"Suppose the blacks see the smoke of the fire?" said Jack, as they piled up the smaller twigs and leaves over the potatoes, and Ned brought out his box of matches.
"I can't suppose anything, sir, only that we must eat. If they do come on for a fair fight, I'm ready. Fight I will for these 'taters, come what may."
The leaves and twigs caught readily, and the smoke began to curl up in the clear sunny air, as bigger and bigger pieces of wood were thrown on.
Then as they went to the foot of the trees for more of that which lay in abundance, they glanced in all directions, but all was silent and solitary, with the beautifully-shaped mountain curving up above them, and a faint mist as of heat just visible in transparent wreaths above its summit.
"Don't let's take too much, Mr Jack--only a little at a time, so as to have to come again and again."
"Why not take as much as we can carry now?"
"Because if we do we can't put it all on at once, and we only want a nice gentle fire, and to keep on mending it till there are plenty of ashes."
"Well, we need not put it all on if we've got it there."
"But we must have something to do, sir."
"Well, lie down and rest till the potatoes are done."
"You don't know what you're talking about, sir. You can't think of what agony it will be. They must have half-an-hour, and it will seem like a week. You take my advice, sir. I'm sure it's right."
"Very well," said Jack, and they kept on going to and fro, breaking enough to keep on feeding the fire, and trying hard not to think about what was cooking, as they still piled on the twigs and branches of dead wood, Ned busying himself in breaking them up, far more than was necessary in his desperate determination not to be tempted to draw out a single tuber before they were done.
"I know what 'taters are, sir," he said between his teeth, "and as bad as can be really raw, but the gloriousest things as ever were for a hungry man when he has got nothing else. But what a pity it is! If we'd had our guns we could soon have brought down a skewerful or two of those green and scarlet parrots to roast, and--Oh, don't talk about it.
Makes my mouth water horribly."
"Think they're done now, Ned?" said Jack, after three or four journeys to and fro.
"No, sir, nor yet half. The sand underneath has to get hot. I tell you what, we'll dig up some more and put them in the hot ashes after these are done, to cook and take away with us. They'll do all right while we're eating our dinner."
"Very well," said Jack, as he tried hard to curb his impatience, "but it's terrible, this waiting."
"Try not to think about it, please, sir. There, let's make up the fire once more, and then go and dig."
The wood was fetched and thrown on, both standing a little back afterward, and having a hard struggle to keep from raking out two or three of the potatoes to try if they were done, but they mastered themselves bravely, and hurried to the spot where they had dug before, to find it taken possession of by a larger and thicker snake than the one that had been killed. It was coiled up on the dry sand which they had cleared of leaves, and rose up menacingly at their approach.
"What shall we do--go somewhere else?" said Jack.
"No, sir, that we won't," cried Ned fiercely. "If that long eely thing chooses to play dog in the manger over the potatoes, it must take the consequences. I'll soon finish him. Think he's poisonous?"
"I feel sure of it, Ned," said Jack anxiously. "Look at the swollen poison glands."
"That settles it. Seems to me like a duty to kill poisonous things. I know what it is to be poisoned, sir."
He gave his shoulder a twist, and advanced toward the serpent with his spear-handle ready.
"You keep back, sir, and let me have room to swing my spear round."
"No; I want to kill this one, Ned."
"Better not, sir. It's risky. You might miss."
"You be ready to strike him if I do."
"Very well then, sir; only be careful. A good swish round will do it, but snakes are quick as lightning, and we've had trouble enough without you getting bitten."
The snake rose higher, and prepared to strike as Jack advanced, holding his spear in both hands, and waiting his opportunity, he brought it round with all his force, but the end passed, through his miscalculation of the distance, a couple of inches short of the reptile's head, and before the lad could recover himself to make another blow, the creature struck back, and would have fastened upon him but for Ned's quick interposition of his own spear-handle, against which the serpent struck instead.
The next moment Ned struck again, full on the creature's back, and it was helpless now for attack, writhing in amongst the growth till Jack obtained another fine cut at it, and the battle was at an end.
Ned picked it, up upon the end of his spear.
"They say that things are good if roasted, sir. What do you say--shall we cook him?"
"Ugh! No. Throw the horrible thing away."
"Yes, sir; off it goes. One wants another day's starving to eat roast snake."
He sent the nearly dead creature whirling through the air with a sudden jerk of his spear-handle, and then turned to Jack.
"Now, sir," he said, "as quick as you can, and then--"
He did not finish his sentence, but threw himself upon his knees again.
Jack followed his example, and for about ten minutes they busied themselves getting another load, and then ran to the fireside and emptied all they had into a heap.
"Now then," cried Ned; "but be careful, sir; they'll be horribly hot."
Jack said nothing, but looked on while his companion thrust the still burning wood aside with his spear, then swept off the thick bed of glowing embers, and lastly the hot sand, before turning the potatoes out into a heap on the other side, and spreading them to cool.
"Let 'em be, sir, till we've charged the oven again," cried Ned, and the fight now was harder than ever as they began to throw the fresh batch into the hot pit. But it was done, and the sand swept over them. The glowing embers followed, the wood was piled on, to begin crackling and blazing, and then, and then only, did they fall to.
Only a meal of little hot roasted potatoes, without butter, pepper, or salt, but no banquet of the choicest luxuries could have tasted half so good. They were done to a turn, and though very small, of the most desirable flavour, and satisfying to a degree.
"Try another, sir, try another," Ned kept on saying; but Jack needed no urging, and as he sat there eating one after another, the sun seemed to be less hot, the place around more beautiful, the shore less distant, and the possibility of their reaching the yacht that night more and more of a certainty. But that certainty began to grow into doubt when, well satisfied by their meal, the pair lay back to rest a little before making a fresh start.
"Must give the second batch time to get well done, sir, and to cool a bit, before we toddle, and then we ought to be on the look-out for water. A good drink wouldn't come amiss."
"No," replied Jack slowly; "but hadn't we better get some more wood to put on? The fire's getting very low."
"No, sir, it's just right. There's a good heap of embers now, and by the time the wood's all burned the potatoes will be about done. Think any one planted them here first?"
"I should say they were planted by the captain who left the pigs."
"Then I say he ought to have a monument, sir, for it was the finest thing he ever did in his life--much finer than anything I shall ever do.
My, how different everything looks after you've had a good feed!"
Jack made no reply to that, but said, a minute or so later--
"Think the savages have seen our fire, Ned?"