"The watering party are going ashore this afternoon," remarked Dr. Conolly to me on the fifth day after our arrival off the island. "I think I'll have a run up to the village. Would you like to come with me?"
"Rather!" I replied enthusiastically.
"Then ask your father if he has any objection."
"By all means go," replied the pater, when I mentioned the matter; "but, mind you, no skylarking. Take your sporting rifle with you, but on no account shoot at anything, for the natives have peculiar notions, regarding certain animals with almost religious veneration; and should you shoot one of their pet pigs—almost the only animals on these islands—you may bring the whole tribe of savages about your ears."
So that afternoon we went ashore, and, leaving the men with the water-breakers, the doctor and I, accompanied by Yadillah, made our way towards the village, followed, as usual, by a throng of curious natives.
As we passed through the coco-nut grove swarms of pigs and fowls crossed our path, while overhead we saw numerous brilliantly feathered birds, which, curiously enough, were songless. Presently we came to the part of the road where the little stream babbled by the side of the path.
"I wonder where that brook runs to," remarked Dr. Conolly, glancing towards the thicket into which it plunged. "I don't remember seeing the spot where it joins the sea."
"It will be a hard matter to follow it," I replied, pointing to the dense clusters of prickly shrub that formed a formidable barrier over its course. "But surely it must reach the sea somewhere."
"Not necessarily; but, if it does, its outlet must be on the shore off which the 'Fortuna' is lying, otherwise it must defy the laws of gravity and climb the hill on our right. My impression is, however, that it falls into a vast chasm, and the basaltic nature of the rocks strengthens my conviction."
"That sounds interesting."