CHAPTER XVIII
THE RAT HUNT
They had dinner at noon. Paddy knew how to cook fish, island fashion,wrapping them in leaves, and baking them in a hole in the ground inwhich a fire had previously been lit. They had fish and taro rootbaked, and green cocoa-nuts; and after dinner Mr Button filled a bigshell with rum, and lit his pipe.
The rum had been good originally, and age had improved it. Used as hewas to the appalling balloon juice sold in the drinking dens of the“Barbary coast” at San Francisco, or the public-houses of the docks,this stuff was nectar.
Joviality radiated from him: it was infectious. The children felt thatsome happy influence had fallen upon their friend. Usually after dinnerhe was drowsy and “wishful to be quiet.” To-day he told them stories ofthe sea, and sang them songs—chantys:
“I’m a flyin’ fish sailor come back from Hong Kong, Yeo ho! blow the man down. Blow the man down, bullies, blow the man down, Oh, give us _time_ to blow the man down. You’re a dhirty black-baller come back from New York, Yeo ho! blow the man down, Blow the man down, bullies, blow the man down. Oh, give us time to blow the man down.”
“Oh, give us _time_ to blow the man down!” echoed Dick and Emmeline.
Up above, in the trees, the bright-eyed birds were watching them—sucha happy party. They had all the appearance of picnickers, and the songechoed amongst the cocoa-nut trees, and the wind carried it over thelagoon to where the sea-gulls were wheeling and screaming, and the foamwas thundering on the reef.
That evening, Mr Button feeling inclined for joviality, and not wishingthe children to see him under the influence, rolled the barrel throughthe cocoa-nut grove to a little clearing by the edge of the water.There, when the children were in bed and asleep, he repaired with somegreen cocoa-nuts and a shell. He was generally musical when amusinghimself in this fashion, and Emmeline, waking up during the night,heard his voice borne through the moonlit cocoa-nut grove by the wind:
“There were five or six old drunken sailors Standin’ before the bar, And Larry, he was servin’ them From a big five-gallon jar.
“_Chorus._— Hoist up the flag, long may it wave! Long may it lade us to glory or the grave. Stidy, boys, stidy—sound the jubilee, For Babylon has fallen, and the niggers are all set free.”
Next morning the musician awoke beside the cask. He had not a trace ofa headache, or any bad feeling, but he made Dick do the cooking; and helay in the shade of the cocoa-nut trees, with his head on a “pilla”made out of an old coat rolled up, twiddling his thumbs, smoking hispipe, and discoursing about the “ould” days, half to himself and halfto his companions.
That night he had another musical evening all to himself, and so itwent on for a week. Then he began to lose his appetite and sleep; andone morning Dick found him sitting on the sand looking very queerindeed—as well he might, for he had been “seeing things” since dawn.
“What is it, Paddy?” said the boy, running up, followed by Emmeline.
Mr Button was staring at a point on the sand close by. He had his righthand raised after the manner of a person who is trying to catch a fly.Suddenly he made a grab at the sand, and then opened his hand wide tosee what he had caught.
“What is it, Paddy?”
“The Cluricaune,” replied Mr Button. “All dressed in green hewas—musha! musha! but it’s only pretindin’ I am.”
The complaint from which he was suffering has this strange thing aboutit, that, though the patient sees rats, or snakes, or what not, asreal-looking as the real things, and though they possess his mind for amoment, almost immediately he recognises that he is suffering from adelusion.
The children laughed, and Mr Button laughed in a stupid sort of way.
“Sure, it was only a game I was playin’—there was no Cluricaune atall—it’s whin I dhrink rum it puts it into me head to play games likethat. Oh, be the Holy Poker, there’s red rats comin’ out of the sand!”
He got on his hands and knees and scuttled off towards the cocoa-nuttrees, looking over his shoulder with a bewildered expression on hisface. He would have risen to fly, only he dared not stand up.
The children laughed and danced round him as he crawled.
“Look at the rats, Paddy! look at the rats!” cried Dick.
“They’re in front of me!” cried the afflicted one, making a viciousgrab at an imaginary rodent’s tail. “Ran dan the bastes!—now they’regone. Musha, but it’s a fool I’m makin’ of meself.”
“Go on, Paddy,” said Dick; “don’t stop— Look there—there’s more ratscoming after you!”
“Oh, whisht, will you?” replied Paddy, taking his seat on the sand, andwiping his brow. “They’re aff me now.”
The children stood by, disappointed of their game. Good acting appealsto children just as much as to grown-up people. They stood waiting foranother access of humour to take the comedian, and they had not to waitlong.
A thing like a flayed horse came out of the lagoon and up the beach,and this time Mr Button did not crawl away. He got on his feet and ran.
“It’s a harse that’s afther me—it’s a harse that’s afther me! Dick!Dick! hit him a skelp. Dick! Dick! dhrive him away.”
“Hurroo! Hurroo!” cried Dick, chasing the afflicted one, who wasrunning in a wide circle, his broad red face slewed over his leftshoulder. “Go it, Paddy! go it, Paddy!”
“Kape off me, you baste!” shouted Paddy. “Holy Mary, Mother of God!I’ll land you a kick wid me fut if yiz come nigh me. Em’leen! Em’leen!come betune us!”
He tripped, and over he went on the sand, the indefatigable Dickbeating him with a little switch he had picked up to make him continue.
“I’m better now, but I’m near wore out,” said Mr Button, sitting up onthe sand. “But, bedad, if I’m chased by any more things like them it’sinto the say I’ll be dashin’. Dick, lend me your arum.”
He took Dick’s arm and wandered over to the shade of the trees. Herehe threw himself down, and told the children to leave him to sleep.They recognised that the game was over and left him. And he slept forsix hours on end; it was the first real sleep he had had for severaldays. When he awoke he was well, but very shaky.