The Coral Island

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Produced by Michelle Shephard, Tiffany Vergon, Juliet Sutherland,
Charles Franks, Charles Aldarondo and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team.

THE
CORAL ISLAND

_A Tale Of The Pacific Ocean_

BY

R. M. BALLANTYNE

PREFACE

I was a boy when I went through the wonderful adventures herein set
down. With the memory of my boyish feelings strong upon me, I present
my book specially to boys, in the earnest hope that they may derive
valuable information, much pleasure, great profit, and unbounded
amusement from its pages.

One word more. If there is any boy or man who loves to be melancholy
and morose, and who cannot enter with kindly sympathy into the regions
of fun, let me seriously advise him to shut my book and put it away. It
is not meant for him.

RALPH ROVER.

CONTENTS

CHAP.

I. MY EARLY LIFE AND CHARACTER
II. THE DEPARTURE--A DREADFUL STORM
III. THE CORAL ISLAND
IV. OUR ISLAND DESCRIBED--CURIOUS DISCOVERIES
V. ENCHANTING EXCURSIONS AMONG THE CORAL GROVES
VI. AN EXCURSION INTO THE INTERIOR
VII. HORRIBLE ENCOUNTER WITH A SHARK
VIII. THE BEAUTIES OF THE BOTTOM OF THE SEA TEMPT PETERKIN TO DIVE
IX. PREPARE FOR A JOURNEY ROUND THE ISLAND
X. MAKE DISCOVERY OF MANY EXCELLENT ROOTS AND FRUITS
XI. EFFECTS OF OVER-EATING, AND REFLECTIONS THEREON
XII. SOMETHING WRONG WITH THE TANK
XIII. NOTABLE DISCOVERY AT THE SPOUTING CLIFFS
XIV. STRANGE PECULIARITY OF THE TIDES
XV. BOAT-BUILDING EXTRAORDINARY
XVI. THE BOAT LAUNCHED--WE VISIT THE CORAL REEF
XVII. A MONSTER WAVE AND ITS CONSEQUENCES
XVIII. AN AWFUL STORM AND ITS CONSEQUENCES
XVIX. AN UNEXPECTED VISIT AND AN APPALLING BATTLE
XX. INTERCOURSE WITH THE SAVAGES--CANNIBALISM PREVENTED
XXI. A SAIL!--AN UNEXPECTED SALUTE
XXII. I FALL INTO THE HANDS OF PIRATES
XXIII. A STRANGE SAIL, AND A STRANGE CREW
XXIV. UNPLEASANT PROSPECTS
XXV. THE SANDAL-WOOD PARTY
XXVI. MISCHIEF BREWING--MY BLOOD IS MADE TO RUN COLD
XXVII. REFLECTIONS--THE WOUNDED MAN
XXVIII. ALONE ON THE DEEP--NECESSITY THE MOTHER OF INVENTION
XXIX. THE EFFECT OF A CANNON-SHOT
XXX. THE VOYAGE
XXXI. A STRANGE AND BLOODY BATTLE
XXXII. AN UNEXPECTED DISCOVERY
XXXIII. THE FLIGHT--THE PURSUIT
XXXIV. IMPRISONMENT--SINKING HOPES
XXXV. CONCLUSION

THE CORAL ISLAND

Chapter I

The beginning--My early life and character--I thirst for
adventure in foreign lands, and go to sea.

Roving has always been, and still is, my ruling passion, the joy of my
heart, the very sunshine of my existence. In childhood, in boyhood, and
in man's estate, I have been a rover; not a mere rambler among the
woody glens and upon the hilltops of my own native land, but an
enthusiastic rover throughout the length and breadth of the wide, wide
world.

It was a wild, black night of howling storm, the night on which I was
born on the foaming bosom of the broad Atlantic Ocean. My father was a
sea-captain; my grandfather was a sea-captain; my great-grandfather had
been a marine. Nobody could tell positively what occupation _his_
father had followed; but my dear mother used to assert that he had been
a midshipman, whose grandfather, on the mother's side, had been an
admiral in the Royal Navy. At any rate, we knew that, as far back as
our family could be traced, it had been intimately connected with the
great watery waste. Indeed, this was the case on both sides of the
house; for my mother always went to sea with my father on his long
voyages, and so spent the greater part of her life upon the water.

Thus it was, I suppose, that I came to inherit a roving disposition.
Soon after I was born, my father, being old, retired from a seafaring
life, purchased a small cottage in a fishing village on the west coast
of England, and settled down to spend the evening of his life on the
shores of that sea which had for so many years been his home. It was
not long after this that I began to show the roving spirit that dwelt
within me. For some time past my infant legs had been gaining strength,
so that I came to be dissatisfied with rubbing the skin off my chubby
knees by walking on them, and made many attempts to stand up and walk
like a man, all of which attempts, however, resulted in my sitting down
violently and in sudden surprise. One day I took advantage of my dear
mother's absence to make another effort; and, to my joy, I actually
succeeded in reaching the doorstep, over which I tumbled into a pool of
muddy water that lay before my father's cottage door. Ah, how vividly I
remember the horror of my poor mother when she found me sweltering in
the mud amongst a group of cackling ducks, and the tenderness with
which she stripped off my dripping clothes and washed my dirty little
body! From this time forth my rambles became more frequent, and, as I
grew older, more distant, until at last I had wandered far and near on
the shore and in the woods around our humble dwelling, and did not rest
content until my father bound me apprentice to a coasting vessel, and
let me go to sea.

For some years I was happy in visiting the seaports, and in coasting
along the shores of my native land. My Christian name was Ralph, and my
comrades added to this the name of Rover, in consequence of the passion
which I always evinced for travelling. Rover was not my real name, but
as I never received any other, I came at last to answer to it as
naturally as to my proper name; and as it is not a bad one, I see no
good reason why I should not introduce myself to the reader as Ralph
Rover. My shipmates were kind, good-natured fellows, and they and I got
on very well together. They did, indeed, very frequently make game of
and banter me, but not unkindly; and I overheard them sometimes saying
that Ralph Rover was a "queer, old-fashioned fellow." This, I must
confess, surprised me much, and I pondered the saying long, but could
come at no satisfactory conclusion as to that wherein my old-fashionedness
lay. It is true I was a quiet lad, and seldom spoke except when spoken
to. Moreover, I never could understand the jokes of my companions, even
when they were explained to me: which dulness in apprehension occasioned
me much grief. However, I tried to make up for it by smiling and looking
pleased when I observed that they were laughing at some witticism which
I had failed to detect. I was also very fond of inquiring into the nature
of things and their causes, and often fell into fits of abstraction while
thus engaged in my mind. But in all this I saw nothing that did not seem
to be exceedingly natural, and could by no means understand why my
comrades should call me "an old-fashioned fellow."

Now, while engaged in the coasting trade, I fell in with many seamen
who had travelled to almost every quarter of the globe; and I freely
confess that my heart glowed ardently within me as they recounted their
wild adventures in foreign lands--the dreadful storms they had
weathered, the appalling dangers they had escaped, the wonderful
creatures they had seen both on the land and in the sea, and the
interesting lands and strange people they had visited. But of all the
places of which they told me, none captivated and charmed my
imagination so much as the Coral Islands of the Southern Seas. They
told me of thousands of beautiful, fertile islands that had been formed
by a small creature called the coral insect, where summer reigned
nearly all the year round; where the trees were laden with a constant
harvest of luxuriant fruit; where the climate was almost perpetually
delightful; yet where, strange to say, men were wild, bloodthirsty
savages, excepting in those favoured isles to which the Gospel of our
Saviour had been conveyed. These exciting accounts had so great an
effect upon my mind that, when I reached the age of fifteen, I resolved
to make a voyage to the South Seas.

I had no little difficulty at first in prevailing on my dear parents to
let me go; but when I urged on my father that he would never have
become a great captain had he remained in the coasting trade, he saw
the truth of what I said, and gave his consent. My dear mother, seeing
that my father had made up his mind, no longer offered opposition to my
wishes. "But oh, Ralph," she said, on the day I bade her adieu, "come
back soon to us, my dear boy, for we are getting old now, Ralph, and
may not have many years to live."

I will not take up my readers' time with a minute account of all that
occurred before I took my final leave of my dear parents. Suffice it to
say that my father placed me under the charge of an old messmate of his
own, a merchant captain, who was on the point of sailing to the South
Seas in his own ship, the _Arrow_. My mother gave me her blessing
and a small Bible; and her last request was that I would never forget
to read a chapter every day, and say my prayers; which I promised, with
tears in my eyes, that I would certainly do.

Soon afterwards, I went on board the _Arrow_, which was a fine
large ship, and set sail for the islands of the Pacific Ocean.

Chapter II

The departure--The sea--My companions--Some account of the
wonderful sights we saw on the great deep--A dreadful storm and a
frightful wreck.

It was a bright, beautiful, warm day when our ship spread her canvas to
the breeze, and sailed for the regions of the south. Oh, how my heart
bounded with delight as I listened to the merry chorus of the sailors,
while they hauled at the ropes and got in the anchor! The captain
shouted; the men ran to obey; the noble ship bent over to the breeze,
and the shore gradually faded from my view, while I stood looking on
with a kind of feeling that the whole was a delightful dream.

The first thing that struck me as being different from anything I had
yet seen during my short career on the sea, was the hoisting of the
anchor on deck and lashing it firmly down with ropes, as if we had now
bid adieu to the land for ever, and would require its services no more.

"There, lass," cried a broad-shouldered jack-tar, giving the fluke of
the anchor a hearty slap with his hand after the housing was completed
--"there, lass, take a good nap now, for we shan't ask you to kiss the
mud again for many a long day to come!"

And so it was. That anchor did not "kiss the mud" for many long days
afterwards; and when at last it did, it was for the last time!

There were a number of boys in the ship, but two of them were my
special favourites. Jack Martin was a tall, strapping, broad-shouldered
youth of eighteen, with a handsome, good-humoured, firm face. He had
had a good education, was clever and hearty and lion-like in his
actions, but mild and quiet in disposition. Jack was a general
favourite, and had a peculiar fondness for me. My other companion was
Peterkin Gay. He was little, quick, funny, decidedly mischievous, and
about fourteen years old. But Peterkin's mischief was almost always
harmless, else he could not have been so much beloved as he was.

"Hallo, youngster!" cried Jack Martin, giving me a slap on the shoulder
the day I joined the ship, "come below, and I'll show you your berth.
You and I are to be messmates, and I think we shall be good friends,
for I like the look o' you."

Jack was right. He and I, and Peterkin afterwards, became the best and
staunchest friends that ever tossed together on the stormy waves.

I shall say little about the first part of our voyage. We had the usual
amount of rough weather and calm; also we saw many strange fish rolling
in the sea, and I was greatly delighted one day by seeing a shoal of
flying-fish dart out of the water and skim through the air about a foot
above the surface. They were pursued by dolphins, which feed on them,
and one flying-fish in its terror flew over the ship, struck on the
rigging, and fell upon the deck. Its wings were just fins elongated,
and we found that they could never fly far at a time, and never mounted
into the air like birds, but skimmed along the surface of the sea. Jack
and I had it for dinner, and found it remarkably good.

When we approached Cape Horn, at the southern extremity of America, the
weather became very cold and stormy, and the sailors began to tell
stories about the furious gales and the dangers of that terrible Cape.

"Cape Horn," said one, "is the most horrible headland I ever doubled.
I've sailed round it twice already, and both times the ship was a'most
blow'd out o' the water."

"I've been round it once," said another, "an' that time the sails were
split, and the ropes frozen in the blocks, so that they wouldn't work,
and we wos all but lost."

"An' I've been round it five times," cried a third, "an' every time wos
wuss than another, the gales wos so tree-mendous!"

"And I've been round it no times at all," cried Peterkin, with an
impudent wink in his eye, "an' _that_ time I wos blow'd inside
out!"

Nevertheless, we passed the dreaded Cape without much rough weather,
and, in the course of a few weeks afterwards, were sailing gently
before a warm, tropical breeze over the Pacific Ocean. Thus we
proceeded on our voyage, sometimes bounding merrily before a fair
breeze, at other times floating calmly on the glassy wave and fishing
for the curious inhabitants of the deep--all of which, although the
sailors thought little of them, were strange, and interesting, and very
wonderful to me.

At last we came among the Coral Islands of the Pacific, and I shall
never forget the delight with which I gazed--when we chanced to pass
one--at the pure, white, dazzling shores, and the verdant palm trees,
which looked bright and beautiful in the sunshine. And often did we
three long to be landed on one, imagining that we should certainly find
perfect happiness there! Our wish was granted sooner than we expected.

One night, soon after we entered the tropics, an awful storm burst upon
our ship. The first squall of wind carried away two of our masts, and
left only the foremast standing. Even this, however, was more than
enough, for we did not dare to hoist a rag of sail on it. For five days
the tempest raged in all its fury. Everything was swept off the decks
except one small boat. The steersman was lashed to the wheel, lest he
should be washed away, and we all gave ourselves up for lost. The
captain said that he had no idea where we were, as we had been blown
far out of our course; and we feared much that we might get among the
dangerous coral reefs which are so numerous in the Pacific. At daybreak
on the sixth morning of the gale we saw land ahead. It was an island
encircled by a reef of coral on which the waves broke in fury. There
was calm water within this reef, but we could see only one narrow
opening into it. For this opening we steered, but ere we reached it a
tremendous wave broke on our stern, tore the rudder completely off, and
left us at the mercy of the winds and waves.

"It's all over with us now, lads!" said the captain to the men. "Get
the boat ready to launch; we shall be on the rocks in less than
half-an-hour."

The men obeyed in gloomy silence, for they felt that there was little
hope of so small a boat living in such a sea.

"Come, boys," said Jack Martin, in a grave tone, to me and Peterkin, as
we stood on the quarter-deck awaiting our fate--"come, boys; we three
shall stick together. You see it is impossible that the little boat can
reach the shore, crowded with men. It will be sure to upset, so I mean
rather to trust myself to a large oar. I see through the telescope that
the ship will strike at the tail of the reef, where the waves break
into the quiet water inside; so, if we manage to cling to the oar till
it is driven over the breakers, we may perhaps gain the shore. What say
you? will you join me?"

We gladly agreed to follow Jack, for he inspired us with confidence,
although I could perceive, by the sad tone of his voice, that he had
little hope; and, indeed, when I looked at the white waves that lashed
the reef and boiled against the rocks as if in fury, I felt that there
was but a step between us and death. My heart sank within me; but at
that moment my thoughts turned to my beloved mother, and I remembered
those words, which were among the last that she said to me: "Ralph, my
dearest child, always remember in the hour of danger to look to your
Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. He alone is both able and willing to
save your body and your soul." So I felt much comforted when I thought
thereon.

The ship was now very near the rocks. The men were ready with the boat,
and the captain beside them giving orders, when a tremendous wave came
towards us. We three ran towards the bow to lay hold of our oar, and
had barely reached it when the wave fell on the deck with a crash like
thunder. At the same moment the ship struck, the foremast broke off
close to the deck and went over the side, carrying the boat and men
along with it. Our oar got entangled with the wreck, and Jack seized an
axe to cut it free, but, owing to the motion of the ship, he missed the
cordage and struck the axe deep into the oar. Another wave, however,
washed it clear of the wreck. We all seized hold of it, and the next
instant we were struggling in the wild sea. The last thing I saw was
the boat whirling in the surf, and all the sailors tossed into the
foaming waves. Then I became insensible.

On recovering from my swoon, I found myself lying on a bank of soft
grass, under shelter of an overhanging rock, with Peterkin on his knees
by my side, tenderly bathing my temples with water, and endeavouring to
stop the blood that flowed from a wound in my forehead.

Chapter III

The Coral Island--Our first cogitations after landing, and the
result of them--We conclude that the island is uninhabited.

There is a strange and peculiar sensation experienced in recovering
from a state of insensibility, which is almost indescribable: a sort of
dreamy, confused consciousness; a half-waking, half-sleeping condition,
accompanied with a feeling of weariness, which, however, is by no means
disagreeable. As I slowly recovered, and heard the voice of Peterkin
inquiring whether I felt better, I thought that I must have overslept
myself, and should be sent to the mast-head for being lazy; but before
I could leap up in haste, the thought seemed to vanish suddenly away,
and I fancied that I must have been ill. Then a balmy breeze fanned my
cheek, and I thought of home, and the garden at the back of my father's
cottage, with its luxuriant flowers, and the sweet-scented honeysuckle
that my dear mother trained so carefully upon the trellised porch. But
the roaring of the surf put these delightful thoughts to flight, and I
was back again at sea, watching the dolphins and the flying-fish, and
reefing topsails off the wild and stormy Cape Horn. Gradually the roar
of the surf became louder and more distinct. I thought of being wrecked
far, far away from my native land, and slowly opened my eyes to meet
those of my companion Jack, who, with a look of intense anxiety, was
gazing into my face.

"Speak to us, my dear Ralph," whispered Jack tenderly. "Are you better
now?"

I smiled, and looked up, saying, "Better! why, what do you mean, Jack?
I'm quite well."

"Then what are you shamming for, and frightening us in this way?" said
Peterkin, smiling through his tears; for the poor boy had been really
under the impression that I was dying.

I now raised myself on my elbow, and putting my hand to my forehead,
found that it had been cut pretty severely, and that I had lost a good
deal of blood.

"Come, come, Ralph," said Jack, pressing me gently backward, "lie down,
my boy; you're not right yet. Wet your lips with this water; it's cool
and clear as crystal. I got it from a spring close at hand. There now,
don't say a word, hold your tongue," he said, seeing me about to speak.
"I'll tell you all about it, but you must not utter a syllable till you
have rested well."

"Oh! don't stop him from speaking, Jack," said Peterkin, who, now that
his fears for my safety were removed, busied himself in erecting a
shelter of broken branches in order to protect me from the wind, which,
however, was almost unnecessary, for the rock beside which I had been
laid completely broke the force of the gale. "Let him speak, Jack; it's
a comfort to hear that he's alive, after lying there stiff and white
and sulky for a whole hour, just like an Egyptian mummy. Never saw such
a fellow as you are, Ralph, always up to mischief. You've almost
knocked out all my teeth, and more than half choked me, and now you go
shamming dead! It's very wicked of you, indeed it is."

While Peterkin ran on in this style, my faculties became quite clear
again, and I began to understand my position. "What do you mean by
saying I half choked you, Peterkin?" said I.

"What do I mean? Is English not your mother-tongue, or do you want me
to repeat it in French, by way of making it clearer? Don't you
remember----"

"I remember nothing," said I, interrupting him, "after we were thrown
into the sea."

"Hush, Peterkin!" said Jack; "you're exciting Ralph with your
nonsense.--I'll explain it to you. You recollect that after the ship
struck, we three sprang over the bow into the sea: well, I noticed that
the oar struck your head and gave you that cut on the brow, which
nearly stunned you, so that you grasped Peterkin round the neck without
knowing apparently what you were about. In doing so you pushed the
telescope--which you clung to as if it had been your life--against
Peterkin's mouth----"

"Pushed it against his mouth!" interrupted Peterkin; "say, crammed it
down his throat. Why, there's a distinct mark of the brass rim on the
back of my gullet at this moment!"

"Well, well, be that as it may," continued Jack, "you clung to him,
Ralph, till I feared you really would choke him; but I saw that he had
a good hold of the oar, so I exerted myself to the utmost to push you
towards the shore, which we luckily reached without much trouble, for
the water inside the reef is quite calm."

"But the captain and crew, what of them?" I inquired anxiously.

Jack shook his head.

"Are they lost?"

"No, they are not lost, I hope, but I fear there is not much chance of
their being saved. The ship struck at the very tail of the island on
which we are cast. When the boat was tossed into the sea it fortunately
did not upset, although it shipped a good deal of water, and all the
men managed to scramble into it; but before they could get the oars out
the gale carried them past the point and away to leeward of the island.
After we landed I saw them endeavouring to pull towards us; but as they
had only one pair of oars out of the eight that belong to the boat, and
as the wind was blowing right in their teeth, they gradually lost
ground. Then I saw them put about and hoist some sort of sail--a
blanket, I fancy, for it was too small for the boat--and in half-an-hour
they were out of sight."

"Poor fellows!" I murmured sorrowfully.

"But the more I think about it, I've better hope of them," continued
Jack, in a more cheerful tone. "You see, Ralph, I've read a great deal
about these South Sea Islands, and I know that in many places they are
scattered about in thousands over the sea, so they're almost sure to
fall in with one of them before long."

"I'm sure I hope so," said Peterkin earnestly. "But what has become of
the wreck, Jack? I saw you clambering up the rocks there while I was
watching Ralph. Did you say she had gone to pieces?"

"No, she has not gone to pieces, but she has gone to the bottom,"
replied Jack. "As I said before, she struck on the tail of the island
and stove in her bow, but the next breaker swung her clear, and she
floated away to leeward. The poor fellows in the boat made a hard
struggle to reach her, but long before they came near her she filled
and went down. It was after she foundered that I saw them trying to
pull to the island."

There was a long silence after Jack ceased speaking, and I have no
doubt that each was revolving in his mind our extraordinary position.
For my part, I cannot say that my reflections were very agreeable. I
knew that we were on an island, for Jack had said so, but whether it
was inhabited or not I did not know. If it should be inhabited, I felt
certain, from all I had heard of South Sea Islanders, that we should be
roasted alive and eaten. If it should turn out to be uninhabited, I
fancied that we should be starved to death. "Oh," thought I, "if the
ship had only struck on the rocks we might have done pretty well, for
we could have obtained provisions from her, and tools to enable us to
build a shelter; but now--alas! alas! we are lost!" These last words I
uttered aloud in my distress.

"Lost! Ralph?" exclaimed Jack, while a smile overspread his hearty
countenance. "Saved, you should have said. Your cogitations seem to
have taken a wrong road, and led you to a wrong conclusion."

"Do you know what conclusion _I_ have come to?" said Peterkin. "I
have made up my mind that it's capital--first-rate--the best thing
that ever happened to us, and the most splendid prospect that ever lay
before three jolly young tars. We've got an island all to ourselves.
We'll take possession in the name of the king; we'll go and enter the
service of its black inhabitants. Of course we'll rise, naturally, to
the top of affairs. White men always do in savage countries. You shall
be king, Jack; Ralph, prime minister; and I shall be----"

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