Scarcely had they finished off the last survivor of this Niobean family,when we were startled by the distant report of a volley of musketry,fired in the direction of the schooner.I could not conceive what had happened.
Had a mutiny taken place?Was Mr.Wyse re-enacting,with a less docile ship's company,the pistol scene on board the Glasgow steamer?Again resounded the rattle of the firing.At all events,there was no time to be lost in getting back,so,tying up the birds in three bundles,we flung ourselves down into the gully by which we had ascended,and leaping on from stone to stone,to the infinite danger of our limbs and necks,rolled rather than ran down the hill.On rounding the lower wall of the curve which hitherto had hid what was passing from our eyes,the first I observed was Wilson breasting up the hill,evidently in a state of the greatest agitation.
As soon as he thought himself within earshot,he stopped dead short,and,****** a speaking-trumpet with his hands,shrieked,rather than shouted,"If you please,my Lord!"--(as I have already said,Wilson never forgot les convenances)--"If you please,my Lord,there's a b-e-a-a-a-a-r!"prolonging the last word into a polysyllable of fearful import.Concluding by the enthusiasm he was exhibiting,that the animal in question was at his heels,--hidden from us probably by the inequality of the ground,--I cocked my rifle,and prepared to roll him over the moment he should appear in sight.But what was my disappointment,when,on looking towards the schooner,my eye caught sight of our three boats fastened in a row,and towing behind them a white floating object,which my glass only too surely resolved the next minute into the dead bear!
On descending to the shore,I learned the whole story.
As Mr.Wyse was pacing the deck,his attention was suddenly attracted by a white speck in the water,swimming across from Prince Charles's Foreland,--the long island which lies over against English Bay.When first observed,the creature,whatever it might be,was about a mile and a half off,--the width of the channel between the island and the main being about five miles.Some said it was a bird,others a whale,and the cook suggested a mermaid.
When the fact was ascertained that it was a BONA FIDEbear,a gun was fired as a signal for us to return;but it was evident that unless at once intercepted,Bruin would get ashore.Mr.Wyse,therefore,very properly determined to make sure of him.This was a matter of no difficulty:the poor beast showed very little fight.His first impulse was to swim away from the boat;and even after he had been wounded,he only turned round once or twice upon his pursuers.The honour of having given him his death wound rests between the steward and Mr.Wyse;both contend for it.The evidence is conflicting,as at least half-a-dozen mortal wounds were found in the animal's body;each maybe considered to have had a share in his death.Mr.Grant rests his claim principally upon the fact of his having put two bullets in my new rifle--which must have greatly improved the bore of that instrument.On the strength of this precaution,he now wears as an ornament about his person one of the bullets extracted from the gizzard of our prize.
All this time,Wilson was at the tent,busily occupied in taking photographs.As soon as the bear was observed,a signal was made to him from the ship,to warn him of the visitor he might shortly expect on shore.Naturally concluding that the bear would in all probability make for the tent as soon as he reached land,it became a subject of consideration with him what course he should pursue.Weapons he had none,unless the chemicals he was using might be so regarded.Should he try the influence of chloroform on his enemy;or launch the whole photographic apparatus at his grisly head,and take to his heels?
Thought is rapid,but the bear's progress seemed equally expeditious;it was necessary to arrive at some speedy conclusion.To fly--was to desert his post and leave the camp in possession of the spoiler;life and honour were equally dear to him.Suddenly a bright idea struck him.
At the time the goat had been disembarked to take her pleasure on TERRA FIRMA,our crow's-nest barrel had been landed with her.At this moment it was standing unoccupied by the side of the tent.By creeping into it,and turning its mouth downward on the ground,Wilson perceived that he should convert it into a tower of strength for himself against the enemy,while its legitimate occupant,becoming at once a victim to the bear's voracity,would probably prevent the monster from investigating too curiously its contents.It was quite a pity that the interposition of the boats prevented his putting this ingenious plan into execution.He had been regularly done out of a situation,in which the most poignant agony of mind and dreary anticipations would have been absolutely required of him.
He pictured the scene to himself;he lying fermenting in the barrel,like a curious vintage;the bear sniffing querulously round it,perhaps cracking it like a cocoa-nut,or extracting him like a periwinkle!Of these chances he had been deprived by the interference of the crew.Friends are often injudiciously meddling.
Although I felt a little vexation that one of us should not have had the honour of slaying the bear in single combat,which would certainly have been for the benefit of his skin,the unexpected luck of having got one at all,made us quite forget our personal disappointment.
As for my people,they were beside themselves with delight.
