In order the better to amuse me, and make me remain in a recumbent position, dad rigged up an Indian grass hammock for me beneath the shade of one of the large silk-cotton trees by the side of the house; and here I used to swing at my ease for hour after hour, looking at the bright-coloured humming-birds flitting about and watching the busy “Jack-Spaniards,” as the wild bees or hornets of the tropics are locally styled, building their clay nests under the eaves of the verandah, just in the same way as the sand-martens make their habitations at home.
I also read a great deal, for a kind neighbour luckily lent me at this time a couple of odd volumes of Captain Marryat’s works, so that I had now the pleasure of gloating over the wonderful history of Mr Midshipman Easy, besides enjoying the strange episodes of Peter Simple’s eventful career. Both of these books were previously unknown to my boyish ken, and I need hardly say how entrancing I found them. Even now, after the lapse of so many years, I cannot hear the titles of either mentioned, without my memory taking me back in a moment to the garden of my old island home in the West Indies—the very perfume of the frangipanni and jessamine being almost perceptible to my vivid imagination, while my fancy pictures the scene around, and my listening ear catches the faint rustle of the wind through the tops of the cabbage palms!
Once, I recollect, when lazily rocking to and fro in my hammock, I saw a large armadillo crawl out from amidst the brushwood under the trees, he having probably come down from his cave somewhere up in the mountains for change of air. This animal is something like a tortoise, only ever so much bigger; and as the negroes esteem them very good eating, saying they are better than turtle, I at once gave Jake a hail to let him know of the arrival of the strange visitor, when my darkey hastened speedily to the spot, securing the armadillo without much difficulty. Jake was all the more delighted with his prize from the fact that my accident had prevented me from going manacou hunting with him as I had promised. He argued that the armadillo would serve as a set-off to Pompey’s iguana, which had been constantly “thrown in his teeth,” as it were, ever since his rival had killed it in my presence, the one capture neutralising the other.
It may be wondered that I introduce all these little details of my illness and subsequent recovery, but, “there’s a reason in everything, even in the roasting of eggs,” says the proverb; and, when it is considered that, had it not been for my accident, dad and mother with my sisters and myself would all have gone to England in the mail steamer together, instead of my essaying the voyage alone in a sailing ship, these incidents are naturally relevant, quite apart from the strong impression they made upon me at the time, as but for what occurred I should have nothing of any importance to tell with reference to my subsequent adventures when alone on the Atlantic.
However, to make a long story short, I may briefly state that, after a pretty long interval of lying still, Doctor Martin said one day that I might get up and move about; when the change from inaction to action had such an improving effect on me that, within a very short space, I was myself again—although, perhaps, a much paler and thinner sort of Tom Eastman than “the young rascal,” as the doctor persisted in naming me, “who tried to break his neck by galloping down Constitution Hill, but couldn’t because it was so tough!”
All this while, dad had said nothing to me either about selling the estate or of my going home to school; but one morning when I was able again to mount on the back of poor Prince, who had grown quite fat during his long stay in the stable, he told me that I might accompany him, if I liked, to Grenville Bay, on the other side of the island. Dad said that there was a large merchant vessel lying off there, loading sugar from one of the plantations, and he wished to consult the captain about sending home some bags of cocoa in her. He added, that we would probably have to go off to her in a boat.
This was about a week after the doctor had released me from my hammock-prison; so, as I had not as yet had a canter on Prince since my unlucky escapade, it may be imagined with what delight I prepared for the excursion, as, independently of the pleasure of a long country ride with dad, who was one of the jolliest companions anybody could be out with, I had never been on board a real ship before. I had frequently observed vessels at a distance from the shore, when anchored in the Carenage, as the harbour of Saint George is called, or else sailing round the coast inwards or outwards bound, but had never inspected one closely.
“Golly, Mass’ Tom, dis sight am good for sore eyes!” cried Jake, laughing from ear to ear with joy at seeing me well again. “Me nebber fought you ebber lift leg ober Prince again!”
“Oh, I’m all right,” I said gleefully, jumping into the saddle in my old style, the pony going off instanter at a canter in his customary way.
“Take care, Tom, take care!” cried my mother after me anxiously; so, to ease her alarm at my venturing too much for one who had so recently been an invalid, I reined in Prince, and as soon as dad had mounted Dandy, we started away at a steady jog-trot, Jake following up close behind the heels of the horses, with which he could at any time keep pace when put to it, even when we went at a gallop.