The heat had been excessive, and the midshipmen were glad to rest until the following morning. During the night it was utterly impossible to make their way through the wood. As no huts had been seen near, they ventured to light a fire, watching carefully that it should not spread, when, as Billy observed, their provisions would have been very much overdone.
After camping, the first thing they had to do was to look out for food. The parrots, for some reason or other, were rather shy, but a troop of inquisitive monkeys came near to ascertain what the strangers were about.
Pipes, who accompanied Tom, urged him to shoot.
“Him very good, very good,” he said.
Tom had of course heard that the creatures were eaten, although he had never tasted monkey. He accordingly fired, and brought down two who were sitting together grinning at him. The rest on this came chattering and screeching to the boughs close above his head, and began to throw down sticks and nuts, some of the latter of which they had been eating, and to spit at him in the most furious fashion.
“Kill more, kill more!” cried Pipes.
Tom again fired, and two others fell to the ground, when the remainder ran shrieking away through the forest. Pipes, taking possession of the game, marched back to the camp with a well-satisfied air.
“You do not mean to say we are to feed on these creatures?” exclaimed Desmond.
“I can’t shoot anything else, and better eat them than starve,” answered Tom.
“Ah! let’s try them,” cried Billy. “Anything better than an empty stomach.”