and cut, and who cuts highest goes off anddoes as he likes--"
"Ace highest?"
"Ace."
The pack was shuffled, and Mark cut a king. Bevis did not got apicture-card, so he was cook for that day.
"I shall take the matchlock," said Mark.
"That you won't."
"That I shall."
"You won't, though."
"Then I won't do anything," said Mark, sulking. "It's not fair; if youhad cut king you would have had the gun."
Bevis turned his duck, poking it round with the stick, then he could nothelp admitting to himself that Mark was right. If he had cut a king hewould have taken the gun, and it was not fair that Mark should not doso.
"Very well," he said. "Take it; mind it's my turn to-morrow."
Mark went for the matchlock, and came out of the stockade with it. Butbefore he had gone many yards he returned into the hut, and put it up onthe slings. Then he picked out his fishing-rod from the store-room, andhis perch-line and hooks, mixed some mustard and water in his tin mug,and started off. Bevis, who had sat down far enough from the fire toescape the heat, did not notice him the second time.
Mark walked into the wood till he found a moist place, there he pouredhis mixture on the ground, and the pungent mustard soon brought someworms up. These he secured, but he did not know how to carry them, forthe mug he used for drinking from, and did not like to put them in it.Involuntarily feeling his pockets as people do when in difficulty, heremembered his handkerchief; he put some moss in it, and so made abundle. He had but one mug, but he had several handkerchiefs in thestore-room, and need not use this one again.
Looking round the island for a place to fish, he came to a spot where alittle headland projected on the Serendib side, but farther down thanwhere they had bathed. At the end of the headland a willow trunk orblue gum hung over the water, and as he came near a kingfisher flew offthe trunk and away round Serendib. Mark thought this a likely spot, asthe water looked deep, and the willow cast a shadow on one side, andfish might come for anything that fell from the boughs. He dropped hisbait in, and sat down in the shade to watch his blue float, which wasreflected in the still water.
He had not used his right to take the matchlock, because when he cameout with it and saw Bevis, whose back was turned, he thought how selfishhe was, for he knew Bevis liked shooting better than anything. So heput the gun back, and went fishing.
Against his own wishes Bevis acknowledged Mark's reason and right;against his own wishes Mark forbore to use his right that he might notbe selfish.
While Mark watched his float Bevis alternately twisted up the duck, andsat down under the teak-tree with the Odyssey, in which he read that--
On the lone island's utmost verge there stood Of poplars, pines, and firs a lofty wood,
from which Ulysses selected and felled enough for his vessel, and,--
At equal angles these disposed to join; He smooth'd and squared them by the rule and line.
Long and capacious as a shipwright forms Some bark's broad bottom to outride the storms, So large he built the raft: then ribb'd it strong From space to space, and nail'd the planks along; These form'd the sides: the deck he fashioned last; Then o'er the vessel raised the taper mast, With crossing sailyards dancing in the wind, And to the helm the guiding rudder join'd.
Pondering over this Bevis planned his raft, intending to make it of sixor eight beams of poplar, placed lengthways; across these a floor ofshort lesser poles put close together; thirdly, a layer of long poles;and above these the catamaran planks for the deck. He had not enoughplank to make the sides so he proposed to fix uprights and extend arailing all round, and wattle this with willows, which would keep offsome of the wash of the waves, like bulwarks. Even then, perhaps, thesea might flush the deck; so he meant to fasten the chest in thestore-room on it as a locker, to preserve such stores as they might takewith them.
A long oar would be the rudder, working it on the starboard side, andthere would be a mast; but of course such a craft could only sail beforethe wind--she could not tack. In shallow water--they could pole alonglike a punt better than row, for the raft would be cumbrous. Arrangingthis in his mind, he let the duck burn one side; it had a tendency toburn, as he could not baste it. Soon after he had sat down again hewondered what the time was, and recollected the sundial.
This must be made at once, because it must be ready when Charlie madethe signal. He looked up at the sun, whose place he could distinguish,because the branches sheltered his eyes from the full glare. The sunseemed very high, and he thought it must be already noon. Giving theduck a twist, he ran to the hut, and fetched a piece of board, hiscompasses, and a gimlet. Another twist, and then under the teak-tree hedrew a circle with the compasses on the board, scratching with the steelpoint in the wood.
With the gimlet he bored two holes aslant to each other, and then ranfor two nails and a file. In his haste, having to get back to turn theroast, he did not notice that the matchlock was hung up in the hut. Hefiled the heads off the nails, and then tapped them into the gimletholes; they wanted a little bending, and then their points met, forminga gnomon, like putting the two forefingers together.
Then he bored two holes through the board, and inserted other nails halfthrough, ready for hammering into the post. The post he cut from one ofthe poles left from the fence; it was short and thick, and he sharpenedit at one end, leaving the top flat as sawn off. Fetching the iron bar,he made a hole in the ground, put the post in, and gave it one tap; thenthe duck wanted turning again.
As he returned to his work he remembered that in the evening the teakand the other trees of the wood cast long shadows towards the hut, whichwould blot out the time on the sundial. It ought to be put where thefull beams would fall on it from sunrise to sunset. The cliff was thevery place. He ran up and chose a spot which he could see would be freefrom shadow, pitched the post, and ran down to the duck.
Next he carried up the dial, and nailed it to the top of the post; thetwo nails kept it from moving if touched, and were much firmer than one.The gnomon at once cast a pointed shadow on that side of the circleopposite the sun, but there were as yet no marks for the hours. Hecould not stay to look at his work, but went down to the teak, and beganto wonder why he did not hear Mark shoot, though very likely in the heatof the day the water-fowl did not cross the open water to the island.
Thinking of shooting reminded him of the sight so much wanted at the topof the barrel. He could not solder anything on, nor drill a hole, andso fix it, nor was it any use to file a notch, because nothing wouldstick in the notch, as iron is not like wood. Perhaps sealing-waxwould--a lump of sealing-wax--but he had none in the store-room; itwould not look proper either, and was sure to get chipped off directly.Could he tie anything on? The barrel was fastened into the stock withwire, why not twist two pieces of wire round, and put a nail head (thenail filed off very short) between them, very much as hats are hung withthe brim between two straps.
That would do, but presently he thought of a still easier way, which wasto put a piece of wire round the barrel and fasten it, but not tight, sothat it was like a loose ring. Then with the pliers seize the part atthe upper side of the barrel and twist it, forming a little loop of theloose wire; this would tighten the ring, then twisting the upper loopround it would make a very short and tiny coil upon itself, and thiscoil would do capitally for a sight.
He wished Mark would come with the matchlock, that he might put thesight on at once. He looked at the duck; it seemed done, but he was notcertain, and sat down to rest again in the shadow. A cooing came fromthe wood, so there were doves which had not yet finished nesting. Beviswas very tired of turning the roast, and determined to try if they couldnot make an earth oven. The way he thought was to dig a hole in theground, put in a layer of hot embers, then the meat; then another layerof hot embers; so that the meat was entirely surrounded with them: andfinally, a cover of clay placed over to quite confine the heat.
One little hole lets out the steam or gas: it is made by standing asmall stick in the oven, and then when all is finished, drawing it outso as to leave a tube. He was not certain that this was quite right,but it was all he could remember, and it would be worth trying. Thishorrible cooking took up so much time, and made him so hot anduncomfortable: shipwrecked people wanted a slave to do the cooking. Buthe thought he should soon whistle for Mark. Pan had gone with him, butnow came back, as Bevis supposed, weary of waiting in ambush; but, infact, with an eye to dinner.
Mark's float did not move: it stood exactly upright, it did not jerk,causing a tiny ripple, then come up, and then move along, then dive anddisappear, going down aslant. It remained exactly upright, as theshot-weight on the line kept it. There was no wind, so the line out ofthe water did not blow aside and cause the float to rotate. Long sincehe had propped his rod on a forked stick, and weighted the
Bevis: The Story of a Boy Page 61