This object was an odd appearance that presented itself on the trunk of the tree. Directly beyond the fire, but—as already stated—at some distance from it, rose the main trunk, like a vast wall. The bark was of a brownish grey colour, wrinkled and gnarled, and with many knots and inequalities over its surface. But in spite of this unevenness, as soon as the flames brightened up, we noticed four regular lines, or cracks, upon the trunk, meeting each other at right angles. These lines formed a parallelogram about three feet in length by two in breadth. The bottom line was about two feet above the surface of the ground; and the parallelogram itself was outlined lengthwise against the tree.
As soon as we set eyes upon it, we saw that such a regularly formed figure could not have arisen from any natural cause—the bark could not have split itself into so perfect a shape. It was clear that the thing was artificial—that is, that it had been done by the hand of man. In fact, as we observed it more minutely, we could tell that this had been so; for the marks of a knife or some other cutting instrument were discernible in the wood—though the work had been done long ago, and the colour gave no indication of when it had been done. The lines were of the same dull grey as the natural cracks on other parts of the tree.
Our curiosity being excited, my companion and I rose from the fire, and approached the great trunk to examine it. Had it been in an inhabited country we should have thought nothing of it—for then we should have fancied that some one had been cutting out figures in the bark of the tree for their amusement—perhaps some idle boys—as I have often done myself, and so had Ben, when he was an idle boy. But during all that day’s ramble we had met with no human being, nor had we seen either sign or track of one; and we were pretty certain, from what we had been told, that this part of the country was altogether without inhabitants. Therefore it was, that the figure cut upon the bark of the baobab surprised us—for this was a sign that human beings had been there before us—though it may have been ever so long before.
We approached the trunk then to examine it more closely.
As we came near, we observed that the lines were very deep—as if they had been cut into the wood—but beyond this there was nothing remarkable. There was no other carving, as we had expected,—nothing but this oblong figure, which had something of the shape of a small window or door. In fact, as we stood gazing at it, it suggested to us the idea of a little door that opened into the side of the tree, for the crack all round its edge looked black, as if we could see into some dark cavity beyond it.
This idea occurred to me as I stood gazing at it, and Ben had a similar fancy.
“Dang it, Will’m!” said he, stepping nearer to it, “it be a door, I believe,” and then, leaning forward, and striking it with his fist, he exclaimed: “Shiver my timbers, if ’tan’t a door! Listen, lad! d’ye hear that? it sounds as hollow as a empty cask!”
Sure enough, the stroke of the sailor’s knuckles on the bark gave back a hollow report—quite unlike that which would have been made by striking the solid
trunk of a tree. Moreover, we saw that the part which had been struck shook under the blow. Beyond a doubt the tree was hollow, and the part that had attracted us was neither more or less than a door cut in its side.