Part 1 · Chapter 20A Few Days on Land

I was seriously impressed when we finally touched land. Ned Land stomped his feet on the soil, like he was claiming it as his own. It had only been two months since we’d become, according to Captain Nemo, "passengers on board the Nautilus," but really, we were prisoners of his commander.

In just a few minutes, we were close enough to the coast to almost touch it. The whole horizon was hidden behind this crazy curtain of forests. Huge trees - seriously, the trunks were like two hundred feet tall - were all tangled together with vines, like real-life hammocks swaying in the breeze.

They were mimosas, figs, hibiscus, and palm trees, all mixed up with tons of orchids, bean plants, and ferns growing underneath.

But, without even noticing all this amazing stuff, Ned ditched the pretty things for something useful. He spotted a coconut tree, knocked down some fruit, cracked them open, and we drank the milk and ate the nut - it was so much better than the usual food on the Nautilus. "Awesome!"

said Ned Land. "Amazing!" replied Conseil.

"And I don’t think," said the Canadian, "that he’s gonna mind if we load up a few coconut trees onto the ship."

"I don’t think he will, but he won’t even try them."

"That’s his loss," said Conseil.

"And our gain," replied Ned Land. " More for us!"

"Just one thing, Master Land," I said to the harpooner, who was already going after another coconut tree.

"Coconuts are great, but before we fill the canoe, maybe we should check out the island and see if it has anything else useful. Some fresh veggies would be a total win on the Nautilus."

"Master’s right," replied Conseil; "and I suggest we reserve three spots in our canoe: one for fruit, one for veggies, and one for venison - I haven’t even seen a single one yet."

"Conseil, we can’t give up hope," said the Canadian.

"Let’s keep looking," I said. "Even though the island seems deserted, it might still have some people - they’re probably easier to deal with than finding game."

"Ho! ho!" said Ned Land, moving his jaw in a weird way. "Well, Ned!" said Conseil.

"Seriously!" returned the Canadian, "I’m starting to see the appeal of eating people."

"Ned! Ned! What are you saying? You, a cannibal? I wouldn’t feel safe with you, especially since we share a cabin. I might wake up one day to find myself half eaten!"

"Friend Conseil, I like you a lot, but not enough to eat you just for kicks."

"I still wouldn’t trust you," replied Conseil.

But enough. We have to bring down some game to satisfy this guy, or else one of these mornings, Master will find only pieces of his servant to serve him.

"While we were talking, we kept going deeper into the dark forest, and for two hours, we checked everything out."

Luck was on our side - we found some edible veggies, and one of the most useful plants in the tropics gave us some precious food we were missing on board. I’m talking about the bread-fruit tree, which is super common on the island of Gilboa.

I noticed especially the kind without seeds, which they call "rima" in Malaya.

Ned Land knew these fruits well. He’s eaten tons of them during his many trips, and he knew how to get to the good stuff. Seeing them just got him hyped, and he couldn’t hold back any longer.

"Master," he said, "I’m gonna die if I don’t taste a little of this bread-fruit pie."

"Go for it, friend Ned - taste it as much as you want. We’re here to do some experiments - do them."

"It won’t take long," said the Canadian.

He got a lentil and started a fire with some dry wood that crackled happily. Meanwhile, Conseil and I picked out the best bread-fruit. Some weren’t quite ripe yet - their thick skin covered a white, kind of stringy pulp. But most were yellow and soft, just waiting to be picked.

These fruits didn’t have any seeds. Conseil brought a dozen to Ned Land, who sliced them thick and tossed them on a coal fire. As he did, he kept saying:

"You’re gonna love this bread, boss. Especially after being without it so long. It’s not even bread, really," he added. " It’s like a fancy pastry. You haven’t tried any, have you?" "Nope, Ned."

"Then get ready for something juicy. If you don’t come back for more, I’m no longer the king of harpooners."

After a while, the parts of the fruit exposed to the fire were completely roasted. The inside looked like a white, fluffy pastry - a kind of soft crumb with a flavor like artichoke.

It was seriously good bread, and I ate it with a lot of enthusiasm.

"What time is it now?" asked the Canadian.

"At least two o’clock," replied Conseil.

"Time flies when you’re on solid ground!" sighed Ned Land. "Let’s go," said Conseil.

We headed back through the forest and finished our collection by grabbing some beans from the top of the cabbage palms - I recognized them as "abrou" from the Malays, and really good yams.

We were loaded when we got to the boat. But Ned Land thought his supplies weren’t enough. Luckily, just as we were pushing off, he spotted several tall trees, like palm trees, about twenty-five to thirty feet high.

Finally, at five o’clock in the evening, loaded down with our goodies, we left the shore and half an hour later we hailed the Nautilus. Nobody showed up when we arrived. The huge, iron-covered cylinder looked totally deserted.

After loading the provisions, I went down to my room and slept like a rock after supper.

The next day, January sixth, nothing new on board. Not a sound inside, not a sign of life. The boat was still resting along the edge, in the same spot we’d left it. We decided to go back to the island. Ned Land was hoping to have better luck hunting and wanted to check out another part of the forest.

At dawn, we set off. The boat, carried by the waves toward the shore, reached the island in just a few minutes.

We landed, and, figuring it was best to go along with the Canadian, we followed Ned Land, whose long legs threatened to leave us behind. He headed up the coast toward the west, then forded a few streams and reached a high plain bordered by amazing forests.

Some kingfishers were flitting along the streams, but they wouldn’t let us get close. Their caution told me that these birds knew what to expect from humans, and I figured that, even if the island wasn’t inhabited, people occasionally visited it.

After crossing a pretty big prairie, we arrived at the edge of a little wood filled with the songs and flight of tons of birds. "Just birds," said Conseil.

"But they’re edible," replied the harpooner.

"I don’t see it, friend Ned. All I see are parrots."

"Friend Conseil," said Ned, seriously, "a parrot’s like pheasant when you’re hungry."

"And," I added, "this bird, prepared right, is worth a knife and fork."

Seriously, under the thick leaves of this forest, tons of parrots were flying from branch to branch - they practically just need a little training to learn to speak human language.

Right now, they were chattering with parrots of every color, and these serious cockatoos seemed to be thinking about some deep philosophical question, while bright red lories zipped past like a banner blowing in the wind.

There were also these stunning blue papuans, and honestly, it was just a bunch of amazing winged creatures, though not many were good to eat.

But there was one bird that was unique to these islands, and it had never left the Arrow and Papuan islands - and it was missing from our collection. Luckily, I spotted one soon enough.

After pushing through a moderately dense thicket, we came to a plain covered in bushes. And that’s when I saw them - those incredible birds, with feathers so long they have to fly into the wind. Their swooping flight, graceful curves, and shifting colors totally grabbed my attention.

I knew exactly what they were.

"Birds of paradise!" I shouted.

The Malays, who trade these birds with the Chinese, have a bunch of tricks we couldn't use to catch them. Sometimes they set traps on the tops of tall trees that the birds of paradise like to hang out on. Sometimes they use sticky birdlime that paralyzes them.

They even poison the water sources the birds drink from. But we had to shoot them in flight, which didn't give us many chances to hit them. We basically wasted half our ammo.

Around eleven in the morning, we crossed the first range of mountains in the center of the island, and we hadn’t killed anything. We were starving. The hunters had counted on finding game, and they were wrong. Luckily, Conseil, totally surprised, made a double shot and saved breakfast.

He took down a white pigeon and a wood-pigeon, which he plucked quickly and roasted over a crackling fire. While those birds were cooking, Ned got the fruit from the bread-tree ready. Then we devoured the wood-pigeons, and they were seriously delicious.

The nutmegs inside flavored the meat and made it taste amazing.

"Okay, Ned, what are you missing now?"

"Some four-footed game, M. Aronnax. All these pigeons are just snacks; I won’t be happy until I bag an animal with cutlets."

"Me neither, Ned, if I don’t catch a bird of paradise."

"Let’s keep hunting," replied Conseil.

"Let’s head towards the sea. We’re at the beginning of the mountains, so I think we should go back to the forest."

That was smart advice, so we did it. After walking for an hour, we reached a forest of sago-trees. Some harmless snakes slithered away from us.

The birds of paradise bolted when we approached, and I was starting to lose hope of getting close to one when Conseil, who was in front, suddenly bent down, yelled out, and came back to me carrying a magnificent specimen. "Ah! Bravo, Conseil! "Master is very good."

"No, my boy; you made an awesome move. Take one of these living birds and carry it in your hand."

"If master will look at it, he’ll see that I didn’t deserve much credit." "Why, Conseil?"

"Because this bird is as wasted as a quail." "Wasted?"

"Yeah, sir; wasted on the nutmegs it gobbled up under the nutmeg-tree, where I found it. Friend Ned, check out the crazy effects of overdoing it!"

"By Jove!" exclaimed the Canadian, "just because I’ve been drinking gin for two months, you have to call me out!"

Anyway, I checked out the strange bird. Conseil was right. The bird, loaded up on the juice, was totally helpless. It couldn't fly; it could barely walk.

This bird was one of the most gorgeous of the eight species found in Papua and the surrounding islands. It was a huge, bright green bird, super rare. It measured about three feet long. Its head was small, with eyes near its beak, and those were tiny too.

But the colors were incredible - a yellow beak, brown feet and claws, brown wings with purple tips, pale yellow at the back of its neck and head, and a vibrant emerald green at its throat, with chestnut brown on its chest and belly.

Two feathery, downy plumes rose from below its tail, extending the long, light feathers which were incredibly fine, completing this amazing bird that the locals poetically called the "bird of the sun."

But if getting this bird of paradise would have made me happy, the Canadian’s wishes weren’t even close to being met. Luckily, around two o’clock, Ned Land managed to shoot down a magnificent wild pig; one of those the natives call "bari-outang."

The animal arrived just in time for us to get some real meat, and it was a welcome sight. Ned Land was really proud of his shot. The pig, hit by the electric charge, dropped dead instantly.

The Canadian skinned and cleaned it properly, after taking half a dozen cutlets, which would give us a grilled meal that evening. Then the hunt started up again, and Ned and Conseil really showed off their skills.

Seriously, the two friends, pushing through the bushes, startled a herd of kangaroos that bolted and hopped along on their powerful legs. But these animals didn't get away so fast that the electric charge couldn't stop them.

"Hey, Professor! Ned Land shouted, totally caught up in the excitement of the hunt, "What amazing game, and perfect for a stew! What a supply for the Nautilus! Two! Three! Five down! And to think, those clueless guys on board won’t even get a bite!"

I think that, caught up in his joy, the Canadian would have wiped them all out if he hadn’t been talking so much. But he settled for just a dozen of these interesting marsupials.

These animals were small, a type of those "kangaroo rabbits" that live in tree hollows and are incredibly fast, but they were moderately plump and provided, at least, decent food. We were really happy with what we're bringing in.

Happy Ned suggested returning to this amazing island the next day, because he wanted to clear it out of all the edible four-legged creatures. But he hadn’t counted on the host.

At six o’clock in the evening, we were back on shore; our boat was tied up in the usual spot. The Nautilus, looking like a giant, dark rock, surfaced from the waves two miles from the beach. Ned Land, without waiting, started working on dinner. He knew how to cook a mean meal.

The "bari-outang," grilled over the coals, filled the air with a delicious smell.

Seriously, dinner was incredible. Two wood pigeons completed this unbelievable menu. The sago pastry, the artocarpus bread, some mangoes, half a dozen pineapples, and the liquor made from coconuts - it was all amazing. I even think my worthy companions’ ideas were a little too out there.

"What if we don’t go back to the Nautilus tonight?" Conseil asked.

"What if we never return?" Ned Land added.

Just then, a stone fell at our feet, cutting off the harpooner’s suggestion.