Among the small collection of my boy books there had been one that treated of the “Wonders of Nature.” It had been my favourite, and I had read it through and through and over and over again a dozen times, I am sure. Among these “wonders” figured a remarkable tree, which was said to grow in the Canary Islands, and was know as the “dragon-tree of Oritava.” It was described by the celebrated traveller, Humboldt, who measured it, and found its trunk to be forty-five feet in girth, and the tree itself about fifty in height. It was said to yield, when cut or tapped, a red juice resembling blood, and to which the name of “dragons’-blood” has been given; hence the tree itself is called the “dragon-tree,” or, sometimes the “dragons’-blood tree”—though it is to be observed, that several other kinds of trees that give out a red juice are also known by this name. The trunk of this tree, said the traveller, rose almost of equal thickness to the height of twenty feet, when it divided into a great number of short, thick branches, that separated from the main stem like the branches of a candelabrum, and upon the end of each of these was a thick tuft of the stiff, sword-shaped leaves—the same as I have above described. Out of the midst of these leaves grew the pannicles, or flower-spikes, and the bunches of small, nut-like fruit.
Now the strangest part of Humboldt’s account was, that this individual tree was known to the Spaniards on their first discovery of the Canary Islands—more than four centuries ago—and that from that time to the present it has increased scarcely perceptibly in dimensions. Hence the great traveller infers that it must be one of the oldest trees in the world—perhaps as old as the earth itself!
Now all this account except the last part of it—which of course is only a philosophic conjecture—I believe to be true, for I have myself visited the Canaries and looked upon this vegetable wonder, which is still standing near the town of Oritava, in the island of Teneriffe. Unfortunately, since Humboldt’s visit, the tree, instead of increasing in dimensions, has become less. During a storm, in the month of July, 1819, one half of its enormous crown was broken off by the wind, but the tree still continues to grow; and, as it is a great favourite of the inhabitants, the wound has been plastered up, and the date of the misfortune inscribed over the spot.
No doubt the great care taken of this venerable vegetable will ensure its surviving for another century at least.
Now you will be wondering what all this after-knowledge about the dragon-tree of Oritava has to do with Ben Brace, myself, or the trees that had fixed our attention on the plain. I shall tell you then what it has to do with us. In the book of which I have spoken there was a picture given of the Oritava tree. It was but a rude affair—a common woodcut—but for all that it gave a very good idea of the aspect of the great vegetable; and I well remember every leaf and branch of it—so well that, when I afterwards saw the tree itself, I recognised it at once. But what was still more singular: as soon as I set my eyes upon the large tree that had brought my companion and myself to a stand, the old picture came vividly before my mind, and I was convinced that it was a tree of the same sort as that described in my book. Yes; there was the thick, stout trunk, all gnarled and knotted with the marks of where the leaves had once grown—there were the short, clublike branches, separating from each other at the head—at the blunt ends of each were the fascicles of bayonet-shaped leaves, and the pannicles of greenish-white flowers—all exactly as in the picture! I was convinced that the venerable vegetable before us was no palm, but a true dragon-tree; perhaps as old as that of Oritava.
Chapter Twenty One.
I communicated my convictions to Ben, who still persisted in calling the tree a palm. How should I know what sort of a tree it was, since I had never seen one before? I told Ben of the book and the picture but he was still incredulous.
“Well then,” said I, “I’ll tell you how we can prove whether I am right or no.”