Yes, Tom had sighed. It was the first sigh for liberty; for albeit the wild free life the two Crusoes led now was very enjoyable, there were times when, do as he might, he could not prevent thoughts of home from crowding into his mind.
But he could not help thinking also how happy he was to have such a faithful companion as Ginger Brandy. To be quite alone on such an island as this at night and all the livelong day would, he thought, have driven him out of his mind.
The silence was irksome by day, although then there were the songs of birds and the loud hum of insect life; but at night hardly a hush was to be heard, except now and then a strange eerie cry in the forest that only served to make the solitude feel more deep and awful.
They were several miles inland, and yet every night the sound of the waves breaking on the rocks fell distinctly on their ears, and all night long till sunrise awakened once more the voices of the woods and glens.
There grew a tree with a tall, slim, even stem not far from the hut, and every Saturday afternoon Tom cut a notch thereon, and thus kept count of time. One day he reckoned these up. There were thirty-eight in all! He started. He could hardly believe it. But it was true nevertheless. They had been over eight long months on the island!
And the time had gone quickly enough by. Tom could not say he was unhappy. There was something in the very air they breathed which had seemed to brew contentment, and make the days fly quickly past.
Birds and beasts too became very tame. Wild ducks even came in flocks to the water’s edge to be fed, and the new bull was such a gentlemanly fellow that he used to lead his cows towards the hut to be milked. The mocking-birds would sit on the fence at sundown and sing low and sweetly till darkness fell, and moon or stars shone out.
But I have something still more wonderful to relate. Those elephantic tortoises that came almost every day to look for their favourite food in the valley—a species of sweet and esculent cactus—grew so tame at last that they no longer drew in their necks or even hissed when Tom or Brandy approached, which they never did without an armful of something for them to eat.
They had their regular beaten tracks to or from the high plateau where the Crusoes lived. When upon these they turned neither to the right hand nor to the left, but went steadily though slowly on to their journey’s end.
Well, Brandy and Tom soon fell upon a plan to take advantage of this. If they wanted to go towards the beach they would turn a monster in that direction on his beaten pathway, then mount his back and be hauled away. If the monsters they squatted on felt disinclined to move, they had only to strike two on the shell and off they waddled.