With Cochrane the Dauntless

by G. A. Henty

“Fresh meat, captain,” he exclaimed as the Peruvian joined him; “and there are at least a dozen others who have made off. Hurrah! there is no fear of starving; we may be sure that this is not the only herd on the island.”

The pig was dragged out on to the sea-shore; it was a young animal, although nearly full grown. Jacopo was now in his element; he cut the pig open, eviscerated it, carried it down to the edge of the water, washed it, tied the legs together, and with his sword cut down a sapling and thrust it through them.

“We will carry the pig, señor, as you shot him. That is but a fair division of labour,” the captain said, raising one end of the pole on his shoulder, while Jacopo took the other. They had gone but a hundred yards further when the trees near the beach grew less densely, and the ground beneath them was covered by a plant with large leaves and yellow flowers. Stephen, who was walking ahead, went up to examine them.

“Hurrah, captain!” he shouted, “they are wild melons.”

The others laid down the pig and ran up to him. The patch extended as far as they could see; the plants covered the ground and climbed the trees by means of the rattans, festooning them with their bright leaves and flowers and fruit of all degree of ripeness. On the ground they found no ripe fruit. There were evident signs that this was a favourite resort of the pigs, and that they devoured the fruit as fast as it ripened.

“We will fence in a large patch of this,” Stephen said; “there will be plenty for the pigs and us too. I never felt thankful that a pig could not climb before,” he laughed, as he cut a melon hanging overhead. Although somewhat wanting in flavour the fruit seemed to the three men, after their privation for upwards of a month from green vegetables or fruit, to be delicious. “How do you suppose that it got here, captain?”

“The seed may have been carried by birds from some place where melons are cultivated,” the captain said, “possibly even from the mainland. I have heard that seeds are carried immense distances in that way. It may be that some seeds were washed overboard from a passing ship and some were cast ashore here. I do not care how they came here, I am well contented to find them.”

“We will carry away the seeds of those we eat and plant them near our camp,” said Stephen; “we shall soon get a supply without having to come here to fetch them. Besides, these will attract the pigs and enable us to get fresh meat without having the trouble of scrambling through the forest, and tearing ourselves and our clothes to pieces with thorns.”

They cut as many melons as they could carry in addition to the pig, and then proceeded on their way. They followed the shore but a quarter of a mile further, when to their satisfaction they found themselves at the bay at the mouth of which the wreck was lying, and in another half-hour they were at home.

“We are certain to see boats coming,” Stephen said, as he stood at the edge of the cliff and looked out over the sea, “unless they come from some of the islands on the other side and coast round to their landing-place. But on the other hand, there is the disadvantage that as they come in to the inlet they can hardly help seeing the wreck. We must make it a rule when we go down, to walk in the stream until we get to the edge of the sea, and then to keep along on the wet sand where our footprints will disappear directly. In that way they would have no clue whatever to the direction in which to look for us.”