Chapter Twenty Five.
Eric’s Cookery.
To throw down his spade a second time and rush off in the direction from whence his brother’s cries for assistance proceeded was but the work of an instant for Fritz; and when he had succeeded in pushing his way through the tangled tussock-grass, which grew matted as thick as a cane-brake, he found the lad in a terrible plight.
At first, the strong ammoniacal smell of the guano was so overpowering, combined with the fearful noise the penguins made—all screaming and chattering together, as if the denizens of the monkey house at the Zoological Gardens, which Fritz had once visited when in London, had been suddenly let loose amongst the parrots in the same establishment—that his senses were too confused to distinguish anything, especially as the thicket was enveloped in semi-darkness from the overhanging stems of the long grass which shut out the sunlight; but, after a brief interval, Fritz was able to comprehend the situation and see his brother. Poor Eric was lying face downwards, half-suffocated amidst the mass of bird refuse, with the wheelbarrow, which had got turned over in some mysterious way or other, lying over him and preventing him from rising. Really, but for Fritz’s speedy arrival, the lad might have lost his life in so strange a fashion, for he was quite speechless and his breath gone when his brother lifted him up.
Nor was this the worst either.
The penguins had made such a determined onslaught on Eric with their heavy beaks and flapping wings, and possibly too with their webbed feet when he was down struggling amongst them, that his clothes were all torn to rags; while his legs and body were bleeding profusely from the bites and scratches he had received. His face alone escaped injury, from the fact of its being buried in the guano débris.
Fritz took hold of him, after pulling away the wheelbarrow, and lugged him outside the penguin colony; when the lad, recovering presently, was able to tell the incidents of the adventure, laughing subsequently at its ridiculous aspect. It seemed funny, he explained, that he, a sailor who had battled with the storms of the ocean and feared nothing, should be ignominiously beaten back by a flock of birds that were more stupid than geese!
He had thought it easy enough to get the guano for the garden, he said, but he had overrated his ability or rather, underrated the obstacles in his way; for, no sooner had he left the level ground which they had selected for their little clearing, than he found that the tussock-grass, which appeared as light and graceful in the distance as waving corn, grew into a nearly-impenetrable jungle.
The root-clumps, or “tussocks” of the grass—whence its name—were two or three feet in width, and grew into a mound about a foot high, the spaces intervening between, which the penguins utilised for their nests, averaging about eighteen inches apart, as if the grass had been almost planted in mathematical order.
It would have been hard enough to wheel in the wheelbarrow between the clumps, Eric remarked, if all else had been plain sailing; but since, as he pointed out and as Fritz indeed could see for himself, the stems of the thick grass raised themselves up to the height of seven or eight feet from the roots, besides interweaving their blades with those of adjoining clumps, the difficulty of passing through the thicket was increased tenfold. He had, he said, to bend himself double in stooping so as to push along the wheelbarrow into the birds’ breeding-place, which he did, thinking his path would become more open the farther he got in.
So, not to be daunted, Eric trundled along the little vehicle right into the heart of the birds’ colony, beating down the grass as he advanced and crushing hundreds of eggs in his progress, as well as wheeling over those birds that could not, or stupidly would not, get out of his way; when, as he was beginning to load up the wheelbarrow with a mass of the finer sort of guano which he had scraped up, the penguins, which had been all the while grumbling terribly at the intruder who was thus desolating their domain—waiting to “get up steam,” as the lad expressed it—made a concerted rush upon him all together, just in the same manner as they appeared always to enter and leave the water.
“In a moment,” Eric said, “the wheelbarrow got bowsed over, when I managed, worse luck, to fall underneath; and then, finding I couldn’t get up again, I hailed you, brother.”
“I came at once,” interposed Fritz, “the moment I heard you call out.”
“Well, I suppose you did, old fellow,” said Eric; “but whether you did or didn’t, in another five minutes I believe it would have been all up with me, for I felt as if I were strangled, lying down there on my face in that beastly stuff. It seemed to have a sort of take-away-your-breath feeling, like smelling-salts; and, besides, the penguins kicked up such a hideous row all the while that I thought I would go mad. I never heard such a racket in my life anywhere before, I declare!”
“But they’ve bitten you, too, awfully,” remarked Fritz sympathisingly. “Look, your poor legs are all bleeding.”
“Oh, hang my legs, brother!” replied the other. “They’ll soon come right, never fear, when they have had a good wash in salt water. It was the noise of the blessed birds that bothered me more than all their pecking; and, I can say truly of them, as of an old dog, that their bark is worse than their bite!”
So chuckling, the lad appeared to think no more of it; albeit he had not escaped scathless, and had been really in imminent peril a moment before. “The penguins do bark, don’t they, Fritz?” he presently asked when he had stopped laughing.
“Yes,” said his brother, “I don’t think we can describe the sounds they make as anything else than barking. Talking of dogs, I wish I had my old Gelert here; he would soon have made a diversion in your favour and routed the penguins!”
“Would he?” exclaimed Eric in a doubting tone, still rather sore in his mind at having been forced to beat a retreat before his feathered assailants. “I fancy the best dog in the world would have been cowed by those vicious brutes; for, if he didn’t turn tail, he would be pecked to death in a minute!”
Eric was not far wrong, as a fine setter, belonging to one of the officers of HMS Challenger, when that vessel was engaged in surveying the islands of the South Atlantic, during her scientific voyage in 1874, was torn to pieces by the penguins in the same way that Eric was assailed, before it could be rescued.
“Never mind,” said Fritz, “I wish dear old Gelert were here all the same.”
“So do I,” chorussed Eric, jumping up on his legs and shaking himself, to see whether his bones might not have received some damage in the affray. “We should have rare fun setting him at the penguins and interrupting their triumphant marches up and down the beach!” And he raised his fist threateningly at his late foes.
“Do you know,” observed Fritz, who had been cogitating awhile, “I think I see the reason for their methodical habit of going to and from the water.”
“Indeed?” said Eric.
“Yes. Don’t you recollect how an equal number seem always to come out from the rookery and proceed down the beach when the other batches land from the sea, just as if they took it in rotation to go fishing?”
“Of course. Why, Captain Brown specially pointed that out to us.”
“Well,” said Fritz, “the reason for that is, that the males and females mind the nests in turn, just as you sailors keep watch on board ship. First, let us say, the gentlemen penguins go off to the sea to have a swim, and see what they can catch; and then, at the expiration of a fixed time, these return to the shore and take charge of the nests, sitting on the eggs while their wives, whom they thus relieve for a spell, have a spell off, so as to get a mouthful of fresh air—”
“Water, you mean,” interposed Eric, jokingly.
“All right, water then, and perhaps a fish or two as well; after which they come back to attend to their own legitimate department. Look now at that group there, just in front of us?”
Eric glanced towards the spot where his brother directed his attention, and noticed a party of penguins returning from the sea. These separated as soon as they approached the line of nests, different individuals sidling up to the sitting birds and giving their partners a peck with their beaks, by way of a hint, barking out some word of explanation at the same time. In another moment, the home-coming penguin had wedged itself into the place of the other, which struggling on to its feet then proceeded outside the thicket, where, being joined by others whose guard had been thus similarly relieved, the fresh group proceeded together, in a hurried, scrambling sort of run, to the beach, whence they shortly plunged into the sea, having, however, their usual gabbling colloquy first in concert before taking to the water.
“They’re a funny lot,” said Eric; “still, they’re not going to get the better of me, for I intend to load the wheelbarrow with their guano, whether they like it or not!”
“I wouldn’t disturb them again, if I were you,” observed Fritz. “They seem to have quieted down, and do not mind our presence now.”
“I won’t trouble them, for I shall not go inside their rookery,” said Eric. “I only intend to skirt round the place, and see what I can pick up outside.”
“Very well then, I will go on digging the garden, which I have been neglecting all this time, if you will get the manure. I should like to plant some of our potatoes to-day, before knocking off work, if we can manage it.”
“All right, fire away; I will soon come and join you,” said Eric, and the brothers separated again—Fritz proceeding back to the ground he had been digging, which now began to look quite tidy; while the sailor lad, lifting up the handles of the wheelbarrow, trundled it off once more along the edge of the tussock-grass thicket, stopping every now and again to shovel up the guano, until he had collected a full load, when he wheeled his way back to where Fritz was working away still hard at the potato patch.
A piece of ground twenty yards long by the same in breadth is not easy to dig over in a day, even to the most industrious toiler, and so Fritz found it; for, in spite of the interruption his brother had suffered from on his first start after the manure from the bird colony, the lad managed to cover the whole of the plot they had marked out with the fertilising compound, which he wheeled up load after load, long before he had accomplished half his task, although he dug away earnestly.
Fritz had been a little more sanguine than he usually was. He thought he could have finished the job before the middle of the day; but, when it got late on in the afternoon and the sun gave notice as he sank behind the western cliff that the evening was drawing nigh, there was still much to finish; and so, much to the elder brother’s chagrin, the task had to be abandoned for the day in an incomplete state.
“Never mind,” he said to Eric—when, putting their spades and other tools into the wheelbarrow, they trundled it homeward in turn, like as their friends the penguins practised their domestic duties—“we’ll get it done by to-morrow, if we only stick to it.”
“I’m sure I will do my best, brother,” responded Eric; “but, really, I do hate digging. The man who invented that horrible thing, a spade, ought to be keel-hauled; that’s how I would serve him!”
“Is that anything like what the penguins did to you this morning?” asked Fritz with a chuckle.
“Pretty much the same,” said Eric, grinning at the allusion. “I declare I had almost forgotten all about that! However, I’ll now go and get a change of clothes, and have a bath in the sea before sitting down comfortably to our evening meal;” and, anxious to carry out this resolve at once, the lad set off running towards the hut with the wheelbarrow before him, he having the last turn of the little vehicle.
“There never was so impetuous a fellow as Eric,” Fritz said to himself, seeing the lad start off in this fashion. “Himmel, he is a regular young scatter-brain, as old Lorischen used to call him!”
“Pray be quick about your bath,” he called out after him. “I will get the coffee ready by the time you come back.”
“Good!” shouted Eric in return. “Mind and make it strong too; for, I’m sure I shall want something to sustain me after all my exertions!”
The day terminated without any further incident; although the wind having calmed down, the young fellows heard the penguins much more plainly through the night than previously. Still, this did not much affect their rest; for in the morning they turned out fresh and hearty for another day’s experience of gardening.
But, again, they were unable to finish the plot of land properly on this second day, to Fritz’s satisfaction, so as to begin planting their seeds. The ground was so hard and there were such numbers of roots and weeds to remove from the soil, that it took them up to the middle of the afternoon of the third day ere their little plot could be said to be clear of all extraneous matter. Then, however, it was really ready for the reception of their seedling potatoes and other vegetables, with the guano well dug in.
“Hurrah!” exclaimed Fritz, as he and Eric began fixing a piece of line across the fresh mould, so as to be able to make the furrows straight for the potatoes, which they had ready cut in a basket, only pieces with an “eye” in them being selected, “now, we’ll soon be finished at last! When we’ve put in the cabbage seed and onions, I think we’ll have a holiday for the rest of the day.”
“Right you are,” said Eric, in high glee at the prospect of a little respite from the arduous toil they had been engaged in almost since they had landed. He would have struck work long before, had it not been for Fritz labouring on so steadily, which made him ashamed to remain idle. “I tell you what we’ll do to celebrate the event, now the garden is done. We will have a feast there.”
“I don’t know where that’s to come from,” observed Fritz in his sober way, just then beginning to place carefully the pieces of potato in the drills prepared for them. “I don’t think there’s much chance of our having any feasting here.”
“Oh, indeed,” replied Eric; “am I not cook?”
“Well, laddie, I haven’t noticed any great display of your skill yet since we landed,” said Fritz dryly.
“Ah, we’ve been too busy; you just wait till I have time, like this afternoon. Then you shall see what you shall see!”
“No doubt,” said Fritz, laughing at this sapient declaration. “However, I assure you, brother mine and most considerate of cooks, I’ll not be sorry to have a change of diet from the cold salt pork and biscuit on which we have fared all the time we’ve been gardening.”
“How could I cook anything else, when you wanted me here?” replied Eric indignantly, handing the last piece of potato to put in the sole remaining drill. “I couldn’t be up at the hut with my saucepans and down here helping you at the same time, eh?”
“No,” said Fritz, proceeding to give the plot a final rake over; after which he sowed some cabbage seed and onions in a separate patch, while Eric put in the peas and scarlet runners which the skipper had given him. “We’ll consider the past a blank, laddie. See what you can do with your saucepans to-day; you’ve got the whole afternoon before you.”
“All right,” replied Eric. “Only, you must promise not to interfere with me, you know; mind that, old fellow!”
“What, I have the temerity to offer advice to such a grand cuisinier as the noble ex-midshipman? no, not if I know myself.”
“Thanks, Herr Lieutenant,” said Eric, with a deferential bow; “I will summon your lordship when the dinner is ready.”
With this parting shot, the lad went off laughing towards the hut. Fritz proceeded down to the shore; and, in order that he might keep his promise to Eric of not disturbing him, he determined to devote his time to watching the penguins, so as to get up an appetite for the forthcoming banquet—although the hard work he had just gone through rendered any stimulus to eating hardly necessary. Indeed, Fritz would have been well enough satisfied to have sat down and demolished a fair quantity of the despised cold pork and biscuits long before Eric summoned him up to the hut, which he did presently, with a hail as loud as if he were calling “all hands” at sea, in a heavy squall.
“Ahoy, Herr Lieutenant!” shouted out the lad in his funny way. “Your gracious majesty is served!”—screeching out the words so distinctly that, though he was on the opposite side of the valley, the portentous announcement sounded to Fritz as if it had been bellowed in his ears.
“I’m coming,” he answered; and, with no lagging footsteps, he quickly hastened towards the left cliff, where in front of the hut he could see Master Eric had made the most elaborate preparations in his power for the promised feast. The lad had even gone so far as to spread the piece of tarpaulin which the skipper had given them, on the ground in lieu of a tablecloth!
Everything looked charming.
Eric had arranged some plates and a couple of dishes round the tarpaulin with great artistic effect, and a carving knife and fork before the place where he motioned Fritz to seat himself. The lad’s own position, as host, was in front of a large mess tin which was covered with a cloth. A most agreeable odour filled the air, albeit the faint smell as of burnt meat somewhat struck Fritz as Eric proceeded to take off the covering cloth with a flourish.
“Well, Monsieur Cuisinier, what is the bill of fare?” asked the elder brother with a gratified smile, the unaccustomed smell of a hot dinner almost making his mouth water before he knew what he was going to have.
“Roast beef to begin with,” announced Master Eric pompously.
“Himmel!” exclaimed Fritz, “roast beef! How have you managed to provide that?” His heart sank within him as he asked the almost unnecessary question; for, quickly came the answer he feared.
“Oh,” said Eric in an off-hand way, “I opened the cask Captain Brown gave us and roasted a piece over the fire.”
“But, that was salt meat!” ejaculated Fritz in consternation.
“Well, what matter?” rejoined Eric; “I suppose it was as good to roast as any other. Besides, we didn’t have any fresh.”
Fritz heaved a sigh of despair.
“Let us try it, anyhow,” he said in a melancholy tone, and Eric having, carved off with extreme difficulty a knob—it could be called nothing else—of the black mass in the mess tin he had before him, handed the plate containing it over to Fritz, who, sawing off a fragment, endeavoured to chew it unsuccessfully and then had finally to eject it from his mouth.
“Good heavens, Eric!” he exclaimed, “it’s as hard as a brickbat, as salt as brine, and burnt up as thoroughly as a piece of coke. How could you even think of trying to roast a bit of salt junk? Why, your own experience of the article on board ship should have told you better!”
“Well, I know it is tough when boiled; but I fancied it might be better roasted for a change. I’m very sorry, old fellow, but, still, we haven’t come to the end of our resources yet; I have got another dish to surprise you.”
“I hope not in the same way!” said Fritz with a shudder. “What is the other string to your bow, eh, Mr Cook?”
“A stew,” replied Eric laconically.
“Ho, that sounds better,” said his brother, the complacent look which had stolen over his face on sitting down to the banquet now returning again in the expectation of having something savoury at last. “A stew, eh? Why, that used to be my favourite dish at home; don’t you remember, laddie?”
“Yes, I remember,” responded Eric, not quite so joyously as his brother evidently expected; “but,” he added hesitatingly, “you’ll find this a little different, because, ah, you know, ah, I hadn’t got all the proper things. Still, it’s very nice, very nice indeed!”
The amateur cook brought out the last words with great earnestness, as if wishing to impress Fritz with the fact that, although the dish might not be quite what he expected, yet it would be certainly “tasty”—that is, according to his notions!
It was; for, hardly had Fritz tasted a spoonful of it, than he spat it out again, making the most terrible faces.
“Why, this is worse than the other!” he cried rather angrily. “What on earth have you made it of. Eric?”
“Well, I put in some pork and the tinned oysters—”
“That mixture would be almost enough to settle one!” said Fritz, interrupting him. “Anything else?”
“Oh, yes. As there were only a few potatoes left from those we used for planting in the garden I put them in; and, as I had no other vegetables, I also shook in some preserved peaches, and—”
“There, that will do,” shouted Fritz, quite put out at having his expected dinner treat spoilt in such a fashion,—“salt pork, pickled oysters, and preserved peaches,—good heavens! The stew only wanted some cheese to be added to make it perfect.”
“I did put some in,” said Eric innocently.
This naïve acknowledgment quite restored Fritz’s good humour, and he burst out laughing; his anger and disgust dispelled at once by the comical confession.
“If ever I let you cook for me again,” he observed presently when he was able to speak again, “I’ll—yes, I will eat a stewed penguin, there!”
Eric laughed, too, at this; although he remarked, wisely enough, “Perhaps you might have to eat worse than that, old fellow!”
“I don’t know what could be,” said Fritz.
“Nothing!” curtly replied Eric, the truism silencing his brother for the moment and setting him thinking; but he presently spoke again to the point at issue.
“Is there nothing left for us to eat?” he asked. “I’m famishing.”
“There’s the cheese and some raw ham if you can manage with those,” said Eric sadly, quite disheartened at the failure of all his grand preparations for giving his brother a treat.
“Capitally,” replied Fritz, “fetch them out, and let us make a good square meal. We can have some coffee afterwards. Next time, laddie,” he added to cheer up Eric, “I dare say you’ll do better.”
The lad was somewhat relieved at his brother taking the matter so good-humouredly, and quickly brought out the cheese and ham, which with some biscuits served them very well in place of the rejected viands; and, soon, the two were chatting away together again in their old affectionate way as if no misunderstanding had come between them, talking of home and old familiar scenes and recollections of Lubeck.
While they were yet sitting in front of the hut, over their coffee, the setting sun cast the shadow of the cliff right before their feet; and, at the very edge of the craggy outline, they perceived the shadow of something else which was in motion.
This somewhat aroused their attention and made them look up towards the heights above the waterfall.
What was their astonishment, there, to see a large animal, which, in the strong light behind it from the descending orb, appeared almost of gigantic proportions.
The beast appeared to be right over their heads; and, as they looked up, it seemed as if about to jump down on them!