Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. The Coral Island: A Tale of the Pacific Ocean by R. M. Ballantyne (the lemonade war series txt) 📖
- Author: R. M. Ballantyne
Book online «The Coral Island: A Tale of the Pacific Ocean by R. M. Ballantyne (the lemonade war series txt) 📖». Author R. M. Ballantyne
The diameter of the island seemed to be about ten miles, and, as it was almost circular in form, its circumference must have been thirty miles;—perhaps a little more, if allowance be made for the numerous bays and indentations of the shore. The entire island was belted by a beach of pure white sand, on which laved the gentle ripples of the lagoon. We now also observed that the coral reef completely encircled the island; but it varied its distance from it here and there, in some places being a mile from the beach, in others, a few hundred yards, but the average distance was half a mile. The reef lay very low, and the spray of the surf broke quite over it in many places. This surf never ceased its roar, for, however calm the weather might be, there is always a gentle swaying motion in the great Pacific, which, although scarce noticeable out at sea, reaches the shore at last in a huge billow. The water within the lagoon, as before said, was perfectly still. There were three narrow openings in the reef; one opposite each end of the valley which I have described as crossing the island; the other opposite our own valley, which we afterwards named the Valley of the Wreck. At each of these openings the reef rose into two small green islets, covered with bushes and having one or two cocoa-nut palms on each. These islets were very singular, and appeared as if planted expressly for the purpose of marking the channel into the lagoon. Our captain was making for one of these openings the day we were wrecked, and would have reached it too, I doubt not, had not the rudder been torn away. Within the lagoon were several pretty, low coral islands, just opposite our encampment; and, immediately beyond these, out at sea, lay about a dozen other islands, at various distances, from half a mile to ten miles; all of them, as far as we could discern, smaller than ours and apparently uninhabited. They seemed to be low coral islands, raised but little above the sea, yet covered with cocoa-nut trees.
All this we noted, and a great deal more, while we sat on the top of the mountain. After we had satisfied ourselves we prepared to return; but here again we discovered traces of the presence of man. These were a pole or staff and one or two pieces of wood which had been squared with an axe. All of these were, however, very much decayed, and they had evidently not been touched for many years.
Full of these discoveries we returned to our encampment. On the way we fell in with the traces of some four-footed animal, but whether old or of recent date none of us were able to guess. This also tended to raise our hopes of obtaining some animal food on the island, so we reached home in good spirits, quite prepared for supper, and highly satisfied with our excursion.
After much discussion, in which Peterkin took the lead, we came to the conclusion that the island was uninhabited, and went to bed.
Jack’s ingenuity—We get into difficulties about fishing, and get out of them by a method which gives us a cold bath—Horrible encounter with a shark.
For several days after the excursion related in the last chapter we did not wander far from our encampment, but gave ourselves up to forming plans for the future and making our present abode comfortable.
There were various causes that induced this state of comparative inaction. In the first place, although everything around us was so delightful, and we could without difficulty obtain all that we required for our bodily comfort, we did not quite like the idea of settling down here for the rest of our lives, far away from our friends and our native land. To set energetically about preparations for a permanent residence seemed so like making up our minds to saying adieu to home and friends for ever, that we tacitly shrank from it and put off our preparations, for one reason and another, as long as we could. Then there was a little uncertainty still as to there being natives on the island, and we entertained a kind of faint hope that a ship might come and take us off. But as day after day passed, and neither savages nor ships appeared, we gave up all hope of an early deliverance and set diligently to work at our homestead.
During this time, however, we had not been altogether idle. We made several experiments in cooking the cocoa-nut, most of which did not improve it. Then we removed our goods, and took up our abode in the cave, but found the change so bad that we returned gladly to the bower. Besides this we bathed very frequently, and talked a great deal; at least Jack and Peterkin did,—I listened. Among other useful things, Jack, who was ever the most active and diligent, converted about three inches of the hoop-iron into an excellent knife. First he beat it quite flat with the axe. Then he made a rude handle, and tied the hoop-iron to it with our piece of whip-cord, and ground it to an edge on a piece of sand-stone. When it was finished he used it to shape a better handle, to which he fixed it with a strip of his cotton handkerchief;—in which operation he had, as Peterkin pointed out, torn off one of Lord Nelson’s noses. However, the whip-cord, thus set free, was used by Peterkin as a fishing line. He merely tied a piece of oyster to the end of it. This the fish were allowed to swallow, and then they were pulled quickly ashore. But as the line was very short and we had no boat, the fish we caught were exceedingly small.
One day Peterkin came up from the beach, where he had been angling, and said in a very cross tone, “I’ll tell you what, Jack, I’m not going to be humbugged with catching such contemptible things any longer. I want you to swim out with me on your back, and let me fish in deep water!”
“Dear me, Peterkin,” replied Jack, “I had no idea you were taking the thing so much to heart, else I would have got you out of that difficulty long ago. Let me see,”—and Jack looked down at a piece of timber on which he had been labouring, with a peculiar gaze of abstraction, which he always assumed when trying to invent or discover anything.
“What say you to building a boat?” he inquired, looking up hastily.
“Take far too long,” was the reply; “can’t be bothered waiting. I want to begin at once!”
Again Jack considered. “I have it!” he cried. “We’ll fell a large tree and launch the trunk of it in the water, so that when you want to fish you’ve nothing to do but to swim out to it.”
“Would not a small raft do better?” said I.
“Much better; but we have no ropes to bind it together with. Perhaps we may find something hereafter that will do as well, but, in the meantime, let us try the tree.”
This was agreed on, so we started off to a spot not far distant, where we knew of a tree that would suit us, which grew near the water’s edge. As soon as we reached it Jack threw off his coat, and, wielding the axe with his sturdy arms, hacked and hewed at it for a quarter of an hour without stopping. Then he paused, and, while he sat down to rest, I continued the work. Then Peterkin made a vigorous attack on it, so that when Jack renewed his powerful blows, a few minutes cutting brought it down with a terrible crash.
“Hurrah! now for it,” cried Jack; “let us off with its head.”
So saying he began to cut through the stem again, at about six yards from the thick end. This done, he cut three strong, short poles or levers from the stout branches, with which to roll the log down the beach into the sea; for, as it was nearly two feet thick at the large end, we could not move it without such helps. With the levers, however, we rolled it slowly into the sea.
Having been thus successful in launching our vessel, we next shaped the levers into rude oars or paddles, and then attempted to embark. This was easy enough to do; but, after seating ourselves astride the log, it was with the utmost difficulty we kept it from rolling round and plunging us into the water. Not that we minded that much; but we preferred, if possible, to fish in dry clothes. To be sure, our trousers were necessarily wet, as our legs were dangling in the water on each side of the log; but, as they could be easily dried, we did not care. After half an hour’s practice, we became expert enough to keep our balance pretty steadily. Then Peterkin laid down his paddle, and having baited his line with a whole oyster, dropt it into deep water.
“Now, then, Jack,” said he, “be cautious; steer clear o’ that sea-weed. There; that’s it; gently, now, gently. I see a fellow at least a foot long down there, coming to—ha! that’s it! Oh! bother, he’s off.”
“Did he bite?” said Jack, urging the log onwards a little with his paddle.
“Bite? ay! He took it into his mouth, but the moment I began to haul he opened his jaws and let it out again.”
“Let him swallow it next time,” said Jack, laughing at the melancholy expression of Peterkin’s visage.
“There he’s again,” cried Peterkin, his eyes flashing with excitement. “Look out! Now then! No! Yes! No! Why, the brute won’t swallow it!”
“Try to haul him up by the mouth, then,” cried Jack. “Do it gently.”
A heavy sigh and a look of blank despair showed that poor Peterkin had tried and failed again.
“Never mind, lad,” said Jack, in a voice of sympathy; “we’ll move on, and offer it to some other fish.” So saying, Jack plied his paddle; but scarcely had he moved from the spot, when a fish with an enormous head and a little body darted from under a rock and swallowed the bait at once.
“Got him this time,—that’s a fact!” cried Peterkin, hauling in the line. “He’s swallowed the bait right down to his tail, I declare. Oh what a thumper!”
As the fish came struggling to the surface, we leaned forward to see it, and overbalanced the log. Peterkin threw his arms round the fish’s neck; and, in another instant, we were all floundering in the water!
A shout of laughter burst from us as we rose to the surface like three drowned rats, and seized hold of the log. We soon recovered our position, and sat more warily, while Peterkin secured the fish, which had well-nigh escaped in the midst of our struggles. It was little worth having, however; but, as Peterkin remarked, it was better than the smouts he had been catching for the last two or three days; so we laid it on the log before us, and having re-baited the line, dropt it in again for another.
Now, while we were thus intent upon our sport, our attention was suddenly attracted by a ripple on the sea, just a few yards away from us. Peterkin shouted to us to paddle in that direction, as he thought it was a big fish, and we might have a chance of catching it. But Jack, instead of complying, said, in a deep, earnest tone of voice, which I never before heard him use,—
“Haul up your line, Peterkin; seize your paddle; quick,—it’s a shark!”
The horror with which we heard this may well be imagined, for it must be remembered that our legs were hanging down in the water, and we could not venture to pull them up without upsetting the log. Peterkin instantly hauled up the line; and, grasping his paddle, exerted himself to the utmost, while we also did our best to make for shore. But we were a good way off, and the log being, as I have before said, very heavy, moved but slowly through the water. We now saw the shark quite distinctly swimming round and round us, its sharp fin every now and then protruding above the water. From its active and unsteady motions, Jack knew it was making up its mind to attack us, so
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