My youngest brother and myself would frequently rise at a good hour, and having supplied our little vessel with a stock of provisions, and a few bottles of ale or other drinkables, hoist the sails, and bear away upon a cruise. The warm dry air, tempered by the sea-breeze, made boating exceedingly pleasant; and as we often touched at gardens situated at the mouth of the Canning, or on the shores of Melville water, and procured a basket of grapes, or peaches and melons, we managed to lunch luxuriously, having first cast anchor and bathed.
Many readers must have felt the excitement experienced by young sportsmen when they have the luck to fall in with some bird or animal not previously known to them. Every one remembers the delight with which, when a boy, he shot his first wood-pigeon, or lay in ambush behind a hedge for an old crow.
When first we beheld a group of huge tall birds, standing lazily in the sunshine upon a sand-spit which ran far into Melville water, we could scarcely believe our eyes that these were really live pelicans; and it was not only with intense interest, but with feelings of self-reproach, that we drew nigh with hostile intentions to birds which in the days of our boyhood, when visiting Mr. Wombwell's menagerie, had filled us with awe and reverence, as creatures that were wont to evince the depth of parental devotion by feeding their young with their own blood.
Our first overt act of hostility against the pelicans was unsuccessful. The sea-breeze was blowing strong, and we had to beat out against it close-hauled; just as we made the last board, and were bearing down upon the enemy, the huge, heavy birds, awakening from the siesta "with a start," raised their heads and looked about them. Then the foremost began to flap his long wings, and lift himself on tip-toe, whilst the others followed his example; and soon they were all heavily skimming along the surface of the water, trying to launch themselves fairly into the upward air; and having at length succeeded, they rose higher and higher in wide gyrations. The leader seemed resolved to hide himself in the distant blue of the cloudless heavens; and upward—up, up, up—they continued to mount, going round, and round, and round, in lessening circles—whilst the spectator gazed in wonder at the slowly diminishing specks, that were almost lost in ether; and at length, moving slowly towards the east —the unknown, mysterious wilderness—they altogether faded away. We have heard of eagles soaring into the sun, but I doubt whether even they could soar much higher, or look much grander, than the noble pelican of the desert.
The sheets were eased off, the long boom of the graceful sliding-gunter (a kind of latteen) sail, stretched far over the gun-wale of the boat, which slipped along easily and rapidly through the water, the rolling waves heaving up her stern, and sending her forward with a gentle impulse. We were opening the broad mouth of the Canning, when Meliboeus pointed out two other pelicans fishing in-shore on the lee-bow. Gently we edged away towards them; Meliboeus standing before the mast with his double-barrel ready, and motioning to me how to steer, as the main-sail hid the birds from my view.
They perceived us, and began to swim along shore at a rapid rate; the water was shoaling fast, and we greatly feared they would escape, but still we held on. The majestic birds rose slowly from the water, one following the other, and made towards the Canning. "I'll let fly at them" cried Meliboeus, in an intense whisper, "luff up!— hard-a-lee!" The helm was jammed down, and the sheet hauled in; the boat luffed into the wind, and became stationary, only bobbing upon the waves, whilst her sails shivered and rattled in the breeze. Meliboeus fired—and the hindmost bird declined gradually towards the water; its long wings became fixed and motionless at their widest stretch, and slowly it sank down upon its heaving death-bed. Loud shouted the sportsman; and momentary envy filled the heart of him who steered.
Away goes the boat before the freshening breeze, and soon it dashes past the body of the pelican, which is seized by the ready Meliboeus, and with great difficulty hauled on board. A shot had penetrated to its brain and killed it instantaneously. The wind up the Canning was nearly abeam, and we dashed through the deep and narrow passage called Hell's Gates, and held on till we came to the foot of a steep and rounded hill, Mount Henry. The river here turns at right angles, sweeping round the base of the hill, and leaving a broad and deep bay called Bull's Creek, to the southward. This is a famous spot for ducks and swans, and many a pleasant bivouac have I formed near it, waiting for early morn when the birds are busy feeding. As we rounded Mount Henry, we observed a large slate-coloured bird lazily flying across the river ahead of us. The Canning is here about four hundred yards broad, widening occasionally to a quarter of a mile. The wind was now right aft, and we soon came upon the line of the bird, which appeared to be a crested crane. The boom was topped-up in a moment, the jib-sheet let fly, and the boat's nose ran crashing through the sedges which in this part fringed the bank. The crane had alighted on the very summit of a straight and lofty tree, and there she sat, unconscious of the danger at hand.
Too much excited to care for any obstacles, and with eyes ever fixed upon the game, I tore my way through brambles, thickets, water and mud, until with no little difficulty I arrived at ground free from underwood. The bird was still sitting patiently on her lofty perch, and my heart beat anxiously with hope that I should be able to creep within shot. What a moment of interest! It is still vivid in the memory, with all its doubts and fears and wildly-beating hopes. The crane seemed preparing to fly. Death! I felt nearly distracted with apprehension. The interest and excitement became intense. I crept from tree to tree, and whenever I thought I was observed, stood motionless. My eye-balls became dry and hard with incessant gazing. I feared to wink lest she should be gone. She extended her wings! I bounded forward. She was just off, and barely within reach, as I fired; a single number two shot struck her pinion, and down she tumbled to the ground with a glorious wallop.
A loud shout from Meliboeus, who had sat in the boat scarcely daring to breathe, proclaimed the presence of a witness to my triumph.
Since then I have shot cranes without emotion or much feeling of interest.