Chapter XXIV: Stingaree

The love for adventure, which four years of a roving life in so many parts of the world had engendered in both Fred and Frank, was not to be bounded by the coral reef that shut in the bay near which they were encamped. So whenever there was a breeze with perhaps a bit of sea on, the Crusoes hoisted sail and, steering through the gap, went off on a long delightful cruise around the island or far beyond it.

On these occasions Magilvray and Cassia-bud were usually left to keep camp.

More than once, however, the boatmen found themselves benighted, and had to pass the long hours of darkness on some lonesome part of the coast, to the no small anxiety of those they had left behind them.

On one of these expeditions they had a strange and wonderful adventure with the dreaded stingaree, or huge sting ray of Pacific seas. While out boating Fred had several times come across these veritable "sea devils" floating on the surface of the water, and the desire to capture a specimen got possession of him. It would form a desirable change of diet at all events, for the red flesh of this fiend-fish is said to be exceedingly palatable.

These "terrible skate," as Frank termed them, grow to an immense size, some being as much as twelve feet long without the tail, and nearly ten feet in breadth of beam. The strength of a monster like this is truly astonishing. But the stingaree is armed with a dart and spines in his tail that make him the most dreaded of all fish that swim.

Some species have but a single barbed dart at the end of the tail. If a human being is struck with this in the body, there is no chance of life left; for the dart is poisonous, and a painful, nay even agonizing, death is the only result that can be looked for. If the dart has struck the arm or leg it breaks off, and if it be not cut out from the other side the flesh soon mortifies, and the unhappy man dies more lingeringly.

But this creature, at least one species, has also the power to shoot poisoned spines or darts at his foe, and these latter can pierce even a boat, so hard and strong are they. One would have thought that monsters like these were best left alone. Fred was of a different opinion quite.

So all preparations were made to go on the war-path after them.

Quambo was for many evenings busily engaged fashioning the harpoons from a species of very hard wood found in the island, rendered doubly hard by being half burned in the fire. He also made several long spears from the same tree. To one of these he attached a strong double-edged or dagger knife.

Assisted by Cassia-bud, Quambo also made a large number of fathoms of stout rope from fibrous stuff obtained from the cocoanut and pandanus trees.

All being ready the boat was watered and provisioned one evening, and next day at early dawn, and after a still more early breakfast, they put to sea in quest of adventure.

There was the slightest bit of a breeze on; just enough and no more to fill the mainsail, and keep the boat moving along at the rate of about five knots an hour. But there certainly was no occasion for hurry, and the wind was rather disadvantageous than otherwise, for it roughened or rippled the water, thus distorting the vision very much when they attempted to look at anything under it.

While sail was on her, Quambo stood in the bows on the outlook, Frank managed the sheet, and Fred had the tiller.

They had sailed half way round the island, on tack and half tack, and were preparing for a run the other way, and standing more out to sea, when suddenly Quambo's great bulk was seen to rise more erect and to quiver about, as he grasped his harpoon. He looked indeed like a tiger about to spring on his prey. Without turning round he motioned with his left hand to Fred which way he should steer, and next moment, with a whirring sound, the harpoon flew seaward from his right.

There was the sound of a dull thud; Frank grasped the gunwale of the boat, prepared, as he afterwards said, for anything.

In a few seconds Quambo drew in his line, and bursting into a loud laugh at his own expense, turned about and showed his shipmates the harpoon broken right across the centre.

"No good, then," said Frank, "after expecting such wild sport and such a capital dinner?"

"No, sah," answered Quambo, "not much good. I think I see one big stingaree, and let fly. All de same, sah; I strike the back ob one big turtle."

Fred and Frank both laughed.

"Better luck next," said the former.

"Perhaps," said Quambo; "but I not like de wind. He make too much bobbery on de water all de time, and I not can see."

But early in the afternoon the wind went down, and the water became as calm and still as a fish-pond. Sail was taken in and stowed, and Frank got out the oars.

Whole shoals of turtle were seen, but no rays, no stingarees, so they consoled themselves with dining, and after a drink of cocoanut water, Frank resumed the oars, and Quambo, smoking his huge pipe, once more took his station at the bows.

The afternoon wore on, the sun was declining in the west, and they were all beginning to show signs of weariness, for the day had been drowsily hot, when once more Quambo stood erect, grasping a fresh harpoon, and signing to Fred as before.

There was no mistake about the stingarees this time. The boat seemed to be in the midst of a huge shoal of them, and in a moment Quambo had hurled the harpoon into one of the very largest.

The commotion that ensued baffles description. The huge brute seemed for a time to be right under the boat, and almost lifting it up. Then he darted ahead, and the appearance of the creature now was terrible in the extreme. He had come right up to the surface of the sea, which was red with blood, while not only was the water lashed into foam by the dart-armed tail, but by the fins or wings at each side.

If ever any creature in the world merited the name of sea devil, it was that monster stingaree just then.

Meanwhile Quambo was making lunges at it with his dagger-pointed spear. This seemed to lash the monster to fury at last, and after a dreadful struggle or two to free itself from the galling harpoon it plunged forwards and stood straight away out to sea.

* * * * * *

Now as the day wore on, after putting the dinner all ready for cooking--for our heroes were expected to return to the island before sun-down--Magilvray, with Cassia-bud and Bob, determined to walk to Beacon Hill. The road now was easily found, and in less than an hour they had stationed themselves beside the broomstick, as it was called, whence Magilvray could sweep the horizon with the spy-glass. They were just in time to see the striking of the stingaree, and witness the monster's fearful struggle for freedom. Then they saw it dash away seawards, pulling the boat behind it as a salmon might the float of a fishing-line.

They saw Quambo's efforts to round in the line in order to be able to ply his dagger-lance once more; then they noticed that the stingaree seemed suddenly to change its course. They saw Quambo cut the line, but almost at the same moment the boat turned turtle, and its occupants were thrown into the sea.

"Oh, oh, oh!" shrieked little Cassia-bud. In his agony he ran round and round the beacon, then threw himself on the dog, frantically weeping.

"Oh, golly, golly!" he sobbed. "Poor massa, for true, dey will all be drown. De big shark will gobble massa up plenty quick. Oh, I not can look no mo'! I not can look no mo'!"

Not heeding the boy's lamentations Magilvray sat there as if rooted to the spot. He saw the boat still afloat there, bottom upwards, with Fred and Frank clinging to its keel, after many ineffectual attempts to right it. He saw big Quambo swim after an oar, and picking it up come with it to the bows, and tie it with the others to the painter; and he could not help admiring the giant negro's wondrous coolness in what appeared to be the hour of death.

Then a long, _very_ long time seemed to elapse without any change of scene or situation.

Was the boat drifting nearer to the island shore he wondered, or being carried further out to sea? At all events the poor fellows that clung to her keel must soon sink exhausted beneath the sea, or--and the thought made this sailor's blood run cold--they would be hauled under water, one by one, by the sharks, and torn in pieces.

Lower and lower sank the sun. It was already beginning to shimmer red across the sea.

But what was that moving slowly towards the upset boat and the clinging men? He brought the glass to bear on the spot.

Horror! it was the dark triangular fin of a huge blue shark, and it was moving in the direction of the boat--nearer and nearer. Not always in a direct line though, and often remaining for a time immoveable, as if picking up the scent.

Magilvray felt as if under the spell of some fearful nightmare. Then he sprang to his feet and closed the telescope with a snap.

"I shall go mad, _mad_," he cried, "if I gaze but a minute longer. Come, Kashie, come."

"Is it all ober, Mac?" cried the boy pitifully.

"Yes, Kashie, all over, boy, and we are alone. Come, boy, come."

The sun shot one blood-red glare across the world of waters, then sank, and all was gloom and night.

* * * * * *

Neither Magilvray nor Cassia-bud could ever explain how they found their way back to camp that evening, through the rocky glens and the darkling forest. Perhaps they were beholden entirely to the dog.

But they did reach the beach at long last. The fire had gone very low, and hardly knowing what he did the sailor made it up and sat down near it, while Cassia-bud threw himself moaning on the sands. Hurricane Bob, satisfied in his own mind that the boy was ill or in pain, lay down beside him, and gently licked his face and hands.

Dinner was not even once thought of--grief was all-absorbing.

After a time Cassia-bud probably slept, for he lay there very still and quiet. But Magilvray still sat in the same position, dazedly gazing at the flickering fire.

A bright moon, that had been high in the heavens when the sun went down, sank lower and lower, and at last disappeared behind the western waves, and the clear stars had the sky all to themselves.

Not a sound now was to be heard, save the moan of the breaking water on the reef, and occasionally the eeriesome cry of some belated sea-bird.

Why, I have often wondered, are sea-birds sometimes to be heard at the dreary hour of midnight? What takes them away from their rocks at such a time? and in the darkness too. Sailors shudder when they hear them.

It is not the call of birds, they will tell you, but of disembodied spirits.

Magilvray half roused himself at last; but he sought not the shelter of the friendly boughs. He only crept a little closer to the fire, shuddering slightly as if cold, then exhausted nature claimed her due and the sailor slept.