“Well, Ned, I hope I am.”
Chapter Thirty Nine.
The last adventure.
From that day the collecting went on merrily, for it seemed as if, to use Ned’s words, “the niggers” had had “a regular sickener,” excursion after excursion being made with careful precautions, which as the weeks rolled on were more and more relaxed.
Naturally at every landing traces of the terrible havoc made by the hurricane were seen; but, as Captain Bradleigh said, the sun was hard at work repairing damages, and there were endless lovely places which had completely escaped.
The men were never happier than when they were forming guards or porters for the various expeditions, and the naturalists’ cases grew fuller and fuller of gorgeously-painted or armoured birds. The display of butterflies and wondrously-shaped flies and beetles was extensive, and as Jack and his henchman handled gun, butterfly-net, dredge, or fishing-line, the very existence of inimical natives not many miles away began to be forgotten, just as Jack’s life before he was roused from his dreaming existence into that of a strong, manly English lad seemed to be a thing of the past.
Many months had elapsed since they left England, and in spite of the way in which the provender was supplemented by fish and fresh meat in the shape of pork, kid, and a small kind of deer discovered in one valley, as the captain said, stores would not last for ever, and they must soon either turn homeward, or run to one of the ports where supplies could be obtained.
Sir John said that another fortnight must end their stay at the island, and then they would sail for Hong Kong, take in stores, and start for their journey homeward round the world.