The Girl Crusoes Part 18

"You little silly-billy!" cried Tommy one day, after an hour's patient instruction. "What's the good of you for a pet? There! Perch on my shoulder, and don't make such an idiotic noise, for goodness' sake."

Tommy at last gave up the attempt in despair; but she became very fond of the bird, and declared that when they were rescued she would certainly take it home with her.

It was wonderful how the hope of rescue never died. When each day ended without the sight of the longed-for vessel, they would say, "Never mind, perhaps it will come to-morrow." And when to-morrow had the same disappointment, there was still to-morrow. So they lived from day to day, veering from hope to despondency, and from despondency to hope again.

They had almost forgotten Tommy's fright. Surely, they thought, they must have seen some one by this time if the island was inhabited. Yet there was the same misgiving, the same disinclination to cross the ridge. Elizabeth laughed at herself, and more than once said she really must break through her reluctance. But it ended there. Her heart failed her when it came to the point.

Easy though their life was, it had its discomforts. The breadfruit gave out, and having found no more oranges or bananas, they grew very tired of a diet of fish and cocoanuts. They had seen other fruits, and shrubs bearing berries that looked very enticing, but the fear of poison deterred them from trying anything that they did not know.

The want of a change of clothes, too, was a trouble to them, and their boots had become unwearable. They had often been soaked in sea-water, and then, drying in the sun, had cracked and become worse than useless.

They got into the habit of going barefoot, except when they set out for a long walk. In the hut, and when walking on the gra.s.s, they were comfortable enough, but on rough ground they suffered a good deal at first. In course of time, however, helped by frequent soaking in sea-water, their feet became hardened, and they felt no inconvenience in going about unshod.

They had more than once noticed some very small bees, hardly larger than houseflies, flitting among the flowers. One day Elizabeth suggested that they should try to find out whether these Polynesian bees made honey, and if so, where it was. Tommy hailed the suggestion, and started at once to track the bees to their nests. For a long time she had no success. Only after many days did she, almost by accident, light upon a bees'-nest in a hole in the trunk of a tree. Informing her sisters of the discovery, she proposed that they should smoke the bees out.

They kindled a small fire at the base of the tree, immediately beneath the hole. When they thought they had allowed plenty of time for the smoke to stupefy the bees, they put on their macintoshes, pulling the hoods well down over their heads, and prepared to rifle the hole. It was so small that a hand could scarcely pa.s.s through it, and Mary suggested that they should enlarge it, so that they might see what they were doing. Accordingly they stripped off the bark round the hole, until it was much more capacious. Unluckily, the inrush of fresh air appeared to revive the little inhabitants, which darted out with fierce buzzings, putting the robbers to utter rout. They ran off with their heads down, waving their arms wildly to beat off the furious insects.

Tommy got off scot free, but Elizabeth and Mary were stung slightly, and but for the smoking, which had not been wholly ineffectual, the bees would probably have hurt them severely.

"We won't be beaten by a parcel of silly bees," said Tommy, as they went home. "You aren't much hurt, are you?"

"I feel a burning spot in my cheek," said Elizabeth.

"And one of my fingers is swelling," added Mary.

"As we haven't any ointment, or anything, you'll just have to get well by yourselves," remarked Tommy. "You'll have another try, won't you?"

"Oh, yes! We'll give them a larger dose next time," said Elizabeth.

"I think we ought to have some reward for our enterprise."

A day or two afterwards they visited the hole again. By means of a larger fire, fed with leaves that gave off a very pungent smoke, they managed to stupefy the bees thoroughly. When they examined the hole they were surprised to find, not large combs, as in an English hive, but a collection of bags of brown wax, about the size of a walnut, united in a regular ma.s.s.

"Fancy bees having foreign ways!" said Tommy. "I should have thought that bees were the same all the world over."

"I don't see why bees shouldn't be different, like people," said Mary.

"They're very intelligent."

The others laughed at this curious reason for differences of habit.

The honey, they found, was more fluid than they were accustomed to in England, and in taste and smell it was slightly scented. They took a good quant.i.ty home with them, but it did not go very well with fish, and even with cocoanuts it was a doubtful joy.

"If we only had some breadfruit, or even bananas, we should like it better," said Mary.

"We can only get those by going across the ridge again," said Elizabeth. "Shall we venture?"

"I won't," said Tommy decidedly. "I'm not going to be scared out of my wits for anybody."

"I'll go with you, Bess," said Mary, after a little hesitation. "It really is silly to be afraid of nothing."

But, as it turned out, the first of the three to brave the peril was, after all, Tommy herself.

CHAPTER XIII

LOST

That night, for the first time in their residence on the island, the girls were awakened by a patter of rain. Only once before had rain fallen, and that was during the tornado. Now the sound of it upon the thatch of the hut was very slight, but the girls slept so lightly that a whisper was almost enough to disturb them.

"I hope we are not in for another smash up," said Elizabeth, finding that her sisters were both awake.

"There's no wind at present," returned Mary. "Rain alone won't hurt us. I expect it's the rainy season beginning, and we shall have weeks of it."

"How disgusting!" exclaimed Tommy. "I always hated having to stay indoors, and it will be worse than ever here, with no cosy fire and nice story-book. What's the time, Bess?"

She leant over towards Elizabeth, who lay next to her, and showed a light with her match-lighter. Elizabeth looked at her watch, which she never forgot to wind.

"It's about four o'clock," she said.

"Time for another snooze before daylight," said Tommy, snuggling down again into her wraps. In a minute or two she was fast asleep.

The other girls remained wide awake, and talked quietly together.

"I wish we knew our whereabouts better," said Elizabeth. "If we only knew what those islands are that we have seen in the distance, we might perhaps row to one of them and find friends."

"Yes; of course there are missionaries," said Mary. "Don't you remember Uncle Ben told us of a friend of his who was returning to his station? What was his name, Bess?"

"I forget. We can't venture across the sea, can we?"

"Oh, no! There are thousands of islands, and I believe some have never been visited by white people at all. We might land among cannibals!"

"We are certainly better off here. I can't believe there are any people on this island, in spite of Tommy, or why haven't we seen something of them? We'll go to the ridge after breakfast, as we said, and settle the matter once for all."

"Supposing there _are_ people?" said Mary.

"As I said before, I think we ought to try and make friends with them, and if they seem inclined to be unfriendly, perhaps we could make them afraid of us. Tommy's match-lighter would startle them, wouldn't it?"

"It might, but I don't like to think of having to rely on that sort of thing for our safety. They would soon find out our real weakness, and then---- Oh! I do hope we shall not see anybody. We should be so much more uncomfortable."

"Tommy's birthday is somewhere about now. We can't be quite sure of the date, because we didn't begin to cut notches at once; but we should be right within a day or two. The present she would like best would be some oranges from beyond the ridge, and certain news that the island is uninhabited."

"How strange it seems to hope that there are no human beings near us!

Do you know, Bess, I think the people of these islands must be very melancholy."

"Why should you think that? I have always supposed them to be a happy, light-hearted folk, with not a care in the world."

"But they have nothing to do. Their food grows for them without work, and they don't need many clothes. They've no books to read, no amus.e.m.e.nts----"

"How do you know that?"

"Well, what amus.e.m.e.nts can they have? Isn't it only civilized people who play games?"