Читать книгу As It Was in the Beginning - Philip Verrill Mighels - Страница 22

There were woods in abundance about the base of the tufa cliff that would burn almost as slowly and retain their glow about as long as the hardest of anthracite coal.

Yet it was not on these that Grenville depended, that particular night, to maintain the fire he had conjured from flint and steel. All those long dark hours he served his altar flame with fuel gathered for the purpose. An easier method for its preservation, by means of the woods that were promptly discovered, he adopted, however, very soon.

Each day that was ushered in and closed by the island's haunting wails and chorus, now beheld some new development in the plans that Grenville was laying. Elaine, less disturbed by the hideous sounds, might have learned more promptly to accept them as part of the ordeal of living in this extraordinary fashion, had they always come at stated hours. But, born of the tides, they came with the tides, which, all the world over, shift with each day till every hour of the twenty-four has had its visitation. Like a horrid reminder of the brevity of life, the thing was fore-ordered to rise unexpectedly, fret forgetful senses, and linger longest, apparently, in the deadest hours of the night. Concerning her companion, her mind was far more calm. Her distrust and dislike were unabated, but he gave her no cause for added worry.

By the third day after his fire had been accomplished, Grenville had considerably altered their aspects and prospects of living. Their bamboo flagpole stood in a crevice of the highest rock, with "rags" of banana leaves idly flapping out a signal of distress; a number of pipkins, large and small, were grayly drying in the sun, to be subsequently fired; his bow was strung, beside three unfeathered arrows, crudely tipped with points that Sidney had pounded out of screws; charcoal was burning, down in the blackened clearing; a number of traps and dead-falls were nearing completion; and several basket loads both of sulphur and saltpeter were stored in caverns, which the man had roofed to protect them from the rain.

Much toil had been involved in these achievements. The bamboo pole, for instance, had been most laboriously burned off, close to its base. To accomplish this end, the man had carried coals of fire to the estuary swamp, created a blaze, and repeatedly heated his longest piece of brass, which had slowly charred a channel through the wood when smartly applied to its surface.

The cord that secured the "flag" upon this serviceable mast, had been made, like the string for the bow, by twisting together innumerable threads of the fiber imbedded in the bark of the creepers. This had then been "waxed" with the glutinous ooze from the nearest rubber tree, with which the jungle abounded. He had also found wild sisal in the rocky places of the island. This plant had a leaf like a bayonet, sometimes six feet long, and readily split into fibers of most astonishing strength, especially when three were braided into a cord.

Considerably to Grenville's amazement, the molding of jugs, some crucibles, and other essential vessels suggested by the presence of the clay, was not at all a simple matter. His material, which at first was mixed too soft, was readily stiffened to a workable consistency, and the bases and first six inches or more of flaring walls of his pipkins had been fashioned as a child would fashion "pies." It was when he undertook to crimp and contract this flaring rim that the craftsmanship known to the potter required once again to be evolved.

For a time the longer he wrought at the stubborn material the more completely Grenville was defeated by the clay. He discovered at last, as similar workmen in every age and clime have ultimately discovered, that potteries thus constructed by hand must be built up in rings, one ring at a time, especially where the walls draw in to an ever narrowing diameter.

When, at length, this simple fact had been established—the first success having come to Elaine, whose feminine wit had been nimbler far than the man's—a highly respectable family of jugs and useful receptacles had rapidly come into being.

Mid-afternoon of this busy day found Grenville engrossed with his labors. Despite the fact they had not yet dined on anything but fruit, he was preparing salt for meat. The shell he had found was full of water from the sea, evaporating rapidly in a bed of hot ashes and coals. This, however, was resigned to Elaine's efficient vigilance, while Sidney worked absorbingly to complete a number of small clay molds designed for the casting of tools.

When, at length, the last of these was done and set aside to dry with the jugs and assorted vessels, he glanced briefly up at the sun. There were several hours of this blazing light remaining. Resolved in one moment to hasten to the jungle with his bow and the unfeathered arrows, which might be relied upon at easy range to fly sufficiently straight for all his purposes, Grenville determined in the next to make them a bit more certain.

A branch and leaf from a freshly despoiled banana plant had suggested "feathers" for his shafts. It was the work of a moment only to cut out and trim a slender bit of the fibrous branch from which the leaf substance projected. The leaf part itself, which was rather tough, and considerably like a stiffened cloth in texture, he cut to shape no less quickly. Then, binding on each of the arrows a trio of these improvised "rudders," he took up his club, informed Elaine he might be absent half an hour, and descended at once to the clearing.

His porcupine, seen no less than half a dozen times when his arms had been burdened, or his club was not at hand, was not to be found for all his elaborate searching, now that he was desirable for dinner. Naturally, Grenville had no particular preference for porcupine where pheasants were not impossible. But the fact that the bristling hedgehog is not to be despised, he knew from past experience. Moreover, he had fondly hoped this somewhat stupid quarry might be readily found and taken.

Notwithstanding the fact that for three days past not a sign had been vouchsafed him of the tiger, Grenville took to himself no fulsome sense of security as he made his way slowly through the jungle, towards the estuary swamp. The island was small; the brute was always near—and some day the contest between they two must be waged to a definite conclusion.

The axiom is old that the most game is seen when the huntsman has no weapon. It seemed to Grenville, slipping as noiselessly as possible down towards the water, where birds and beasts had always been encountered, that the island had been suddenly deserted. He saw not a thing, beyond the vaguest movements in the trees, perhaps for the very fact he moved so cautiously, and thereby assumed an aspect that was crafty, sinister, or suspicious.

Some reptile glided to the water, starting a ripple on the surface, but not even its head was visible to the watchful eyes of the man. An arrow was notched upon his bow, and, while the practice in which he had indulged had been far too brief to develop the skill he knew he might finally acquire, Sidney was certain that up to a range of five or ten yards his shaft would prove fairly deadly.

He had heretofore seen no game at all that was not, in fact, almost under his very feet. Of the pheasants, flushed before on at least three separate occasions, he detected not so much as a hint. The monkeys were silent. Not even the noisy parrots flew out with their usual disturbance. All about the growth of bamboo he trod, wherever a space was open, but in vain.

Reflecting that the pheasants might have gone beyond, to a section where rocks and shrubbery doubtless afforded the seeds or berries on which they would probably feed, he started more briskly towards the trail that would take him past the wreck.