood in need, was something to eat. We had not a morsel of either biscuit or meat, and we had both become as hungry as hawks. There was not the slightest prospect of a supper, and we should have to go with empty stomachs until we could reach the barque—perhaps not before noon of the following day.
We had grown so hungry that my companion now wished he had brought along with him a piece of the lion’s flesh, declaring he could have eaten a collop of it well enough. We had still with us the skin, but that was too tough for us, hungry as we were.
We sat down near the spring, and began to consider what preparations we should make for passing the night. We thought it would be best to gather a quantity of sticks and make a roaring fire—not that we were afraid of the cold, for there was no such thing as cold. On the contrary, although it was near sundown, the air was still quite hot and sultry. Our object in talking about a fire was, in order to frighten off any wild beasts that might approach our sleeping-place during the night.
While we talked we grew hungrier, and at length our stomachs became so craving that we could almost have eaten the grass! Fortune, however, proved kind to us, and saved us from becoming grass-eaters. Just as we were wondering what we could find to eat, we chanced to see a large bird stepping out of some trees into the open ground. It did not see us, for it was every moment coming nearer. It appeared to be browsing upon the grass, as it moved along; and thus busy seeking its own food, took no notice of anything else.
Ben had reloaded the “Queen Anne,” after killing the lion. The ramrod had been crooked badly, but we had managed to get it straight again, so that it would serve; and in order to be prepared for anything, a fresh load had been rammed into the barrel.
Seeing the great bird coming so near, we quietly lay down, so as to hide our bodies in the grass—while Ben placed himself behind a small bush, through which he protruded the long barrel of the musket.
It seemed as if Providence had sent the bird for our supper; for the foolish creature walked straight on, until it was hardly a dozen yards from the muzzle of the “Queen Anne.” Just then Ben pulled the trigger; and, notwithstanding the smallness of the shot, the great bustard—for it proved to be a bustard—was rolled over on the grass, as dead as a nail in a door. So said Ben as he picked it up, and brought it into our camp.
We now set to work upon the bird; and, after plucking, and cleaning it, we kindled a fire, and placed it in the blaze to roast. We might not have cooked it in the most elegant manner, and perhaps it was a little smoked; but if so, we did not notice this while eating it, for we both ate heartily, and thought it the most delicious morsel we had ever tasted. Certainly after the salt meat, to which we had been so long accustomed, a fresh bustard—which is one of the richest flavoured of game birds—could not be otherwise than a delicacy; and so much did we relish it, that before going to sleep we made a fresh onset upon the bird, and very nearly finished it, large as it was.
We washed the supper down with a drink of cool water from the crystal spring; and then we began to consider where we should stretch our bodies for the night.