I find that I am getting on so slowly with my narrative, and have so many adventures to tell, that omitting a number of events of less interest to my readers, I must sketch rapidly the history of several months which passed after the last escape of the Emu.
In vain we searched for her for several days, but not a trace of her could we find; not a spar nor a plank to show that she had gone down when she disappeared from our sight in the squall. We were then, it must be remembered, in the neighbourhood of the Arru Islands. We cruised along the coast of New Guinea, off which we thought the Emu might be prowling. It was curious, that though we were out of sight of land, on several occasions a number of birds, towards the evening, came on board to roost. They appeared to be land birds. The colours of some were very beautiful, and in many we could trace a resemblance to our small ducks, magpies, and larks. We also encountered daily a vast number of a species of whale, which collected round the schooner, and watching her as if they thought her some strange fish. One day they had collected in more than usual numbers, and while I watched them swimming round and round the vessel, their huge backs now and then appearing above the water, I could not help thinking that they were holding a consultation together in contemplation of an attack on us. Sometimes they would swim directly at the vessel, and then diving under her, appear at the other side. I got my rifle, intending to have a shot at one of them; though I must own that I think it very wrong to kill animals without an object, when they can be of no use to any one, merely for the sake of trying one’s dexterity as a marksman on them.
“You had better not,” observed Van Graoul, when he saw what I was about to do. “They may take it ill, and revenge themselves.” I thought he was joking, as he was, in part, and so, loading my rifle, I fired at a huge fellow, whose back appeared at a little distance off. Whether the ball entered his skin or glanced off, I could not tell; for he sunk immediately, and I was preparing for another shot, when he, or one of his fellows, rose on the opposite side. There he remained, spouting for a minute or so, and then down he dived, and directly afterwards we felt a blow on the keel, which almost shook the masts out of the vessel, and sent some of the people sprawling on deck. The crew jumped about with dismay, thinking the schooner was sinking, and Ungka rushed to Hassan and hugged him round the neck, as if he was resolved to be drowned with him.
“I told you so,” said Van Graoul. “They are not fellows to be played with.”
No real damage was done; nor did the whales renew the attack. I suspect the fellow hurt his back too much to try the same trick again.
No tidings of the Emu were to be gained; and weary of looking for her in that direction, we stood to the westward, towards the island of Celebes, to the south of Ceram. We had had a fine breeze all the day; but as the evening drew on, it fell considerably; and when the sun sunk beneath the water, it became perfectly calm. The night was hot, and I remained long on deck in earnest conversation with Fairburn. He was endeavouring to console and encourage me; for I own that at times I almost began to despair of the success of my undertaking. There was a moon in the heavens in the early part of the night; but that also set, and I was thinking of turning in, when I observed a bright light in the sky to the westward, and on watching it attentively, it appeared as if it arose from some large fire close down to the water. Fairburn remarked it also.
“Can it be a burning mountain?” I asked; “or do you think the natives of any island thereabouts have been creating a blaze for their amusement?”
“There is no burning mountain or any island in that direction,” he answered. “See, it rises higher and higher, till the ruddy glare extends over the whole sky! It can be but from one cause.”
“What is that?” I asked.
“A ship on fire,” he replied. “I have witnessed such a sight before, and have no doubt about it.”