King o' the Beach: A Tropic Tale

  CHAPTER ELEVEN.

  "What's that here mean as the doctor said, sir?" growled Bostock, whenthe last rustle of the growth made by their companion died out.

  "Till you see me again," said Carey.

  "Why couldn't he say it in plain English so as a man could understandhim?"

  "Don't know," said Carey, shortly. "Ask him when he comes back."

  Bostock chuckled and shook his head.

  "I'd a deal rather we'd kep' together, sir," he said; "but I dessay heknows best. So we've got to wait six hours--six hours' watch, and wemustn't go very far away. Well, it's a very pretty place, and thesand's soft, and I mean to have some of them cocoanuts by-and-by."

  "How are you going to get at them?" said Carey, looking up at the trees."I suppose I mustn't try to climb one."

  "Not likely."

  "Well, I don't believe you could."

  "Dunno," said the old fellow. "I'm thinking I can if I uses a sort o'stirrup."

  "What's that?"

  "I'll show you bime-by. Well, what shall we do?"

  "I'm going to get out on one of those coral rocks and have a good lookat the pools of water and the things in them. Perhaps collect someshells."

  "Why not?" said Bostock. "I've got the bucket yonder, and one of theaxes. We might collect a lot to take on board, and the oysters'll dofor soup."

  "Oh, you mean the pearl shells."

  "Yes; didn't you, sir?"

  "No, I meant any kind: but let's try for some of those big shells andopen them. We may find some pearls."

  "That's right, Master Carey, and when you're tired o' that look here."

  He gave the boy a knowing look, and took a roll of long stout line outof one pocket, a leaden weight and a cork stuck full of fish-hooks outof the other.

  "Fishing-tackle," cried Carey, eagerly.

  "That's right. When we've got some oysters for bait we'll get out onthe raft again, shove her off to the end of that bit of a canal, and tryafter a fish."

  "Oh, we're not going to be dull," cried Carey, eagerly.

  "Dull, not us; why, it'll be six hours before we know where we are.Come on."

  The old sailor went back to the nearest spot to the raft, carefullyexamined the rope, which was fastened round a block of coral, and thenwaded out to the rough construction and returned with the bucket and asmall axe.

  "Now then," he said; "you keep here where it's dry, and I'll go and seewhat I can find."

  He had little seeking to do, merely to wade amongst the fragments ofcoral and pick up pair after pair of the great molluscs, which he had nodifficulty in detaching; and before long he had a score, which hecarried to a spot on the rock which seemed suitable.

  "You feel what a weight they are," he said, and Carey took up a couplewhich were about the size of pudding plates.

  "They are heavy," cried Carey. "Why, you could soon collect a ton."

  "Dessay I could, sir; but do you know the best way to open 'em?"

  "Force a knife in between the shells."

  "And break the knife," said the old sailor, chuckling. "No, there's abetter way than that. Lay 'em out in the sun away from the water, andthey soon open their mouths and gape."

  "But then they die and go bad."

  "That's right, sir; they do, and smell lovely. That's the way to do itbest."

  "But you can't eat bad oysters."

  "Not likely, sir. I'm going to open these with the axe, and after we'vefelt whether they've got any pearls in 'em we shall put the soft fish inthe bucket of clean water and take 'em back for cooking. Here goes.I've seen how it's done before now."

  He took one of the oysters, laid it in a particular way upon the rock,gave it a smart blow over the muscular hinge, and then, taking advantageof the half-paralysed mollusc, he managed to get the edge of the axebetween the shells, wriggled it about a little, and then, mastering theopposition offered by the singular creature within, he wrenched the twoshells apart and used his knife to scrape out the flesh of the oyster,felt it well over and then thrust it into the bucket, which he halffilled with the clear water.

  "How many pearls?" said Carey.

  "Not one, sir."

  "I thought not. But I say, Bob, that's a precious nasty job."

  "Not it, sir. I don't mind. Done worse than this."

  "And the oyster looks horribly messy."

  "It won't when it's made into soup. But I say, nice shells, aren'tthey?"

  "Beautiful," said Carey, who was examining them. "So these are to cutup for mother-o'-pearl?"

  "Yes, sir, and to make shirt buttons."

  Bang! a wrench with the axe, and another fat oyster was cut out and theshells cast aside, before a fresh search was made for pearls, butwithout result.

  "Not much luck, Bob," said Carey.

  "What! Look at these two shells; and there goes another oyster for thepot. Reg'lar fat one. I do call it luck. Bet a penny we do betterwith the oysters and the tackle for the soup than the doctor does.Besides, we're going to ketch some fish."

  It was very pleasant sitting there in the sunshine, with thecocoanut-trees waving and bending in the soft breeze to his right, thecalm lagoon, dazzling in its brightness, to his left, and away beyond itthe silver spray of the breakers thundering softly upon the coral reef.Then, too, there was a submarine garden in every pool, and a luxury ofbeauty on all sides, even to his very feet. The only thing which seemedrepellent to Carey was the growing heap of pearl shells, and the workupon which Bostock was engaged, which the boy looked upon with disgust.

  "Bah!" he exclaimed at last; "you're a regular oyster butcher, Bob.It's horribly messy."

  "Don't you call things by ugly names, Master Carey," said the old man,stolidly. "Butchers aren't a nice trade sartinly, but think of theconsekenses. Think on it, my lad. Who's got a word to say agin thebutcher when there's a prime joint o' juicy roast beef on the table,with the brown fat and rich gravy. Ah! it seems sad, it do."

  "What, to kill the oxen?"

  "Nay, not it. They was made to be killed. I meant having all thatbeautiful stock o' coal on board, and the cook's stove ready, and nobeef to roast. There, you needn't look at my messy hands; I shall wash'em when I've done. You look at the insides of them big shells; they'rejust like to-morrow morning when you've got the watch on deck and thesun's just going to rise. I've seen the sky like that lots o' times,all silver and gold, and pale blue and grey. I say, seems a pity; we'vegot lots o' crockery ware in the stooard's place. Them shells wouldmake lovely plates, painted ten hunderd times better than those we'vegot aboard. It's just as if natur had made 'em o' purpose. Just thinkof it eating--or drinking: which do you call it?--soup, oyster soup, outof an oyster shell, enjoying the look o' the shell with your eyes.There, that's the last of 'em," he continued, as he wrenched open thelast pair of shells.

  "But I expected we were going to get some pearls as well, and out ofthese twenty great oysters you haven't got one."

  "Haven't I?" cried the old sailor, with a hearty chuckle. "Just youfeel here."

  "I'm not going to mess my hand with the nasty thing," said Carey, with alook of disgust.

  "Who wants you to, sir? Only wants the tip o' one finger. Here youare. Yes, and here, and here. I say, what do you think of that?" criedthe old fellow, reaching out the shell he held. "Just one finger andyou'll feel 'em, nubbly like."

  "Pearls!" cried Carey, excitedly, and, forgetting all about themessiness of the great wet shapeless-looking mollusc, he used bothfinger and thumb. "Here, cut them out."

  This was soon done, and the boy sat with his face flushed, gazing withdelight at three beautifully lustrous pearls lying in the palm of hishand glistening in the bright sunshine, one being of the size of a largepea, and the others of good-sized shot.

  "Beauties, aren't they, sir?"

  "Lovely," cried Carey, who, recovering as he was from a painful illness,was full of appreciation of everything he saw. "Yes, they are lovely;and only to think of it, if we had not found them
they would have lainthere and perhaps never have been seen."

  "Like enough, my lad. There must be millions and millions about here."

  "Yes," said the boy, with a sigh. "Here, put them in your pocket, Bob,"and he held them to his companion as if wanting to get them out ofsight.

  "What for? Aren't you got one?"

  "Yes, but you found them; they're yours."

  "Nay, we found 'em; and besides, I'm only a common sailor, and like yourservant. You keep 'em."

  "It wouldn't be fair, Bob," said Carey. "You have the best right tothem."

  "Tchah! They're no good to me. I should on'y sell 'em to somebody ifever we got away, for the price of a pound o' 'bacco as would go awayall in smoke. Once upon a time I should ha' took 'em home to my oldmother. Now I aren't got one, and you have. So you have 'em made intoa ring some day, with the big un in the middle and the little uns one oneach side."

  "Shall I, Bob?"

  "O' course. There. Now I shall just sink that bucket in the clear,cool water so as the soup stuff keeps good. There we are, and thosebits o' clean coral to keep 'em down. Now I washes my hands in thatlittle bit of a rock basin and they aren't a bit messy; dries 'em in thehot sand, and now what do you say to trying for a bit o' fish?"

  "Capital," cried Carey, excitedly.

  "On'y I tell you what; we'll tie one end of the line to the raft, sothat you can let go if we get hold of a big un. I'm not going to haveyou hauling and hurting your sore place."

  "That will be all right."

  "No, it won't, unless you promise you'll let go if it's a big un."

  "I promise," said Carey, "for I don't believe we shall catch any."

  "Well, there's something in that," said the old sailor, "for the numbero' times a man goes fishing and don't ketch nothing's a thing to thinkon."

  Bostock talked a great deal, but he was not like a gardener, who somehowcan never answer a question without stopping short; say, if he isdigging, driving the spade into the ground, resting one foot upon it,and resting his fist upon the handle. Bob Bostock's hands were alwaysbusy, and while he was chatting about the fish he was picking up a fewdamaged scraps of shelly oyster, laying them in a shell for bait, andthen preparing the line by tying on the lead and a good-sized hook.

  "Now then, my lad; ready?" he cried.

  "Oh, yes, I'm ready and waiting," replied the boy. "I say, doesn't itmake you feel in good spirits to be out here? I should like to run andshout."

  "Then you just won't, my lad. But it do seem jolly and comf'table like.I feel as if I could sit down and whistle for hours. Now then, don'tyou get that line tangled. I've laid it all in a hank ready to run out;and don't ram them hooks in your fingers, because they're hard to cutout. Now, you carry them and the shell o' bait and I'll carry you."

  "No, no; I'll take off my shoes and socks, and tuck up my trousers."

  "Tucking up wouldn't do. You'd have to take 'em off, and then you'd cutyour feet on the sharp coral. You're going to do what I sez."

  "I say, Bob, what an old tyrant you are! Just you wait till I get welland can do as I like."

  "All right, my lad; I'm waiting. Then you can do as you like, but youcan't yet. Here, you be off. None o' them games, or I shall have toshoot you."

  "No, I shall," said Carey.

  "Nay, that you won't," growled the old sailor. "I'm not going to standby while you fires that gun as'll kick and upset your shoulder again."

  "Bother my shoulder!" cried Carey, impatiently, and he leaned back togaze up at two beautiful grey and white gulls which for the last fewminutes had been sailing gracefully round them and coming nearer andnearer, watching the two strangers curiously the while.

  "They're after the oysters, Bob," said Carey.

  "Yes, smells 'em, or sees 'em. Birds have got wonderful eyes andnoses."

  "Beaks, Bob," said Carey, laughing.

  "Smellers, then, my lad. Well, they can't get at the soup meat in thebucket, and they only clean the shells, so we'll let 'em alone. Nowthen, up you come."

  The next minute Bostock was wading out to the raft with Carey in hisarms, after which he poled their clumsy craft out to the end of the twocoral ridges which formed the little canal.

  As soon as he had made fast, the hook was carefully baited, the linelaid in rings with one end fastened to a plank, and with a gentle swingthe lead thrown out into a clear spot, to fall with a splash in thesmooth water, forming rings which ever widened as they glided away.

  "I wonder whether there are any fish there," said Carey, and then hestarted in astonishment, for there was quite a little wave raised as,with a rush, a shoal of fish made for the bait.

  "Got him?" cried Bostock, as there was a tug at the line.

  "Yes--no--no--yes," panted Carey, and there was a heavy pull as a fishmade for the open water, its actions sending its companions flying outof the water, some even leaping out and falling back with a splash.

  Carey held on, but with a sudden quick action Bostock caught hold of theline behind the boy's hand.

  "Oh, Bob!" cried the lad, appealingly.

  "Too heavy for you alone, sir. 'Sides, you've only got one hand to workwith. You go on, sir; I'm on'y easing it for you, and you know youcouldn't haul him in yourself. That's the way; don't let him run. Nowthen, in with him, and think you're a three-handed man."

  The captive made some bold dashes for liberty, but in vain, and a minutehad not elapsed before it was lifted on to the raft, proving to be afish of four or five pounds' weight, in dazzlingly beautiful armour ofsilver and steel-like blue, one which needed handling carefully onaccount of an exceedingly sharp saw-like back fin, which was strokedcarefully down before Bostock extracted the hook.

  "Looks as if he ought to be good to eat, sir."

  "It's a beauty," cried Carey, excitedly.

  "I dunno," said Bostock, stolidly, as he rebaited the hook.

  "Nonsense; look at the silver and pearl and steel-blue on its sides."

  "Ah, but some of these furren fish are poisonous, sir."

  "I was thinking about its beauty," said Carey, impatiently.

  "Was you, sir? I was thinking about the frying-pan. He'd be all weshould want, but we'd better try for another in case the doctor thinksthis one not good to eat."

  "Oh, yes, try for some more. I wish Doctor Kingsmead were here, though,to help. I wonder where he is now."

  "Ay. Wonder how he's getting on, and what he has found. There, if thatisn't a tempting bait, don't know what is. Line all free?"

  "Yes."

  "Then off we go again," said Bostock, and once more the lead went flyingin a low curve over the glistening water, to fall with a gentle splash.

  There was a wave raised in the shallow directly, and in less time thanbefore, and ere the bait could have reached the bottom, it was seizedand the line ran out, to give Carey's arm a heavy jerk and elicit a cryof pain.

  "Hurt you much, my lad?" cried Bostock, as he made a snatch and caughtthe line.

  "Yes, rather," said the lad. "You're right, Bob; I'm not quite strongthere yet."

  "No wonder it gave you a nip, sir," cried the man, excitedly. "This isa regular ram_pay_ger. My word! look at him; he's going all over theplace."

  "Let the line run," cried Carey, excitedly, and quite forgetting thepain.

  "Nay, he aren't a whale, sir; but from the games he's playing he mightbe a shark four or five foot long. I'll tire him out though. I say,sir, you ought to be glad you aren't got hold; line reg'larly cuts intomy hand. Look at that now. I say, sir, we shan't want for something onthe table. Strikes me there hasn't been anyone fishing here lately."

  There was a grim smile on the old sailor's face, as he stood thereeasing the line a little, as the fish darted here and there in the mostvigorous way, and would have broken free had not the sailor's arms actedlike yielding springs.

  The playing of that fish lasted what seemed to be five minutes, and itsdarts and rushes were as vigorous as ever when all of a sudden it
gathered up its forces and made a rush into shallow water amongst thecoral, some of which bristled above the surface. Then they had a goodsight of its size and gleaming golden scales, for it leaped a good twofeet out of the water, came down with a heavy splash and jerk, and thenext minute Bostock was hauling in what was left of the line, fullyhalf, with lead and hook, having been borne away.

  "Oh--oh!" groaned Carey, giving utterance to that sound so full ofdisappointment peculiar to fishermen.

  "Ay, 'tis a pity, sir," said Bostock, "such a fine fish too. Reg'largolden-red."

  "Yes; what was it?"

  "Can't say, sir. I don't think," he added, with a grim smile, "that itwas a red herring."

  "But you should have let it run."

  "Didn't want it, sir; he took the bit in his teeth, and he has run."

  "I mean eased it and wearied it out."

  "Yes, sir, I s'pose so; but I aren't big at fishing. Wait a bit, andyou'll have your turn. How's your shoulder?"

  "Oh, that does not hurt now, but I do feel rather queer."

  "No wonder," said the old sailor, looking at the boy searchingly as heringed up the remainder of the fishing-line. "Let's get ashore."

  "Oh no. Try for another fish."

  "Can't, sir; he's taken away my lead sinker, and I don't think we couldketch one on the surface; besides, my line's too short."

  There was nothing to say to this, so the raft was unmoored again andpoled back to its old place with alacrity, made fast, the fish rolled upin some wet seaweed, and then Bostock turned with a grim smile to hisyoung companion.

  "Feel no better, sir," he said.

  "No, Bob; if anything, worse."

  "And it aren't your shoulder?"

  "No," sighed Carey; "I feel faint and sinking. I suppose it was fromthe shock of the pain."

  "I don't, sir," said the old fellow, gruffly. "I know what's the matterwith you."

  "What is it, then?" said Carey, rather anxiously.

  "You've got the eight bells complaint, sir."

  "What do you mean?" said Carey, suspiciously.

  "Dinner-time, sir; that's what's the matter with you."

  "Absurd. It can't be dinner-time yet."

  "Can't it, sir? Doctor's been gone hours. Just you look up at thesun."

  It was undoubtedly beyond its highest point, and as he gradually graspedthe truth of his companion's words, though feeling no better, Carey'sdespondency passed away, and he became cheerful.

  Soon after, as the pair sat together in the shade of the cocoanut grove,eating the lunch they had brought with the greatest of enjoyment, theweary symptoms passed rapidly away, and the boy was himself again.

  "I say, Bob," he said, "we must have one of those cocoanuts. Couldn'tyou knock one down by throwing the hatchet?"

  "P'raps it would be throwing the hatchet, sir, if I said I could," saidthe old fellow, with a grim smile. "But I'll try soon. I say, I wonderhow the doctor's getting on."

  "So do I. I wish he were here to have some lunch."

  Carey had his wish a few minutes later, for there was a loud hail fromthe open, and Carey replied to it and hurried out from the shade wherethey were hidden, to find the doctor half-way down to the raft with hisgun over his shoulder and a brace of huge crowned pigeons hanging fromthe barrel by their tied-together legs.