Nat the Naturalist: A Boy's Adventures in the Eastern Seas

by George Manville Fenn

Just then my uncle whispered with his lips to my ear: “Don’t make a sound, and don’t fire till you have a good chance. Look out.”

The loud quok, quok, quok, was answered from a distance, repeated above our heads, and then there was the whistle of wings plainly heard in the solemn silence of the forest, and all this repeated again overhead till it seemed as if we were just beneath a tree where the birds of paradise met for discussion, like the rooks at home in the elms. But no matter how I strained my eyes I could not distinguish a single bird.

The minutes went by, and I longed for the light, for though I knew it would betray our presence, still I might catch sight of one bird and bring it down. But the light did not come, and as my arms ached with holding up my gun I lowered it, and patiently waited with my heart beating heavily, as I listened to the cries that were on the increase.

All at once I felt an arm glide over my shoulder, and I could just make out that Ebo was pointing upward with his black finger steadily in one direction.

I tried to follow it but could see nothing, and I was thinking how much better a savage’s sight was than ours, when from out of the darkness there came the hoarse “Hawk, hawk, hawk; quok, quok, quok,” and as the cry seemed to direct my eye, I fancied that I could see something moving slightly at a very great height, bowing and strutting like a pigeon. I looked and looked again and could not see it; then a star that was peeping through the leaves seemed to be suddenly hidden, and there was the movement again.

I forgot all about my uncle’s orders about not firing until I had a good chance, and taking a steady aim at the dimly seen spot just as the hoarse cry arose once more, I drew the trigger.

The flash from my gun seemed to cut the blackness, and the report went echoing away amongst the trees; then there was a sharp rustling noise, and a dull, quick thud, and I was about to spring forward and seek for what I had shot, but Ebo’s arms closed round me and held me fast.

I understood what he meant, and contented myself with reloading my gun, the click of the lock sounding very loud in the silence that had ensued, for the report of my gun had caused a complete cessation of all cries, and I felt that we should get no more shots for some time; but all the same I had heard no rush of wings as of a flock of birds taking flight, and I wondered whether any of them were still in the dense top of the tree.

Five or ten minutes must have elapsed, and then once more Ebo’s arm glided over my shoulder and rested there, while I laid my cheek against it, and gazed in quite another direction now till I fancied I saw what he was pointing at, but which looked like nothing but a dark spot high up amongst the twigs; in fact, when I did make it out I felt sure that it was a nest.

But I recalled how accurate Ebo had been before, and once more taking aim, making it the more careful by leaning my gun barrel against the trunk of the tree, I fired; there was a quick rustle of leaves and twigs, and another dull thud, but no one moved.