Nat the Naturalist: A Boy's Adventures in the Eastern Seas

by George Manville Fenn

  CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.

  A BIT OF A SCARE.

  That night as I lay in the dark, with the beach outside lit-up by themoon, and listened to the strange noises of the forest behind the hut, Ifelt over and over again ready to awaken my uncle or Ebo, so sure was Ithat I could hear wild beasts on the move.

  Should there be tigers, or leopards, or even wild boars, what chanceshould we have if they attacked? Or it might be that one of the hugeserpents of which I had read so much might creep in at the open door.

  I wanted to be brave, but somehow that night I felt horribly afraid,even the humming buzz of some night-flying beetle making me start.Perhaps I was over-excited, or perhaps, as my uncle would have said, Ihad eaten too much. At all events, be it what it may, I could not go tosleep, but lay there turning hot and cold and wishing it was morning.The silence seemed so dreadful, and the idea of this being anuninhabited island, instead of being delightful as it had felt in thebright sunshine, now appeared horrible, and I lay thinking of our beingfar from all human help, and that if our boat happened to drift away weshould be left to starve.

  Of course this was all nonsense, for with such a clever savage as Eboand our own ingenuity and tools we could have built another boat--notsuch a good one as we had arrived in, but quite strong enough to bear usover a calm sea to one or the other of the islands where trading vesselscame.

  Then I grew hot and seemed to be dripping with perspiration, and myhorror increased. What would become of us when our food and powder andshot were gone? We should starve to death. And I began to tremble andwish I had not come, feeling as if I would give anything to be back athome in my old bedroom, with the gas outside in the road and thepoliceman's heavy foot to be heard now and then as he went along hisbeat on the look-out for burglars. I should have been ready to meetAunt Sophia the next morning and receive the severest scolding I hadever had--anything to be away from where I was.

  Then I tried to reason with myself and to think that even if our powderand shot were gone we could make bows and arrows, and set traps, and asfood ran short we could always make fishing-lines and catch the scalycreatures that swarmed amongst the rocks all round the shore. Besideswhich there were cocoa-nuts in plenty, with abundance of other fruit.

  I thought too of how when I was at home I should have revelled in theidea of being in such a place, to have an uninhabited island, and such aglorious one, far more beautiful and productive than that of RobinsonCrusoe, than whom I should be far better off, for in addition to a manFriday I had my clever uncle for companion, guide, and protector.

  At the thought of the last word I stretched out my hand to awaken himand tell him of my horrible feeling of dread; but I drew it back forvery shame, for what was there to be afraid of?

  I grew a little calmer then and lay gazing out of the open door at thebrilliant moonlight, which made some leaves glisten as if they were ofsilver, and all beneath and amidst the thickets look dark and black andsoft as velvet.

  Then came a strange sighing noise from the forest behind us, which mademy flesh creep as I wondered what it could be. Then there was a wild,strange cry, and soon after a heavy crash as of something falling.

  After that, as I lay bathed in perspiration and oppressed by theterrible feeling of loneliness that seemed to increase, I fancied Iheard the pat, pat, pat, pat of some animal running along the ground,followed by a hard breathing.

  "That must be a wild beast," I said to myself; and I rose up on oneelbow to listen, meaning to get hold of my gun and load it if the soundcame nearer.

  Then in a confused and troubled way I began to ask myself whether Iought to awaken Uncle Dick and at the same time kick Ebo to make himseize his spear and help in our defence.

  But there are no big wild beasts in these islands, my uncle had said tome several times, even expressing his doubt as to there being anythingvery large in New Guinea.

  "But there are great apes," I said to myself. "I know there are inBorneo, so why should there not be others in an island like this?" andin imagination I began to picture a hideous, great orang-outangcautiously advancing towards our cabin.

  I knew they could be very fierce and that they were tremendously strong.Then, too, some travellers had described them as being quite giants ofsix, seven, and eight feet high, and supposing that there really were noother wild beasts in this island, undoubtedly there were these wild menof the woods, as the Malays called them, and it was one of these thatwas coming about the hut.

  Of course; I knew now as well as if I had seen it. That crash I hadheard was made by one of these monsters, and that was its hard breathingthat I could hear now.

  It was of no use that I tried to make myself believe that I was onlylistening to Ebo breathing, and every now and then indulging in aregular snore. No, I would not believe it, and lay with my feeling ofhorror increasing each moment till I lay so helpless now, that if I hadwanted to get my gun I could not, I dared not move.

  Then there was another horror in the shape of a curious lapping noisefrom the sea, with a splashing and wallowing as of some great beast; andI did know this, that horrible crocodiles came up the rivers and livedabout their mouths, going out to sea and back, and though we had seen noriver yet in this island, it was evident that this was one of themonsters crawling about on the shore, and I seemed to see it in themoonlight with its great coarse, scaly back, crooked legs, long stifftail, and hideous head with sly cruel-looking eyes, and wide, long,teeth-armed jaws.

  After a while I knew as well as could be that with its strange instinctit would scent us out and come nearer and nearer, crawling along overthe soft sand and leaving a track that could easily be seen the nextday. I even seemed to see its footprints with the wide-spread toes, andthe long, wavy furrow ploughed by its tail.

  It was all one terrible nightmare, growing worse and worse; the noise onthe shore increased, the rustling and crashing in the woods; there was astrange humming and buzzing all around, and the breathing sounded closerand deeper.

  At last when I felt as if I could bear it no longer, and that if I didnot rouse my uncle and Ebo we should be destroyed, I tried to call out,but my voice sounded weak and faint; there was a terrible sense ofoppression about me, and the humming and singing noise increased.

  I contrived, however, to touch Ebo, and he muttered angrily and changedhis position, the noise he made in doing so waking my uncle, who startedup on one elbow as if to listen.

  "He hears it all, then," I said to myself, and with a wonderful sense ofrelief I knew that we should be saved.

  Why did I not spring up to help him? you will say.

  Ah! that I could not do, for I lay there perfectly paralysed with frightand quite speechless, till to my horror I saw in the dim light of thereflected moonbeams my uncle lie down again, when I made a tremendouseffort and gasped forth something or another, I cannot say what.

  "Hallo!" he exclaimed. "Anything the matter, Nat?" and getting upquickly he struck a match and lit a little wax taper that he alwayscarried in the brass match-box, part of which formed a stick.

  He was kneeling by my side directly and had hold of my hand, when at histouch my senses seemed to come back to me.

  "Quick!--the guns!" I panted; "wild beasts!--a crocodile, an ape,uncle. I have been hearing them come."

  "Nonsense! my boy," he said, smiling.

  "No, no; it is no nonsense, uncle. Quick!--the guns!"

  "No, my dear boy, it is nonsense. There are no noxious or dangerousbeasts here. You are quite safe from them. You have been dreaming,Nat."

  "I've not been asleep," I said piteously.

  "Haven't you, my lad?" he said, with one hand on my brow and the otheron my wrist; "then you have been fancying all these troubles. Nat, myboy, you have got a touch of fever. I'm very glad you woke me when youdid."

  "Fever, uncle?" I gasped, as the horror of my situation increased, andlike a flash came the idea of being ill out in that wilderness, awayfrom all human help and comfort; and, ludicrous is it may soun
d, Iforgot all about Uncle Dick, and began to think of Dr Portly, who had abig brass plate upon his door in the Clapham Road.

  "Yes, my boy, a touch of fever, but we'll soon talk to him, Nat; we'llnip him in the bud. A stitch in time saves nine. Now you shall seewhat's in that little flat tin box I brought. I saw you stare at itwhen I packed up."

  "I thought it was preserving things, uncle," I said.

  "So it is, my boy, full of preserving things, one of which you shallsoon have for a dose. I hope you like bitters, Nat?"

  He laughed so pleasantly that he seemed to give me courage, but Iglanced in a frightened way at the opening as I said that I did not muchmind.

  He saw my glance, and went outside with a cup in his hand, to come backin a few minutes with it full of water from a pool close by.

  "No wild beasts about, Nat, my boy," he said merrily. "They were onlyfever phantoms."

  "But I have not been to sleep, uncle," I protested.

  "Sign that you are ill, Nat, because generally you drop off in aninstant and sleep soundly for hours. There are no wild beasts, my boy,in these islands."

  "But I'm sure I heard a great ape breathing hard, and it broke off agreat branch in the forest."

  "And I'm sure, Nat, that you heard Ebo snoring; and as to the branchbreaking, you heard, I dare say, a dead one fall. They are alwaysfalling in these old forests. We don't notice the noise in the day,when the birds are singing, but in the night everything soundswonderfully clear."

  "But I'm certain I heard a crocodile crawling up out of the sea, andcreeping towards the hut."

  "And I'm certain you did not, my dear boy. We have no muddy tidal riverhere for them to frequent. It was all fever-born, Nat, my boy; believeme."

  All the while he was talking I saw that he was busy getting somethingready. First he put a little white powder in a glass, then he poured afew drops of something over it, and filled it up with water, stirring itwith a little bit of glass rod before kneeling down by me.

  "There, Nat," he said kindly, "drink that off."

  "What is it, uncle?" I said, taking the glass with hot and tremblinghand.

  "A preserving thing, my boy. One of the greatest blessings everdiscovered for a traveller. It is quinine, Nat, fever's deadliestenemy. Down with it at once."

  The stuff was intensely bitter, but my mouth was so hot and parched, andthe water with it so cool and pleasant, that I quite enjoyed it, anddrew a deep breath.

  "There, now, lie down again, my boy, and be off to sleep. Don't fillyour head full of foolish imaginings, Nat. There is nothing to fearfrom wild beasts here."

  "But am I going to be very ill, uncle?"

  "No, certainly not. You will sleep after that till three or four hourspast sunrise, and then you will waken, feeling a little weak, perhaps,but in other respects all right. Perhaps it will come back again, andif it does we will rout it out once more with some quinine. Why, Nat,I've had dozens of such attacks."

  I lay back, feeling more at rest, and satisfied that uncle was rightabout the beasts, for there was no sound now to trouble me; only thelapping of the water, which seemed to be only the waves now beatingsoftly upon the sand, while the heavy breathing was certainly Ebo's,that gentleman never having moved since I touched him.

  Then I saw my uncle shut up his little tin case and replace it in thechest, put out the wax taper, and lie down upon his couch of dry grass,yawning slightly, and then lying gazing out of the open door, for Icould see his eyes shine.

  But by degrees the faintly lit-up hut, with its bamboos and roof, itschests, guns, and Ebo's spear, all seemed to grow indistinct, and thenall was restful peace.