tail. The jaws were parted slightly revealing rows of ugly teeth, and hanging
from them the remains of some other creature it had eaten, or perhaps only some
riverweed.
There were no rocks. I threw a handful of sand, but the beast paid no attention.
His tail moved slightly. Once he lifted a foot as if to move, then put it down
again.
I added a heavier stick to the fire, suddenly awake that my fuel supply was
badly depleted. And when my fuel was gone? How could I face such a monster with
my six foot stick? True, I had my sword, but how tough was the hide? This
alligator was a monster.
Moving slightly to one side, his eyes and nose followed me, the jaws parting
slightly as if in anticipation.
Suddenly he lunged toward me and I thrust hard at his eye with my spear. It
missed, but the jolt of the blow against the horny plate jarred my arm to the
elbow. I had heard of natives wrestling these creatures, but surely their
creatures had been smaller than mine—as large around in the body as a good-sized
donkey.
He came a tentative foot further, in no way disturbed by my spear. He was
crowding me, knowing I was trapped, knowing that if he could force me deeper
into my shell I would be helpless. He avoided the fire, coming at me around the
right side, moving carefully.
I stabbed with the spear, ineffectually, then thrust suddenly with my sword. The
point of the blade took him above the nose and skidded along the upper side of
his jaw, making a long scratch, but penetrating scarcely at all.
He came on, a step further, circling the fire, jaws agape. I was bent over now,
unable to move swiftly, still near the fire but being inexorably backed into the
old hull. I struck again with my spear but suddenly the jaws snapped and the
spear was gone, broken in half. Sword in hand, I thrust suddenly. The point
penetrated an inch, perhaps more. Instantly withdrawing I cut a slash at the
ugly nose. The jaws gaped, and with incredible swiftness the alligator lunged.
He was a huge fellow, his body twelve to fifteen feet long, and when he lunged
he must have come forward at least six feet. I twisted under the overhang,
trying to get outside. My foot slipped in the sand and I fell, my left hand
falling near the fire.
As the monster started for me, my hand closed over the end of the heavy stick I
had recently put into the fire. Its end was aflame, and I hurled it with all my
strength into the gaping maw before me.
The beast gave a tremendous roar and went into a convulsion, twisting this way
and that in a fury of pain and anger.
Rolling over into the edge of the fire, I sprang up and dove out into the rain,
stumbled and fell, got up again, and was knocked sprawling by the monster,
rushing for the river oblivious of me. I heard him splash, saw him submerge. He
surfaced almost at once with a roar, then went down again.
For a long time I lay still, sprawled on the sand. Thunder rumbled in the
distance, and slowly, I drew my hands under me. Somehow I still clung to my
sword. Getting up I looked around, rain streaming down my face, soaking my
clothes once more.
Staggering, I made for my shelter in the hulk. Once out of the rain, I fell on
the churned up sand and lay there, gasping and trembling. Finally, I pulled
myself together.
My fire had been scattered, but here and there some embers smoldered and using a
stick for a rake, I gathered them together and added fuel. The fuel I now had
was wet, but slowly the fire took hold. I crouched beside it, trembling.
There could be no thought of sleep. I gathered fuel, and sword across my knees,
I dozed and waited for the dawn that seemed never to come. And when it came at
last it was gray and cold with a wind blowing the rain before it, bending the
trees, and whipping sand like shot that rattled against the hulk and stung my
cheeks.
Sword in hand, for now I expected danger behind every bush, I went down the
island to where I thought I had seen some green ash trees. They were there, and
I cut a long, smooth pole about the size of my wrist or a bit larger. It was a
young tree that had been fire-killed, and looked to be a proper bit of bow
material.
Taking it back to the hulk, I picked up several fist-sized pieces of rock on the
return journey. Seated once more beside my fire, I began working to smooth down
my bow and shape it to my thinking. It was a slow, painstaking task, but it
helped to keep me warm, and a bow I must have if I was to live.
Later, again with sword in hand, I went to my fish-trap. It was there … a part
of it. Something, possibly an alligator, had destroyed it to get at the fish it
had undoubtedly held.
I swore bitterly, then taking what fragments might be used, I went back to the
hulk to do the job once more. It was almost dusk when I replanted the trap and
returned to my shelter to resume work on the bow, flattening the inner side,
rounding the outer. I felt near to starving.
That night I built my fire larger and slept fitfully, awakening to add fuel to
the flames, sometimes to peer out into the darkness. My fire was well hidden and
I had small fear it would be seen from the mainland.
At daybreak I went to my fish trap and it held three fine, large fish!
Rolling them in clay at the river’s edge, I carried them back to camp and buried
them in coals at the fire’s edge. Later, when I could wait no longer, I ate them
… all three, and they were delicious.
During the night the rain ceased so I kept my fire still smaller. Then I rigged
a couple of deadfalls, took another fish from my trap, and ate some more scurvy
grass.
My next move must be to the mainland, to escape from my island prison. Twice I
went out to the highest place on the island and stood among the trees looking
down river. I saw nothing, no movement, no sail.
On the fourth day I completed my bow and several arrows, and on the fifth day I
found a huge, old dead tree clinging to some brush at the island’s edge. If I
could straddle that, shove off and hit that point yonder …
On the sixth day, with two smoked fish inside my shirt for rations, I shoved
off, and in less than a half an hour was afoot in the mainland woods.
My safest bet was to go to Potaka, yet I had no more faith in his protection
than had Rufisco, so I struck out overland, for the coast.
And on the morning of the seventh day, I killed a deer.
Chapter 15
Crouching in the low brush that crowned the sand hills where I waited, I studied
the shore line with infinite patience. Already my eyes had scanned the sound,
and no sail showed itself against the blue water, nor the blue sky beyond, nor
close in against the sand.
From time to time I had seen the tracks of Indians, but I had seen neither man,
woman, nor child. I had eaten well of my venison, and had some still with me.
There were well-used trails here and there but I avoided them, keeping to
smaller trails or to the woods themselves.
Travel was slower, yet it served me well, for I was learning more about the
trees, the life of the forest, and what it was that lay before me.
I must assume I would be some time ashore. If the Tiger had escaped, it might
come back … and might not. If it had been taken by the Jolly Jack, I would be
unlikely to see any of my friends again. The thought of Abigail in the hands of
Nick Bardle was intolerable.
The Jack would return. Perhaps the Tiger also. These sounds were relatively
secure against the worst of the storms. Undoubtedly all these waters could be
frightening in stormy weather. But the banks interposed a wall between a ship
and the sea, and there were numerous inlets and river mouths that offered
shelter.
Bardle was a cold fish … a careful man. He would see the advantages of the
sounds. In the meantime, I must live, and if possible accumulate more furs.
With deadfall traps I snared a few animals: several mink, an otter, four beaver,
and with an arrow I killed a fox.