- end_line
- 2880
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:25.200Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 2815
- text
- which we had passed the last wretched night. We cleared away the tall
reeds from the small but almost level bit of ground, and twisted them
into a low basket-like hut, which we covered with a profusion of long
thick leaves, gathered from a tree near at hand. We disposed them
thickly all around, reserving only a slight opening that barely
permitted us to crawl under the shelter we had thus obtained.
These deep recesses, though protected from the winds that assail the
summits of their lofty sides, are damp and chill to a degree that one
would hardly anticipate in such a climate; and being unprovided with
anything but our woollen frocks and thin duck trousers to resist the
cold of the place, we were the more solicitous to render our habitation
for the night as comfortable as we could. Accordingly, in addition to
what we had already done, we plucked down all the leaves within our
reach and threw them in a heap over our little hut, into which we now
crept, raking after us a reserved supply to form our couch.
That night nothing but the pain I suffered prevented me from sleeping
most refreshingly. As it was, I caught two or three naps, while Toby
slept away at my side as soundly as though he had been sandwiched
between two Holland sheets. Luckily it did not rain, and we were
preserved from the misery which a heavy shower would have occasioned
us. In the morning I was awakened by the sonorous voice of my companion
ringing in my ears and bidding me rise. I crawled out from our heap of
leaves, and was astonished at the change which a good night’s rest had
wrought in his appearance. He was as blithe and joyous as a young bird,
and was staying the keenness of his morning’s appetite by chewing the
soft bark of a delicate branch he held in his hand, and he recommended
the like to me as an admirable antidote against the gnawings of hunger.
For my own part, though feeling materially better than I had done the
preceding evening, I could not look at the limb that had pained me
so violently at intervals during the last twenty-four hours, without
experiencing a sense of alarm that I strove in vain to shake off.
Unwilling to disturb the flow of my comrade’s spirits, I managed to
stifle the complaints to which I might otherwise have given vent, and
calling upon him good-humouredly to speed our banquet, I prepared myself
for it by washing in the stream. This operation concluded, we swallowed,
or rather absorbed, by a peculiar kind of slow sucking process, our
respective morsels of nourishment, and then entered into a discussion as
to the steps is was necessary for us to pursue.
‘What’s to be done now?’ inquired I, rather dolefully.
‘Descend into that same valley we descried yesterday.’ rejoined Toby,
with a rapidity and loudness of utterance that almost led me to suspect
he had been slyly devouring the broadside of an ox in some of the
adjoining thickets. ‘What else,’ he continued, ‘remains for us to do but
that, to be sure? Why, we shall both starve to a certainty if we remain
here; and as to your fears of those Typees--depend upon it, it is all
nonsense.’
‘It is impossible that the inhabitants of such a lovely place as we
saw can be anything else but good fellows; and if you choose rather to
perish with hunger in one of these soppy caverns, I for one prefer to
chance a bold descent into the valley, and risk the consequences’.
‘And who is to pilot us thither,’ I asked, ‘even if we should decide
upon the measure you propose? Are we to go again up and down those
precipices that we crossed yesterday, until we reach the place we
started from, and then take a flying leap from the cliffs to the
valley?’
‘Faith, I didn’t think of that,’ said Toby; ‘sure enough, both sides of
the valley appeared to be hemmed in by precipices, didn’t they?’
- title
- Chunk 5