In the Eastern Seas

by William Henry Giles Kingston

Chapter Thirty.

Walter disappears—Narrative continued by Emily.

I had not forgotten my uncle’s wish to obtain another nautilus, but the weather had prevented us going on the water for some days. It having again moderated, I consulted Ali, through Mr Hooker, on the subject, and got him to explain what we proposed doing. We could not, however, make him understand clearly what we wanted. That morning he, Oliver, and I, with Potto Jumbo, went down to the beach to procure shell-fish. We had been some time on the rocks, when I saw an object floating in towards the shore. As it drew nearer, I discovered to my satisfaction that it was the empty shell of a nautilus. In my eagerness I was about to throw off my clothes and jump in to fetch it, when Potto Jumbo drew me back. “Take care, Massa Walter,” he said; “shark about here! Never swim out in open place like dis.” I, however, pointed out the shell to Ali, and tried to make him understand that it was that of which we were in search. He seemed to fancy that I wanted him to swim off for it, and, thoughtless about the sharks, he was on the point of doing so. Potto stopped him also, and by waiting patiently, the nautilus shell gradually floated in towards us, and seizing it eagerly, I returned with it to the house. Mr Hooker had now no difficulty in explaining to Ali that it was the creature in its shell which he so much desired, and Ali told him that he had great hopes of capturing one.

That evening Ali, Dick Tarbox, and I, went out to fish in our boat in the line of cliffs near which my uncle had shot the frigate-birds. First, however, we pulled out some way, and laid down our fish-pots at a spot where Ali seemed to think it was possible we might capture one of the much-wished-for nautili. It was at this place Ali made us understand that we were more likely to catch fish than any other. He came prepared with hooks, which he himself had manufactured from brass-wire, some of which had been found in the wreck. He had attached about a fathom of wire to each hook, at the upper end of which the line was fastened; this was in order to prevent the sharp teeth of the fish cutting the line. He had caught a few fish in a hand net for bait. Having anchored our boat by a stone sufficient to hold her, we lowered down our lines. To each hook a sort of sling of palm-leaf was fastened, and in this sling was a small stone, so arranged that on reaching the bottom it fell out. We very soon got bites, and Ali was the first to haul up a fine large fish. Immediately afterwards I got one, and Tarbox before long caught another. In the meantime, however, Ali hauled up a couple; indeed, to each of ours he managed somehow or other to get two. Their names I do not remember, but I know I never had better sport in my life. Gradually the rocks above our heads grew higher and higher in the gloom of approaching night, which seemed to soften the faint outlines of the landscape, and to increase the size of the objects round us. A little way from us was an opening in the cliffs, beyond which we could see the dark forest. From it there issued various sounds, which seemed to echo backwards and forwards among the rocks. Among them we could distinguish the moaning cries of monkeys—one seeming to be calling to the other for help in piteous tones. The effect was curious, and had a peculiarly melancholy sound; indeed we might easily have supposed them to be the cries of captive slaves, or perhaps a more fanciful person might describe them as disembodied spirits in some haunted island. Meanwhile the night wind, sighing through the lofty trees, came moaning down towards us. At length darkness compelled us to give up our sport, and, with an abundant supply of fish, we pulled slowly back towards our usual landing-place, where, having unladen our boat, we hauled her up to a safe spot above high-water mark.

I felt an unusual melancholy steal over me, why I cannot tell, while, by the light of a lamp fed by cocoa-nut oil manufactured by my uncle and his factotum Tanda, I sat writing these lines of my journal:—“To-morrow morning Ali and I are going off in the hopes of obtaining a nautilus, and he feels confident that we shall get one, probably at a reef which he knows of at some distance, almost out of sight of the island. It is so far off that, had he not mentioned it, we should not have been aware of its existence.”

Emily’s Journal.

Only yesterday, my dear brother Walter asked me to assist him in writing his journal from his dictation, begging me to put in any remarks of my own. Little did I think at the time that the whole would be my work. I obey his wishes, though sick at heart and full of anxiety. Yesterday morning he and Ali went off in the boat to fish, saying that they were sure of bringing back a nautilus, which our uncle and Mr Hooker so long to possess; but a whole day has passed, and they have not returned. They were seen to be pulling out to sea further than they have ever before gone. They had been some time absent, and we were expecting their return, when a fearful squall, such as has not occurred since the time when the brig was lost, broke over the island. Mr Thudicumb and the kind old boatswain tried to persuade me that I need not be alarmed, but I cannot help feeling most fearful anxiety. The boat is so small, and not at all calculated to contend with a heavy sea. And then that Malay Ali—ought he to have been trusted? I have heard that the Malays are dreadfully treacherous, and he may have taken this opportunity of getting away to join his own people. I could not have thought that he had been so heartless and cruel as to injure Walter, and yet I know it is possible. Poor dear Grace can scarcely lift up her head; she has been in tears all day, and Oliver feels it dreadfully. If we had another boat we might go and search for him, and Oliver has been trying to persuade Mr Thudicumb and the rest to build one; but he says it would take a long time to do so, as no timber is ready for the purpose. It would, indeed, take almost as much time to build a boat as it would to finish the vessel, and he thinks that it is more important to do that. Our uncle and Mr Hooker are very anxious, I see, notwithstanding all they say. This morning before daybreak a strange rumbling noise was heard, and we felt the house shake, and several articles which had been placed carelessly on shelves fell down. On running out into the verandah, a bright light was seen towards the mountains in the interior, caused by flames issuing from a high peak, above which black wreaths of smoke ascended to the sky. Mr Hooker says that although there might be an eruption of the mountain, yet, as we are a long way from it, we should have every prospect of escaping injury. I am nearly certain that they said this to calm our alarm, for, unintentional, I heard them talking together, when Mr Hooker observed he did not like the look of things; that we are living at the mouth of a broad ravine, and that if any large stream of lava were to come down, it would very likely take our direction.

“That is what I am afraid of,” said my uncle; “but as we have no means of avoiding it, it would be a pity to put the idea into the minds of the rest.”

“Don’t you think that we ought to have a large raft built?” Mr Hooker observed. “If the lava were to come down, we might get upon that and escape being burned, for the whole forest would quickly be in a blaze.”