Chapter Twelve.
Our life on the island.
The success we had already met with in finding food raised our spirits; but I knew the risk we should run of losing our health if we could not obtain vegetables was very great. I therefore urged my companions to set to work at once and try to get the sago manufactured.
“Come directly,” said Macco, collecting a quantity of half-dried leaves. These he placed on the fire. He then covered them up with green twigs, thereby preventing the flames bursting out, at the same time producing an abundant smoke. “Dere, dat do bery well,” he observed. “No creature come to carry off de fish, and he well dry when we come back.”
I cannot say I felt any great confidence in the success of his experiment; and I thought it of no great importance even should it fail, as I began to hope that we should have a sufficient supply of food. We soon found a palm of moderate dimensions, which we might hope, even with our knives, to cut down in the course of a day or two by working away assiduously. What, however, would take us several days, a sharp axe would accomplish almost in the course of almost as many minutes. However, we could all three work at once.
“You take one side, Oliver; Macco, you take another; and I will take a third,” I observed.
“Stay, Massa Walter,” he answered; “you no want to break head. Do dis first. You cut here; Oliver cut here; and I go make rope.”
Some ratans were growing not far off; he immediately began cutting them away, and having collected a large supply, twisted them ingeniously into a rope. Oliver and I had made apparently but little impression in the tree by the time he had done so. Taking the rope, he climbed up as before, to a considerable height, where he fastened it, and then carried the other end to another tree at some little distance, so that it might fall to the ground clear of its companions.