“I could be as happy as a king here,” thought Hilary, “if I could go about as I liked. Why, there’s a snake crawling out in the sun on that patch of sand, and—phew! what a whopper! a ten-pounder, if he’s an ounce!” he cried, as, simultaneously with the flashing out of a shoal of little silvery fish from the black surface of the moat there was a rush, a swirl, a tremendous splash, and the green and gold of a large pike was seen as it threw itself out of the water in pursuit of its prey.
“I wonder whether they’ve got any fishing-tackle here,” he cried excitedly. “How I could enjoy a week or two at this place! Why, there’d be no end of fun, only one would want a companion. Birds’ nests must swarm, and one might get rabbits and hares, and fish of an evening.”
He stopped short, for an acute pang drew his attention to an extremely vulgar want.
“Oh, I say, what a boy I am still!” he said, half aloud. “Here I am, half starved for want of food. I’m a king’s officer taken prisoner by a pack of dirty smugglers, and I’m keeping up my dignity as a gentleman in the king’s service by thinking about chasing water-rats and fishing for carp and pike. ’Pon my word I’m about ashamed of myself. What a beautiful magpie, though!” he continued, staring out of the window; “I never saw one with so large a tail. Why, there are jays, too calling in the wood. Yes, there they go—char, char, char! One might keep ’em aboard ship to make fog-signals in thick weather. My word, how this does bring back all the old times! I feel as boyish and as bright and—Oh! I say, are you going to starve a fellow to death? I can’t stand this. Ahoy! Is there any one here? Ahoy! Pipe all hands to breakfast, will you? Ahoy!”
He placed one hand to the side of his face and shouted with all his might, and as he ceased—
“Haw–w! hee-haw! hee-haw! hee-haw! hee-haw! haw-haw! haw-haw–wk!” came from a short distance, as if in answer to his hail, followed directly by half a dozen lively kicks.
“Sweet, intelligent beast!” cried Hilary. “What, are you hungry too? Surely they have not left us to starve, my gentle friend in misfortune.”
Growing too hungry and impatient to be interested any longer by the beauty of the scene, Hilary shouted again several times, but without obtaining an answer. He startled some pigeons, though, from somewhere upon the roof, and they circled round a few times before settling down again, and beginning to sing, “Koo-coo-coo-cooo! koo-coo-coo-cooo!” over and over again.
He leaped down, went to the door, and hammered and kicked and shouted till his toes were tender and his throat hoarse; but in answer to his kicks came hollow echoes, and to his shouts the donkey’s brays, and at last he threw himself sulkily down upon the straw.
“I’m not going to stop here and be starved to death,” he exclaimed angrily; “there’s no one in the place, that’s my opinion, and they’ve stuffed me in here while they get out of the country.”