Jack at Sea: All Work and No Play Made Him a Dull BoyFenn, George Manville
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Jack at Sea: All Work and No Play Made Him a Dull Boy
Fenn, George Manville
Adventure stories; Natural history -- Juvenile fiction; Voyages and travels -- Juvenile fiction
"Here, this won't do," cried the doctor in mock horror. "'Bout ship,
captain, and let's get back home, or else to one of these wonderful
islands that make my mouth water. Let me see, something of this kind: a
beach of coral with the waves always rolling over and breaking in foam,
so that just within there is a beautiful blue lagoon of water, calm as a
lake. Across the lake stretched right and left golden sands, at the
back of which are cocoa-nut groves, with their great fern-like leaves
rustling in the sea-breeze, crabs and fish scuttling about beneath them;
and farther on where the land commences to rise the glorious tropic
forest begins, trailed with orchids and wonderful creepers. Great palms
rise like columns, and huge trees of the fig persuasion spread and drop
down at several spots to form green bowers, and capital places to make
huts. Monkeys climbing about. Birds swarming--nesting or swinging by
the rotan canes. Farther on the land rising and rising, and all forest
till it begins to be seamed with valleys, or rather deep gorges which
run up to the central mountain, from which they radiate all round down
toward the sea, and all of them forming glorious collecting grounds for
naturalists. Then higher up the air growing cooler, save for a peculiar
hot puff now and then with a taste in it of sulphurous steam. Then the
trees growing thinner and not so majestic, but the flowers more abundant
and the valleys more moist, where the streams trickle down; and here and
there are little waterfalls, over which in the spray enormous fronds
spread their green lace-work and sparkle with the fine pearly dew which
is formed by the spray from the falling water. Here an icy spring of
crystal purity gushes from amongst the mossy stones, and oddly enough a
little farther on we come upon another spring, from which steam rises,
but the water itself is of wonderful clearness, so hot that you cannot
bear your hand in it, and the basin is composed of delicate pinky-white
as beautiful as the inside of some of the shells which lie in the
glorious marine garden at the bottom of the lagoon which spreads all
round the island. We push on and at last leave the trees behind, to
find the vegetation curiously dwarfed, masses and tufts of wiry grass,
and we have to tramp over sandy, cindery stuff which gives way under our
feet, and sets some of the big stones in motion. For we have come upon
a slope which grows steeper and steeper, and runs up and up, till, quite
breathless, we stop short among the great grey masses of pumice-stone
and glassy obsidian which cut our boots. We look about and see from
where we are over one side of the island, in whose centre we nearly
stand. The forest is glorious, the lagoon looks like turquoise, and the
coral reef which forms a breakwater round the place seems from our great
height to be one mass of creamy foam, while beyond it stretching far and
wide is the glorious sapphire sea. We are terribly hot with our climb,
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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