A hearty meal was conducive to sleep, and being thoroughly the master of his own time, Philip ascended the narrow staircase to the captain’s bed-chamber, where, for the first time since the gale which wrecked the Swallow sprung up, he was able to undress and retire in a Christian-like fashion.
The unwonted luxury of a soft bed, clean sheets and pillows, were well calculated to keep him within the borders of dreamland many hours, and when he awakened the morning sun was just peeping in through the crevices of the blind in the shutter.
With the awakening came the further and perhaps even greater desire for water. He was denied even the pleasure of washing his face unless with wine, and contented himself as best he could by using a dry towel, after which he descended once more to the kitchen, where he made anything rather than a hearty meal of canned dainties. He was beginning to tire of delicacies, and remembered with regret the coarse food from which he had turned with disgust while on board the Swallow.
It is strange in what a channel one’s fancies sometimes run. Here was Philip, virtually a prisoner on an island inhabited by apes who would rend him limb from limb should he venture out of doors, and yet he was longing ardently for a commonplace plate of hash, and a cup of the weakest coffee that was ever set before the patrons of a cheap boarding-house would have tasted at that moment like nectar. However, neither the hash nor the coffee was to be had for the wishing, and he ascended once more to the library.
Another view of the surroundings was anything rather than reassuring. The apes were there, with numbers still further increased, occupying the same points of vantage as when he had seen them the day previous, and now each had in front of him, or in a crotch of a tree where he was located, a little pile of heavy stones stacked up with as much care as if they had been cartridges, and Philip was soon to learn that they would be almost as effective as the heaviest charged shell in his collection.
His first thought on noting these missiles was that they were intended for him as soon as he made his appearance out of doors. He failed to comprehend how the apes might use them; but all too soon did he understand.
For a moment he stood undetermined whether to give his assailants a taste of powder and ball at once, believing a lesson might be beneficial; but the thought of the unfinished journal restrained him.
“I have plenty of time in which to show what can be done with fire-arms,” he said to himself, “and it won’t interfere with the effectiveness of the dose if I wait until the hours begin to drag. Beside, it is to Goliah that the first instruction must be given, and then that little ape who made me stand on my head shall be the next to receive one of the captain’s bullets.”
Thus it was that a desire for revenge had come into Philip’s mind with the first assurance of his own safety, as it often comes to the minds of others. We arrogate to ourselves the right to teach, and cloak under it a vengeance oftentimes as childish as the besieged animal-trainer’s may seem.