Part 65 (1/2)

”I should have poked about with the barrel of my musket and found that the rustling was made by birds or rats.”

”Nay, sir,” said the man confidently, ”'twarn't neither o' they things.

If it had been they'd ha' skilly wiggled away at once. And besides, sir, they wouldn't ha' made a man feel so 'orrid squirmy like. I felt all of a shudder; that's what made me know that they were something as didn't ought to be.”

”Snakes, perhaps, Tom.”

The man started, stared, s.n.a.t.c.hed off his straw hat, and gave his head a vicious rub, before having another good look back at the thatch-roofed summer-house of a place.

”Say, Mr Murray, sir,” he said at last, ”did you say snakes?”

”Yes, Tom; perhaps poisonous ones.”

The man gave his head another rub, and then e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed in a strange long-drawn way the one word--

”Well!”

”I've read that in places like this they creep in under the flooring, and then make their way up the holes and into the thatch after the birds or rats upon which they live.”

”Do they now, sir?” said the man excitedly.

”Yes, and some of them are horribly poisonous; so you must take care how you deal with them.”

”Poisonous, sir?” continued Tom. ”Them sort as if they bite a man it's all over with him and the doctor arn't able to save his life?”

”Yes, Tom,” continued Murray; ”in one of these islands particularly the people call the serpent the _fer de lance_, a bite from which is very often fatal.”

”Kills a man, sir?”

”I believe so.”

”Then I arn't surprised at them calling it so, sir. Nothing could be too bad for it. That's it, sir, and now I arn't a bit surprised at my feeling as I did, sir. I wondered what made me come so all-overish like and fancy there was something about as oughtn't to be. I arn't a chap as gets skeared about a bit o' danger, sir; now, am I, sir?”

”No, Tom; I believe you to be a brave fellow that your officers can always trust.”

”Thankye, sir; that's what I want to be--chap as can stand a bit o'

fire, sir, eh?” said the man, with a broad grin.

”Yes, Tom, and that's what made me feel vexed at your being so superst.i.tious.”

”Sooperst.i.tious, sir?” said the man, giving his head another rub.

”That's what you call it, is it, sir? Well, but arn't it enough to make a fellow feel a bit creepy, sir, to have them dry-land eels squirming about overhead ready to give him a nip as means Dr Reston shaking his head all over you and calling your messmates to sew you up in your hammock with a twenty-four pound shot at your feet, and the skipper reading the sarvice over you before the hatch upon which you lays is tilted up, and then _splash_, down you goes out o' sight at gunfire. I don't see, sir, as a fellow has much to be ashamed of in being a bit s.h.i.+very.”

”Nor I, Tom, if he s.h.i.+vered from an instinctive fear of a poisonous serpent. But you were not afraid of that, eh?”

Tom May screwed up his face again with a comical grin, shook his head, and then, after a glance here and there at his messmates who were to be stationed as sentries--

”Well, not azackly, sir,” he said. ”I was reg'larly skeared at something, and I did not know what; but I see now, sir. It was my natur' to--what you called 'stinctive.”

”Well, we'll leave it there, Tom,” said Murray smiling, ”but I'm not quite satisfied. I'll go and have a look by and by.”