"And,
now I think of it, I'll change my plan too. I don't think much of a
club, so I'll make me a sling out of this piece of cloth. I used to be
very fond of slinging, ever since I read of David slaying Goliath the
Philistine, and I was once thought to be expert at it."
So I set to work to manufacture a sling. For a long time we all worked
very busily without speaking. At length Peterkin looked up. "I say,
Jack, I'm sorry to say I must apply to you for another strip of your
handkerchief, to tie on this rascally head with. It's pretty well torn
at any rate, so you won't miss it."
Jack proceeded to comply with this request, when Peterkin suddenly laid
his hand on his arm and arrested him.
"Hist, man," said he, "be tender; you should never be needlessly cruel
if you can help it. Do try to shave past Lord Nelson's mouth without
tearing it, if possible! Thanks. There are plenty more handkerchiefs on
the cocoa-nut trees."
Poor Peterkin! with what pleasant feelings I recall and record his
jests and humorous sayings now!
While we were thus engaged, we were startled by a distant but most
strange and horrible cry. It seemed to come from the sea, but was so
far away that we could not clearly distinguish its precise direction.
Rushing out of our bower, we hastened down to the beach and stayed to
listen. Again it came quite loud and distinct on the night air--a
prolonged, hideous cry, something like the braying of an ass.
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