It would be impossible to convey to my reader, by description, an adequate conception of the scene that followed my landing on the beach, as we stood embracing each other indiscriminately in our dripping garments, and giving utterance to incoherent rhapsodies, mingled with wild shouts. It can be more easily imagined than described; so I will draw a curtain over this part of my history, and carry the reader forward over an interval of three days.
During the greater part of that period Peterkin did nothing but roast pigs, taro, and bread-fruit, and ply me with plantains, plums, potatoes, and cocoa-nuts, while I related to him and Jack the terrible and wonderful adventures I had gone through since we last met. After I had finished the account, they made me go all over it again; and when I had concluded the second recital I had to go over it again, while they commented upon it piecemeal. They were much affected by what I told them of the probable fate of Avatea, and Peterkin could by no means brook the idea of the poor girl being converted into a long pig! As for Jack, he clenched his teeth, and shook his fist towards the sea, saying at the same time that he was sorry he had not broken Tararo’s head, and he only hoped that one day he should be able to plant his knuckles on the bridge of that chief’s nose! After they had ‘pumped me dry,’ as Peterkin said, I begged to be informed of what had happened to them during my long absence, and particularly as to how they got out of the Diamond Cave.
“Well, you must know,” began Jack, “after you had dived out of the cave, on the day you were taken away from us, we waited very patiently for half-an-hour, not expecting you to return before the end of that time. Then we began to upbraid you for staying so long when you knew we would be anxious; but when an hour passed we became alarmed, and I resolved at all hazards to dive out and see what had become of you, although I felt for poor Peterkin, because, as he truly said, ‘If you never come back, I’m shut up here for life.’ However, I promised not to run any risk, and he let me go—which, to say truth, I thought very courageous of him!”
“I should just think it was,” interrupted Peterkin, looking at Jack over the edge of a monstrous potato which he happened to be devouring at the time.
“Well,” continued Jack, “you may guess my consternation when you did not answer to my halloo. At first I imagined that the pirates must have killed you, and left you in the bush or thrown you into the sea; then it occurred to me that this would have served no end of theirs, so I came to the conclusion that they must have carried you away with them. As this thought struck me, I observed the pirate schooner standing away to the nor’ard, almost hull down on the horizon, and I sat down on the rocks to watch her as she slowly sank from my sight. And I tell you, Ralph, my boy, that I shed more tears that time at losing you than I have done, I verily believe, all my life before—”
“Pardon me, Jack, for interrupting,” said Peterkin; “surely you must be mistaken in that. You’ve often told me that when you were a baby you used to howl and roar from morning to—”
“Hold your tongue, Peterkin!” cried Jack.—“Well, after the schooner had disappeared, I dived back into the cave, much to Peterkin’s relief, and told him what I had seen. We sat down and had a long talk over this matter, and then we agreed to make a regular, systematic search through the woods, so as to make sure at least that you had not been killed. But now we thought of the difficulty of getting out of the cave without your help. Peterkin became dreadfully nervous when he thought of this; and I must confess I felt some alarm, for, of course, I could not hope alone to take him out so quickly as we two together had brought him in. And he himself vowed that if we had been a moment longer with him that time, he would have had to take a breath of salt water. However, there was no help for it, and I endeavoured to calm his fears as well as I could; ‘for,’ said I, ‘you can’t live here, Peterkin,’ to which he replied, ‘Of course not, Jack; I can only die here, and as that’s not at all desirable, you had better propose something.’ So I suggested that he should take a good, long breath, and trust himself to me.
“‘Might we not make a large bag of cocoa-nut cloth, into which I could shove my head, and tie it tight round my neck?’ he asked with a haggard smile. ‘It might let me get one breath under water!’
“‘No use,’ said I; ‘it would fill in a moment and suffocate you. I see nothing for it, Peterkin, if you really can’t keep your breath so long, but to let me knock you down, and carry you out while in a state of insensibility.’
“But Peterkin didn’t relish this idea. He seemed to fear that I would not be able to measure the exact force of the blow, and might, on the one hand, hit him so softly as to render a second or third blow necessary, which would be very uncomfortable; or, on the other hand, give him such a smash as would entirely spoil his figurehead, or mayhap knock the life out of him altogether! At last I got him persuaded to try to hold his breath, and commit himself to me; so he agreed, and down we went. But I had not got half-way through when he began to struggle and kick like a wild bull, burst from my grasp, and hit against the roof of the tunnel. I was therefore obliged to force him violently back into the cave again, where he, rose panting to the surface. In short, he had lost his presence of mind, and—”