are having breakfast at home, I suppose."
"I dare say we're quite forgotten," said Bevis. "People always are.Seven thousand miles away they're sure to forget us."
"Altogether," said Mark. "Of course they will. Then some day they'llsee two strange men with very long beards and bronzed faces."
"Broad-brimmed Panama bats."
"And odd digger-looking dresses."
"And revolvers in their pockets out of sight, come strolling up to thedoor and ask for--"
"Glasses of milk, as they're thirsty, and while they're sipping--as theydon't really like such stuff--just ask quietly if the governor's aliveand kicking--"
"And the Jolly Old Moke asleep in his armchair--"
"And if mamma's put up the new red curtains."
"Then they'll stare--and shriek--"
"Recognise and rumpus."
"Huge jollification!"
"Everybody tipsy and happy."
"John Young tumbling in the pond."
"Bells ringing."
"I say, ought we to forgive the Bailiff and Polly?"
"Hum! I suppose so. But that's a very long time yet?"
"O! a very long time. This duck will never be done."
"We forgot to have tea," said Mark.
"So we did; and tea would be very nice. With dampers like the diggers,"said Bevis. "Let's have tea now."
"Finish the horrid duck to-morrow," said Mark. "I'll hang him up."
"Fire's gone out," said Bevis, looking from the gateway. "Can't see anysparks."
"Gone out long ago," said Mark. "Pot put it out."
They had left the pot on the ashes.
"It would be a good plan to light a fire inside the stockade now," saidBevis. "It will do to make the tea, and keep things away in the night."
"Lions and tigers," said Mark. "If they want to jump the fence theywon't dare face the fire. But it's very warm; we must not make it bythe hut."
"Put it on one side," said Bevis, "in the corner under the cliff. Bringthe sticks."
They had plenty of wood in the stockade, piled up, from the chips andbranches and ends of the poles with which they had made the roof andfence. The fire was soon lit. Bevis got out the iron rod to swing thekettle. Mark went down and dipped the zinc bucket full of water.
"Are there any things about over the New Sea?" he said when he cameback. "It's dark as you go through the wood, and the water looks allstrange by moonlight."
"Very curious things are about I dare say," said Bevis, who had lit thelantern, and was shaking tea into the tin teapot in the hut. "Curiousmagic things."
"Floating round; all misty, and you can't see them."
"But you know they're there."
"Genii."
"Ghouls."
"Vampires. Look, there's a big bat--and another; they're coming backagain."
"That's nothing; everything's magic. Mice are magic, especially ifthey're red. I'll show you in Faust. If they're only dun they're nothalf so much magic."
"More mousey."
"Yes. Besides, if you were in the wood you would see things behind thetrees; you might think they were shadows, but they're not: and lightsmoving about--sparks--"
"Magic?"
"Magic. Stars are magic. There's one up there. And there are thingsin trees, and satyrs in the fern, and those that come out of the treesand out of the water are ladies--very beautiful, like Frances--"
"Frances is very plain."
"That she's not."
"She's so short."
"Well, the tree-ladies are not very large. If I had a hook of secretlore, that's the right name--"
"A magic hook?"
"I'd make them come and dance and sing to us."
"But are there no monsters?" said Mark, stirring the fire.
Volume Two, Chapter XVI.
NEW FORMOSA--MORNING IN THE TROPICS.
The flames darted up, and mingling with the moonlight cast areddish-yellow glare on the green-roofed hut, the yellowy cliff of sand,throwing their shadows on the fence, and illuming Pan, who sat at thedoor of the hut. The lantern, which Bevis had left on the floor, wasjust behind the spaniel. Outside the stockade the trees of the woodcast shadows towards them; the moon shone high in the sky. The weirdcalls of water-fowl came from a distance; the sticks crackled andhissed. Else all was silent, and the smoke rose straight into the stillair.
"Green eyes glaring at you in the black wood," said Bevis. "Hugecreatures, with prickles on their backs, and stings: the ground heavesunderneath, and up they come; one claw first--you see it poking througha chink--and then hot poisonous breath--"
"Let's make a circle," said Mark. "Quick! Let's lock the gate."
"Lock the gate!" Mark padlocked it. "I'll mark the wizard's foot onit. There,"--Bevis drew the five-angled mark with his pencil on theboards--"there, now they're just done."
"They can't come in."
"No."
"But we might see them?"
"Perhaps, yes."
"Let's play cards, and not look round."
"All right. Bezique. But the kettle's boiling. I'll make the tea."He took the kettle off and filled the teapot. "We ought to have adamper," he said.
"So we did: I'll make it." Mark went into the hut and got some flour,and set to work and made a paste: you see, if you are busy, you do notknow about things that look like shadows, but are not shadows. Hepounded away at the paste; and after some time produced a thick flatcake of dough, which they put in the ashes and covered over.
They put two boards for a table on the ground, in front of the hut doorand away from the fire, and set the lantern at one end of the table.Bevis brought the teapot and the tin mugs, for they had forgotten cupsand saucers, and made tea; while Mark buttered a heap of biscuits.
"Load the matchlock," said Bevis. Mark loaded the gun, and leaned it bythe door-post at their backs, but within reach. Bevis put his bow andtwo arrows close at his side, as he sat down, because he could shootquicker with his bow in case of a sudden surprise, than with thematchlock. The condensed milk took a few minutes to get ready, and thenthey began. The corner of the hut kept off the glow from the fire; theyleaned their backs against the door-posts, one each side, and Pan camein between. He gobbled up the buttered biscuits, being perfectlycivilised; now from one, now from the other, as fast as they liked tolet him.
"This is the jolliest tea there ever was," said Mark. "Isn't it jollyto be seven thousand miles from anywhere?"
"No bothers," said Bevis, waving his hand as if to keep people at adistance.
"Nothing but niceness."
"And do as you please."
"Had enough?"
"Yes. Bezique."
"I'll deal."
"No--no; cat."
The cards were dealt on the two rough boards, and they played, using theold coins they had brought with them as counters. Pan watched a littlewhile, then he retired, finding there was nothing more to eat, andstretched himself a few yards away. The fire fell lower, flickered,blazed again: the last sticks thrown on burning off in the middle brokeand half rolled off one side and half the other; the smoke ceased torise, the heated vapour which took its place was not visible. By-and-bythe moon's white light alone filled the interior of the stockade, andentered in at the doorway of the hut, for the glimmer of thehorn-lantern did not reach beyond the boards of their tables. At lastthe candle guttered and went out, but they played on by the moonlight.
"Ah, ah!" said Bevis presently.
"Double bezique!" shouted Mark; "and all the money's mine!"
Pan looked up at the noise.
"The proper thing is, to shoot you under the table," said Bevis: "that'swhat buccaneers do."
"But there were no revolvers when we lived," said Mark; "onlymatchlocks."
"Shovel them up," said Bevis. "Broad gold pieces, but you won't havethem long. I'm tired to-night. I shall win them to-morrow, and yourestate, and your watch, and your shirt off your back, and your wife--"
&nbs
p; "I shan't have a wife," said Mark, yawning as he pocketed the coins,which were copper. "I don't want a Frances--O, no! thank you verymuch!"
"What's the time?"
"Nearly twelve."
"I'm tired."
"Make the bed."
They began to make it, and recollected that one of the rugs was underthe teak-tree, where they had hoisted it up for an awning. Bevis tookhis bow and arrow; Mark his spear. They called Pan, and thus, wellarmed and ready for the monsters, marched across to the teak, glancingfearfully around, expectant of green blazing eyes and awful coilingshapes; quite fearless all the time, and aware that there was nothing.They had to pull up the poles to get the awning down. On returning tothe stockade, the gate was padlocked and the bed finished. The lantern,in which a fresh candle had been placed, was hung to a cord from theceiling, but they found it much in the way.
"If there's an alarm in the night," said Mark, "and anybody jumps upquick, he'll hit his head against the lantern. Let's put it on thebox."
"Chest," said Bevis; "it's always chest."
Mark dragged the chest to the bed-side, and put the lantern on it, and abox of matches handy. The matchlock was hung up; the teapot and mugsand things put away, and the spear and bow and knobstick arranged forinstant use. Bevis let down the carpet at the doorway, and it shut outthe moonlight like a curtain. They took off their boots and got on thebed with their clothes on. Just as Bevis was about to blow out thecandle, he remembered something.
"Mark--Lieutenant, how's the barometer?"
"Went down in the ship, sir."
"How's the weather then? Look out and see if a tornado's brewing."
"Ay, ay, sir."
Mark stepped under the curtain, looked round, and came in again.
"Sky's clear," he said. "Only the moon and a little shooting star, avery little one, a mere flicker just like striking a lucifer when itdoesn't light."
"Streak of light on the wall."
"Yes."
"No tornado?"
"No."
"Thirty bells," said the captain. "Turn in. Lights out." He blew outthe candle and they made themselves comfortable.
"What's that?" said Mark in a minute. A corner of the curtain waslifted, and let the moonlight in on the floor.
"Only Pan."
Finding he was alone outside, Pan came in and curled up by the chest.
"Good-night."
"Good-night."
"Good-night, Pan," said Bevis, putting out his hand and touching Pan'srough neck. Almost before he could bring his hand back again they wereboth firm asleep. Quite tired out by such a long, long day of exertionand change, they fell asleep in a second, without any twilight ofpreliminary drowsiness. Change wearies as much as labour; a journey,for instance, or looking up at rows of pictures in different colours.They slept like buccaneers or humming-tops, only unconsciously throwingthe covering rug partly off, for the summer night was warm. Thecontinuance of easterly breezes had caused the atmosphere to become sodry that there was no mist, and the morning opened clear, still, andbright.
After a while Pan stretched himself, got up, and went out. He could notleap the fence, but looking round it found a place where it joined thecliff, not quite closed up. They knew this, but had forgotten all aboutit. Pan pushed his head under, struggled, and scratched, till hisshoulders followed as he lay on his side, and the rest followed easily.Roaming round, he saw the pot in which the bacon had been boiled stillon the grey ashes of the fire under the teak. The lid was off, thrownaside, and he ran to the pot, put his paws on the rim, and lapped up thegreasy liquor with a relish.
Loo, the cottage girl, could she have seen, would have envied him, forshe had but a dry crust for breakfast, and would have eagerly dipped itin. Pan roamed round again, and came back to the hut and waited. In anhour's time he went out once more, lapped again, and again returned towatch the sleepers.
By-and-by he went out the third time and stayed longer. Then hereturned, thrust his head under the curtain and uttered a short bark ofimpatient questioning, "Yap!"
"The genie," said Mark, awaking. He had been dreaming.
"What's the time?" said Bevis, sitting up in an instant, as if he hadnever been asleep. Pan leaped on the bed and barked, delighted to seethem moving.
"Three o'clock," said Mark. "No; why it's stopped!"
"It's late, I know," said Bevis, who had gone to the doorway and liftedthe curtain. "The sun's high; it's eight or nine, or more."
"I never wound it up," said Mark, "and--well I never! I've left the keyat home."
"It was my key," said Bevis. One did for both in fact.
"Now we shan't know what the time is," said Mark. "Awfully awkward whenyou're seven thousand miles from anywhere."
"Awful! What a stupe you were; where did you leave the key?"
"On the dressing-table, I think; no, in the drawer. Let's see, in myother waistcoat: I saw it on the floor; now I remember, on themantelpiece, or else on the washing-stand. I know, Bevis; make asundial!"
"So I will. No, it's no use."
"Why not?"
"I don't know when to begin."
"When to begin?"
"Well the sundial must have a start. You must begin your hours, don'tyou see."
"I see; you don't know what hour to put to the shadow."
"That's it."
"But can't you find out? Isn't the sun always south at noon?"
"But which is quite south?"
"Just exactly proper south?"
"Yes, meridian is the name. I know, the north star!"
"Then we must wait till night to know the time to-day."
"And then till the sun shines again--"
"Till to-morrow."
"Yes."
"I know!" said Mark; "Charlie. You make the sundial, and he'll wave thehandkerchief at four o'clock."
"Capital," said Bevis. "Just the very thing--like Jupiter's satellites;you know, they hide behind, and the people know the time by seeing them.Charlie will set the clock for us. There's always a dodge foreverything. Pan, Pan, you old rascal."
Bevis rolled him over and over. Pan barked and leaped on them, and ranout into the sunshine.
"Breakfast," said Mark; "what's for breakfast?"
"Well, make some tea," said Bevis, putting on his boots. "That wasbest. And, I say, we forgot the damper."
"So we did. It will do for breakfast."
The damper was raked out of the ashes, and having been left to itselfwas found to be well done, but rather burned on one side. When theburnt part had been scraped off, and the ashes blown from it, it tastedvery fair, but extremely dry.
"The butter won't last long," said Mark presently, as they sat down tobreakfast on the ground at their two boards. "We ought to have anothershipload."
"Tables without legs are awkward," said Bevis, whose face was heatedfrom tending the fire they had lit and boiling the kettle. "Thedifficulty is, where to put your knees."
"Or else you must lie down. We could easily make some legs."
"Drive short stakes into the ground, and put the boards on the top,"said Bevis. "So we will presently. The table ought to be a little oneside of the doorway, as we can't wheel it along out of the way."
"Big stumps of logs would do for stools," said Mark. "Saw them offshort, and stand them on end."
"The sun's very warm," said Bevis.
The morning sunshine looked down into their courtyard, so that they hadnot the least shade.
"The awning ought to be put up here over our table."
"Let's put it up, then. I say, how rough your hair looks."
"Well, you look as if you had not washed. Shall we go and have a swim?"
"Yes. Put the things away; here's the towels."
They replaced their breakfast things anywhere, leaving the teapot on thebed, and went down to the water, choosing the shore opposite Serendib,because on that side there were no weeds.
As they came down to the strand, a
lready tearing off their coats, theystopped to look at the New Sea, which was still, smooth, and sunlit.Though it was so broad it did not seem far to-day to the yellow cliff ofthe quarry, to the sward of the battlefield, and the massive heads ofthe sycamores under which the war had raged.
There was not a breath of wind, but the passage of so much air comingfrom the eastwards during the last week or so had left the atmosphere asclear as it is in periods of rain. The immense sycamores stood outagainst the sky, with the broad green curve of their tops drawn alongthe blue. Except a shimmer of uncertain yellow at the distant shorethey could not see the reflection of the quarry which was really there,for the line of
Bevis: The Story of a Boy Page 59