“Now for the hogs,” said Quintal, to whose domineering spirit the work was congenial.
But the hogs were not to be managed as easily as the goats and fowls had been. With native obstinacy and amazing energy they refused to do what they were bid, and shrieked defiance when force was attempted. The noise was further increased by the butting of a few goats and the cackling of some poultry, which had got mixed up with them.
First of all they declined to leave the enclosures, out of which they had tried pertinaciously to escape all the voyage. By way of overcoming this difficulty, Christian ordered the enclosures to be torn down, and the planks with which they had been formed were used as persuaders to urge the refractory creatures on. As each poke or slap produced a series of horrible yells, it may be understood that the operation was accompanied with noise.
At last some of the men, losing patience, rushed at the hogs, seized them by ears and tails, and forcibly dragged them to the gangway. McCoy and Quintal distinguished themselves in this service, hurling their animals on the planks with such violence that several of them fell over into the sea, and swam towards the shore in the surf from which they were rescued by the Otaheitan men, who danced about in the water, highly enjoying this part of their labour.
A profound calm seemed to succeed a wild storm when the last of the unruly pigs had left the ship.
“We’ve got ’em all out at last,” said one of the men, with a sigh, wiping the perspiration from his forehead with his sleeve.
“Bad luck to them,” growled another, tying up a slight wound received in the conflict.
“We’ve done with the live stock, anyhow, and that’s a comfort,” said a third.
“Done with the live stock!” exclaimed Martin. “Why, the worst lot has yet to come.”
“That must be yourself, then, Martin, my boy,” said Brown.