“Oh yes, plenty. Most of the fish in our lagoon be good for eating, and so also the crawbs, and we have turtle too.”
“Indeed! How do you catch the turtle? Another nut, please.—Thank you.”
“The way we gets turtle is by the men diving for them and catching them in the water. We has pigs too—plenty, and the wild birds are some very nice.”1
When the artists had finished they proceeded to the shore, and to their surprise and amusement found the cockleshell in possession of a piratical urchin of about four years of age in a charmingly light state of clothing. He was well-known to Kathleen, and it turned out that, having seen the cockle start at too great a distance to be hailed, and having set his heart on joining in the excursion, he had watched their movements, observed their landing on the islet—which was not far from the main circlet of land—and, running round till he came opposite to it, swam off and got into the boat. Being somewhat tired he had lain down to rest and fallen sound asleep.
On the way home this urchin’s sole delight was to lean over the bow and watch the fish and coral-groves over which they skimmed. In this he was imitated by Nigel who, ungallantly permitting his companion to row, also leaned over the side and gazed down into the clear crystal depths with unwearying delight.
For the wonderful colours displayed in those depths must be seen to be believed. Not only is the eye pleased with the ever-varying formations of the coral bowers, but almost dazzled with the glittering fish—blue, emerald, green, scarlet, orange, banded, spotted, and striped—that dart hither and thither among the rich-toned sea-weed and the variegated anemones which spread their tentacles upwards as if inviting the gazer to come down. Among these, crabs could be seen crawling with undecided motion, as if unable to make up their minds, while in out of the way crevices clams of a gigantic size were gaping in deadly quietude ready to close with a snap on any unfortunate creature that should give them the slightest touch.
Nigel was sharply awakened from his dream by a sudden splash. Looking up he observed that the small boy was gone. With a bound he stood erect, one foot on the gunwale and hands clasped ready to dive, when a glance revealed the fact that Kathy was smiling broadly!
“Don’t jump!” she said. “He is only after a fish.”
Even while she spoke Nigel saw the brown little fellow shooting about like a galvanised tadpole, with a small harpoon in his hand.
Next moment he appeared on the surface shouting and spluttering, with a splendid fish on the end of his harpoon! Both were hauled into the boat, and very soon after they drew near to land.
In the shallow water Nigel observed some remarkable creatures which resembled hedgehogs, having jaws armed with formidable teeth to enable them to feed, Kathy said, on coral insects. File-fishes also drew his attention particularly. These were magnificently striped and coloured, and apparently very fearless.
“What convenient tails they have to lay hold of,” remarked our hero, as they slowly glided past one; “I believe I could catch it with my hand!”
Stooping swiftly as he spoke, he dipped his arm into the water, and actually did grasp the fish by its tail, but dropped it again instantly—to the shrieking delight of the urchin and Kathy,—for the tail was armed with a series of sharp spines which ran into his hand like lancets.
This was an appropriate conclusion to a day that would have been otherwise too enjoyable. Poor Nigel’s felicity was further diluted when he met his father.
“We’ll have to sleep aboard to-night,” said the captain, “for there’s a fair breeze outside which seems likely to hold, and the mast has been temporarily rigged up, so we’ll have to up anchor, and away by break of day to-morrow.”
Nigel’s heart sank.
“To-morrow! father?”
“Ay, to-morrow. Business first, pleasure afterwards.”
“Well, I suppose you are right, but it seems almost a shame to leave such a heaven upon earth as this in such a hurry. Besides, is it not unkind to such hospitable people to bolt off after you’ve got all that you want out of them?”
“Can’t help that, lad—
“Dooty first, an’ fun to follow,
That’s what beats creation hollow.”
“Come father, don’t say that you quote that from mother!”
“No more I do, my boy. It’s my own—homemade. I put it together last night when I couldn’t sleep for your snorin’.”
“Don’t tell fibs, father. You know I never snore. But—really—are we to start at daylight?”
“We are, if the wind holds. But you may stay as late as you choose on shore to-night.”
Nigel availed himself of the opportunity to see as much of the place and people as was possible in the limited time. Next morning the good though damaged brig was running in the direction of Sunda Straits before a stiff and steady breeze.
Chapter Five
Captain Roy surprises and gratifies his Son, who surprises a Negro, and suddenly forms an Astonishing Resolve
Arrived in Batavia—the low-lying seaport and capital of the Dutch island of Java—Captain Roy had his brig examined, and found that the damage she had sustained was so serious that several months would probably elapse before she would be again ready for sea.
“Now, Nigel, my lad,” said the old gentleman, on the morning after the examination had been made, “come down below with me; I want to have a confabulation with ’ee.”
“Why, father,” said the youth, when seated at the small cabin table opposite his rugged parent, “you seem to be in an unusually solemn frame of mind this morning. Has anything happened?”
“Nothin’, boy—nothin’. Leastwise nothin’ in particular. You know all about the brig, an’ what a deal o’ repair she’s got to undergo?”
“Of course I do. You know I was present when you talked the matter over with that fellow—what’s-’is-name—that gave you his report.”
“Just so. Well now, Nigel, you don’t suppose, do you, that I’m goin’ to keep you here for some months knockin’ about with nothin’ to do—eatin’ your grub in idleness?”
“Certainly not,” said the youth, regarding the stern countenance of his parent with an amused look. “I have no intention of acting such an ignoble part, and I’m surprised at you askin’ the question, for you know I am not lazy—at least not more so than average active men—and there must be plenty of work for me to do in looking after the cargo, superintending repairs, taking care of the ship and men. I wonder at you, father. You must either have had a shock of dotage, or fallen into a poetical vein. What is a first mate fit for if—”
“Nigel,” said Captain Roy, interrupting, “I’m the owner an’ commander of the Sunshine, besides bein’ the paternal parent of an impertinent son, and I claim to have the right to do as I please—therefore, hold your tongue and listen to me.”
“All right, father,” replied the young man, with a benignant grin; “proceed, but don’t be hard upon me; spare my feelings.”
“Well now, this is how the land lies,” said the old seaman, resting his elbows on the table and clasping his hands before him. “As Mr Moor and I, with the stooard and men, are quite sufficient to manage the affairs o’ the brig, and as we shall certainly be here for a considerable time to come, I’ve made up my mind to give you a holiday. You’re young, you see, an’ foolish, and your mind needs improvin’. In short, you want a good deal o’ the poetry knocked out o’ you, for it’s not like your mother’s poetry by any means, so you needn’t flatter yourself—not built on the same lines by a long way. Well—where was I?”
“Only got the length of the holiday yet, father.”
“Only,