“Yer may well call ’em howls,” said Wriggs. “That’s just what they do doos.”
“I hope that’s what it is,” whispered Smith, shaking his head. “I’ve heered howls often enough, Billy; but I never heered one as could laugh like that.”
“Whatcher think, then, as it was one o’ they blacks?”
“Ay, or, if it warn’t that, one o’ they hissing things as lives in the burnin’ mountain. I’ve heerd ’em before now a pretendin’ to be steam when yer went to look for ’em.”
“Now, my lads, off with you!” cried the mate, and they hurried down from the side, joining Drew with arms shouldered, and a minute after they had disappeared in the darkness on their way to the sea.
Chapter Thirty Two.
Nature’s Warnings.
That hot sunny day passed with Oliver Lane and Panton seated in wicker chairs, under a sail stretched out as an awning, for they both declared that they could get better out in the air sooner than in the stuffy cabin. A regular watch was kept on deck, and, in addition, a man was stationed in the main-top, where a doubly folded sail had been rigged so as to form sides, and to act as a protection in case he were seen by the enemy and made a mark for their arrows; but nothing particular occurred. All around looked very beautiful, for nature was beginning to rapidly obliterate the devastation caused by the eruption and the earthquake wave. There was heat and there was moisture, with plenty of rich soil washed up in places, and these being three of her principal servants in beautifying a tropic land, they had been hard at work. Trees, whose roots had been buried in mud and sand, were putting forth green buds, the water was pretty well dried away, and in places the bare earth was showing faintly, bright patches of a tender green, while bird and insect, wonderful to see, were darting about like brilliant gems.