Bevis: The Story of a Boy
want some tea presently. I say!" said Mark, "we've forgottenCharlie!"
He ran up on the cliff, but it was too late; Charlie had been and wavedhis cap three times, in token that all was not quite right at home.Mark looked at the sun-dial; it was nearly five. They had not haddinner till later than usual, and then Loo's explanation andcross-examination had filled up the time. Still as Loo told them shewas certain every one was quite well at home, they did not trouble abouthaving missed Charlie. Mark wished to go shooting again round Serendib,and they started, leaving the slave in charge of the hut to cook theirsupper.
Mark had the matchlock, and Bevis poled the raft gently round Serendib,but the water-fowl seemed to have become more cautious, as they did notsee any. Bevis poled along till they came to a little inlet, where theystopped, with blue gum branches concealing them on either hand. Markknelt where he could see both ways along the shore; Bevis sat back underthe willows with Pan beside him.
They were so quiet that presently a black-headed reed-bunting came andlooked down at them from a willow bough. Moths fluttered among the topsof the branches, the wind was so light that they flew whither theylisted, instead of being borne out over the water. The brown tips of afew tall reeds moved slightly as the air came softly; they did not bownor bend; they did but just sway, yielding assent.
Every now and then there was a rush overhead as five or six starlingspassed swiftly, straight as arrows, for the firs at the head of Fir-TreeGulf. These parties succeeding each other were perhaps separatefamilies gathering together into a tribe at the roosting-trees. Overthe distant firs a thin cloud like a black bar in the sky spread itselfout, and then descended funnel-shaped into the firs. The cloud wasformed of starlings, thousands of them, rising up from the trees andsettling again. One bird as a mere speck would have been invisible;these legions darkened the air there like smoke.
But just beyond the raft the swallows glided, dipping their breasts andsipping as they dipped; the touch and friction of the water perceptiblychecked their flight. They wheeled round and several times approachedthe surface, till having at last the exact balance and the exact anglethey skimmed the water, leaving no more mark than a midge.
Bevis watched them, and as he watched his senses gradually became moreacute, till he could distinctly hear the faint far off sound of thewaterfall at Sweet River. It rose and fell, faint and afar; the flutterof a moth's wings against the greyish willow leaves overbore andsilenced it. As he listened and watched the swallows he thought, orrather felt--for he did not think from step to step upwards to aconclusion--he felt that all the power of a bird's wing is in its tip.
It was with the slender-pointed and elastic tip, the flexible and finelydivided feather point that the bird flew. An artist has a cumbrouseasel, a heavy framework, a solid palette which has a distinct weight,but he paints with a tiny point of camel's hair. With a camel's hairtip the swallow sweeps the sky.
That part of the wing near the body, which is thick, rigid, and containsthe bones, is the easel and framework; it is the shaft through which thedriving force flows, and in floating it forms a part of the plane orsurface, but it does not influence the air. The touch of the wing is inits tip. There where the feathers fine down to extreme tenuity, so thatif held up the light comes through the filaments, they seem to feel theair and to curl over on it as the end of a flag on a mast curls over onitself. So the tail of a fish--his one wing--curls over at the extremeedge of its upper and lower corners, and as it unfolds presses back thewater. The swallow, pure artist of flight, feels the air with hiswing-tips as with fingers, and lightly fanning glides.
Over the distant firs a heron came drifting like a cloud at hisaccustomed hour; from over the New Nile the call of a partridge,"caer-wit--caer-wit," sounded along the surface of the water. There wasa slight movement and Bevis saw the match descending, an inverted coneof smoke darted up from the priming, and almost before the report Panleaped overboard. Mark had watched till two moorhens were near enoughtogether, one he shot outright and Pan caught the other.
At the report the heron staggered in the air as if a bullet had struckhim, it was his sudden effort to check his course, and then recoveringhimself he wheeled and flew towards the woods on the mainland. Bevissaid he must have a heron's plume. To please Mark he poled the raft toBamboo Island, and then across to the sedgy banks at the southernextremity of New Formosa, but Mark did not get another shot. They thenlanded and crept quietly to Kangaroo Hill, the rabbits had grownsuspicious, and they did not see one, but Pan suddenly raced across theglade--to their great annoyance--and stopped on the verge of the wood.
There he picked up a rabbit in his mouth, and they recollected the wiresthey had set. The rabbit had been in a wire since the morning. "Itwill do for Samson," said Bevis.
When they returned to the hut the full moon--full but low down--hadbegun to fill the courts of the sky with her light, which permitted nopause of dusk between it and the sunset. The slave's cheeks were redand scorched from the heat of the fire, which she had tended on herknees, and her chin and tawny neck were streaked with black marks.Handling the charred sticks with her fingers, the fingers hadtransferred the charcoal to her chin. The hare was well cookedconsidering the means, or rather the want of means at her command,perhaps it was not the first she had helped to prepare. Searching inthe store-room she found a little butter with which she basted it aftera manner; they had thought the butter was all gone, they were toohasty--impatient--to look thoroughly. There was no jelly, and it wasdry, but they enjoyed it very much sitting at the plank table under theshed.
They had removed the poles on one side of the shed as there was nothingnow to dread, but on the other two sides the bars remained, and theflames of the expiring fire every now and then cast black bars of shadowacross the table. The slave would have been only too glad to havestayed on the island all night--if they had lent her a great-coat or rugto roll up in she would have slept anywhere in the courtyard--but shesaid Samson would be so wretched without her, he would be frightened andmiserable. She must go; she would come back in the morning about ten.
They filled the flag-basket for her with the moorhens, the rabbit, thedab-chick and thrush, and a tin of preserved tongue. There were stillsome fragments of biscuit; she said Samson would like these best of all.Thus laden, she would have waded to the mainland, but they would notlet her--they took the raft and ferried her over, and promised to fetchher in the morning if she would whistle, she could whistle like a boy.To Loo that voyage on the raft, short as it was, was something beyondcompare. Loo had to pass the prickly stubble fields with her barefeet--stubble to the naked foot is as if the broad earth were aporcupine's back. But long practice had taught her how to wind round atthe edge where there was a narrow and thistly band of grass, forthistles she did not care.
"Good-night, slave."
They poled back to the island, and having fastened Pan up, were going tobed, when Bevis said he wanted the matchlock loaded with ball as hemeant to rise early to try for a heron. Mark fired it off, and in thestillness they heard the descending shot rattle among the trees. Thematchlock was loaded with ball, and Bevis set the clock of his mind towake at three. It was still early in the evening, but they had hadlittle or no rest lately, and fell asleep in an instant; they wereasleep long before the slave had crept in at her window and quietedSamson with broken biscuits.
The alarum of his mind awoke Bevis about the time he wished. He did notwake Mark, and wishing to go even more quietly than usual left Panfastened up; the spaniel gave a half-whine, but crouched as Bevis spokeand he recognised the potential anger in the tones of his voice. Fromthe stockade Bevis went along that side of the island where the weedswere, and passed the Calypso which they had left on that side theprevious evening. He went by the "blazed" trees leading to KangarooHill, then past the reed-grass where they had captured the slave, butsaw nothing. Thence he moved noiselessly up through the wood to themore elevated spot under the spruce firs where he thought he could seeover that
end of the island without being seen or heard.
There was nothing, the overthrown willow trunk lay still in the waterflush with the surface, and close to it there was a little ripple comingout from under a bush, which he supposed was caused by a water-ratmoving there. Till now he had been absorbed in what he was doing, butjust then, remembering the cones which hung at the tops of the tallfirs, he looked up and became conscious of the beauty of the morning,for it was more open there, and he could see a breadth of the sky.
The sun had not yet stood out from the orient, but his precedent lightshone through the translucent blue. Yet it was not blue, nor is thereany word, nor is a word possible to convey the feeling unless one couldbe built up of signs and symbols like those in the book of the magician,which glowed and burned to and fro the page. For the blue of theprecious sapphire is thick to it, the turquoise dull, these hardsurfaces are no more to be compared