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He pretended to be on the point of recrossing, but the sailor had already got upon the bridge, and, with much balancing and waving of his long arms, passed over in safety. Mark was about to follow, when Hockins called out, "Better pitch over the powder-flask in case you fall in." "That's true, for I mayn't be as good as you or Ebony on the tight-rope. Look out!"
Also that beef and vegetables were proportionally cheap. "It seems to me," remarked Hockins, as they moved slowly along, enjoying the fruit and the scene, "that this here island is a sort of paradise." Before many minutes were over the seaman had reason to change his views considerably on this point, for their guide led them to a spot where the slave-market was held.
Ebony, although earnestly absorbed in victuals, rolled his eyes about as he looked from time to time at his companions with unwonted solemnity, and John Hockins frowned at his food, and shook his shaggy head with an air of dissatisfied perplexity.
Then the old man, having retired to his corner, and the sister having departed, Mark Breezy, John Hockins, James Ginger, and Ravonino drew round the fire, heaped-on fresh logs, lay down at full length on their mats, and prepared to enjoy that sleepy chat which not unfrequently precedes, sometimes even postpones, repose.
He's always brooding and pondering, too, as if hatching mischief." "If that's a sign of hatching mischief," said Hockins, with a short laugh, "the same thing may be said of yourself, doctor, for you've done little but brood and ponder for more nor a week past." "True, I have been plotting; but many a man plots much without much resulting."
It was a marvellous exhibition. Ebony glared and gasped! Hockins growled and frowned! Nothing short of a tussle between Achilles and Hercules could have equalled it. The Court, from the Queen downwards, was awe-stricken, eye-strained, open-mouthed, and breathless, but Mark felt that it was time to cut it short.
"If this here sort o' cordage was only a bit more taut I wouldn't mind it so much," growled Hockins, as he lost his footing at one place, and swung off the face of the precipice, holding on to a stout creeper, however, with seaman-like grip and coolness. He quickly caught hold of another creeper, and drew himself again into comparative safety.
"They've got baccy, an' don't smoke!" murmured Hockins to himself in a kind of meditative surprise, as though he had just been told that the natives possessed food and did not eat. "But you don't smoke?" remarked the guide. "That's 'cause I hain't got baccy nor pipe. You give me pipe and baccy an' I'll smoke you into fits in no time." "Do you feel the want of it much?" "Not much.
After receiving the deadly thrust the bull plunged forward a few paces, and then fell dying upon the ground, while Hockins got up and began to feel himself all over to make sure that no bones were broken. It need scarcely be told that they rejoiced greatly over their success, and that they cut off some of the flesh immediately, with which they returned to the forest to enjoy a much-needed meal.
Truly the proceedings of Hockins and Ebony would have surprised even more finished wrestlers than those of Madagascar, for the two men had entered into a sly compact not only to exert their strength to the uttermost, but to give way, each at certain points or moments, when by so doing the appearance of what they styled a "back-breaker" and a "buster" might be achieved in an effective manner.
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