Nat the Naturalist Part 43

Sun-birds, pittas, lovely starlings, kingfishers, and beautifully-tinted pigeons were in abundance. Bright little manakins of a vivid green were there, so feathered that they put me in mind of the rich orange c.o.c.k-of-the-rocks that Uncle d.i.c.k had brought over from Central America.

Sometimes we were shooting beside the lovely trickling stream where it gathered itself into pools to form tiny waterfalls, places where some birds seemed to love to come. At others, beneath some great flower-draped tree, where the sun-birds hovered and darted. But the great objects of our search, the birds of paradise, haunted the nut and berry bearing trees. Some were always to be found by a kind of palm that attracted the pigeons as well, these latter swallowing fruit that looked as big as their heads.

Here, to our intense delight, we shot the paradise oriole, a magnificent orange, yellow, and black bird, its head looking as if it was covered with a lovely orange plush.

One day we had made a longer excursion than usual, and had been so successful that we were about to turn back, having a long afternoon's work before us to preserve our specimens. We had penetrated right to the mountainous ridge, and finding the ground rise very rapidly we came to a standstill, when a peculiar cry up amongst the tree-shadowed rocks above us made us forget our fatigue, especially as Ebo was making signs.

The cry was so different to any that we had before heard that we felt that it must be some new bird, and full of eagerness set to work to stalk it.

All at once what seemed a flash of dark blue darted from a tree, and before gun could reach shoulder it was gone.

But Ebo had been on the watch, and away he crept amongst the rocks and trees, following what we now took to be a prize, till we saw him a quarter of a mile away holding up his spear as a signal.

We followed cautiously, and with a look of intelligence in his eyes he signed to my uncle to go one way towards a clump of tall palms, and to me to go in the other direction.

"Fire upwards," whispered my uncle, and we parted.

I knew from Ebo's ways that the bird must be in one of these trees, and with my eyes sweeping the great leaves in all directions I tried to make out the bird, but in vain, and I had advanced so near that I gave up all hope of seeing it, when suddenly from the other side there was a shot, then another, and feeling satisfied that my uncle had secured the prize I was completely taken off my guard, and stared with astonishment as a large bird, with tail quite a couple of feet long, swept by me towards the dense undergrowth of the lower ground, where it would have been in vain to hunt for it.

Just, however, as the bird was darting between the trees I raised my gun and made a quick snapshot at quite sixty yards' distance, and then called myself a stupid for not being more ready and for wasting a charge of powder and shot.

My uncle hailed me now.

"Any luck, Nat?" he cried, as he came up.

"No, uncle," I replied. "I made a flying shot, but it was too far-off."

"So were mine, Nat, but I fired on the chance of getting the bird. It was a bird of paradise different to any I have seen. We must come again. I never had a chance at it."

"But I did, uncle," I said dolefully, "and missed it."

"Where was it when you fired?"

"Down among those trees, uncle. I let it go too far."

"Why, you hit it, Nat! There's Ebo."

I looked, and to my intense delight there was our black companion holding up the bird in triumph. He had seen it fall when I shot, marked it down, and found it amongst the dense undergrowth, placing it before us with hardly a feather disarranged.

It was a splendid bird, the last we shot in New Guinea, and over three feet long, its tail being two and of a lovely bluish tint. If looked at from one side it was bronze, from the other green, just as the light fell, while from its sides sprung magnificent plumes of rich blue and green. They were not long, filmy plumes like those of the great bird of paradise, but short, each widening towards the end, and standing up like a couple of fans above the wings.

It was a feast to gaze upon so lovely an object of creation, and I felt more proud of having secured that specimen than of any bird I had shot before.

"Well, Nat the Naturalist," cried my uncle, when he had carefully hung the bird by its beak from a stick, "I think I did right in bringing you with me."

"I am glad you think so, uncle," I said.

"I mean it, my boy, for you have been invaluable to me. It was worth all the risk of coming to this savage place to get such a bird as that."

"There must be plenty more wonderful birds here, uncle," I said, "if we could stop in safety."

"I am sure there are, Nat, and there is nothing I should like better than to stay here. It is a regular naturalist's hunting-ground and full of treasures, if we dared thoroughly explore it."

"Just now, uncle," I said, "I feel as if I want to do nothing else but sit down and rest by a good dinner. Oh! I am so f.a.gged!"

"Come along, then," he said smiling, "and we will make straight for camp, and I dare say we can manage a good repast for your lords.h.i.+p.

Home, Ebo. Eat--drink--sleep."

"Eat--drink--sleep," said Ebo nodding, for he knew what those three words meant, and carefully carrying the treasures we had shot, tied at regular distances along a stick, he trudged on in advance towards our hut upon the sh.o.r.e.

CHAPTER FORTY ONE.

OUR TERRIBLE LOSSES.

We had only about three miles to go if we could have flown like birds; but the way lay in and out of rocks, with quite a little precipice to descend at times, so that the journey must have been double that length.

The hope of a good meal, however, made us trudge on, and after a few stops to rest I saw that we must now be nearing the sh.o.r.e, for the ground was much more level.

So different did it appear, though, that I hardly recognised some of it, and had it not been for Ebo I am sure we should have gone astray; but, savage like, he seemed to have an unerring instinct for finding his way back over ground he had been over before, and we had only to look back at him if we were in front for him to point out the way with the greatest of confidence.

We were trudging on in front, talking in a low tone about making another expedition into the mountainous part, in the hope of finding it, the higher we climbed, more free from risk of meeting natives, and we were now getting so near the sh.o.r.e that we could hear the beat of the waves upon a reef that lay off our hut, and sheltered the boat from being washed about, when all of a sudden, as we were traversing some low, scrubby bushes which were more th.o.r.n.y than was pleasant, Ebo suddenly struck us both on the shoulder, forcing us down amongst the leaves and twigs, and on looking sharply round we saw that he had dropped our splendid specimens, and, wild-eyed and excited, he was crouching too.

"Why, Ebo," began my uncle; but the black clapped his hand upon his mouth, and then pointed to the sh.o.r.e in front.

I felt my blood turn cold; for there, not fifty yards away, and dimly seen through the shade of leaves, was a party of about fifty New Guinea men, with a couple of dozen more in three canoes that were lying just outside the reef. They were a fierce-looking lot, armed with spears, axes, and clubs, and they were gesticulating and chattering fiercely about our boat.

I heard my uncle utter a groan, for it seemed as if the labours of all these months upon months of collecting were wasted, and that specimens, stores, arms, everything of value, would fall into the hands of these savages. He was perfectly calm directly after, and crouched there with his gun ready for a chance, should there be any necessity for its use; but he knew that it was useless to attempt to fight, all we could do was to save our lives.

After about half an hour's talk the savages embarked, taking our boat in tow behind one of their canoes, and we saw the bright water flash as the paddles beat regularly, and the men sent their craft along till they swept round the headland west of the bay and were gone.

"Oh, uncle!" I cried, as soon as we were safe.

"It is very hard, Nat, my boy," he said sadly; "but it might have been worse. We have our lives and a little ammunition; but the scoundrels have wrecked my expedition."

"And we have no boat, uncle."

"Nor anything else, Nat," he said cheerfully. "But we have plenty of pluck, my boy, and Ebo will help us to make a canoe to take us to the Moluccas, where I dare say I can get some merchant to fit us out again.

Well, Ebo," he cried, "all gone!"

"Man--kill--gone," repeated Ebo, shaking his spear angrily, and then he kept repeating the word Owe--boat, as we went down to the sh.o.r.e.

"Let's see if they have left anything in the hut, Nat," said my uncle.

"We must have food even if we are stripped."

We turned through the bushes and made our way into the little arbour-like spot beside the stream where Ebo had built our hut beneath a splendid tree, when, to our utter astonishment, we found that the savages had not seen our little home, but had caught sight of the boat, landed and carried it off, without attempting to look for its owners.

No one had been there since we left, that was evident; and pleased as we were, our delight was more than equalled by Ebo's, for laying down our specimens, this time more carefully, he refreshed himself with a dance before lighting a fire, where a capital meal was prepared, which we thankfully enjoyed as we thought of the benefits we received by having the forethought to carry everything out of the boat and placing it under cover for fear of rain.