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Effects of over-eating, and reflections thereon—Humble advice regarding cold water—The
"horrible cry" accounted for—The curious birds called penguins—Peculiarity of the
cocoa-nut palm—Questions on the formation of coral islands—Mysterious
footsteps—Strange discoveries and sad sights.
 WHEN we awoke on the following morning, we found that the sun was already a good way above the
horizon, so I came to the conclusion that a heavy supper is not conducive to early rising.
Nevertheless we felt remarkably strong and well, and much disposed to have our breakfast. First,
however, we had our customary morning bathe, which refreshed us greatly.
I have often wondered very much in after years that the inhabitants of my own dear land did not make
more frequent use of this most charming element, water. I mean in the way of cold bathing. Of
course, I have perceived that it is not convenient for them to go into the sea or the rivers in
winter, as we used to do on the Coral Island; but then I knew from experience that a large
washing-tub and a sponge do form a most pleasant substitute. The feelings of freshness, of
cleanliness, of vigour, and extreme hilarity, that always followed my bathes in the sea, and even,
when in England, my ablutions in the wash-tub, were so delightful that I would sooner have gone
without my breakfast than without my bathe in cold water. My readers will forgive me for
 asking whether they are in the habit of bathing thus every morning; and if they answer "No," they
will pardon me for recommending them to begin at once. Of late years, since retiring from the
stirring life of adventure which I have led so long in foreign climes, I have heard of a system
called the cold-water cure. Now, I do not know much about that system, so I do not mean to uphold
it, neither do I intend to run it down. Perhaps, in reference to it, I may just hint that there may
be too much of a good thing. I know not, but of this I am quite certain, that there may also be too
little of a good thing; and the great delight I have had in cold bathing during the course of my
adventurous career inclines me to think that it is better to risk taking too much than to content
one's self with too little. Such is my opinion, derived from much experience; but I put it before my
readers with the utmost diffidence and with profound modesty, knowing that it may possibly jar with
their feelings of confidence in their own ability to know and judge as to what is best and fittest
in reference to their own affairs. But, to return from this digression, for which I humbly crave
We had not advanced on our journey much above a mile or so, and were just beginning to feel the
pleasant glow that usually accompanies vigorous exercise, when, on turning a point that revealed to
us a new and beautiful cluster of islands, we were suddenly arrested by the appalling cry which had
so alarmed us a few nights before. But this time we were by no means so much alarmed us on the
previous occasion, because, whereas at that time it was night, now it was day; and I have always
found, though I am unable to account for it, that daylight banishes many of the fears that are apt
to assail us in the dark.
 On hearing the sound, Peterkin instantly threw forward his spear.
"Now, what can it be?" said he, looking round at Jack. "I tell you what it is: if we are to go on
being pulled up in a constant state of horror and astonishment, as we have been for the last week,
the sooner we're out o' this island the better, notwithstanding the yams and lemonade, and pork and
Peterkin's remark was followed by a repetition of the cry, louder than before.
"It comes from one of these islands," said Jack.
"It must be the ghost of a jackass, then," said Peterkin, "for I never heard anything so like."
We all turned our eyes towards the cluster of islands, where, on the largest, we observed curious
objects moving on the shore.
"Soldiers they are—that's flat!" cried Peterkin, gazing at them in the utmost amazement.
And, in truth, Peterkin's remark seemed to me to be correct; for, at the distance from which we saw
them, they appeared to be an army of soldiers. There they stood, rank and file, in lines and in
squares, marching and countermarching, with blue coats and white trousers. While we were looking at
them, the dreadful cry came again over the water, and Peterkin suggested that it must be a regiment
sent out to massacre the natives in cold blood. At this remark Jack laughed and said—
"Why, Peterkin, they are penguins!"
"Penguins?" repeated Peterkin.
"Ay, penguins, Peterkin, penguins—nothing more or less than big sea-birds, as you shall see
one of these days, when we pay them a visit in our boat, which I mean to set about building the
moment we return to our bower."
 "So, then, our dreadful yelling ghosts and our murdering army of soldiers," remarked Peterkin, "have
dwindled down to penguins—big sea-birds! Very good. Then I propose that we continue our
journey as fast as possible, lest our island should be converted into a dream before we get
completely round it."
Now, as we continued on our way, I pondered much over this new discovery, and the singular
appearance of these birds, of which Jack could only give us a very slight and vague account; and I
began to long to commence our boat, in order that we might go and inspect them more narrowly. But by
degrees these thoughts left me, and I began to be much taken up again with the interesting
peculiarities of the country which we were passing through.
The second night we passed in a manner somewhat similar to the first, at about two-thirds of the way
round the island, as we calculated, and we hoped to sleep on the night following at our bower. I
will not here note so particularly all that we said and saw during the course of this second day, as
we did not make any further discoveries of great importance. The shore along which we travelled, and
the various parts of the woods through which we passed, were similar to those which have been
already treated of. There were one or two observations that we made, however, and these were as
We saw that, while many of the large fruit-bearing trees grew only in the valleys, and some of them
only near the banks of the streams, where the soil was peculiarly rich, the cocoa-nut palm grew in
every place whatsoever; not only on the hillsides, but also on the seashore, and even, as has been
already stated, on the coral reef itself, where the soil, if we may use the name,
 was nothing better than loose sand mingled with broken shells and coral rock. So near to the sea,
too, did this useful tree grow, that in many places its roots were washed by the spray from the
breakers. Yet we found the trees growing thus on the sands to be quite as luxuriant as those growing
in the valleys, and the fruit as good and refreshing also. Besides this, I noticed that on the
summit of the high mountain, which we once more ascended at a different point from our first ascent,
were found abundance of shells and broken coral formations; which Jack and I agreed proved either
that this island must have once been under the sea, or that the sea must once have been above the
island. In other words, that as shells and coral could not possibly climb to the mountain-top, they
must have been washed upon it while the mountain-top was on a level with the sea. We pondered this
very much; and we put to ourselves the question, "What raised the island to its present height above
the sea?" But to this we could by no means give to ourselves a satisfactory reply. Jack thought it
might have been blown up by a volcano; and Peterkin said he thought it must have jumped up of its
own accord! We also noticed, what had escaped us before, that the solid rocks of which the island
was formed were quite different from the live coral rocks on the shore, where the wonderful little
insects were continually working. They seemed, indeed, to be of the same material—a substance
like limestone; but while the coral rocks were quite full of minute cells in which the insects
lived, the other rocks inland were hard and solid, without the appearance of cells at all. Our
thoughts and conversations on this subject were sometimes so profound that Peterkin said we should
certainly get drowned in them at last, even although we
 were such good divers! Nevertheless we did not allow his pleasantry on this and similar points to
deter us from making our notes and observations as we went along.
We found several more droves of hogs in the woods, but abstained from killing any of them, having
more than sufficient for our present necessities. We saw also many of their footprints in this
neighbourhood. Among these we also observed the footprints of a smaller animal, which we examined
with much care, but could form no certain opinion as to them. Peterkin thought they were those of a
little dog, but Jack and I thought differently. We became very curious on this matter, the more so
that we observed these footprints to lie scattered about in one locality, as if the animal which had
made them was wandering round about in a very irregular manner, and without any object in view.
Early in the forenoon of our third day we observed these footprints to be much more numerous than
ever, and in one particular spot they diverged off into the woods in a regular beaten track, which
was, however, so closely beset with bushes that we pushed through it with difficulty. We had now
become so anxious to find out what animal this was and where it went to, that we determined to
follow the track, and, if possible, clear up the mystery. Peterkin said, in a bantering tone, that
he was sure it would be cleared up, as usual, in some frightfully simple way, and prove to be no
mystery at all!
The beaten track seemed much too large to have been formed by the animal itself, and we concluded
that some larger animal had made it, and that the smaller one made use of it. But everywhere the
creeping plants and tangled bushes crossed our path, so that we forced our way along with some
difficulty. Suddenly, as we
 came upon an open space, we heard a faint cry, and observed a black animal standing in the track
"A wild-cat!" cried Jack, fitting an arrow to his bow, and discharging it so hastily that he missed
the animal, and hit the earth about half a foot to one side of it. To our surprise the wild-cat did
not fly, but walked slowly towards the arrow, and snuffed at it.
"That's the most comical wild-cat I ever saw!" cried Jack.
"It's a tame wild-cat, I think," said Peterkin, levelling his spear to make a charge.
"Stop!" cried I, laying my hand on his shoulder; "I do believe the poor beast is blind. See, it
strikes against the branches as it walks along. It must be a very old one;" and I hastened towards
"Only think," said Peterkin, with a suppressed laugh, "of a superannuated wild-cat!"
We now found that the poor cat was not only blind, or nearly so, but extremely deaf, as it did not
hear our footsteps until we were quite close behind it. Then it sprang round, and putting up its
back and tail, while the black hair stood all on end, uttered a hoarse mew and a fuff.
"Poor thing," said Peterkin, gently extending his hand, and endeavouring to pat the cat's head.
"Poor pussy; chee, chee, chee; puss, puss, puss; cheetie pussy!"
No sooner did the cat hear these sounds than all signs of anger fled, and advancing eagerly to
Peterkin, it allowed itself to be stroked, and rubbed itself against his legs, purring loudly all
the time, and showing every symptom of the most extreme delight.
"It's no more a wild-cat than I am!" cried Peterkin, taking it in his arms; "it's quite
tame.—Poor pussy, cheetie pussy!"
 We now crowded around Peterkin, and were not a little surprised, and, to say truth, a good deal
affected, by the sight of the poor animal's excessive joy. It rubbed its head against Peterkin's
cheek, licked his chin, and thrust its head almost violently into his neck, while it purred more
loudly than I ever heard a cat purr before, and appeared to be so much overpowered by its feelings,
that it occasionally mewed and purred almost in the same breath. Such demonstrations of joy and
affection led us at once to conclude that this poor cat must have known man before, and we
conjectured that it had been left either accidentally or by design on the island many years ago, and
was now evincing its extreme joy at meeting once more with human beings. While we were fondling the
cat and talking about it, Jack glanced round the open space in the midst of which we stood.
"Hallo!" exclaimed he, "this looks something like a clearing. The axe has been at work here. Just
look at these tree-stumps."
We now turned to examine these, and without doubt we found trees that had been cut down here and
there, also stumps and broken branches; all of which, however, were completely covered over with
moss, and bore evidence of having been in this condition for some years. No human footprints were to
be seen either on the track or among the bushes, but those of the cat were found everywhere. We now
determined to follow up the track as far as it went, and Peterkin put the cat down; but it seemed to
be so weak, and mewed so very pitifully, that he took it up again and carried it in his arms, where
in a few minutes it fell sound asleep.
About ten yards farther on, the felled trees became more numerous, and the track, diverging to the
 followed for a short space the banks of a stream. Suddenly we came to a spot where once must have
been a rude bridge, the stones of which were scattered in the stream, and those on each bank
entirely covered over with moss. In silent surprise and expectancy we continued to advance, and, a
few yards farther on, beheld, under the shelter of some bread-fruit trees, a small hut or cottage. I
cannot hope to convey to my readers a very correct idea of the feelings that affected us on
witnessing this unexpected sight. We stood for a long time in silent wonder, for there was a deep
and most melancholy stillness about the place that quite overpowered us; and when we did at length
speak, it was in subdued whispers, as if we were surrounded by some awful or supernatural influence.
Even Peterkin's voice, usually so quick and lively on all occasions, was hushed now; for there was a
dreariness about this silent, lonely, uninhabited cottage—so strange in its appearance, so far
away from the usual dwellings of man, so old, decayed, and deserted in its aspect—that fell
upon our spirits like a thick cloud, and blotted out as with a pall the cheerful sunshine that had
filled us since the commencement of our tour round the island.
The hut or cottage was rude and simple in its construction. It was not more than twelve feet long by
ten feet broad, and about seven or eight feet high. It had one window, or rather a small frame in
which a window might perhaps once have been, but which was now empty. The door was exceedingly low,
and formed of rough boards, and the roof was covered with broad cocoa-nut and plantain leaves. But
every part of it was in a state of the utmost decay. Moss and green matter grew in spots all over
it. The woodwork was quite perforated with holes; the roof had nearly fallen in, and
 appeared to be prevented from doing so altogether by the thick matting of creeping-plants and the
interlaced branches which years of neglect had allowed to cover it almost entirely; while the thick,
luxuriant branches of the bread-fruit and other trees spread above it, and flung a deep, sombre
shadow over the spot, as if to guard it from the heat and the light of day. We conversed long and in
whispers about this strange habitation ere we ventured to approach it; and when at length we did so,
it was, at least on my part, with feelings of awe.
At first Jack endeavoured to peep in at the window, but from the deep shadow of the trees already
mentioned, and the gloom within, he could not clearly discern objects; so we lifted the latch and
pushed open the door. We observed that the latch was made of iron, and almost eaten away with rust.
In the like condition were also the hinges, which creaked as the door swung back. On entering, we
stood still and gazed around us, while we were much impressed with the dreary stillness of the room.
But what we saw there surprised and shocked us not a little. There was no furniture in the apartment
save a little wooden stool and an iron pot, the latter almost eaten through with rust. In the corner
farthest from the door was a low bedstead, on which lay two skeletons, embedded in a little heap of
dry dust. With beating hearts we went forward to examine them. One was the skeleton of a man, the
other that of a dog, which was extended close beside that of the man, with its head resting on his
Now we were very much concerned about this discovery, and could scarce refrain from tears on
beholding these sad remains. After some time we began to talk about what we had seen, and to examine
in and around the hut, in order to discover some clue to the name or
 history of this poor man, who had thus died in solitude, with none to mourn his loss save his cat
and his faithful dog. But we found nothing—neither a book nor a scrap of paper. We found,
however, the decayed remnants of what appeared to have been clothing, and an old axe. But none of
these things bore marks of any kind; and, indeed, they were so much decayed as to convince us that
they had lain in the condition in which we found them for many years.
This discovery now accounted to us for the tree-stump at the top of the mountain with the initials
cut on it; also for the patch of sugar-cane and other traces of man which we had met with in the
course of our rambles over the island. And we were much saddened by the reflection that the lot of
this poor wanderer might possibly be our own, after many years' residence on the island, unless we
should be rescued by the visit of some vessel or the arrival of natives. Having no clue whatever to
account for the presence of this poor human being in such a lonely spot, we fell to conjecturing
what could have brought him there. I was inclined to think that he most have been a shipwrecked
sailor, whose vessel had been lost here, and all the crew been drowned except himself and his dog
and cat. But Jack thought it more likely that he had run away from his vessel, and had taken the dog
and cat to keep him company. We were also much occupied in our minds with the wonderful difference
between the cat and the dog. For here we saw that while the one perished like a loving friend by its
master's side, with its head resting on his bosom, the other had sought to sustain itself by
prowling abroad in the forest, and had lived in solitude to a good old age. However, we did not
conclude from this that the cat was destitute of affection, for we could not forget its emotions
 on first meeting with us; but we saw from this that the dog had a great deal more of generous love
in its nature than the cat, because it not only found it impossible to live after the death of its
master, but it must needs, when it came to die, crawl to his side and rest its head upon his
While we were thinking on these things, and examining into everything about the room, we were
attracted by an exclamation from Peterkin.
"I say, Jack," said he, "here is something that will be of use to us."
"What is it?" said Jack, hastening across the room.
"An old pistol," replied Peterkin, holding up the weapon, which he had just pulled from under a heap
of broken wood and rubbish that lay in a corner.
"That, indeed, might have been useful," said Jack, examining it, "if we had any powder; but I
suspect the bow and the sling will prove more serviceable."
"True, I forgot that," said Peterkin; "but we may as well take it with us, for the flint will serve
to strike fire with when the sun does not shine."
After having spent more than an hour at this place without discovering anything of further interest,
Peterkin took up the old cat, which had lain very contentedly asleep on the stool whereon he had
placed it, and we prepared to take our departure. In leaving the hut, Jack stumbled heavily against
the doorpost, which was so much decayed as to break across, and the whole fabric of the hut seemed
ready to tumble about our ears. This put into our heads that we might as well pull it down, and so
form a mound over the skeleton. Jack, therefore, with his axe, cut down the other doorpost, which,
when it was done, brought the whole hut in ruins to the ground, and thus formed a grave to the bones
 poor recluse and his dog. Then we left the spot, having brought away the iron pot, the pistol, and
the old axe, as they might be of much use to us hereafter.
During the rest of this day we pursued our journey, and examined the other end of the large valley,
which we found to be so much alike to the parts already described, that I shall not recount the
particulars of what we saw in this place. I may, however, remark that we did not quite recover our
former cheerful spirits until we arrived at our bower, which we did late in the evening, and found
everything just in the same condition as we had left it three days before.