“It comes from one of these islands,” said Jack.
“It must be the ghost of a jackass, then,” said Peterkin, “for I never heard anything so like.”
We all turned our eyes towards the cluster of islands, where, on the largest, we observed curious objects moving on the shore.
“Soldiers they are,—that’s flat!” cried Peterkin, gazing at them in the utmost amazement.
And, in truth, Peterkin’s remark seemed to me to be correct; for, at the distance from which we saw them, they appeared to be an army of soldiers. There they stood, rank and file, in lines and in squares, marching and countermarching, with blue coats and white trousers. While we were looking at them, the dreadful cry came again over the water, and Peterkin suggested that it must be a regiment sent out to massacre the natives in cold blood. At this remark Jack laughed and said,—
“Why, Peterkin, they are penguins!”
“Penguins?” repeated Peterkin.
“Ay, penguins, Peterkin, penguins,—nothing more or less than big sea-birds, as you shall see one of these days, when we pay them a visit in our boat, which I mean to set about building the moment we return to our bower.”
“So, then, our dreadful yelling ghosts and our murdering army of soldiers,” remarked Peterkin, “have dwindled down to penguins,—big sea-birds! Very good. Then I propose that we continue our journey as fast as possible, lest our island should be converted into a dream before we get completely round it.”
Now, as we continued on our way, I pondered much over this new discovery, and the singular appearance of these birds, of which Jack could only give us a very slight and vague account; and I began to long to commence to our boat, in order that we might go and inspect them more narrowly. But by degrees these thoughts left me, and I began to be much taken up again with the interesting peculiarities of the country which we were passing through.