Part 5

Taking the torch and the spare nuts with which to replenish the torch, I entered the mouth of the cavern. I was both surprised and disappointed, for it was neither beautiful nor grand. The roof was low, and the walls were dirty and grimy. The cavern was not more than six feet wide and four feet high, and I was obliged to stoop as I moved along. The cave took me straight into the mountain for a few rods, when I came to what appeared at first to be the end; but I soon discovered a small opening a little to my right, through which, after hesitating a little, I crawled on my hands and knees. I went but a few feet before I emerged into a chamber of considerable size, where I could stand erect; and here I was greeted by a cloud of bats that flitted about as though bewildered by the light, their wings making a curious, uncanny fluttering sound. I could see the roof plainly, and clinging to it, with their heads downward, were thousands of bats. There were, depending from the ceiling, a few small stalactites, but they were dark and grimy. I examined the floor of the cavern, which revealed to me its true nature. I was in a guano cave, the floor of which was thickly covered with the guano of the bats, the accumulation of centuries, probably.

"What a fortune there is here," I thought, "if all this guano could be cheaply conveyed to the coast and loaded into vessels."

Although the air in the cave seemed to be pure, it was not a pleasant place, and most unattractive; so, after discovering a small passage, like the one I had just crawled through, leading further into the mountain, I retreated toward the entrance and was soon in daylight, feeling no desire to further explore a cavern devoid of all the beauties usually attributed to such natural phenomena.

The days dragged now, as I waited for the weather to clear, with nothing to break the monotony but occasional trips to the ruins for yams, oranges, plantains, bananas and sugar cane; and sometimes I would stalk pigeons, when my bow-gun proved very effective, especially as I every day became more skillful in using it, while the birds suffered in consequence.

Several times each day I went to the beacon to scan the horizon; but I saw no sign of a vessel. I reasoned that my island must be out of the regular track of vessels going to the Windward or Leeward Islands, as I knew it to be, of ships bound to the South American coast, Central America or any of the large West India Islands. But the far distant mountains still showed plainly against the horizon.

While gazing away toward the east one day, the idea came to me to try to construct a boat, on my return to my house on the coast, in which to attempt to reach the distant land. I was not skilled in sailing a boat, but I reasoned that, with a fairly staunch and steady craft, provided with some sort of a sail, I might, when a long period of fair weather was promised, escape to the land which I dimly saw to the eastward. This plan occupied my mind continually for days, and, so seriously did I begin to consider it, that I became extremely impatient to start away for the coast.

Three weeks more of weary waiting, and the rain ceased to fall steadily, and then the sun began to break through the clouds at intervals, but the showers were still frequent. From the beacon I could see that the floods in the lowlands to the east were subsiding, and that the river along which I had traveled from the coast, was assuming its normal proportions.

Gradually the clouds dispersed, and whole days of bright sunshine followed. The rainy season was drawing to a close. A few days of clear weather would dry the ground and the bush so I would be able to set out for the coast.

I felt a pang of regret at the thought of leaving my home under the cliff; but then, perhaps I might come back. I could not tell. Perhaps I should have to give up the idea of building the boat, and then it might be years before I was rescued. I might, indeed, spend my entire life here alone; but this thought I put away from me.

My preparations for leaving the mountain were easily made. I left the house under the cliff exactly as it was, save the closing, securely, of the door; and one morning as the sun came up out of the sea, and the lovely island verdure lit up with a gorgeous blending of green, purple and gold, I took a farewell look all around the horizon from the peak, and, with my gun, arrows and bag of provisions, dressed in the rudely made cocoanut-cloth garments, I started down the mountain, taking, as nearly as I could, a northeast course toward the coast.

The ground was yet sufficiently damp to render it pleasantly springy and cool to my feet, and the freshness of the verdure of the forest and bush which I traversed imparted to the air a pleasant coolness, even though the sun shone fierce and hot. Birds were flitting like iridescent gems through the trees, and tittering curious discordant cries. Not since the beginning of my exile had I been conscious of such cheerfulness and light-heartedness as on this morning--and, with all, I had the feeling of going home, as, indeed, I was.

Crossing the valley at the foot of the first mountain peak, I ascended the lower spur and descended its side toward the level country which lay between it and the coast. In general appearance, the bush here did not materially differ from that to the southwest, traversed during my march from the coast months before.

Shortly after entering the belt of virgin forest which skirted the base of the mountain range, I emerged into an opening, perhaps two acres in extent. It was covered with thick grass, green and luxuriant after the rains. The grass was not tall, perhaps two feet high, apparently a new growth, and I started to cross it. A tall cactus, a veritable tree, stood alone near the centre of the grassland, and toward this I took my way, thinking that I would like to examine it closely, as it was the largest one I had seen on the island.

After examining this giant of the tropics, I continued my way across the intervening space toward the bush on the other side. I was nearly out of the grass, when a strange sound caused me to stand still and look about me.

The sound came in a series of short, angry grunts, like "woof! woof!" and, a short distance to the left I saw the grass violently agitated, while the noise came nearer to me.

I at once decided that some animal was coming toward me, whether to attack me or not, I could not tell. But I quickly decided that the most sensible thing for me to do would be to seek safety. Naturally I thought of the bush, and ran toward it. The moment I started to run the "woof, woof!" followed me, and I increased my speed as fast as I could, hampered as I was by the thick grass. The terrible, guttural sound gained upon me as I plunged on, but at last I reached the bush, and, seeing a large tree with branches near the ground, just ahead of me, I dropped my gun and bag of provisions, and grasped the lower limb. Quickly I climbed up to what I considered to be a safe distance, and then looked down to see what sort of a beast my pursuer would prove to be.

I had but a second or two to wait, for soon, not one but three shot out of the grass and rushed to the foot of the tree. I could not mistake them. They were pigs, wild pigs.

They looked up at me with little, cruel looking eyes, and one, the largest, which had probably led the chase, snapped his jaws, showing long, white tusks, ran around the tree and continued the "woof, woof!" throwing up his head and, as he apparently grew more angry because I was above his reach, flecks of foam were flung from the ugly jaws. This one was, without a doubt, the boar. The other two were smaller, and seemed to be taking matters more coolly.

They were villainous-looking beasts, gaunt, with long legs and sharp, pointed heads; and their color was a sort of rusty-red. Feeling perfectly safe, the question which naturally first occurred to me was, "how long shall I be besieged in this position?" There seemed to be but one course to follow, at present, and that to await developments. The pigs had not appeared to notice my paraphernalia.

After a while the boar grew calmer, and finally all three lay down near the foot of the tree. I made myself as comfortable as possible, and looked down at them.

The day dragged along monotonously, while I was able to change my position so frequently that I was not cramped; but I began to get very hungry, having eaten nothing since early in the morning. The pigs continued to remain on guard, the boar now and then getting up and regarding me contemplatively, until the sun sank behind the forest. Then the pigs moved away into the grass. It was soon dark, and the moon, which was near its full, came up over the mountains; but I was not long able to distinguish the movements of the pigs in the uncertain moonlight.

Patiently I waited, until the moon was directly over the clearing. There was no sound of the pigs, and, after a little, I slid to the ground and, cautiously gathering up my gun and provision bag, moved noiselessly away into the bush. The moonlight favored me, and I hurried on for several miles, when I was brought to a halt by a small stream. Feeling safe from the pigs, I decided to camp here until daylight. I did not dare make a fire, so, after satisfying hunger with a portion of a pigeon which I had roasted before setting out, and an orange, I sat down by a large tree and, leaning against the trunk, was soon asleep.

*CHAPTER XII.*

_*Return to the Coast; A Mangrove Swamp; Fever*_*.*

When I awoke it was morning, and the sun was fully an hour up. Taking a hasty bath in the cool water of the stream, and after a hurried meal, crossing the stream on the stones that were not submerged, I set off along the east bank. The stream flowed in a northerly direction. By keeping close to the edge of the forest I made rapid progress. Nothing occurred to distract my attention, except the sight of a small flock of pigeons, one of which I killed. I encamped for the night in the edge of a thicket, and made a fire to roast the bird which I plucked while waiting for a bed of coals.

At daylight in the morning I continued my course down the stream which was now much wider and deeper. Its edge was thickly fringed with bamboo, and the idea came to me that I might construct a raft from them, and float down stream to the coast; but then, the stream was apt to become suddenly shallow in places, and it contained many large stones, and after delaying for several days while constructing the raft, it might prove to be time and labor lost.

At the close of the fourth day, as the sun was declining behind the palm trees, I was astonished, on emerging from a thicket, to see the ocean, blue and calm, stretching out before me. I had failed to note the fact that I had followed a more direct course from the coast than when I marched toward the interior, and that the mountains were much nearer the north coast than the west. For the last two days I had noticed that the cocoanut palms were more plentiful, as were also the bamboos along the stream, both of which should have reminded me of my approach to salt water. I had reached the coast sooner than I expected.

Knowing that I would probably not be able to cross the stream at its mouth, I found a place where a few stones rose above the water, and managed to cross to the other bank. The mouth of this stream differed from that of either of the other two streams that I had seen. It was broad and muddy, covering a wide expanse, and what seemed the strangest to me was that trees were growing from the water, covering the entire area of the mouth of the stream. Each tree rested upon the apex formed by a cluster of roots, which rose from the water, looking like gigantic spiders or devil-fish. I could see under the whole aquatic forest, a tangle of slimy roots above the dark water. The air was permeated by an indescribable stench; and around the edge of the dark recess, black, hairy crabs crawled about, or lay by the festering pools. I concluded that this was one of the famous mangrove swamps, and I decided to retire from such an undesirable locality.

Accordingly I proceeded along the beach until I was free from the smell of the swamp, where I made camp for the night beneath some spreading trees near the water's edge, making a fire and roasting yams, and broiling a pigeon which I had killed just after crossing the stream.

When I awoke in the morning I felt that a change had come over me. I felt dazed, the back of my head was aching, and I had a burning fever. After a few moments I remembered the swamp. The air which I had been breathing must be laden with fever. I staggered to my feet and, without stopping to get breakfast, I started along the beach, my course now being toward the west.

I felt very weak and walked with great difficulty. I was obliged to stop frequently to rest, and toward mid-day I managed to eat the remainder of the pigeon that I had broiled the night before. Once I saw some orange trees, but the fruit was both sour and bitter. I sucked some of the juice, however. The bitter and the acid seemed to allay my fever a little, and I soon felt less weak. I camped at sundown, and went to sleep with confidence that my condition would be improved in the morning, as I was at a safe distance from the swamp.

For two days more I marched along the shore, finding sweet orange-trees frequently, and plenty of pigeons whenever I chose to make a short detour into the forest.

At last a high mound appeared ahead where the shore seemed to take a sharp sweep toward the south, and, hurrying forward, I was soon standing at the top of it and, to my great joy, looking down upon the bay where I had been cast ashore.

Crossing the familiar little stream, I hastened toward my house. It was with a feeling of relief that I saw that everything was apparently as I had left it.

*CHAPTER XIII.*

_*A Feathered Companion; Making a Fish-Trap*_*.*

Everything about my house was as I had left it. Nothing had been disturbed, the overflowing stream not having reached it. The vines around the stockade now completely covered it, and the yams that I had planted in front of the stockade-gate were thick and luxuriant, the great, bean-like leaves completely concealing the entrance.

The effects of the fever were fast leaving me, and I grew strong rapidly. There was much to do, now that I was settled down at home. I dug up the yams in front of the stockade-gate and stored them in the house for future use. Then I carried out the couch and made a new one of fresh branches and grass, more comfortable than the first had been.

I also made two fire-places, mere enclosures for keeping the coals in place. These consisted of circular enclosures of stones brought from the stream, each about three feet in diameter and one foot high, one being in a corner of the house for use during rainy weather, and the other in the enclosure of the stockade, near the gate.

My next thought was to plant yams by the trunks of all the trees near the house. This would furnish me an inexhaustible supply, and of a superior quality, as the vines would have plenty of chance to climb, up and around the tree trunks.

One day while walking through the bush in search of pigeons, having succeeded in killing two, I came across several cocoanut palms of much smaller size than any I had yet seen. They were not more than fifteen feet high to the base of the leaf heads, and their tops were very spreading, much more so in proportion to the length of the trunks than in the case of the larger trees. But these all bore great bunches of nuts, and I began to wonder how the unripe nuts would taste, and whether they contained more water than the ripe ones.

With but little difficulty I climbed one of them, and with my knife clipped the stems of several of the nuts, which went tumbling to the ground.

Descending, I cut off the husk of the end opposite the stem, until I could make a hole through the shell. The latter was very thin and soft, and the knife went through it easily. My knife was always in excellent condition, kept so by frequent sharpening on the stone which I used for striking fire to the tinder.

Raising the nut as though it were a canteen, I drank the water. It was somewhat different from that of a ripe nut, much sweeter, more limpid and very cool and refreshing. After the water was drained from the nut I out it open, when I found the whole inside lined with a whitish, translucent pulp, of the consistency of solid jelly. This I found to be delicious, but, after having eaten a little, rather sickish. However, I carried several of the unripe nuts to the house, and soon became very fond of them. I made frequent trips to the young palms and the water became my principal beverage, while my only dessert was the jelly, for which I carved a rude spoon from a piece of hard wood.

I noticed that the parrots were not so noisy as they had been before I left for the interior, and for several weeks I was at a loss to account for it. But one evening, while returning from the water-cocoanut palms, I espied two diminutive parrots fluttering through the bush. They were young ones and not quite able to fly, though nearly fledged. They would launch out from a limb, sometimes falling short of their next perch, and sometimes striking against a limb, when they would flutter to the ground, making small, parrot-like cries. They were a beautiful green, with red wing feathers and red breasts and necks. The parent birds all the while remained near-by, as though encouraging the little ones in their attempts to fly.

I tried to catch one of them, but they were sufficiently active to evade me successfully. I felt a great desire to capture one and teach him to talk, for I sometimes longed for a companion to speak to. Finally I evolved a plan for catching one. I set to work to construct a net, for a snare would injure them. I prepared a great quantity of fibres from the cocoanut cloth, and with it wove a purse-shaped net, perhaps two feet in length. This was to be suspended to a limb of a tree, and baited with a piece of roast yam suspended over the mouth of the bag in such a manner that, when the young parrot reached for it, he would be almost sure to lose his balance and fall in. Its weight, together with the fluttering of the bird, would draw the mouth of the bag together and prevent its escape.

This net cost me several weeks of work, but it was at last finished and ready to set. This I did very carefully, selecting a low limb in what seemed a favorite place for the parent birds to give flying lessons to the little ones.

For several days the net remained undisturbed, and every morning I supplied it with a fresh, white piece of yam.

One morning, just at daylight, I was awakened by a great outcry of parrots, and, feeling sure that one of the young birds had fallen into the net, I hastened toward it. Sure enough, the net had done its work, for it was bobbing about and swaying from the limb, while muffled little shrieks came from the nearly-closed mouth; and from the trees around there arose a perfect babel of discordant cries of parrots, old and young. The two parent birds were perched on the limb over the net, when I arrived, but on my approach they flew away a short distance, hurling cries of defiance at me. Carefully I cut the net clear of the limb and carried it to the house, the belligerent little parrot all the time fluttering and shrieking, and striking at my hand whenever it was near the opening. I reproached myself for not thinking to make a cage for it when captured, and I was obliged to secure the opening and deposit the net in the house, while I made a cage for my future companion. This was not a difficult task. Going to the brook where the wild canes grew, I cut a quantity of them and, cutting them to the required length, I stuck them into the ground, leaving spaces about two inches wide. The canes formed a small yard about two feet square. The top was covered with a piece of cocoanut cloth, the edges being tied all around to the upright canes.

How to get the fighting little bird out of the net and into the cage was the next question. I did not exactly relish the idea of putting my hand into the net, so finally I decided to lift one corner of the cocoanut cloth on the top of the cage, and, loosening the mouth of the net, insert it under the cloth, at the same time reversing the net. The scheme worked perfectly and the little parrot tumbled into the cage, his feathers all ruffled. He was a curious little thing and I laughed aloud as, without uttering a sound, he proceeded to smooth his feathers, and then to circumnavigate the cage. He then retired a little from the bars and regarded me with the utmost seriousness, canting his head, looking at me first with one eye and then the other. Then he began to dress his feathers, evidently resolved to make the best of it all, and to feel perfectly at home from the first.

I made my pet a little run-way outside the wall of the house, constructing it in the same manner as I had the cage, covering it half with cloth and the remainder with canes so he could have both sun and shade. This enclosure I connected with the cage by cutting a square hole through the wall of the house.

As the weeks passed, the parrot grew, his wing and tail feathers developed, and he became very beautiful. He enjoyed his new home, apparently, spending a part of his time outside, and part inside. He enjoyed the sunshine, but would never remain long in it. He preferred the shade of the cloth covered portion. Nights, he always passed inside, and I made a perch for him to sleep on. It was simply a cane passing through the cage and securely fastened to a bar on each side. Hours and hours he would spend, swinging on this bar over and over, holding on with his claws, and then with his stubby beak. I fed him on yams, bananas and oranges, but the banana was his favorite food.

Every day I talked to him, telling him all about the ship-wreck, discussing with him the various tasks that occupied me, and the probability of my rescue. I named him Puff Ball on account of his shape when captured, and then I called him simply "Puff." Puff listened patiently to all I had to say, frequently interjecting a sharp comment. Sometimes he would interrupt me by setting up a loud screeching, and I always had to cease talking when Puff had the floor.

For weeks he did not appear to attempt to imitate my words, and I began to despair of teaching him to talk, when one morning, as I lay awake for a few minutes before arising, I heard him softly chattering to himself. I listened and heard him say "Puff," "Puff," very distinctly. I was delighted and, going to the cage, I complimented him on his first attempt.

Once while bathing in the stream, I noticed, for the first time, several fish gliding through a quiet pool. From the momentary glance I had of them they appeared to resemble the white perch of the lakes at home.

This opportunity to add to my larder could not be neglected, and I set to work to devise a plan for capturing them. I thought, at first, of making a hook from thorns; but this idea was abandoned as not apt to be practical, and I hit upon a plan for making a net. The first inspiration gradually developed into a trap, and took definite shape as I revolved the matter in my mind. It was a simple device, but I spent much time and patience in perfecting it.