Kitabı oku: «The Ocean Wireless Boys on the Pacific», sayfa 6
CHAPTER XXI. – A MEMORABLE NIGHT
“It’s very peculiar that Donald should have undergone such a sudden change of front,” said Jack later that evening, following the boy’s strange way of receiving Mr. Jukes’ proposal. “He certainly appeared to want to go along the worst way a few hours ago.”
“I can’t help thinking that he has been up to some mischief,” replied Billy. “He’s got himself a new outfit somewhere and I saw him paying his hotel bill.”
“Well, at any rate that’s a laudable act,” laughed Jack. “After all, we are not much concerned with anything that he does now.”
“No, that’s true. By-the-way, how is that wireless idea of yours for a portable set getting along?”
“First rate; I’ve got it all worked out on paper and have cut the weight down to fifty pounds without the aerials.”
“Good for you. I’ve got a notion we can make a lot of use of it.”
“At any rate it won’t be much of an extra load and it might get us out of a tight place, who can tell?”
After some further talk the boys decided to turn in, as they had to be up early the next day. It was a hot, close night when the heavens seemed to be pressed down like a brazen lid on a pot. Far off, flashes of lightning illuminated the distant sky toward the mountains where, for all they knew, the millionaire’s abducted brother might be concealed.
“Phew! It’s warm,” exclaimed Jack. “I guess I’ll take a bath before I turn in.”
The boys’ bedroom was typical of hotels in that part of the world. Its floor was bare except for a strip of matting. There were two beds in it, hung with mosquito netting curtains, and a tiny wash basin and jug. An old-fashioned bell-pull hung near one of the beds and Jack decided to give it a tug and order a bath, when one of the native “bell boys” appeared. After a long interval, one of the barefooted functionaries of the hotel arrived. Jack made his wants known and the man hurried off again without a word.
“That’s odd,” commented Jack, “but I guess he’s gone to fill it and will be back directly to say it’s ready.”
They waited for some time before a soft patter of bare feet was heard in the hall and two of the native servants entered carrying between them a barrel. Another followed with a sort of dipper made out of a cocoanut.
The boys stared in amazement as the men advanced to the middle of the room and solemnly set down the barrel and then stood about waiting with an expectant look on their faces.
“What in the world is all this?” demanded the amazed Jack.
“Him your bath, boss,” came the answer, “you gettee in him ballel, we washee you.”
“I’ll be jiggered if you do,” exclaimed Jack. “Get out of here,” and the men hurried off, first staring at the boy as if they thought he was mad. “Well, a New Guinea bath certainly accounts for the appearance of some of the natives I’ve seen about,” he laughed, as soon as they had left. “But I suppose I must make the best of it.”
So Jack’s bath consisted of dipping water out of the tub and pouring it over himself, trying not to flood the room. But apparently he did so, for soon a loud and indignant voice was heard at the door.
“Who is there?” demanded the boys.
“Sapristi! Eet is I. Zee landlord. You flood zee place. Zee water drip on me.”
“Sorry,” sang out Jack, cheerfully, “but I’m doing the best I can. You see, I’m not used to the customs of the country yet. I don’t understand your way of bathing.”
“What do you mean zee bathing?”
“I’m trying to get a bath in this barrel that you sent me up.”
“Taking a bath!” shouted the landlord in a startled voice, “a bath at zees time of zee night. You must be crazee. Anyhow, you drop no more of zee water on me. I sleep zee room undaire.”
“Well, he doesn’t look as if a little water would hurt him,” commented Billy, as the landlord’s footsteps retreated down the passage.
The boys were soon in bed, but not to sleep. Their exciting day amid new scenes had rendered them wakeful and then, too, the beds of the Hotel Bomobori were not couches of roses. The sheets and pillows smelled abominably of camphor and mildew, and the latter appeared to have been, or so Billy declared, stuffed with corn cobs. The same applied to the mattresses. But as if this was not enough, there came a sudden shrill cry from somewhere in the room:
“Beck-ee! Beck-ee! Beck-ee!”
“What in the nation was that?” cried Billy, considerably startled.
“Somebody calling for 'Becky,’” laughed Jack, “but Rebecca won’t answer. Go to sleep, Billy, if you can, on these miserable beds. It must be some insect.”
“I hope it isn’t anything venomous,” muttered Raynor.
“Better keep your curtains close drawn and then it can’t get at you, anyhow,” advised Jack.
“But then it shuts out all the air and I almost suffocate,” complained Billy.
“Wow!” he yelled a moment later, in a tone that roused Jack, who was almost asleep.
“What’s the matter, Billy?” he asked anxiously.
“Ugh, something soft with legs on it just ran over my face,” cried Raynor. “For goodness’ sake get up and get a light. It may be something that bites or stings.”
Jack lost no time in getting hurriedly out of his bed, and as he shook the curtains something was dislodged from them and went whirring and banging round the room, blundering heavily against the ceiling.
“What the dickens – !” exclaimed the boy, considerably startled, when another cry from Billy split the air.
“Ouch, for the love of Mike. A light, quick. Something just nipped my toe.”
Jack fumbled for the matches; but, as is usual in such cases, he located every object in the room before he found them, finally colliding with the washstand and sending it with a crash to the ground floor. An instant later there was the noise of slamming doors below and the landlord came racing up the stairs to the boys’ room.
“Ciel! What is zee mattaire zees time? First you try drown me, zen you make zee beeg crash like zee tonnaire!”
“It’s all the fault of your old hotel,” exclaimed Jack angrily, going to the door. “This room is full of some kind of animals. It’s a regular menagerie.”
He opened the door and the landlord, with a curious-looking night-light, composed of a wick floating in a tumbler full of some strong-smelling oil that gave out a powerful odor of sandal wood, came inside. Instantly there was a mighty scuffling and several ugly looking lizards darted off across the floor and a huge bat (no doubt the creature that had vacated Jack’s bed-curtains with such a prodigious flapping) went soaring out through the open lattice-work doors which led out on the verandah, but which the boys had left open for coolness. There were also a dozen other specimens of unclassified insects, both winged and legged, which went scuttling off at the sight of the light. Then the landlord’s eye fell on the open doors.
“Sacre!” he cried, “nevaire did I such a foolishness see.”
“What’s the matter now?” demanded Jack. “The only foolishness I can see is in our coming to this hotel.”
The landlord shrugged his shoulders as if in despair.
“What else do you expect but zee bat, zee scorpion, zee centipede, zee leezard, zee chigre, zee – ”
“What makes a noise like 'becky, becky, becky’?” asked Billy, breaking in on the catalogue.
“Ah! Zee biting leezard 'ee do zat.”
“Then that fellow that nipped my toe and the one that sang out for Rebecca must be the same individual,” cried Billy indignantly, “but go on with your catalogue.”
The landlord looked puzzled.
“Zere was zee cat and zee dog 'ere, too?” he demanded.
“No, I said the catalogue. The list of insects you were rattling off.”
“Oh, well, I was going to say to you not to leave zee porch doors open in zee night. And also nevaire go to bed wizout lighting one of zees lights.” He tapped the peculiar-smelling night-light he held. “See, here eez one 'ere on zees table.”
“Well, you can’t blame us for not knowing what it was,” protested Jack, as he lighted it. “I thought it was some peculiar kind of drink. It’s the first time I ever saw light served in a tumbler.”
“Zee light veree good,” said the landlord, as he was leaving the room. “Zee animal no like zee light, also they no like zee smell.”
“I don’t blame them,” said Jack, after the man had left, and the odd tumbler lamp was burning with a sputtering, smoking flame, “especially the smell part.”
“Anyhow, anything is better than sharing your bed with you-don’t-know-what creepy-crawly things,” declared Raynor.
“Yes, and lizards that go round hollering girls’ names,” agreed Jack. “I fancy we’ll sleep better now. But, after all, we’ve got to get used to it all for we may meet worse in the jungle.”
CHAPTER XXII. – INTO THE JUNGLE
The next day was busily spent by the boys. Jack had his portable wireless to assemble. Raynor was assigned as “chief of baggage,” and Captain Sparhawk and Mr. Jukes, with Muldoon, who spoke the Papuan dialect after a fashion, occupied the time rounding up the native bearers and finding a suitable “head man.” The latter was very important to the success of the expedition, both to keep the other natives up to their work and to find trails and, if necessary, act as interpreter. Through the good offices of Jabez Hook, a “smart Yankee” who ran a “general store” at Bomobori, and was a warm friend of Captain Sparhawk’s, they finally found just the man they wanted. He was a tall, up-right Papuan with an exceptionally intelligent face, who spoke fair English, knew the country thoroughly and appeared about thirty years old. Salloo, as he called himself, agreed to have everything in readiness for a start into the interior by the next morning. He held out hopes that from some of the interior tribes they would get news of the lost ones, for among the natives news travels fast, and if ‘Bully’ Broom had conveyed prisoners into the inland some of the tribesmen would be sure to know about it.
When Jack returned from the Sea Gypsy, where he had set up his apparatus, he reported that all was well on board and everything going forward smoothly under the command of the first officer. Thurman appeared to be delighted with his chance to vindicate himself, but acting under Mr. Jukes’ advice, it had been deemed prudent to refuse him shore liberty till the party returned. Thurman did not seem to resent this, and told Jack that after all he had gone through, a “soft berth” and good meals on the yacht appealed to him. He had seen enough of the tropics, so he declared, to have no especial desire to go ashore at Bomobori.
It was not till eleven o’clock that night that they turned in. But when they did so it was with a satisfied feeling that every detail had been attended to. Not the least satisfactory result of the day had been Jack’s achievement of perfecting the portable wireless which would keep them at all times in touch with the yacht.
The next morning dawned bright and clear. The boys were up before any of the rest of the party, dressed in khaki suits, sun helmets and stout leggings, for much of the way would lie through ragged bush. Each lad carried a water canteen, a pocket filter, compass, knife, and wore a service revolver attached to a cartridge belt. In these “uniforms” they looked very business-like, and capable of giving a good account of themselves in any emergency. Soon after the other members of the party appeared somewhat similarly attired. Mr. Jukes’ pockets bulged with boxes of dyspepsia pills, and Muldoon wore his sailor uniform with the addition of leggings and a sun helmet.
“Shure I look like a sea soldier no liss,” was the way he summed up his appearance, and the boys couldn’t help agreeing with him.
While they were at breakfast, Salloo and his “bearers” presented themselves.
Salloo greeted them with a low “salaam,” and volunteered the information that:
“Him welly good day for makum start. Go many miles. Good trail for first part of journey.”
“Well, the further we go, the quicker we’ll get back,” commented Muldoon in true Irish style.
At eight o’clock they were off. Nobody in the town knew the true object of their expedition, but supposed they were off on a hunt for entomological specimens, for New Guinea swarms with rare forms of insect life and many intrepid collectors have found it a happy hunting ground, some of them paying for their devotion to science with their lives.
At first the question of traveling on horse-back had been mooted. But Salloo promptly vetoed this. The country was too rough and thickly grown to make horse-back travel feasible for more than a few miles, he declared. They might have used the river, but it was only navigable for a short distance when the swift current and the shoals made it dangerous for up-stream travel. Natives coming down it always abandoned their dugouts, which were simply hollow trees, at Bomobori, and went back to their villages on foot.
The town was soon left behind and they struck into a trail which was broad and well trodden. On all sides were dense groves of tropical vegetation, towering palms, spreading mangoes laden with golden fruit, that ever-present banana and fragrant guava and lemon trees. From the tall lance-wood and cotton trees great creepers and lianas, looking like serpents, twined and coiled. There was a moist, steaming heat in the air.
“It’s just like being in a big conservatory at home,” said Jack, and indeed the air had just the odor and closeness of a glass-house.
“This is fever territory,” declared Mr. Jukes, administering a large dose of quinine to himself. “There is to be no sleeping on the ground, remember.”
“I guess not, after the experience we had in our room at the hotel last night,” said Raynor, and amidst much laughter he narrated the details of their uncomfortable night.
As they pushed onward, there came from the river, which glinted like molten lead in the sunshine at their left, a long-drawn cry which startled all the white members of the expedition. It resembled the human voice and appeared to be the appeal of someone in agony.
“Shure there’s some poor soul in throuble over yonder forninst the river,” declared Muldoon, and before any one could stop him he had left the trail and was making for the water.
“Hi you white man, you comee back,” cried Salloo.
But he was too late. Hardly had Muldoon left the trail than he sank up to his knees in black, oozy mud which held him like liquid glue.
His struggles only made matters worse, and soon he was up to his knees in the evil-smelling, glutinous mass which bubbled about him as it sucked him down.
“Help! Murther! Shure, O’im kilt intirely!” cried the frightened man, waving his arms frantically.
CHAPTER XXIII. – A DANGEROUS TREE
All this time, from the river, came the same weird cries that had mystified them. What with these cries and Muldoon’s lusty yells for help, had there been an enemy within a mile they must have heard them, but luckily they were in a territory known to be peaceable, although Salloo was not quite so sure of some of the tribes who had a bad reputation as “head hunters.”
“He’s stuck in the mud!” exclaimed Jack, and was starting forward to Muldoon’s assistance when Salloo grabbed his arm.
“No go,” he warned, “him mud velly bad. Make drown in mud plitty quick no get helpee.”
The native began making his way by a circuitous route toward the luckless Muldoon. In his hand he had a long rope. He leaped from tuft to tuft of the hummocks that appeared above the black soil. As soon as he got close enough to Muldoon he threw the struggling boatswain the end of the line, which Muldoon had presence of mind enough to place under his arm-pits. Then Salloo skipped nimbly back to the trail and all laying hold with a will they soon hauled Muldoon out of his disagreeable predicament, although he was a sorry sight to look at.
“But faith,” he exclaimed, “it’s glad enough I am to know O’im not dead intirely. A little mud will soon dry and clean off, begob.”
“Tropical places are full of just such treacherous swamps,” declared Captain Sparhawk. “It will be well for all of us to be very careful and not leave the trail except by Salloo’s advice.”
But now the strange wailing sound which they had for the moment forgotten in the excitement of Muldoon’s rescue again startled them. The cause of it was quickly explained by Salloo.
“Him dugong, allee samee sea-cow,” he said.
“Oh, I know now – like the manitou they have in Florida,” cried Jack.
“Me no know 'bout man or two,” said Salloo, “but him big an’mul. Live in river. Makee noise like heap cryee allee timee.”
“It sounds as if somebody was being murdered,” commented Raynor. “However, I guess we’re not the first people to be scared by the dinner-gong, or whatever you call it.”
The halt for the noon-day meal was made in a pleasant grove of tropical trees which stood on safe rising ground to one side of the trail. All the white members of the party were glad enough of the chance to take a rest, but the wiry natives appeared to be perfectly fresh and strong as when they set out, despite their heavy burdens. While the natives began cooking their rice and salted fish, with a sort of curry sauce, Salloo set about making a fire for the whites. With marvelous dexterity he twirled a stick between his outspread hands against some dry tinder and soon had a good blaze going. The boys scattered to get wood, of which they soon had a sufficient quantity. Then, determined to make the most of their halt, they flung themselves down under a peculiarly fine tree with wide, dark green leaves, glossy as polished leather.
They were chatting about the incidents of the trip so far when Jack all at once felt something strike him on the arm. His first impression was that it was a stone. But on looking at the place where he had been struck he saw that the sleeve of his shirt, for he had laid aside his khaki coat, had been ripped in parallel lines as if a curry comb, with sharp teeth, had been drawn down it. He felt a sharp pain moreover, and then he saw blood on his arm.
Billy had sprung up in alarm at his sharp exclamation of pain, and was peering into the brush in the dread of seeing savage faces peering at them. His shout of alarm brought them all, including Salloo, on the run to Jack’s side. The boy explained what had occurred and the faces of the whites grew grave. If they were attacked at this early stage of the journey it augured ill for the remainder of their adventure.
But Salloo speedily solved the mystery. Lying on the ground beside Jack was a green, oval-shaped ball, about the size of those projectiles that one sees stacked by memorial cannons in our country. But this missile was covered with sharp spikes like the spines of a hedgehog. Salloo pointed up into the beautiful tree under which they had cast themselves down to rest.
“Nobody throw him,” he explained, “him big fruit, some callum Durion nut. You comee way from there. One hittee you headee your blains getee knocked out.”
“They deserve to be for getting up a scare like that,” laughed Jack, who, like Billy, stepped hastily from under the dangerous tree. “It seems to be a pretty good idea in this country to be always on the look out. Even nature seems to have it in for you.”
Jack’s arm was doctored by Captain Sparhawk, for it was quite painful, but luckily the spines of the durion, sometimes called the Jack fruit, are not poisonous and it was soon all right again. But during the noon-day meal, which was then ready, when they heard the crashing of nut after nut from the durion tree, both boys felt they had had a very lucky escape from having their skulls fractured.
“Be jabers,” commented Muldoon, “shure o’ive been in a hurricane where the blocks and tackle that was ripped from aloft made yez skip around loively to dodge thim, but this is the first toime thot iver I heard of a three throwing things at yez as if ye was a nigger dodger at a fair.”
“You’ll discover stranger things than that, Muldoon, before we have been very long in New Guinea,” said Captain Sparhawk.
“Faith, so long as they’re not snakes, oi dunno thot I care much,” said the Irishman. “Begob, o’im thinking that St. Pathrick would be a good man to have along in a counthry where the craturs are. Wun wave uv his sthick and away they’d all go, bad luck to thim.”
