With Cochrane the Dauntless
by G. A. Henty · English · Gutenberg #25993 · 715,307 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: With Cochrane the Dauntless
Author: G. A. Henty
Release date: July 6, 2008 [eBook #25993]
Most recently updated: June 20, 2020
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25993
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WITH COCHRANE THE DAUNTLESS ***
WITH
COCHRANE THE DAUNTLESS
A TALE OF
THE EXPLOITS OF LORD COCHRANE IN
SOUTH AMERICAN WATERS
BY
G. A. HENTY
Author of ”Under Drake’s Flag”, “The Dash for Khartoum”, “In Greek
Waters”,
“The Lion of St. Mark”, “Through Russian Snows”, &c.
-----------
_WITH TWELVE ILLUSTRATIONS BY W. H. MARGETSON_
-----------
LONDON
BLACKIE & SON, LIMITED, 50 OLD BAILEY, E.C.
GLASGOW AND DUBLIN
1897
PREFACE.
In the annals of British sailors there is no name that should stand higher
than that of Lord Cochrane. In some respects he resembled that daring
leader and great military genius, the Earl of Peterborough. Both performed
feats that most men would have regarded as impossible, both possessed
extraordinary personal bravery and exceptional genius for war, and a love
for adventure. Both accomplished marvels, and neither was appreciated at
his full value by his countrymen, both having a touch of originality that
amounted in the case of Peterborough to absolute eccentricity. In other
respects they had little in common. Cochrane’s life was passed in one long
struggle on behalf of the oppressed. He ruined his career in our navy, and
created for himself a host of bitter enemies by his crusade against the
enormous abuses of our naval administration, and by the ardour with which
he championed the cause of reform at home. Finding the English navy closed
to him he threw himself into the cause of oppressed nationalities. His
valour and genius saved Chili from being reconquered by the Spanish,
rescued Peru from their grasp, and utterly broke their power in South
America. Similarly he crushed the Portuguese power in Brazil and ensured
its independence, and then took up the cause of Greece. In all four
enterprises his efforts were hampered by the utter corruption of the
governments of these countries, just as his efforts on behalf of British
sailors and of the British people at large had brought upon him the hatred
and persecution of a government as corrupt as those of Chili, Brazil, and
Greece. He was rewarded only with the basest ingratitude, and returned
home after having expended a large part of his fortune and permanently
injured his health in the inestimable services he had rendered. In other
respects besides those exploits connected with the sea, his genius was
remarkable. After retiring from active service he devoted himself to
inventions, and some of these paved the way to later scientific
achievements, giving him a place alongside the Marquis of Worcester.
Of Lord Cochrane it can be said that he was the victim of his generous
enthusiasm for the oppressed. During the greater portion of his life he
rested under a heavy cloud, and it was only in extreme old age that he had
the satisfaction of having his name rehabilitated, and of regaining the
honours and rank of which he had been so unjustly deprived.
G. A. HENTY.
CONTENTS.
CHAP. PAGE
I. OFF TO SEA 11
II. IN THE MALAY ARCHIPELAGO 30
III. A CYCLONE 50
IV. A RESCUE 69
V. AGAIN ON THE ISLAND 90
VI. HOME 109
VII. COCHRANE’S CAREER 128
VIII. THE BASQUE ROADS 146
IX. IN CHILI 158
X. WRECKED 176
XI. A DANGEROUS COMPANION 194
XII. DEATH OF THE CAPTAIN 214
XIII. PRIZE-MONEY 231
XIV. A PRISONER 249
XV. FRIENDS IN NEED 269
XVI. AN INDIAN GUIDE 287
XVII. DOWN THE RIVER 305
XVIII. CAPTURED BY INDIANS 323
XIX. IN BRAZIL 342
XX. FRESH TRIUMPHS 363
ILLUSTRATIONS.
Page
THE LIEUTENANT TALKS TO STEVE ABOUT GOING TO SEA, _Frontis._ 11
“WE WENT AT THE TREACHEROUS MALAYS WITH A WILL, AND DROVE 36
THEM BACK,”
STEPHEN CRAWLS TO THE RESCUE OF HIS CHUM, JOYCE, 88
COCHRANE SCATTERS THE FRENCH FLEET IN THE BASQUE ROADS BY 156
HIS TERRIBLE EXPLOSION-SHIP,
“THE SHIP FELL WITH A CRASH THAT THREW STEVE AND THE CAPTAIN 186
OFF THEIR FEET,”
“WITH A SHOUT, STEPHEN SNATCHED UP HIS SWORD AND RUSHED AT 218
THE ASSASSIN,”
STEPHEN BEATS OFF THE GREAT WAR-CANOE SINGLE-HANDED, 228
STEPHEN IS BOUND AND BROUGHT BEFORE THE GOVERNOR OF SAN 265
CARLOS,
STEPHEN MAKES A DASH FOR LIBERTY, AND GRAPPLES WITH THE 278
GUARD,
“THE ANIMAL WAS ON THE POINT OF SPRINGING WHEN STEPHEN 306
FIRED,”
PITA TRIES STEPHEN’S PLAN IN ORDER TO ESCAPE FROM THE 323
WHIRLPOOL,
“MY DEAR BOY,” EXCLAIMED LORD COCHRANE, “THANK GOD INDEED 365
THAT I SEE YOU ALIVE,”
[Illustration: THE LIEUTENANT TALKS TO STEVE ABOUT GOING TO SEA.]
WITH COCHRANE THE DAUNTLESS.
CHAPTER I.
OFF TO SEA.
“I am sure I do not know what to do with you, Steve,” Lieutenant Embleton
said one afternoon as he and his son were sitting upon a bench on the
cliff at Ramsgate, looking over the sea. “Upon my word I don’t see my way
at all; this peace has stranded most of us, and at any rate, so far as I
am concerned, there is not a ghost of a chance of my obtaining
employment—not that I am fit for it if I could get it. I have been nearly
ten years ashore. Every one of us who sailed under Cochrane have been
marked men ever since. However, that is an old story, and it is no use
grumbling over what cannot be helped; besides, that wound in my hip has
been troubling me a good deal of late, and I know I am not fit for sea. I
don’t think I should have minded so much if I had got post rank before
being laid on the shelf. The difference of pension, too, would have been a
help, for goodness knows it is hard work making ends meet on a
lieutenant’s half-pay. However, that is not the question now. The thing
that I have got to consider is what is the best thing to do with you.
“Yes, I know you are ready to do anything, lad, and it is not your fault
that you are not in harness; but, in the first place, I found it hard to
spare you, and in the next, I wanted you to stick to your books as long as
you could. I grant there are many officers even in His Majesty’s service
who are as rough as if they had come in through the hawse-hole, but it
tells against them. However, as you are past fifteen, I think now that you
will do; and as you have been working steadily with me for the past four
years, you have got a lot into your head that will give you an advantage
over boys sent to sea two years younger.
“You are well up in navigation, and can take an observation as well as any
old sailor, either by sun, moon, or stars. You can steer a boat in heavy
weather, and knot and splice; you know the sails and ropes, and can go
aloft as quickly as a monkey, and do anything that your strength permits.
There have been plenty of opportunities for teaching you all this on short
coasting voyages and on board ships driven in here by stress of weather. I
suppose, Steve, however much we may talk of other professions, it comes to
the sea at last. I know that you have always wanted it, but if I could
have seen any opening for you on land I would rather that you had taken to
it than have gone afloat. You see what it has done for me, lad. It is a
poor trade, though as long as it’s war-time there is excitement enough to
make up for the shortness of the pay. However, as I have told you many a
time, there is no chance whatever of my getting you a midshipman’s berth.
“I have not the slightest influence at the admiralty, and the navy has
been so reduced since the war ended that they must have fifty applications
for every vacancy; besides, now that there is no fighting to be done, I
don’t know that the merchant service isn’t the best, for it is dull work
indeed being years on a station when there is no chance of a brush with an
enemy or the capture of a prize. In the merchant service you can have at
least a change, and a smart young fellow who knows his business and has
gentlemanly manners, has much better chances of coming to the front than
he would have in the royal navy. So I think the time has come when I must
bring myself to make a move in the matter.”
“Thank you, father; I know very well that in studying with you I have
learned a lot more than I should have done if I had gone to sea two years
ago; but I do want to be working and earning something, instead of being
an expense to you, and, as you know, I would prefer the sea to anything
else.”
“It is Hobson’s choice, lad; it is the sea or nothing. And after all, I
think the mercantile navy is as good a profession as a lad can take to,
that is if he has no influence to back him on shore. I wrote a fortnight
ago to a friend in London. He is the owner of four or five vessels, and it
happened, a good many years ago now, that I recaptured one of them with a
valuable cargo that had been taken by a French privateer. I was sent home
in her, and when he came down to Plymouth, where I took her in, we became
great friends. We were about the same age, and the loss at that time would
have been a very serious one to him. I stayed with him once or twice when
I was in town. I have not seen him for some years now—one cannot afford to
run about on a lieutenant’s half-pay—but I remembered him the other day
when I was thinking things over in every light, and wrote to him. I told
him how we were situated, and asked him if he would put you on board one
of his ships, and this morning I had an answer from him saying that he
would gladly do so. He said that he would take you as an apprentice
without fees, and that at any time, should anything better turn up, or you
see your way to getting into a firm with a larger fleet and better chance
of advancement, he would cancel your indentures. No kinder offer could be
made, and if you are willing I will write this evening to accept the
offer, and tell him that I will go up with you in the hoy directly I hear
from him that you are wanted.”
“Thank you very much, father; I am awfully glad that it can be managed
without expense, though I should be quite willing to go before the mast
and work my way up.”
“I know you would, Steve, but it is much better to start fair, for
ship-owners prefer to take a young mate who has regularly served as an
apprentice than a man who has only been trained before the mast; for
although the latter may have picked up enough to scrape through his
examination, he is rarely a good navigator, and works out his reckoning by
rule of thumb, which is all very well as long as the weather is fine and
he can get his observation at noon, but breaks down directly it comes to
having to depend upon a glimpse of the moon through the clouds, or the
chance of getting a star.”
Lieutenant Embleton had been a dashing and gallant officer, but his career
in the service had been ruined by the fact that he had served under Lord
Cochrane, both in the _Pallas_, the _Impérieuse_, and the _Speedy_. The
latter was a little sloop mounting fourteen four-pounder guns, in which
not only did Lord Cochrane capture many gun-boats and merchantmen, but on
the 6th of May, 1801, he took the _Gamo_, a Spanish frigate, carrying six
times as many men as the _Speedy_ and seven times her weight of shot, an
exploit that so aroused the jealousy of Earl St. Vincent that for a long
time Lord Cochrane could not obtain employment. Three years later, when
Lord Melville succeeded St. Vincent as first lord of the admiralty, Lord
Cochrane was appointed to the _Pallas_, in which he again did excellent
service; and distinguished himself still more when, in the _Impérieuse_,
he attacked the whole French fleet in the Basque Roads, driving three or
four of their battle-ships ashore, capturing three others, and compelling
the rest to take to flight.
But the honour and popular applause gained by Lord Cochrane was, in the
opinion of the authorities, more than neutralized by his fearless
exposure, from his place in Parliament, where he sat as one of the members
for Westminster, of the scandalous abuses then prevailing in the navy. All
attempts to silence him by the offers of valuable appointments being in
vain, Lord Cochrane was subjected to a persecution altogether without
precedent in parliamentary history. In the court-marshal which was held
upon Lord Gambier for his failure to assist Cochrane in the action in the
Basque Roads, the admiralty went so far as to forge charts, and so to show
that the admiral could not come to Cochrane’s assistance, and Gambier was
not only acquitted, but received a vote of thanks from the House of
Commons for the victory in which he had taken no part. For four years Lord
Cochrane received no appointment, but at the close of 1813 his uncle, Sir
Alexander Cochrane, was selected for the command of the fleet on the North
American station, and nominated Cochrane his flag captain, an appointment
resting entirely with him, and with which government could not interfere.
He did not, however, sail, for just as he was about to embark, a relation,
who was engaged in stock exchange operations in conjunction with a foreign
adventurer, carried out some dishonest transactions, those who were his
dupes believing that he was acting under information obtained from Lord
Cochrane. As soon as the latter heard a report of the affair he left his
ship, came up to London, and demanded an investigation. Then followed one
of the most disgraceful parodies of justice ever performed in this
country. Lord Cochrane was arrested, tried, and by means of a partisan
judge, false evidence, and measures more unscrupulous even than those of
Judge Jeffreys, convicted and sentenced to imprisonment. A servile House
of Commons obeyed the orders of ministers to expel him from their body.
His name was struck off the order of the Bath, and his insignia torn down
from St. George’s Chapel with every mark of indignity.
Public indignation at the disgraceful means that had been taken to secure
his conviction rose to such a height, that it was only by the persuasions
of Lord Cochrane’s friends that a riot was prevented. The citizens of
Westminster at once re-elected him as their member, no one venturing to
oppose him. After remaining in prison for some months he effected his
escape and presented himself in the House of Commons. He was seized and
carried back to prison, where he was thrown into a dungeon, and there kept
until his health so suffered that his persecutors, fearing that fatal
consequences would ensue, were obliged to place him in more wholesome
quarters. Here he remained until the conclusion of his year’s sentence. He
then paid the fine of a thousand pounds, to which he had also been
sentenced, and on the very day of his release from prison took his place
in the House of Commons, and resumed his work as one of the leaders of the
reform party.
Eighteen months later he was subjected to fresh persecution, and was tried
for his escape from prison and fined a hundred pounds. A penny
subscription was at once started, and eleven hundred pounds collected in
this way, afforded a signal proof of the intensity of the feeling in his
favour. This sum was used to pay the fine, and to reimburse him for the
former fine to which he had been subjected. All Lord Cochrane’s efforts to
obtain a new trial, or an expression of an opinion from the House as to
the illegality of the proceedings of his judge, Lord Ellenborough, were
ineffective, the House, on each occasion when he brought the matter
forward, obeying the orders of ministers and voting against his motions by
an overwhelming majority. He had, however, the satisfaction of knowing
that the nation at large was heartily with him, and recognized the gross
injustice from which he had been a sufferer.
The hostility upon the part of the admiralty and government extended to
those who had borne part in his glorious exploits at sea, and Lieutenant
Embleton was put on half-pay after the action of the _Impérieuse_ against
the French fleet, and found himself without any prospect of future
employment, and without even a chance of obtaining a nomination for his
son to a midshipman’s berth. The blow was at first a very keen one, but it
was less bitterly felt after the conclusion of peace and the great
reduction of the navy, as his fate was only that of thousands of other
officers; and he had now come to feel that the effects of his wound, for
which he received a small addition to his half-pay, rendered him unfit for
further service, even could he have obtained an appointment. He had, since
leaving the navy, lived in a little cottage at Ramsgate, where from his
garden he could obtain a view of the sea and the passing ships. The
education of his son afforded him employment for some hours a day. His
favourite position was on a bench in the garden, from which he could watch
through a telescope mounted on a tripod the passing ships, criticise the
state of their rigging and sails, and form conjectures as to their
destination.
It was a great pang to him to part with Stephen, but he felt that he could
no longer keep him by his side; and he was sure that the careful training
he had given him in all nautical matters would enable the lad to make his
way in the mercantile navy. A fortnight after his conversation with Steve,
the lieutenant received a letter from his friend in London, saying that
one of his ships that had returned a fortnight before was now unloaded,
and would at once begin to fit out for a fresh voyage, and it would be
therefore as well for him to bring Stephen up, so that he might have the
advantage of seeing the whole process of preparing a ship for sea. He gave
a warm invitation to Lieutenant Embleton to stay with him for a week or
two, and on the following day father and son went on board a Ramsgate hoy,
and thirty-six hours later arrived in the port of London. They were warmly
received by Mr. Hewson.
“I think your boy is fortunate that the _Tiger_ should be the first ship
he will sail in,” he said that evening. “I regard the captain as my best
officer. He is a good seaman and a capital navigator, and he is of a most
kindly disposition; therefore, I can put the boy under him with the
certainty that he will be well treated and cared for. In the next place,
the _Tiger_ does not, like my other ships, make regular voyages to and
from a foreign port, but carries on the business of a trader among the
East Indian islands. It is not every one to whom such a business could be
safely intrusted; but I have great confidence in Captain Pinder. He is a
good man of business, thoroughly conscientious, and accustomed to the ways
of the treacherous natives of those islands. The _Tiger_ is more heavily
armed than usual, and has more than once beaten off the attacks of their
piratical craft, and there is no fear of Pinder’s being caught napping.
“She will in the first place take a cargo to Calcutta, reserving a portion
of her hold for my goods for trading among the islands. When she has
landed her freight at Calcutta she will cruise in the Archipelago for some
months, as long, in fact, as Pinder finds that he can carry on a really
good business with the natives. Then she will return to Calcutta and fill
up with freight for her return voyage. Thus, you see, your boy will gain a
good deal of varied experience, and will see, perhaps, as much adventure
and excitement as he would meet with in a score of ordinary voyages, and
will have the advantage of being under a kind commander, who will instruct
him in the rudiments of navigation.”
“Nothing could be better,” Mr. Embleton said warmly. “It is the voyage of
all others that would be to the boy’s taste, and I shall be satisfied
indeed at his being in such good hands. As to navigation, it is practice
only that he wants. I have taught him all that I know myself, and he can
take a lunar, or work his reckoning out from a star observation, as
accurately as I could do it myself.”
“Is that so, Mr. Embleton? I am glad indeed to hear it. Then there is no
doubt about the future of your boy, if he is steady and industrious. I am
pleased to hear it for my own sake, if for nothing else; for although
Pinder’s mates are capital sailors, and in all other respects able
officers, they are not men of Pinder’s type. They can take, of course, a
rough observation at noon, and work it out by rule of thumb and the aid of
tables, but beyond that they can do nothing. They have not received the
education to enable them to grapple with mathematical problems, even of
the simplest kind; and although, in case of Pinder falling sick, they
might manage under favourable circumstances to bring the ship home, they
would fare very badly if they had a long spell of bad weather and could
not get an observation at noon for days or even weeks together. It will be
a satisfaction to me to know that in case of anything happening to the
captain there is someone on board who could, in such a case, take a lunar
or shoot a star. Well, to-morrow morning we will go down to the docks, and
I will hand your boy over to Pinder. I should, of course, be very glad to
have him here, but I think it is of great advantage to a boy to see
everything done from the first step. She is going to have an entirely new
fit-out both of standing and running rigging, so she has been stripped
entirely, and has nothing but her three lower masts above the deck.”
Accordingly, after breakfast next day Mr. Hewson sent for a hackney-coach
and they drove down to the docks.
“That is the _Tiger_,” Mr. Hewson said as he stopped at the side of a fine
craft. “She is six hundred tons, three years old, and a fast sailer. She
is not much to look at at present, but when she is in full dress she is a
handsome vessel.”
“She looks fast,” Mr. Embleton said. “And for myself, I would rather
command a craft of that size than one of greater tonnage.”
The _Tiger_ at present certainly did not show to advantage. Her deck was
begrimed with dirt. A body of riggers were at work in parcelling and
serving with spun yarn the eyes of the shrouds. An officer in a rough
canvas suit was superintending the work.
“That is Mr. Staines, the first mate,” Mr. Hewson said. “He would not be
happy if he was not on board from the very first hour that the riggers
were beginning their work. Good morning, Mr. Staines!” he went on, raising
his voice. “Is Captain Pinder on board?”
“Yes, sir,” the mate said, touching his cap, and then went aft to the
poop-cabin, from which the captain came out as his visitor stepped on
board. He also was in a working suit.
“Good morning, Mr. Hewson!” he said. “We are all in the rough, you see.
One hardly expects visitors on her first day of fitting out.”
“We all know that, captain. This is Lieutenant Embleton of the royal navy,
and this is his son, of whom I was speaking to you two days ago.”
“I am glad to meet you, sir,” the captain said, shaking hands with Mr.
Embleton. “Every sailor knows you by reputation as being one of Lord
Cochrane’s officers. It will be a pleasure to me to do all I can for your
son.”
“You will find him very different to most of your apprentices, Pinder. He
has had the advantage of his father’s teaching, and, theoretically at any
rate, he is already well up in his work. When I tell you that he can take
a lunar, or an observation from a star, you may imagine that he will not
require much teaching in navigation.”
“I am glad indeed to hear it, Mr. Hewson—heartily glad; there ought to be
two men on board a ship who can do that, for there is never any saying
what might happen if there is only one. It has made me anxious many a
time, when we had a bad spell of weather, as to how the _Tiger_ would get
on if I happened to be washed overboard by a sea or killed by a falling
spar. Well, Master Embleton, I can see that I shall have no difficulty in
making a first-rate sailor of you. Have you come to stay?”
“Yes, sir. My father thought it would be good for me to be on board from
the time the fitting-out began.”
“Quite right, lad. You will then learn as much in a fortnight as you would
in a year at sea. I always make a point of being here myself, and my first
officer wouldn’t allow anything to prevent his seeing that everything was
right from first to last. But I don’t think that you will be able to sleep
on board for the next fortnight.”
“Of course not,” Mr. Embleton said. “I intend to take a lodging for him as
close to the dock-gate as I can. Perhaps you may know of a tidy place.”
“He can’t do better than lodge with us,” the captain said. “Mr. Staines
and I always put up at the same place. We give them notice when we are
going to begin to fit out, and they keep the rooms for us. We both slept
there last night. The house is kept by a nice clean woman, the widow of a
skipper who was lost with his craft about ten years ago. I have no doubt
she can put the lad up too, and he can mess with us. I will go round with
him myself; till we get the shrouds up, one is quite enough to look after
the riggers.”
“I thank you very much, captain. That will be in all respects more
pleasant for the boy than lodging by himself.”
The matter was speedily arranged. Mr. Embleton then took Stephen to a
clothing shop and bought him two suits of rough canvas.
“You will find it dirty work, Steve. There is no keeping free of the tar.
By the way, Captain Pinder, I have not ordered Steve’s outfit yet, for I
know that on some lines the apprentices dress like midshipmen, on others
they don’t; so I put it off until I saw you.”
“I always like the apprentices on board my ship to be dressed as
midshipmen,” the captain replied. “There will only be three on board as
far as I know. I make a point of messing with my officers, and if there
are only two or three apprentices on board they take their meals with us,
it does them good; and I don’t at all approve of their mixing with the men
forward. I should say, Mr. Embleton, get him one good suit for going
ashore, another rougher suit for duty on board, half-a-dozen duck suits
for the tropics, and two or three suits of dungaree for slipping on over
the others when there is dirty work to be done. The cap is sufficient to
indicate the officer. As for the rest of his outfit, your own experience
will tell you what is needed. Railton in Leadenhall Street is a man I can
recommend. He keeps the house badges for the caps, and turns out his work
well. I generally get my togs there, and find him as cheap as anyone.”
“Thank you! I will take Steve with me as far as that in the hackney-coach,
and get him measured. Then he can be back here again by the time you knock
off for dinner, and will then put on his slops and get to work.”
Steve returned to the lodgings just as the captain and first mate came in
to dinner. Then he carried one of his canvas suits down to the ship, put
it on, and was soon at work having his first lesson in seizing ropes. For
a fortnight the work continued, and Stephen greatly pleased the captain
and first mate by his attention and willingness, working all the time as a
rigger’s boy, and paying the greatest attention to all the minutiae of the
work. Saturday afternoons and Sundays he spent at Mr. Hewson’s, where his
father was still staying, his host refusing to listen to any talk of his
leaving until the _Tiger_ sailed. Another four days were spent in planing
decks and painting inside and out. The work was scarcely finished when the
cargo began to come on board. As soon as this was the case, the second and
third mates and the other two apprentices joined. Like Mr. Staines, Towel
and Pasley, the second and third mates, had both made their way up from
the forecastle; both were active young men and good sailors, who had
laboriously mastered the very small amount of bookwork that was needed, in
addition to practical seamanship, to pass their examinations, but who,
like the majority of their class of that time, knew nothing of navigation
beyond taking a rough observation at mid-day and working it out by rule of
thumb on the tables. Mr. Staines presented Stephen to them.
“This is our new apprentice,” he said; “his father is a lieutenant in the
royal navy, one of Lord Cochrane’s men, and a great friend of the owner.
Stephen Embleton is the lad’s name, and some day he will make a fine
officer. He has been at work here since the morning the riggers came on
board, and is not afraid to put his hands into the tar-pot, as you can see
from his appearance. He has learned a lot from his father, so we won’t
have the trouble with him we generally do have with Johnny-raws.”
“That is right, youngster,” the second mate said heartily; “if you will
learn anywhere, you will learn here, for a better captain never commanded
a ship. No passengers, I hope, Staines?”
“No; I believe that the skipper has had two or three applications, but
although the owner has no objection to his taking them, he considers the
trouble is more than they are worth. Of course, he would make something
out of their passage, but there would, almost certainly, be some
cantankerous beggars among them, and of course the table costs a good deal
more when there are passengers, especially as he will have the apprentices
to mess with him. I am sure I am glad indeed that we sha’n’t be bothered
with them.”
The other two apprentices were about Stephen’s age. Both had made one trip
in the _Tiger_, and were at first a little inclined to patronize the
new-comer. The day before the _Tiger_ hauled out into the river, the owner
and Mr. Embleton came down to look over her. Great was the change that
three weeks had made in her appearance. Her deck was beautifully white,
the lofty spars well scraped and freshly varnished, and the network of new
rigging set her off to the greatest advantage. The new suit of sails were
all bent, and lay loose in their gaskets ready for dropping. Four guns
were ranged along either side.
“She is a handsome craft indeed,” Mr. Embleton said as he stood on the
wharf alongside, taking in every detail of her outfit with the eye of a
seaman. “What are the guns—twelve-pounders?”
“Yes, but there is a long eighteen down in the hold, which will be mounted
as a pivot as soon as she gets among the islands. The others are well
enough when you come to close quarters, but the long gun generally keeps
the pirates from getting there; they don’t like being peppered before they
come within fighting distance. I believe the captain would rather part
with all the other guns than sail without Long Tom.”
“That I would,” Captain Pinder, who had just joined, remarked. “Five times
has the pivot-gun made them sheer off without venturing to come to close
quarters; and indeed I have never had to loose the broadside guns but
three times, in each of which they came suddenly round the corner into a
bay where we were lying at anchor.”
As they had had notice of the owner’s intention to come down, the officers
were all in their new uniforms, and after Captain Pinder had shown his
guests round the ship, they sat down together to dinner in the cabin.
“You have plenty of freeboard, I see,” Mr. Embleton said, as, after
returning on deck, he looked over the side.
“Yes, I never will load down my ships,” Mr. Hewson said, “and will never
take cargo within twenty per cent of their full carrying power. I have as
little as possible stowed either quite forward or quite aft, so that they
have not only plenty of freeboard, but are buoyant in a heavy sea. I am
sure it pays. I don’t insure my ships, and I have not lost one in the last
sixteen years. The insurance money saved makes up for the loss of freight,
and I have the satisfaction of knowing that I have done all in my power to
ensure the safety of my officers and men.”
“And very good policy, Hewson,” Mr. Embleton said warmly. “I see scores of
ships passing inside the Goodwins so loaded down that I would not be on
board in a heavy gale for all the money in the bank, and the state of
their sails often shows that they are badly cared for in all other
respects. The system of insurance is no doubt a good one, but it has been
so scandalously abused that it may safely be said that it has largely
increased the annual number of wrecks and loss of life. Were it not for
insurance, owners would, in their own interest, be driven to see that
their ships were made in every respect seaworthy, well provided with gear
of all kinds, well manned, and above all, not overloaded. Insurances are
responsible for a large proportion of our marine disasters.”
As, if the wind continued favourable, the _Tiger_ would drop down the
river as soon as she got out of dock, which would be at a very early hour
the next morning, it was necessary that Stephen should be on board that
evening. He, however, went back with his father to Mr. Hewson’s, spent the
afternoon at Exeter ’Change seeing the wild beasts, and returned by eight
o’clock to the ship.
The _Tiger_ made a quick voyage to Calcutta. She rounded the Cape without
encountering bad weather, and was only twice obliged to shorten sail
during the whole passage. Stephen enjoyed his life exceedingly. He was in
the first officer’s watch, and became a great favourite with Mr. Staines.
He astonished his fellow-apprentices, as soon as they were fairly on their
way, by producing his quadrant and taking observations at the same time as
did the captain and mates; still more so when he took lunar and star
observations, working them all out by figures instead of from the tables
in the nautical almanac. He found at first some little difficulty in
obtaining accuracy when the vessel was rolling, but he was not long in
overcoming this, and the captain found that he was able to place the
ship’s position on the chart quite as correctly as he did himself.
“I would give a lot, Steve,” the first mate said, when they had been out a
fortnight, “if I could work things out as you do. I have gone over and
over again to fellows who advertise that they teach navigation, but it is
of no use, I can’t make head or tail of all the letters and zigzigs and
things. I have tried and I have tried till my head ached, but the more I
study it the more fogged I get about it. There does not seem to me to be
any sense in the thing, and when I see you sit down and figure away with
all those letters and things, it beats me altogether.”
“It is not difficult when you have begun from the beginning,” Stephen
said. “Of course, as my father wanted to teach me navigation, he taught me
just the things that led up to the problems that you are talking about, so
that it really was not hard, but if I had to do any other sort of
mathematical questions I should be just as much puzzled as you are. Then
you see, my father explained every step as it came, and as one led to
another, I learnt them without meeting with any one special difficulty;
but I can quite see that it would be very hard for anyone to learn to work
it out without having been coached from the start.”
“I shall never try again. I think I could find a port by reckoning and the
sun, but as for the moon and stars I give them up altogether. There are
hundreds of skippers, nay thousands of them, who don’t know more than I
do.”
This was indeed the case, and the skilful navigators had less advantage
over experienced men who worked by rule of thumb than is now the case, as
the instruments were comparatively rough and the chronometers far less
accurate than at present, and even those most skilful in their use were
well satisfied if at the end of a long voyage they found that they were
within twenty miles of their reckoning.
“It is different work now, lad, to what it used to be two years ago. Now
one walks up and down the deck, and though there may be twenty sail in
sight, one pays no more attention to them than one would to as many
sea-birds. Then every sail was watched, and one was up, in the tops with
one’s glass twenty times a day, for there was no saying whether it was a
friend or an enemy. One’s watch at night was a watch then, for there was
never any saying whether a French privateer might not come looming out of
the darkness at any moment; and if a vessel of about our size was made out
a mile off, it was all hands on deck, and cast the lashings off the guns,
and stand by till she was out of sight again. Now one jogs along, and all
that you have got to look out for, is to see that you don’t run foul of
another craft, or let one run foul of you. Yes, we had a rough time of it
in those days, and I ain’t sorry that they are over.”
“But you look out sharp for pirates when you are among the islands, don’t
you, Mr. Staines?”
“Ay, lad; but when one sees a Malay pirate, there is no mistaking her for
anything else. At night it is generally a stark calm, and whether one is
lying idle, with the sails hanging flat against the mast, or whether one
is at anchor, one knows that they can’t come upon us under sail, and on a
still night one can hear the beat of their oars miles away. There is never
any fear of being surprised as long as there is a hand wide awake and
watchful on deck. Calms are the greatest curse out there; the ship lies
sometimes for days, ay and for weeks, with the water as smooth as grease,
and everything that has been thrown overboard floating alongside, and the
sun coming down until your brain is on the boil.”
“You have storms sometimes, don’t you?”
“Sometimes, not very often; but when it does blow, it blows fit to take
your head off, and you have nothing to do but to cruise under bare poles,
and hope that nothing will get in your way. There is one thing, they are
not gales like we have here, but cyclones, and instead of getting blown
along for hundreds of miles, you go round and round, so that if there is
no land within fifty miles of you when the storm strikes, the chances are
that you are safe. If you can but lie to, you can manage at last to edge
out of it on the side that is furthest from land. A cyclone is no joke, I
can tell you; but if you get warning enough to get your canvas stowed and
to send down your light spars, and have got a ship like the _Tiger_ under
you in good trim,—not too light, not too heavy,—you ought to be able to
live through it. There is no better sailor nor one more familiar with the
islands than the skipper. He is not fond of carrying on, and perhaps at
times we think him a little too prudent, but he generally turns out right;
anyhow, it is a fault on the right side.
“I have sailed under him fifteen years now. I was third mate when I first
joined his ship; not this, you know, but the old _Gertrude_. I have never
had a cross word with him, nor have the other two mates. He expects every
man to do his duty, as is right enough; but if that is done well,
everything goes on smooth. I don’t think that there are ten of the crew
who have not been with the skipper for years. When we get back to port and
the crew are paid off, it is always, ‘When will you want us again,
captain?’ and no matter whether it is in a fortnight or in a couple of
months, pretty nearly every man will turn up.”
“That speaks for itself, both as to the owner and the skipper, and the
mates too, Mr. Staines.”
“Well, we have not much to do with it. Unless a man does his duty, and
does it pleasantly and without cursing and swearing, he won’t make two
voyages under the skipper; indeed he won’t make one. Three years ago Towel
was laid up with a hurt he got on the voyage before, and we had to get a
new second mate at the last moment, for Pasley had not got his certificate
then, and couldn’t take Towel’s place. The man was highly recommended, and
was a good sailor, but he was a bully, and a foul-mouthed one, and the
skipper put him on shore at the Cape, and paid his passage home out of his
own pocket—though I know the owner returned it to him afterwards, and said
that he had done quite right. I tell you, lad, you are lucky in making
your first voyage on board the _Tiger_, for, putting aside everything
else, I don’t know a single ship, except Hewson’s, where the apprentices
mess with the master and mates, and are treated as they are here.
“I daresay you wonder why some of us have not been apprentices, but it is
only the last two or three years that Hewson’s ships have carried them.
Before that there was always a fourth mate to each of his ships, so that
there were two officers in each watch; but the ships have such a good
name, and the owner had so many applications from friends with sons who
wanted to go to sea, that three years ago he made the change. But he is
mighty particular who he takes, and all his indentures contain a clause
that unless the reports by the captains they sail under are favourable,
the owner has the right of returning the premium he received and of
cancelling the indentures. I can tell you, lad, that if every owner took
as much pains for the comfort of his officers and crews as Mr. Hewson
does, Jack would have a deal better life than is now the case.”
CHAPTER II.
IN THE MALAY ARCHIPELAGO.
The stay at Calcutta was a short one, and as soon as the cargo for that
port was unladen, the _Tiger_ again sailed. The apprentices had a run
ashore, but each had gone with one of the mates, as in so large a city the
boys, if alone, might well have got into trouble. Stephen went with the
first mate, and was glad at the arrangement, as Mr. Staines had frequently
been there before and knew the town well, and Stephen therefore saw a
great deal more of it than he would have done had he been alone. He was
delighted with the native bazaar, and would have laid out much of his
spare cash there, had not Mr. Staines prevented him.
“Time enough when you get back, Stephen. But if you have got any money to
spend you had better go with me to a stall where, the last two voyages I
have been here, I laid in a stock of articles useful for trading with the
Malays—looking-glasses, beads, brass buttons, bright handkerchiefs, and
things of that sort. I don’t say but that one might get them cheaper in
London; but in the first place, one always finds plenty of things there to
spend one’s money on; and in the second place, the people here know
exactly the sort of goods needed in the islands, and one can get them all
at one stall instead of having to hunt about in a dozen shops for them. We
are each allowed to trade on our own account up to a certain amount; and,
as a rule, I find that when I get back here I can sell the curiosities I
buy down in the islands, for about four times as much as the goods cost
me, so if you do the same you will have more money to buy things with here
than if you bought them now. But for most of the things you pick up you
will find you can get a much better price in London than you can here.”
“What sort of things do you buy there, Mr. Staines?”
“The skins of birds, carved wood-work, Malay arms, models of canoes, and
things of that kind. The bird skins are the best, especially if you know
anything about them. I have got as much as two or three pounds for a rare
skin that I exchanged for a twopenny looking-glass and half a dozen brass
buttons, but of course that was an exceptional case; for, as a rule, they
will average two or three shillings apiece. You had better buy a big pot
of arsenical soap, which acts as a preservative to keep away insects, also
two or three air-tight tin boxes; they will hold the things you buy here,
and you can fill them with trade goods.”
Steve took the advice, and expended four out of the five pounds his father
had given him on sailing. The mate laid out twenty pounds in similar
purchases, and then they returned to the ship, which was anchored a mile
down the river, followed by three coolies carrying their purchases. The
other apprentices similarly laid out their spare cash.
“You have done well, lads,” the captain said, as they were at dinner on
the evening before sailing. “You must not expect to make a very great deal
by your trading, although, no doubt, you will get a handsome return for
your money. To do really well you must have some knowledge of what birds
are rare and what are common, and I should advise you when we get home to
spend any time that you have to spare in visiting the Museum and examining
the birds there. No doubt you will be able to find out from one of the
attendants which are rare ones, and might be able to consult some books on
the subject. You may have the luck to come across skins that are
altogether new; and, at any rate, a little knowledge would enable you to
exchange your goods to a very much greater advantage than you could
otherwise do. A knowledge of that kind is always useful to a sailor, who
in his wanderings may well get from the natives rare and valuable
specimens in natural history, and there are always plenty of collectors
ready to pay good prices for them. I have often regretted that I did not
pay attention to such matters when I was young; for besides paying well,
it gives a great interest to visits to little-known places, and I have
heard of two or three captains who have made a good deal of money by it.”
For two months after getting among the islands no serious adventures were
met with. Trading went on steadily. Several times large native craft were
seen, but these sheered off when they saw that the _Tiger_ was well armed
and prepared for defence. As most of the places touched at had been
visited by the captain on previous voyages, the natives hailed his return
with expressions of apparent pleasure; but however friendly their bearing,
there was never any abatement of the vigilance by the captain and his
officers. Only a certain number were allowed to come on board to trade.
The seamen always carried cutlasses by their side and a brace of pistols
in their belts, and even when they went ashore for wood or water two boats
were always sent, half the men with loaded muskets keeping guard while the
others worked, and the guns of the ship were loaded and trained in
readiness to open fire in case of any hostile demonstration on the part of
the natives. Occasionally, when a chief had paid a visit to the ship and
invited the captain to a feast on shore, a strong guard armed to the teeth
accompanied him, and a boat lay by the ship’s side in readiness to land
another party if necessary.
“They are the most treacherous race on earth,” the captain said one day
when the third officer remarked that they seemed very friendly. “You can
never trust them for a moment; they will shake hands with you with one
hand and stab you with the other. Numbers of ships’ companies have been
massacred owing to the captains putting faith in appearances, and allowing
too many of the copper-coloured scoundrels to get on board at once. As
long as you make a rule that not more than twenty or thirty can come on
the deck, and that all boats must keep at a distance, you are safe, but
you must never let yourself be caught napping. I have had one or two very
narrow escapes, for it is twenty-five years now since I first came among
these islands.
“I had just passed as a third mate when I made my first voyage here. The
captain was an easy-going man, and was quite taken in by the appearance of
friendliness on the part of the natives. The first mate, too, was a good
sailor, but new to the islands, and too fond of his grog; but luckily the
second mate had been here before. His ship had once been attacked and
nearly half the men killed before they could beat the Malays overboard,
and he was always in a fidget.
“I was only about twenty at the time, and, like a young fool, thought that
it was pure cowardice on his part; however, at his earnest request I
carried a brace of double-barrelled pistols in my pocket, and, unknown to
the captain and the first mate, he persuaded a dozen of the crew to do the
same, and got the captain to let him keep the cannon loaded with grape,
though the latter made no secret that he regarded this precaution as
altogether uncalled for. The natives came on board as usual, at first only
two or three canoe loads, but gradually the number of Malays on deck
became larger and larger, and quite a crowd of boats were clustered round.
I could see that Pearson, the second mate, was in a fidget; he glanced at
me significantly two or three times, and I began to think myself that he
might be right. We were both of us engaged in bartering with the natives,
and I noticed that Pearson put the goods under his charge close to one
side of the deck, so that standing behind them he leant against the
bulwark and could not be taken in rear. I ordered a couple of the men to
move my lot also. Both of those I spoke to were, I knew, among those
Pearson had persuaded to carry pistols in their pockets.
“‘I don’t like the look of things, Mr. Pinder,’ one of them, an old hand,
whispered to me.
“‘No more do I, Jack,’ I said. ‘Just slip below and bring up four of those
boarding-axes. Put one of them down among Mr. Pearson’s goods and make a
sign to him that it is for his use, put the other three down in front of
me, and then do you and Bob Hawkins take your places between me and Mr.
Pearson, as if you were going to lend us a hand with the trade; then if
there is a shindy the four of us will be able to make a hard fight of it
anyhow.’
“He did as I told him, and the second officer nodded to me approvingly.
Things went on quietly for another five minutes, then I heard a heavy blow
given, followed by a fall; and, as if this was the signal, the quiet crowd
of natives became in a moment a mob of yelling fiends; screams filled the
air, pistol-shots rang out, and you may guess we fell to work in earnest.
I fancy we did not throw away a shot between us, and cleared a space in
front of us, then snatching up the axes we made at them tooth and nail. We
first fought our way aft. The first mate was fighting like a demon; he had
caught up a handspike, and, being a very powerful man, kept off his
assailants fairly till we cut our way through and joined him. The moment
he was free from the group that was attacking him, he rushed forward,
sweeping the natives over with his handspike like ninepins. Two of us kept
on each side of him. There was just breadth enough on the deck to give
free play to our axes, and though the Malays came at us furiously, they
could not stand the blows of our heavy weapons. The cook and the steward
came rushing up behind us.
“‘Turn the cannon on the canoes!’ Pearson shouted. ‘Depress them as much
as you can, and give it them hot.’
“I had no time to look round, but half a minute later I heard one of the
cannon go off, followed by yells and screams from the water.
“‘Train two of them along the deck,’ I shouted, ‘but don’t fire until you
have orders.’
“The Malays were swarming up from the canoes and joining the crowd in
front of us, and I saw a rush of some of our fellows up on to the top of
the forecastle. We could make no way now, and it was as much as we could
do to hold our own. I fought on until I thought the guns were ready; then,
looking round, saw the two men standing behind them with lighted matches.
“‘The cannon are trained to sweep the deck, Conklin!’ but it was not until
I touched him and shouted in his ear again that the mate heard me.
“‘Now!’ Pearson yelled, ‘throw yourselves on to them, cut down one or two
of the rascals, and when I shout ‘Run!’ get back behind the guns.’
“The thought of what was coming gave us fresh strength. We went at them
with a will, and drove them back a couple of yards. Then Pearson shouted
‘Run!’ and back we went aft as hard as we could tear, Pearson and I almost
dragging Conklin with us. As we passed between the guns, with the Malays
close at our heels, both men fired; the guns were crammed almost to the
mouth with bullets, and the execution was awful. In a moment we dashed at
them again, while the men forward, who had armed themselves with the
capstan-bars, ran down the ladder and fell upon them. In another minute it
was all over. The Malays who remained alive sprang over the bulwark, and
we discharged the remaining five cannons into the canoes, smashing up
numbers of them, and the rest paddled for the shore for their lives. We
had time now to look around. It was an awful sight. Over fifty Malays lay
dead, together with eleven of our men, besides the captain. If it had not
been for Pearson not a soul would have lived to tell the tale. After it
was over, we found that, as the crowds on deck had increased, most of our
old hands, who were the men that had taken the pistols, had gradually
gathered near the forecastle. Some of the others had joined them, and when
the outbreak came, they had for a time been able to make a stout
resistance, until one of their number, who was on the forecastle when the
fight began, shouted to them that we were training the cannon forward, and
they then made a rush up and joined him.
[Illustration: “WE WENT AT THE TREACHEROUS MALAYS WITH A WILL AND DROVE
THEM BACK.”]
“Every man who had been among the natives had been cut down at the first
alarm. Out of the twenty-eight hands on board when the fight began only
sixteen remained. Many of these had desperate wounds from the Malay
creases, and two of them died a day or two afterwards. Conklin had been
very badly cut about. None of the wounds ought to have been dangerous, but
he had heated his blood by drink, and that in a hot climate is fatal, so
we buried him ten days after the fight. Thus, you see, we lost two
officers and thirteen men, and all for want of taking precautions. Of
course we sailed at once for Calcutta, and luckily had fine weather on the
way; we should have fared badly with but half a crew had we fallen in with
a hurricane. Pearson was a good navigator, and, after taking six more
hands on board at Calcutta, he brought her home safely. The owners made us
both handsome presents, and the next voyage he sailed as first mate and I
as second. So it turned out a lucky stroke for both of us. Three years
later he went as captain, and a year afterwards I sailed as his first
mate.”
“When was it you had your other adventure, captain?”
“That was in the year before. I did not sail with Pearson that year, for
he was promoted suddenly to a ship ready to sail. It was a piece of luck
for him. One of the owners went down to the docks late one afternoon and
found the captain blind drunk. So he was sent straight on shore, and
Pearson got his billet. I was very sorry that I could not go with him, as
after that business we became great friends, and in his report of the
affair he gave me more credit than I deserved for my idea of getting those
hatchets up, which, he said, alone enabled us to make a successful
defence. I had the more cause to regret his transfer, since the captain
was an obstinate man, as we found out during the voyage, and just as much
inclined to treat the natives with contempt as my former skipper had been.
However, the man appointed to take Pearson’s place as first mate was a
sharp fellow, and lucky he was so. We were lying one night in a harbour
where the natives had appeared particularly friendly the day before.
Purvis, the mate, suggested to the captain that it would be as well to
have the watches kept as if at sea, but the old man pooh-poohed the idea.
“‘I don’t like it,’ the mate said to me; ‘those fellows were too friendly.
They did not bargain over the goods, but took them at our own terms, which
is not their way. I believe they did it just to lull us into a sense of
security. As soon as the skipper turns in for the night I will get the
guns quietly loaded, and you and I will keep watch, while I will order the
crew to turn in all standing, so as to be ready to tumble out at once. It
is mighty hard to keep awake on these soft nights when the anchor is down,
and with neither you nor I on deck the betting is two to one that the
hands on anchor watch will drop off to sleep. The skipper will be snoring
by ten o’clock, and you had better turn in now. I will see to getting the
guns loaded, and to having plenty of ammunition handy. I will call you at
four bells. If we are going to be attacked it is likely to be just as day
is breaking.’
“‘You had better call me at two bells,’ I said, ‘and then you can get
three hours’ sleep and be up at eight bells. It won’t begin to get light
until after that, and you may be sure that if I hear any sound I will wake
you at once.’
“So we arranged it, and at one o’clock he came down quietly. I had only
taken off my shoes and carried these in my hand, so as to avoid making any
noise that might wake the skipper, as I went out on deck.
“‘Everything is quiet,’ the mate said, ‘and has been ever since you turned
in. Even that is not natural, for, as you know, the natives when they have
been doing a trade generally keep on feasting and making a row half the
night. Keep your ears well open, for there is no trusting the watch. Every
time I have gone forward I have found them sound asleep. Naturally they
think that, as there is only an anchor watch, there can be no fear of
disturbance; so you must trust to your own ears and not to theirs.’
“‘All right!’ I said; ‘I will keep awake—never fear.’
“I think if I had not been confident that the first mate was not the man
to take alarm easily, I should have had difficulty in keeping my eyes
open, for the night was sultry and not a breath of air was moving. I went
forward to the two men on watch and told them that they must keep a sharp
look-out, for that it was likely enough we might be attacked before
morning. Then I lit my pipe and paced up and down the deck, stopping
occasionally to listen intently. It was nearly eight bells when I thought
I heard a grating sound on shore. I walked forward and found, as I
expected, that the two men on watch were half-asleep. ‘Wake up, you
fools!’ I said; ‘there is something moving.’ Again I heard the low grating
sound.
“‘Did you hear that?’ I asked.
“The men were wide awake now.
“‘Yes, sir, I heard a noise; but I don’t know what it was.’
“‘They are launching their canoes,’ I said. ‘I will call the first
officer.’
“I went aft. Purvis woke directly I touched him.
“‘I fancy they are launching their canoes,’ I said. ‘I have twice heard a
grating sound.’
“He was up in a moment. We stood listening intently for some minutes.
There was certainly a movement on shore, but it was difficult to say of
what kind. It was just a low confused murmur.
“‘You are right,’ the mate said presently; ‘look at the water.’
“For a moment I scarcely understood him; then I saw what he meant. It had
been as smooth as oil before; it was no longer so, but it was broken with
tiny ripples as if disturbed by the faintest possible breeze.
“‘These ripples must be made by launching the canoes,’ he went on. ‘A
strong body of men might carry them almost noiselessly down that sandy
beach and put them in the water without making a splash, but the stir made
in wading and in lowering them down, however quietly, would break up this
glassy surface, and the ripples once started would run out here. Anyhow we
will get the men out. Tell them to come noiselessly. We will serve out the
arms and ammunition to them, but we won’t load the guns till we have
something more to go upon. It may be some time before they attack. I think
it is likely enough that they will wait until they hear the boats—which I
have no doubt they have sent for—coming up, before they make a move.’
“‘Shall I wake the skipper?’
“‘Certainly not. As likely as not he would blow us all up and send the men
back to their bunks again. He has made up his mind that there is no
danger, and the obstinate beggar would risk our having all our throats cut
rather than own there was any ground for alarm.’
“I went into the forecastle and roused the men, warning them to muster as
quietly as possible. Half an hour passed without the slightest sound being
heard. Then the men fidgeted and whispered together, and were evidently of
opinion that they had been turned out on a false alarm.
“‘Hush, men!’ Purvis said sharply, ‘I can hear something.’
“You could have heard a pin drop in a moment, and I believe every man held
his breath. There was a sort of quiver in the air rather than a sound, and
Watkins the boatswain, who had been years and years in vessels trading
among the islands, said: ‘You are right, Mr. Purvis, that is sweeps; and
what is more, it is not one boat, but I should say half a dozen.’
“‘That is what I think,’ the mate said. ‘How far off should you say they
were?’
“‘It is difficult to tell. I should say three or four miles. That is the
best of these proas. A canoe, if the men take pains with their paddling,
will come within a hundred yards of you before you hear them, but as the
proas row oars, you can make them out a long way off on a still night like
this.’
“‘Well, we will wait a few minutes longer before we wake the skipper,’
Purvis said to me. ‘He will swear that he does not hear any noise at all,
and that it is all our fancy. In ten minutes there will be no mistaking
it. Watkins, you had better get up that boarding-netting’—for among these
islands all the ships carry them, and very useful they are in repelling an
attack.
“‘I have got it handy,’ the boatswain said, and soon brought it on deck.
‘Shall we lash it up, sir?’
“‘No; we had better wait till the captain comes out. It won’t take above a
couple of minutes, especially if you run it all along by the bulwarks.’
“In a few minutes the sound of the oars was unmistakable, and Purvis went
in to call the captain.
“‘What is it?’ the skipper said as the mate knocked.
“‘There are five or six proas coming towards us, sir, and we have reason
to believe that the canoes on shore are all launched and ready to attack
us.’
“‘I believe it is all nonsense,’ the skipper said angrily as he came from
his door. ‘You are always fidgeting about pirates, Mr. Purvis.’
“He came out on deck, listened a moment, and then said: ‘Stuff and
nonsense! What, have you got the men out? Send them to their bunks at
once!’
“‘With the greatest respect to you, sir, I shall do nothing of the sort,
and if I did the men would not obey me. They can all hear the proas, and
we are not going to submit to have our throats cut tamely, Mr. Pinder
thoroughly agrees with me, and so does the boatswain, that these proas can
be coming for no good purpose at this time of night, and it were madness
not to be ready for them. What do you say, Mr. Pinder?’
“‘I entirely agree with you, sir,’ I replied.
“‘This is rank mutiny!’ the skipper said furiously.
“‘I would rather be tried for mutiny than have my throat cut here. Now,
sir, will you give orders, or shall I?’
“‘I will give no orders,’ the captain said. ‘In the morning I will have
you put in irons.’
“Purvis, giving a short laugh, turned on his heel. ‘My lads,’ he said,
‘you have heard the sound of the oars, and know as well as I do that we
shall shortly be attacked, and shall have to fight hard for our lives. The
captain is of opinion that we are all mistaken, and wants us to turn in
again. What do you say?! Will you have your throats cut or not?’
“There was an angry growl from the sailors.
“‘Very well, then, set to work and load the guns—ball at first, but keep
your grape handy, we shall want it before we have done. Do it quietly; it
is as well these fellows on shore should not know what we are up to. As
soon as you have loaded, rig up the boarding-nettings.’
“In a moment all was bustle. There was no need to run the guns in, for
that was already done, the captain insisting upon our always having the
ports closed, in order, as he said, that the natives might see that our
intentions were perfectly friendly. Consequently, the men were enabled to
load the guns without noise, moving about the deck on their naked feet
like shadows. Then the boarding-nettings were triced up, arms distributed
amongst the men, each having a boarding-pike, a cutlass, and a brace of
pistols. By the time that this was done, we judged by the sound of the
sweeps that the pirates were not more than a mile away. Lanterns were got
up on deck and placed in readiness to be lighted and run up to the
yard-arm, so as to throw some light down on the water.
“‘Now, we will call the old man again. Obstinate as he is he can’t help
hearing the oars now, and I know that he is plucky enough, and will fight
the ship well as soon as he is once convinced that there is danger.’
“We went together to the skipper’s.
“‘Captain,’ Purvis said in a loud voice, ‘Pinder and I have come to tell
you that the proas are within a mile of us, and to ask you to take the
command and fight the ship.’
“We heard the skipper tumble out of his bunk again with an angry
exclamation. He opened the door without a word and went straight up on to
the poop. He listened a moment, and then ran down again.
“‘I beg your pardon, Mr. Purvis,’ he said hastily, ‘but I have been wrong,
and there is no doubt we are going to be attacked. I am heartily sorry for
what I have said, and I thank you for your watchfulness.’
“‘Say no more about it, captain. We are ready to begin as soon as you give
the orders.’
“‘I will throw on some things and be out again in a minute;’ and in less
than that time he turned out again.
“‘You have the guns loaded?’ he asked.
“‘Ay, ay, sir, and the boarding-nettings up.’
“‘Can you make them out yet?’
“‘No, sir. By the sound, they are keeping close in to the shore. I have
got the kedge anchor in a boat. Shall I lower it and row a couple of
ship’s-lengths and drop it there, then we can warp her round, so as to
bring all our guns to bear? I deferred doing that to the last, so that the
fellows on shore should not know we were on the alert.’
“‘Yes; do so at once, Mr. Purvis.’
“The boatswain and two hands were at once called to the boat, which was
then lowered and rowed off in the direction the mate pointed out. The
anchor was let drop, and the boat returned to the ship, paying out the
hawser over the stern. The captain had taken his place on the forecastle,
and was looking anxiously ahead.
“‘I see them,’ he exclaimed at last; ‘they are coming out from behind that
low point half a mile away. Haul on the hawser and bring her broadside to
bear on them. Get the guns across to the starboard side, Mr. Pinder.’
“The ship was pierced for eight guns a side, and by the time the ship was
swung round, they were all in position. The proas, now no more than a
quarter of a mile away, were heading straight for us.
“‘Take a steady aim, lads,’ the captain said, ‘and fire as soon as you are
sure of your shot.’
“In quick succession the guns spoke out. At the reports wild yells broke
from the proas, and from the shore, now astern of us.
“‘Load as quick as you can with grape,’ the captain shouted.
“There had been five proas when the first gun was fired, but before we had
reloaded one had disappeared, and there was shouting and confusion in one
of the others. It was evident that she also was in difficulties.
“‘Don’t fire until I give the word.’
“The three proas were within fifty yards of us when he gave the order, and
the eight guns poured their contents into the crowded decks. The effect
was terrible. Two of the proas ceased rowing altogether, and some of the
oars of the other dropped into the water and hampered the efforts of those
who still continued to row.
“‘The port watch will repel boarders. The starboard watch will load
again,’ the captain ordered.
“There was way enough on the proas to bring them all alongside, but either
the men at the steering oars were all killed or they had lost their heads,
for, instead of bringing them up alongside, they simply came up bows on.
As they struck the side the Malays tried to climb up, but, attacking as
they did only at three points, our men had little difficulty in keeping
them off, thrusting through the nettings with their boarding-pikes, and
giving the Malays no time to attempt to chop down the nettings with their
creases.
“‘Are you all loaded?’ the captain shouted.
“‘Ay, ay, sir,’ came from the guns.
“‘Train them so as to take the proas between wind and water,’ the captain
said; ‘then run the port guns back to their places; we shall be attacked
on that side directly.’
“The sea indeed was sparkling with phosphoric fire, as a crowd of canoes
from the shore paddled out towards us. The steward now lit and ran up half
a dozen lanterns. We got the guns over in time, but before we could load
them the Malays were swarming up the side.
“‘Take three men, Pinder, and load the guns,’ cried the captain; ‘we will
keep these fellows off.’
“The same order was given to the boatswain with regard to the guns on the
starboard side. It was exciting work, for spears were flying in showers,
stink-pots were hurled over the nettings, and the yelling and shouting
were deafening. Our men were sticking to their pikes, for they had been
ordered to keep their pistols in reserve in case the pirates obtained a
footing on deck. There were two little guns on the poop, and when I had
loaded the guns on the port side the captain sent me up to load these. I
crammed them with bullets up to the muzzle, and then ran them to the poop
railing, and placed one of the hands there with a lighted match. We had a
tough ten minutes of it, and if the canoes had come up at the same time as
the proas it would have gone hard with us; but the last broadside that had
been poured in had sunk two of the big craft, and the other had drifted
away, so that, in fact, we had only the shore canoes to cope with. We had
hard work to keep them back, but none of the natives managed to cross the
netting along the waist of the ship, though a few shoved themselves
through holes that they hacked with their creases.
“Some managed to swarm up by the cable on to the bows, but three men who
were stationed there disposed of them before enough could gain a footing
to be dangerous. The captain had been keeping the guns in reserve in case
the proa that had dropped behind at first should come on, but he now saw
that she was low in the water, and that many of the Malays were jumping
overboard. He therefore shouted out:
“‘Give them both broadsides. Aim into the thick of them.’
“That broadside settled it; seven or eight of their big canoes were
smashed up; several of the others turned and paddled to the shore; and a
moment later, the men who were attacking us leapt into the boats alongside
and followed their example.
“‘Load as quickly as you can,’ the captain cried, ‘and give them a parting
salute.’ We ran the two little quarter-deck guns over and peppered them
with bullets, and the other guns joined in as soon as they were reloaded.
“That finished the matter. Our loss was not heavy, considering what a hard
fight it had been. We had but two killed, and seven or eight wounded by
their spears; while they must have suffered frightfully. In the morning
the captain called the crew aft, and made a speech thanking them for their
conduct, and saying that they owed their safety and that of the ship to
the first mate and myself, and that the night’s work would be a lesson
that he should never forget. He privately said the same thing to us, and
there was no doubt that it was the first mate who saved the ship.
“This and the other affair were a lesson to me as well as to the captain.
No matter how friendly the natives might appear, from that day I have
never anchored among the islands without having half my guns
double-shotted, and the other half loaded with grape; and there is always
an officer and half a watch on deck, so that, whatever happens to us, it
will not be because I have been caught napping. On both those occasions
the captains well-nigh lost ship and crew by their carelessness.”
For several weeks they cruised among the islands bartering goods with the
natives of sea-coast villages. At most of these the captain had touched on
previous voyages, and as soon as the ship was recognized the canoes came
off freely. Stephen gradually got rid of the goods he had purchased at
Calcutta. Knowing nothing of the respective value of the bird skins, he
was guided simply by their rarity. Of skins of which numbers were brought
on board, he bought none, however brilliant the plumage; but whenever he
saw one that was new to him he at once made an offer for it. But as this
was seldom, his box filled but slowly, until one day he went ashore with
the captain, the first mate, and twelve sailors armed to the teeth, to pay
a visit to the chief. On the few occasions on which he had landed he
always carried with him a hand-bag filled full of trade goods. On the
present occasion, after the feasting had gone on for some time, he stole
out from the chief’s hut. The men were sitting down in front drinking palm
wine, but keeping a vigilant eye upon the movements of the natives.
Presently one of the Malays came up to him and touched his bag, as if to
ask what were its contents. He brought out two or three small
looking-glasses, some large brass necklaces, and a few of the cheap
bangles and rings set with coloured glass, used by the Hindoo peasant
women. The native pointed to a hut near, and beckoned to Steve to follow
him.
“Jim, you may as well come with me,” Stephen said to one of the sailors.
“I think this fellow wants to trade with me; but they are treacherous
beggars, and I don’t care about going with him by myself.”
The sailor got up and followed him across to the hut. The Malay was
evidently a chief of some importance, and Stephen thought that he might be
possessed of articles of a better class than those usually offered. In one
corner of the hut stood a seaman’s chest with several small cases round
it. It needed but a glance to show that the latter were two chronometers
and three quadrants.
“The scoundrels have been plundering a ship, Jim.”
“Ay, ay, your honour, there is not much doubt about that. I should like to
knock the black villain on the head.”
The chief caught the tone of anger, and made a variety of signs to the
effect that there had been a great storm, and that a ship had been driven
ashore and wrecked.
“Ay, ay, that is all very well,” the sailor growled; “but that won’t do
for us. Those chronometers would never have floated, and them polished
cases have never been in the water.”
“Never mind, Jim; it won’t do to look suspicious.” He pointed to the
chronometers, and asked by signs how much was wanted for them. He took out
four looking-glasses, two brass chains, and three or four bead necklaces.
The chief looked doubtful; but when Stephen added a crimson silk
handkerchief he closed with the bargain at once. He would indeed have
given them for the looking-glasses alone if Stephen had held out for them,
for he regarded the chronometers with a certain sense of dread; they were
to him mysteries, having made, when first brought ashore, a ticking noise,
and were generally considered to be in some way alive. They were,
therefore, left out in the air for some days, and it was then found that
they were, as supposed, dead. None of the other natives would have given
them house-room; but the chief, who was less superstitious than the
majority of the tribe, had brought them into his hut, although he had not
had sufficient courage to break them up for the sake of the brass.
Having disposed of these the chief opened the lid of the chest. He took
out some clothes and held them up, but Stephen shook his head decidedly.
Then he brought out a gold watch and a heavy bag; he untied the latter,
and handed it to Stephen for inspection. The lad had difficulty in
repressing an exclamation, for it was full of guineas, but put it down and
placed the watch beside it, assumed an air of indifference, and then made
up another pile of about equal value to the first, but threw in a couple
of dozen brass buttons. The chief nodded, and Stephen slipped the bag and
watch into his coat pocket. While this transaction had been going on, Jim
had carried the boxes containing the chronometers and quadrants to his
comrades.
“Anything more, sir?” he asked, as he appeared at the door of the hut.
“Nothing more to carry, Jim, as far as I am concerned; but there is a good
pea-jacket and some togs in that chest. I have no doubt that it belonged
to the captain of the ship; they have cut off all the buttons. I will buy
them for you.”
The coat and trousers, and half a dozen shirts were, to Jim’s great
delight, purchased for him. Stephen then examined the whole contents of
the chest, thinking that some papers might be found that would give a clue
to the name of the ship that it had belonged to, but nothing of the sort
was discovered. However, he bought the whole of the clothes, and, calling
in the sailors one by one, divided them among them, and then went back and
joined the captain.
“I have been doing some trading, captain,” he whispered to him. “It is
white plunder; and I have no doubt that a ship has been surprised and her
crew massacred somewhere near here. I have bought the chronometers and
quadrants, and they have certainly not been in the water; also the
contents of a sea-chest, which I divided among the men. There were no
papers of any kind, but from the appearance of the chronometers, I should
say that they cannot have been here long.”
The captain nodded.
“We will talk it over when we get on board, Steve. We will be off at once,
for these fellows are beginning to get drunk with this beastly liquor of
theirs, and it is best that we should get out of the place before there is
any excuse for a quarrel.”
A few minutes later they took their seats in the boat and rowed off to the
ship.
CHAPTER III.
A CYCLONE.
As soon as they arrived on board, Captain Pinder examined the chronometers
and pronounced them to be excellent ones.
“I would not wind them up until it is Greenwich time as they now stand,
and would then compare them with our own.”
“Of course, sir,” Stephen said, “I have bought these not for myself but
for the ship.”
“Not at all, Steve; you have traded as you have a right to do, and the
ship has nothing to do with it. At the same time I don’t know whether you
will be able to keep or sell them. I must give notice on our return home
that such things have been found here under circumstances that leave no
doubt that the crew of the ship to which they belonged have been
massacred, and the ship herself burned. No doubt owners of vessels that
have been missing will call at the office to inspect the chronometers. I
do not say that anyone would have a legal right to them; they have been
absolutely lost and gone out of their possession, and you have bought them
in the way of fair trade.”
“If they wish to have them back again, sir, of course I will give them
up.”
“Well, at any rate, if you did so, lad, you would get a reward
proportionate to their value. However, they may never be claimed. Owners
whose ships are missing, and who have received the insurance money, are
not likely to trouble themselves further in the matter.”
“This is not all I have, sir,” Stephen went on. “I also got this gold
watch and this bag of money. I suppose the chest belonged to the captain,
and that he carried this gold with him for the purchase of stores.”
“You are a lucky fellow, Steve. Come down into my cabin and we will count
the money. Two hundred guineas,” he went on, when they had finished;
“well, that is about the best bit of trade that I have seen done; you had
better hand this over to me to keep.”
“Oh, I don’t mean it to be kept, sir,” Stephen said; “it would not be fair
at all. I would not think of it. It is like prize-money, and ought to be
divided in the same way. I don’t mind keeping the gold watch just now, but
if we find out the name of the ship when we get back to England, I should
wish to send it to the widow of the captain, and the money too, if it
belonged to him.”
“There is no chance whatever of that, lad. No captain would be fool enough
to bring out a lot of gold like that on his own account. It was certainly
ship’s money that he would hold for making advances to the crew; as for
the purchase of stores, he would pay for them by bills on the owner. But
still, you are no doubt right about the watch, and the poor fellow’s widow
would, doubtless, be glad to have it; as to the gold, I will take charge
of it for the present. We will talk the matter over again later on; there
is no occasion to come to any decision about it. At present it is entirely
yours. I don’t think that you have any right to give up a sum of money
like this without, at any rate, very careful consideration. It is a sum
that, divided up into shares, would give but a very small amount to each
on board, while it might be of the most material service to you some day
or other. But please oblige me by saying nothing whatever about it at
present. Whatever decision is arrived at in matters of this sort, somebody
is sure to feel aggrieved, and it is astonishing what little things upset
a crew, especially on a voyage of this kind, where there is no such
controlling influence over the men’s minds as that exercised by touching
at ports where there are authorities to whom, in case of necessity, the
captain can appeal.”
“Very well, sir, I will, of course, do as you wish. Shall I say anything
about the watch?”
“Yes; there is no objection to your doing that, especially as that must be
mentioned in any inquiries we may make as to any ship being missing, and
there is no need for any secrecy about it. I shall also mention the money
to the officers; they will appreciate the offer that you have made, and
agree with me, I am sure, that it will be better that nothing should be
said to the crew.”
That evening the first mate said to Stephen: “The captain has been telling
us about that bag of money you got hold of, Steve, and we all think that
your offer to treat it as if it were prize-money is a very kind one, but
we agree with him that it would be a mistake. In the first place, the
money wouldn’t go far. In any matter of that sort the ship, that is to say
the owners, take a large share to begin with, the officers take some
shares, and the men’s shares would not come to a pound a head. A pound a
head would only suffice for them to have a drunken spree on shore, but
they are just as well without that, and, as the captain says, it is
astonishing what little things upset sailors’ minds. They might take it
into their head that as you got two hundred pounds in that hut there might
be a lot more, and they would be wanting to land and to turn the village
upside down, and there would be bloodshed and all sorts of trouble. The
old saying, ‘Least said, soonest mended’, comes in here strongly. We have,
so far, got on very well with the natives this voyage, and I hope that we
shall continue to do so to the end. I quite allow that we should all of us
be glad to give a sharp lesson to that village ashore. They have been
plundering, and I have no doubt murdering, the crew of some ship. Still,
we have no evidence of that, and we can’t attack the village on mere
supposition. They have been friendly enough with us, partly because we
have been here before, and the captain gets on well with them, but more
because they are perfectly well aware that we are always on guard, and
that there is no chance whatever of their catching us asleep. In nine
cases out of ten it is the carelessness and over-confidence of sailors
that tempt the natives to take advantage of it; they would never have
shown you these things if they had had any idea of attacking us.”
Next morning the operation of filling up the water-tanks was completed,
and at noon the orders were given to weigh anchor. Steve saw how rightly
the captain had foreseen what was likely to happen, for no sooner was the
order given than two of the men came aft as a deputation from the crew.
“What is it, lads?” he asked.
“Well, captain, the boat’s crew that went ashore yesterday came off with a
lot of togs that must, in course, have been taken from some seaman’s
chest. Now, it seems to us as that chest could not have been there by fair
means, and that, like enough, they had been murdering and looting some
vessel here; and, for aught we know, the place may be full of plunder of
some sort or another, and that, may be, there are twenty or thirty other
seamen’s chests there, and other goods. It seems to us, sir, that these
chaps ought to be punished, and that we should try to get as much of the
plunder they have got hidden as we can; therefore, the crew beg that you
will sanction our going ashore and tackling them.”
“No, lads, I can’t sanction that,” the captain said. “It is true that Mr.
Embleton was offered by one of their chiefs some chronometers and the
contents of a sea-chest. He bought the chronometers, and he also bought
the contents of the chest and divided them among the men who went ashore.
The chief made signs to him that these things had been saved from a ship
that had been wrecked, and it is possible that it may be so. It may not
have been wrecked on this island, and those things may have been the share
of one of the canoes from here that assisted in looting her; at any rate,
we have no proof that the vessel was boarded and captured. If it had been
done here, I think we should have seen more signs of it among the natives
who have come out to the ship or on shore. There would have been more
trade goods about—handkerchiefs, and beads, and so on, and they would not
have been anxious to trade with us. At any rate, there are no grounds for
attacking a village that has, during the last three or four days, traded
peacefully with us, as they have done on several different occasions when
I have put in here. Even if there were no other reason, I should refuse to
allow them to be attacked, because the news of the affair would spread
from island to island, and next time we were in these seas we should do no
trade, and should certainly be attacked if we gave them a chance. Of
course I shall report the circumstances connected with the discovery of
this chest at Calcutta, and endeavour to find out what ship has been
lately missing; beyond that we can do nothing in the matter. We are
traders; if we are attacked we do our best to beat off the assailants, but
it would be altogether beyond our business to attack sea-side villages
because we find that they are in the possession of ships’ goods, for were
we to do so we should soon put an end to all trade in these islands. Go
back and tell your comrades this, and then muster at once and heave the
cable short.”
The orders were obeyed, but it was evident that there was a lack of the
usual briskness and willingness. However, before the ship had been many
hours on her way, matters settled down and the work went on as usual.
“You see, lad,” the first officer said to Stephen as the sails were
sheeted home, and the _Tiger_ glided away from her anchorage, “the captain
was quite right, and if it had been known on the ship that you had got
that money, there would have been a good deal more trouble than there was.
It would have been no good to tell them that, no doubt, it was the ship’s
money. Sailors are like children; they would have argued that if you could
obtain two hundred pounds from one hut, they would each be likely to get
as much in a general loot of the village. You see, giving them those togs
you bought was enough to stir them up, and things would not have passed
off so pleasantly had they known about the money.
“I do not say that there would have been a mutiny, or anything of that
sort, because the great majority of them have sailed for years under the
skipper; still, there would have been great discontent and grumbling, and
if there happened to be among the new hands one or two sea-lawyers, they
might have worked upon the men, and caused a great deal of trouble.”
“I see that, sir,” Steve said.
“Well, there is no harm done, lad, and you will see that in a day or two
the matter will have been forgotten. But it is a lesson that you may
profit by; it is always best to avoid anything that, even remotely, is
likely to set sailors talking together. All crews are not as trustworthy
as the _Tiger’s_, and you would be astonished what mischief two or three
cunning plausible rascals can do among a crew, if they have got ever so
small a grievance to work upon.”
A week later the ship was passing along the coast of a small island when
Joyce, the eldest apprentice, who was examining the shore through a glass,
said to the second officer:
“There is a wreck of some sort, sir, in among those black rocks.”
“So there is,” the mate said, shading his eyes with his hand. “I see it
plainly enough now that you call my attention to it.”
He went aft and reported it to the captain, who came out and examined it
carefully with his glass.
“It is a wreck certainly, and not the work of the natives this time,” he
said. “She has been blown on shore and left almost high and dry; her spars
are all gone, the bulwarks are swept away, and though I cannot see the
line of her broadside, I fancy that she has broken in two. Anyhow, as we
have hardly steerage way, we shall lose no time by sending to find out
what ship she is. Mr. Towel, you might as well lower the gig. Take six
men; let them all take muskets and pistols with them. As Mr. Joyce was the
first to make her out he may as well go with you. If you see no signs of
natives, you can land and ascertain whether she has been plundered. It may
be that she has not been discovered yet by the natives. If you see any of
them about, content yourself with getting the ship’s name and port from
her stern.”
The boat was lowered.
“You may go too, Steve,” he added as Stephen was looking down into the
boat. “It is Mr. Archer’s turn; but as he had got a touch of fever this
morning, he is better sitting under the shade of that sail than in an open
boat.”
“Thank you very much, sir,” Stephen said, and, running below, shoved his
pistols into his pocket.
“You have got water in the boat?” the captain asked the mate just as Steve
returned on deck.
“The keg is about half-full, sir,” he said as one of the sailors lifted
and shook it.
“Hand them another down from the long-boat,” the captain said, turning to
one of the men; “it is better always to make sure. Mr. Towel,” he went on,
leaning over the side, “one is never sure of the weather for an hour, and
I don’t altogether like the colour of the sky now. But if there are no
signs of change aloft, and you see the natives have not been near the
place, give a look round beyond the rocks for anything that might show
whether some of the crew got ashore—fires made, or anything of that sort.
Should you see signs, we will fire a gun or two when you return, and lay
off for a few hours to give them a chance of coming down to the beach.”
“Ay, ay, sir,” the mate said, “I will take a look round for them; but from
the way she has been thrown up I should doubt whether there is the
slightest chance of anyone having got ashore.”
The captain nodded, then the mate gave the word, and the boat pushed off
from the ship. Four men rowed, two sat in the bow, Mr. Towel and the two
apprentices sat aft. They were some three miles from shore. There was a
ripple on the water, but the wind was very light. There was, however, a
ground-swell that had caused the _Tiger_ to roll, but which was scarcely
perceptible in the boat. Steve remarked on this.
“No,” the mate said, “these long swells do not affect a boat in the least.
I have often gone ashore on the west coast of Africa, when one was
scarcely conscious in the boat of there being any swell on at all, and yet
the vessels at anchor outside were rolling almost gunwale under. Still, I
would rather that we had not got it, it is a sign that there is wind
somewhere, and I agree with the skipper that it is an unnatural-looking
sky. Still, it may be hours yet before there is any change.”
Half an hour’s rowing took them to shore. “She could not have picked out a
worse place, lads,” the mate said when they approached the wreck. “You see
there are black heads sticking out of the water all round, and it must
have been a tremendous sea to have carried that ship right through them
and chucked her up there where there are not two feet of water.”
“The _Lady Vernon_, London,” Joyce exclaimed at this moment, “I can make
out her name plainly.”
“Then your eyes are better than mine, Joyce, for I can’t say I can read it
yet. Row easy, men, and you in the bow keep a sharp look-out on the water.
If we were to come bow-on to a hidden rock we should have to wait ashore
until another boat came out to fetch us.”
Rowing very gently the boat kept on her course until within half a length
of the ship, then she ran quietly up on a flat rock some seven or eight
inches under water. They could see now that the captain’s conjecture was
correct. The ship had broken her back, having, as she was carried in on
the crest of a great wave, dropped on a sharp ledge of rocks about
amidships. The sea had rushed in through the hole in her side, and had
torn away all her planking and most of her timbers forward, while the
after part of the ship had held together. The hold, however, was gutted of
its contents.
“The natives have not been here since,” Steve said as he pointed ahead
where, apparently far out of reach of the water, lay a quantity of
wreckage, splinters of planks, bits of timber, bales of goods, and a great
litter of loose cargo.
“It is of no use climbing up above,” the mate said in answer to an offer
on Joyce’s part to endeavour to reach the deck. “The waves, you see, have
rushed in through the stern windows, and have made a clean sweep of
everything. Half the deck has burst up and gone. We will have a look at
the things on shore. Step out, lads, and pull the boat a bit higher up.”
This was done, and they waded through the water knee-deep to shore. The
wreckage lay a hundred yards further up, on ground quite twenty feet
higher than that on which they were standing. The bales were all marked
with the ship’s name. There were no signs of casks or boxes, these had
doubtless been smashed into splinters. Among the wreckage five skeletons
were found. They searched further inland, but could discover no sign
whatever of life between the shore and a dense forest that began four or
five hundred yards away.
“It is certain that no one has escaped,” the mate said. “In the first
place, no living creature could have ever gained his feet if cast up by
such a sea as that must have been. The first wave that struck her after
she was thrown up there must have swept the decks clean and finished them
all at one blow. In the next place, if by a miracle any of them did get
safely ashore, you may be sure that they would have buried their comrades
the next morning. You see, it is sand up there where the wreckage lies,
and it would not have taken long to scrape a hole deep enough and large
enough to bury them. Ah! the captain is getting impatient,” he exclaimed,
as the sound of a gun came across the water. “No wonder,” he went on as he
looked at the sky.
They had been about an hour on shore, and had been so fully occupied in
examining the wreckage, and in looking for some signs that might tell them
if any of the crew had gained the shore, that they had paid no attention
whatever to the weather. A great change had taken place since they had
left the ship. The wind had entirely died away, and a darkness had crept
over the sky; it was not a cloud, but a sort of dull vapour.
“Quick, lads, to the boat,” the mate said, “there is not a moment to be
lost. There is a storm brewing, and the sooner we are on board the
better.”
They ran through the water, got into the boat, and pushed her off.
“Be careful, men; paddle quietly until we are well beyond the rocks. Keep
a sharp look out forward.” Another gun was fired from the ship as he
spoke. “Steady, men, steady!” he said; “you can row as hard as you like
when we get outside, but it is of no use knocking a hole in her to start
with.”
As soon as they were beyond the rocks they bent to the oars. At the mate’s
orders, the two apprentices and the sailors in the bow took their seats by
the rowers and double-banked the oars.
“The skipper is getting every rag of sail off her,” the mate said, as he
looked ahead. “There is another gun! It is getting darker and darker, I
don’t suppose they can make us out. Give way, lads.”
The gloom deepened rapidly. The ship continued to fire guns every minute
or two, and it was well she did so, for the mate had now lost sight of
her.
“Which way do you think it will come, sir?” Stephen, who was at the
stroke-oar, asked.
The mate shook his head. “There is no knowing,” he said. “If it is
inshore, the _Tiger_ will lay her bones by that wreck behind us. We can’t
be above a mile away from her by the sound of that last gun. But it will
be a close thing, I can hear the wind coming.”
Even those rowing were conscious of a low moaning sound.
“It comes from behind I think,” the mate said in answer to a look from
Stephen. Suddenly a puff of wind from behind rippled the water round them
and then died away again. “Row, lads,” the mate exclaimed, “I can see the
ship now, she is not half a mile away; five minutes will do it.”
The men strained at the oars and the boat sprang forward at every stroke.
They could hear the moaning sound growing louder and louder.
“The captain has got her head off shore,” the mate said; “he has been
towing her round. They have just hoisted the boat up. He has got the
little storm-jib on her. Now, lads, another four or five hundred yards and
we shall be alongside.”
It was a race with the storm, but the odds were too great. They were but a
hundred yards from the ship when the roar rose into a wild scream, and a
line of white water sprang towards them with fearful velocity.
“In oars, men!” the mate shouted. “Throw yourselves flat in the bottom of
the boat,—quick!”
The order was executed almost as soon as given. The mate, too, slipped off
his seat on to the floor-board, while still retaining hold of the tiller.
The next moment the storm struck them. It was well that the boat was still
flying through the water with the way full on her; had she been lying
motionless she would probably have sunk like a stone under the force of
the blow. As it was she leapt forward like a horse under a spur. They
passed but half a length or so from the ship. The latter had not yet
gathered way, but lay pressed down until her bow was well-nigh level with
the water. As the mate looked up he saw the captain holding on by the
shrouds. Each waved a hand and then the boat flew on, and in a minute the
ship was out of sight. The mate shouted in the ear of the sailor who rowed
the stroke-oar and who was lying next to him:
“Crawl forward and try and fix the floor-board there, so as to show a few
inches above the bow to act as a head-sail. If she broaches to, it is all
up with us. As you go along tell each man to shift himself a bit more aft.
Her stern must be well down or I can never keep her straight. If you can’t
fix the floor-board, get up the mast; tie up the foresail in a roll, and
then hoist it, that will give hold enough to the wind.”
The man nodded and made his way forward; he endeavoured to carry out the
first part of his orders, but the moment he raised the floor-board above
the level of the gunwale it was wrenched from his hands and blown ahead.
With the aid of two other men he managed to step the mast. The mate waved
his hand to him to say that that would do for the present. The man,
however, prepared the sail ready for hoisting, rolling it up tightly and
winding a cord round and round it; then he hooked the head on to the
traveller on the mast, and lay down at its foot, holding the halliard in
readiness to hoist it. The water was still perfectly smooth, and the boat
flew straight before the wind without any tendency to broach to. Stephen,
after the stroke-oar had gone forward, crept aft until he was beside the
mate, and there lay for a time, feeling half-stupefied by the tremendous
roar of the cyclone.
Captain Pinder was, as every good officer should be, most particular about
his boats, and always had them built specially from his own design. They
were broader than usual, and had a flat floor and a deep keel, thus they
were extremely buoyant, their lines resembling those of the surf-boats on
the west coasts of India and Africa, while their deep keels enabled them
to sail close to the wind. The men chafed sometimes when, on their way to
shore, they found themselves passed by the narrow boats of other ships;
but the captain was perfectly indifferent to this, and used to say to
other skippers who laughed at him for what they called his “walnut
shells”:
“A boat is not made for racing; she is made to carry her crew in a heavy
sea. My boats will live where yours would be swamped in five minutes, and
with their great beam they will carry all sail, while you would not dare
show a shred of canvas. It makes no difference to me whether I get to
shore five minutes earlier or later; properly handled, the smallest of my
boats ought to weather any ordinary gale, while the long-boat would be as
safe to cross the Atlantic in as the _Tiger_ herself, though I don’t say
that she would be as comfortable.”
The crew, every one of whom had many a time grumbled at the contrast
between their beamy craft and the smart gigs of most other ships, now felt
the advantage. The boat sped lightly along, raising her head higher and
higher out of the water whenever a fresh blast of wind added to her speed,
and, save for the sound of the rushing water against the sides, might have
been at rest, for any motion that could be perceived. In half an hour the
sea began to get up; as soon as it did so the mate made a signal to the
man at the halliards, and the sail was drawn up. Tightly as it was rolled,
the difference was at once perceptible, and the boat flew along faster
than before. The men were now sitting up in the bottom of the boat; they
knew that the battle with the storm had as yet scarcely begun, and that
when the sea once got up they would have a terrible time of it. In an
ordinary ship’s-boat the prospect would have been absolutely hopeless; but
the Norwegian pilot-boats—whose model the captain had pretty closely
followed—are able successfully to ride out the heaviest gale in the North
Sea, and the mate and the two apprentices, the latter of whom had often
heard from Captain Pinder, with whom the matter was a pet hobby, of the
wonderful power of these craft in a gale, entertained a strong hope that
she would live through whatever might come. As the sea rose, a small
portion of the foresail was loosed, then more was freed, until the whole
of the little sail was drawing, and the speed with which it dragged the
boat along saved her from being swamped by the following waves. But in
another hour the water no longer ran in waves, it was broken up in a
confused and tumultuous sea; the greater part of the sail was again bound
up, for there was no longer the same risk of being swamped, and it was
necessary to moderate the boat’s speed in such a tumult of water.
“What makes it like this?” Stephen shouted.
“The circular motion of the wind,” the mate replied in a similar tone of
voice. “I dare say we have made two or three circles already.”
“There is a compass in the locker behind you, sir.”
The mate nodded.
“That may be useful when the storm is over, but would not help us now, and
might get broken.”
That Stephen could quite understand, for the motions of the boat were so
sudden and unexpected that the crew often grasped at the thwarts and
gunwale, fearing they would be thrown right out of her. At one moment a
wave seemed to rise underneath her, and almost chuck her into the air,
then she would sink between two masses of water, that looked as if they
would tumble over and fill her, then she would dash head-forward at a wave
that rose suddenly in front of her. For a time it seemed to all on board
as if her destruction was imminent, but as the buoyant little craft
struggled bravely on,—shipping no more water than one man with the bailer
could free her of as fast as it came aboard, in the shape of spray,—they
began to breathe again more freely.
It was now nine hours since the gale had burst upon them, and there were
no signs of an abatement, when, as they were on the top of a wave, the
mate shouted:
“There are breakers ahead.”
Every head was lifted, and when the boat rose again on a wave they could
see a line of white foam ahead of them as far on either side as the eye
could see through the mist.
“Keep a look-out for a break in the line, Wilcox,” the mate shouted.
The man forward waved his hand, and, holding to the mast, stood up. A
minute later he turned and shouted something to the man next to him, and
the message was passed from mouth to mouth to the mate.
“It is not a reef, sir; it is a low sandy coast.”
“Take your places on the thwarts,” the mate shouted, “and get your oars
out.”
The men did so. Then, in a momentary lull in the blast, the officer said:
“Get ready to pull for your lives when I give the word. Our only chance is
to go in on the top of a wave. The instant we touch the ground and she
loses her way, jump out and stick your heels in the sand.”
They approached the edge of the surf rapidly.
“Stick your oars in deep and check her way,” the mate shouted.
He stood up in the boat when they were within fifty yards of the point
where the waves curled over and fell with a roar like thunder on the
beach. Two or three waves passed under her, then he saw one of greater
height approaching.
“Row, lads! row for your lives!”
The wind helping them, they flew forward. The wave rose higher and higher
behind them—it looked almost as steep as a wall—and an involuntary cry
broke from several of the men as the boat’s stern rose up it.
“Row! row!” the mate shouted.
But six strokes were pulled and then the wave fell over with a crash, and
in a moment they were shooting along with the speed of an arrow in the
midst of a mass of seething foam.
“Get ready to jump!” the mate shouted.
His voice was lost, but the action which accompanied it was understood.
They were flying up a steep slope, when suddenly the motion became slower,
then there was a bump.
“Hold to her, lads, if you can; every man spring overboard.”
For a moment they seemed drawn backwards by the rush of the water, then
the boat became fixed, and a moment later the water left them.
“Now, all together before the next wave reaches her.”
With a united effort they lifted and ran the boat her own length further
up. The next wave barely reached the boat’s stern. Before another came she
was well up on the sand. Then the mate pointed upwards. The roar of the
surf and the howl of the wind would have drowned any words, but his
gesture was sufficient. Most of the men had, like their officer, lost
their hats, but those who had not done so took them off. Several of them,
including Stephen and Joyce, threw themselves on their knees, the others
stood with bent heads, and all uttered a fervent thanksgiving for their
preservation from what had seemed almost certain death. The mate was the
first to move. He went to the side of the boat, and began to take double
handfuls of sand, and to throw them into her. The others looked at him in
surprise, but he made signs that the wind might lift the boat up, whirl
her round, and dash her to pieces; then all set to at the work, which they
continued until the boat was half-full of sand. Then the two barrels of
water were carried up, together with a bag of biscuits and a bottle of rum
from the locker, where a supply was always kept in case of an emergency
like the present. They went on beyond the brow of the sand-hill, and
ensconced themselves in a hollow at its foot, where they were completely
sheltered from the wind. The mate got out his jack-knife, and managed to
get the cork out of the bottle, and pouring water from one of the breakers
into a tin pannikin that formed part of the boat’s equipment, gave a
ration of grog to each, and served out a biscuit all round.
As soon as these were eaten and the grog drank, they threw themselves on
the sand and were soon fast asleep, utterly worn out with the prolonged
strain they had gone through.
When they woke, day was just breaking. The mate was the first to leap to
his feet.
“Tumble up, lads,” he said, “we must have had twelve hours’ sleep. The
storm is over.”
All were soon at the top of the sand-hill. A heavy sea was still breaking
on the sands, but there was scarce a breath of wind, and the sea, though
rough and agitated, was no longer covered with white heads, and looked
bright in the rosy light. The boat lay where they had left it, securely
anchored by the weight of the sand it contained. Their next glance was
inland. For a quarter of a mile away the sand covered everything, then a
few bushes rose from it; beyond were some stunted trees, and a hundred
yards further a thick forest bordered the sandy belt as far as they could
see on either hand. It was evidently a large island, for two or three
miles away the country rose hill beyond hill, culminating in a jagged
mountain dome twenty miles distant.
“Do you know where we are, sir?” Stephen asked, as the mate stood silently
looking at the peak.
“No, I wish I did. I have either never seen that hill before, or, if I
have, it has been from some other side that gave it quite a different
outline. You see, we were nine hours in the gale, and during that time I
fancy we must have run nearly a hundred miles; but I do not suppose we are
half that distance from the point where we started, for we are sure to
have gone round and round several times in the first hour or two. The
island we were at, was some fifty or sixty miles from the coast of
Sumatra, and possibly it is there that we have been cast ashore; but, on
the other hand, we may have gone quite in another direction. Anyhow, there
is no denying that we are in an awkward fix. It matters little enough
which of the islands we have hit upon, the natives are all pirates and
scoundrels, and the possession they prize most is a human head. The first
thing to do, lads, is to draw the charges from our muskets and pistols and
to reload them, then we will have a consultation.”
This was done, and then they went down to the boat.
“I half expected it,” the mate went on, after examining her; “the shock
has started the butts of three planks on one side, and two on the other.
We will get the sand out first and turn her over, bottom upwards.”
This was done.
“I think we might make a shift to cobble it up,” the mate said. “Some of
the wood here is as hard as iron, and we might cut some pegs and fasten
the planks into their place again. I don’t suppose we shall be able to
make them watertight, but we might caulk them up with pitch or gum from
some of the trees. But that is not the first thing to think of; it is no
use having a boat if we have not food or water to put into her. These
biscuits would last us two or three days, and the water, if we are
careful, as long again, but that is not enough to start with on a long
cruise. The place we have to make for is Timor. Do you think that you
could find your way there, Steve, and how far is it?”
“I was looking at the chart the last day I was on board, sir, and I
noticed that Timor lay to the south of where we were then, and I should
say it was something like six or seven hundred miles away.”
“Well, it is of no use starting on such an expedition as that with such a
stock of provisions as ours, so I propose that, in the first place, we see
what is to be found in the forest. It will be hard if we do not find a
supply of fruit. If we can collect a store enough we might venture upon
making a start. You see, we must keep well off the land, for if we were
made out from any of the coast villages, we should have one of their craft
after us in no time; but, in any case, I should say we had better stay
here for a week. If the _Tiger_ got safely through that gale, you may be
sure the captain will be cruising about looking for us. He has sufficient
faith in his boats to feel pretty positive that if we have not been cast
ashore we are still afloat.”
CHAPTER IV.
A RESCUE.
They were soon in the forest. It required care and caution to make their
way through the tangled growth of climbing canes and vines. Some of these
were armed with terrible thorns, and as they had no hatchets to chop their
way through them they were often obliged to make detours to escape these
obstacles. Orchids of brilliant colours and fantastic shapes grew thickly
on the trees, ants in countless numbers swarmed up and down the trunks,
and many an angry exclamation was wrung from the seamen as a bite as sharp
as the sting of a wasp told that some of these insects had crawled up the
legs of their trousers or made their way down their neck.
“Unless we are going to live on ants,” the mate said ruefully as he gave a
savage slap at his leg, “it seems to me we are likely to starve, for I
have seen nothing whatever to eat since we entered the wood. Even if some
of the trees did bear fruit I don’t see how we are going to get at it, for
one would be eaten alive by these little brutes before we reached the
top.”
“I vote we turn back, Mr. Towel,” one of the men said. “I would rather put
to sea and take my chance than keep on being stung by these ants, when
there doesn’t seem the least hope of our finding anything.”
“There doesn’t seem much chance here, Nixon. I think we had best get out
of the wood and follow the edge along. We may come to some place where it
is more open, and may even strike on a stream. If we could do that we
might patch up the boat and pull up stream a bit. Anyhow, I don’t think it
is any use pushing on here. My jacket is torn in a dozen places already by
the thorns.”
“One of them has nearly taken my eye out,” another grumbled; and indeed
all were bleeding from the gashes they had received from the thorns. They
made their way back carefully, and there was a general exclamation of
satisfaction when the light could be seen ahead through the trees. As soon
as they were out on the sands shirts were hastily pulled off and a hunt
for ants carried out.
“It is lucky the bites don’t swell up,” Joyce said, “or I should be a mass
of bumps. It is as bad as if one had been attacked by a swarm of bees. Yet
there is only a little red spot to show for each bite.”
As soon as they had freed themselves from the ants they started along the
edge of the forest. After walking for two miles they gave a shout of joy,
for a river some fifty yards wide issued from the forest. The sand-hills
had hidden it from sight until they were close upon it.
“Thank God, we sha’n’t die of thirst,” the mate said. “It will be a hard
job to get our boat here, but it has got to be done. Even if we could
launch it through the surf there would be no getting in through the
rollers on the bar, at least I should not like to try it. So we have got
to drag her here somehow. It will be a tough job, but as there seems no
chance of getting food in any other way we must undertake it. Hurrah!” he
exclaimed suddenly, “there are some cocoa-nut trees on the other side of
the river. That settles it. Let us be off back again at once.”
They returned in much better spirits than they had before felt. On the way
they went a short distance into the forest, and cut off a number of thorns
some two inches long and seemingly as hard as iron. They breakfasted on a
biscuit, with a full allowance of water, and then set to work at the boat.
The thorns answered their purpose as nails admirably, and the planks soon
were securely fastened into their places against the stem; but without
nails to clench the planks together, it was evident to them all that the
boat would not float five minutes. They stood looking at it
discontentedly.
“What is to be done with it?” said Mr. Towel. “Can anyone make a
suggestion?”
“I should think, sir,” Stephen said, “that if we could get some strong
fibre, or some of those thin climbers that barred our way—they were not
thicker than string, but there was no breaking them, and I should think
that they would do—that with them we could sew the planks together and
caulk them afterwards with the threads from a bit of the leg of one of our
drill trousers.”
“A capital idea, Stephen. At any rate, it would be worth trying.”
“I will go and fetch some of those climbers, sir, and some long thorns to
make the holes with.”
“We may as well all go, Stephen; we have nothing to do here, and at any
rate it is cooler in the forest than it is on the sands. We shall want a
good stock of thorns, for we are sure to break lots of them in making the
holes.”
“I have a thing in my knife that will do for that, sir,” Joyce said; and
he produced from his pocket a knife with many blades, one of them being a
long pricker. “It was given to me the day before we sailed, and I have
always wondered what use that thing could ever be. Here is a use for it at
last.”
“Capital, Joyce! That is just the thing. There is flint and steel, and a
tinder-box in the locker, and our best plan will be to make a fire and
heat that pricker of yours red-hot. It would make the work a great deal
easier, and there will be less risk of breaking it or of splitting the
wood. So now we will collect dry wood and creepers and leave the thorns
alone.”
This was done; but when they returned to the edge of the forest all agreed
that they should lie down there in the shade until the sun had lost its
power, for their position being almost on the equator the heat out on the
sand was unbearable.
“It will be as well for one to keep a watch, lads,” the mate said. “We
have seen no signs of natives, but there may be some about. The sun is
nearly overhead, so it will be another four or five hours before we can
set to work. I will take the first watch. In an hour I will wake Mr.
Joyce; Mr. Embleton will follow him; then you, Nixon; that will take us on
till it’s time to move.”
These arrangements were carried out, and as the sun sank towards the
horizon the party went down to the beach. Some rotten wood was crumbled up
and a fire quickly made, then the work of boring the holes began, and was
kept up all night. As it was necessary to put them very closely together,
and the piercer had to be heated two or three times for each hole, two
worked by turns while the rest slept, and by sunrise the holes were all
finished. Then the work of sewing the planks together began, the boat
being turned on its side to allow the string, as they called it, to be
passed backwards and forwards. In two hours their work was completed.
Stephen cut off four or five inches of duck from the bottom of each leg of
his trousers, and unravelling the thread he and the mate pressed it into
the seams as fast as the sewing was completed.
“I think that that will do,” the mate said, looking with a satisfied air
at the work. “Now, what it wants is a little tallow to rub in; but there
is no candle handy.”
“When I was on watch, sir, I saw lots of bees flying in and out of the
trees. If we could light on a hive the wax would do first-rate.”
“So it would, Steve. However, until we can find one I fancy we shall get
on well enough. Five minutes’ bailing occasionally will keep her dry
enough, I am sure, at any rate for river work. Now we have got the big job
before us; let us have a try how we can move her.”
The nine men put their strength to the boat, but they found that the deep
keel buried itself in the sand, and that they could not drag her along.
Then they tried carrying her, the mate, the two boys, and two men on one
side, and the other four men on the other. She was a heavy weight, but
they could just manage it, and carried her for some twenty yards before
they put her down.
“This will never do,” the mate said. “We can’t use our strength to
advantage, else the weight would not be too great for us. Let us go up to
the wood, lads, and chop four poles, turn her over, and lay her down on
them. In that way I don’t think we shall have much difficulty about it.”
It took them longer than they expected, for the wood was so tough that
their cutlasses produced but little impression upon it. After an hour’s
hard work, however, they cut four poles, each about twelve feet long. With
these they returned to the boat, laid the poles down on the sand at equal
distances apart, and turned the boat over upon them; then a man took each
end of a pole, the two boys taking one end together, and at a word lifted
the boat with comparative ease. It was very hard work under the blazing
sun, and they had to stop every hundred yards or so to rest their arms.
Still they were successful, and after three hours’ toil they reached the
river. The oars had been lost when they landed, and they determined to
take the bottom boards out and cut them into paddles. The first thing,
however, was to bathe.
“Don’t go far out,” the mate said, “there may be sharks or alligators in
the river for aught we know.”
Greatly refreshed by their dip, they took the boards out of the boat,
carried them up into the shade of the trees, and with their jack-knives
fashioned them into rude paddles, with thin creepers strips of wood tying
down the handles to add to their strength. This took them all the
afternoon. When the sun had lost its power they put the boat into the
water, and made an experimental trip in her, and were glad to see that the
seams were almost water-tight, and that it would need but an occasional
use of the bailer to keep her clear. They at once paddled across the river
to the opposite side, and then pulling the boat up made a rush for the
cocoa-nut trees that they had seen the day before.
“How are we to get up?” Joyce inquired, looking with dismay at the smooth
trunks.
“I learnt that on the west coast of Africa,” the mate replied. “I was
there two years and got to know, I think, all there was to know with
regard to steering a boat in a surf; climbing a cocoa-nut tree is easy
work in comparison. Fetch the head-rope of the boat.”
This was done, and he asked who volunteered for the first climb.
“I will try it, Mr. Towel,” Joyce said, “if you will show me how.”
“Stand by the side of the tree, Joyce. Now I will put this rope round you
and round the tree, leaving a certain amount of slack in the loop. Now you
get a grip of the tree with your knees. Then with your hands you shift the
loop up as high as you can, and lean against it. Get a sort of purchase,
and so shift your knees a bit higher. No doubt you will feel it awkward at
first, but after a little practice you will find no difficulty whatever in
going up at a fair rate of speed.”
In spite of his experience aloft Joyce found it hard work to climb the
tree. As soon as he was at the top he broke off the nuts and dropped them;
when he had picked two nuts for each of the party he descended.
“They are not a bit like cocoa-nuts,” Stephen remarked as the first came
to the ground. “They look more like queer-shaped gourds.”
“They do, lad,” the mate agreed. “But you see they are not ripe yet, while
those we get in England are over-ripe; instead of the inside nut being
enveloped in fibre the whole thing is soft, and, you see”—here he suited
the action to the word—“you can cut a hole down right through, and then
all that you have got to do is to drink the milk.”
The men followed the officer’s example, and were soon taking long draughts
of the sweet, cool liquor, which differs widely indeed from that of the
ripe cocoa-nut.
“How is it that the milk is so cool, sir?” Steve asked.
“That is more than I can tell you, for no matter how hot the weather, the
milk of fresh cocoa-nuts is always cool; why it should be so I have no
idea.”
After they had drunk the milk they broke open the nuts and scraped the
soft cream-like paste which lined the inside, and which, when the nut
ripened, would have become hard and solid.
“You will find them of different degrees of ripeness,” the mate said,
“Some of them will furnish us with drink, some with food, and as there are
trees along here as far as we can see, we need not worry ourselves as to
victuals. Well, we have done our work for the day and will make this our
camp, and talk over what is the best thing to do next.”
After much deliberation it was decided that they should paddle up the
river the next day, leaving two of their number at the edge of the forest
to keep a look-out for the ship.
“It is as well to see what there is on the river,” the mate said. “Of
course if we come to a village we shall let ourselves drop down quietly
again. And we must keep a sharp look-out as we go; it would never do to
let them get a sight of us, for none of the natives of these islands are
to be trusted, and I am sure that none of us wish to have our heads used
as a decoration in their huts. What I hope to come upon is the site of an
abandoned village. These people often shift their quarters. They have no
belongings to speak of to move, and a couple of days’ labour is enough for
them to put up fresh huts. But in the places they have occupied we are
sure to find bananas; and if we can but get a boat-load of them we shall
be victualled for a voyage, and after waiting long enough to give the ship
a chance of finding us, the sooner we are off the better. Many of these
islands are inhabited by tribes that spare no one who falls into their
hands, and it would be better to take our chance on the sea than to remain
here. There are a good many little Dutch settlements scattered about. What
we have got to do is to light upon one of these. There is no mistaking
them for native villages, and once we can get a point of departure we
shall have no difficulty in laying our course either for Timor or Java.
Stephen, I shall leave you as the junior officer here to-morrow. Wilcox
will stay with you. If you see the ship you will light a big fire and
throw green leaves on it to make as big a smoke as possible. They would
know at once that it was a signal, for the natives would do nothing to
attract notice, especially if their intentions were hostile.”
“All right, sir! We will keep a sharp look-out. You won’t be away many
hours, I suppose?”
“Certainly not. We don’t want to do any exploring. All we want to do is to
look for food, and the most likely food for us to find is a troop of
monkeys among the trees overhanging the river. As a rule, I should not
like to shoot the beasts. They are too much like human beings. But if we
can get a supply of meat it will be welcome, no matter what it may be. Of
course we should not shoot many, for a couple of days would be the outside
that meat would keep good here.”
“But might not firing a gun bring the natives down on you, sir?” Stephen
said.
“Oh, we have seen no signs of natives!” the mate said impatiently, “and
there mayn’t be any within miles and miles of us, probably not nearer than
those hills; for I believe it is there that they principally do what
cultivation there is—in the first place, because it is cooler, and in the
next place because there are, we know, tremendous swamps in the low land
of Sumatra, though whether this is Sumatra or not I cannot say.”
The next morning the boat started as soon as a supply of cocoa-nuts,
sufficient for the day, had been thrown down, two or three of the sailors
adopting the means the mate had taught Joyce, and going up the trees very
much more quickly than he had done.
“What do you think of this ’ere business, Master Stephen?” Wilcox said as
they watched the boat making its way slowly against the current.
“I don’t know, Wilcox, what to think of it.”
“I calls it a risky affair,” the sailor said after a pause. “Mr. Towel is
a good officer, I don’t say as he isn’t, but I would rather see an older
head on his shoulders just at present. It is all very well for him to say
as there may be no natives within twenty miles; but how is he to know
that? There may be a village just round the turn of the river. All these
chaps are pirates when they get a chance, every mother’s son of them, and
there may be half a dozen war-canoes lying a mile up this river. It would
be natural that they should be somewhere near its mouth, ready to start
out if a sail is sighted, or news is brought to them that there is a ship
anchored off a coast village within a few hours’ row. As to firing a gun,
in my opinion it is just madness. As he says himself, meat won’t keep two
days, and it is just flying in the face of Providence to risk attracting
the attention of the natives, for the sake of a day’s rations of fresh
meat.
“It was all very well to bring the boat up here so as to lie out of sight
of any canoes that happened to be passing along the shore; but I would
much rather have left her where she was, though I allows it would have
been risky. I would have just chucked the sail over her and covered that
with an inch or so of sand, so that it would not have been noticed by a
boat a short way out. But if there is a village up here, why, a boat might
come down any moment to do some fishing, and there we should be caught at
once; as for getting away with them makeshift paddles, it would not be
worth even thinking of. I hope our chaps will come back without having
seen a monkey or a village, or as much as a banana, then the mate won’t be
hankering to go up again; and I should make free to advise him to get the
boat up amongst the trees here till we have decided that the ship won’t
come, and agree to make a start.”
“I am with you to some extent, Wilcox, and I do think that it is a risky
thing going up the river. If we were to fill up with cocoa-nuts they would
last us for a week anyhow, and then when we saw another grove of them we
could land and load up again.”
“You can’t take an observation, I suppose, Mr. Stephen, and find out in a
rough way whereabouts we are?”
Steve shook his head. “No, Wilcox. If I had had my quadrant I might have
got near enough to have made a rough guess, for I have got that watch I
bought in my pocket, and I have timed it every day with the chronometers,
and find that it does not gain more than half a minute a day, so that at
the present moment it is not much more than a minute out by them, and if I
had had the quadrant I could have made a pretty close calculation. We were
about a degree and a half south at noon before that cyclone struck us, but
I don’t see that that would help us now.”
“It is a pity, sir,” the sailor said, “for it would help us wonderful if
we could find out our position within fifty miles or so.”
“I wish we could, Wilcox;” and Stephen sat for some time thinking. At last
he said, “I might, anyhow, find out in a rough sort of way whether we have
been blown north or south. We will see if we can find a perfectly straight
stick, ten or twelve feet long. If I fix that upright in sand the shadow
would help us. It was the 25th of March yesterday, and the sun at noon
would therefore be exactly overhead of the line at twelve o’clock.
Therefore, if we have been blown north, we should get a very short shadow
to the south at twelve o’clock; whereas if we have been blown south, there
would be a shadow north. It might not be more than an inch long; but even
that would tell us something.”
They selected a long straight stick, drove it deeply into the sand, walked
round it several times so as to assure themselves that it was perfectly
upright, and then returned again to the shelter of the trees. An hour
later the sound of a gun came to their ears.
“He has found some of them monkeys,” Wilcox growled.
Three more shots were heard. “How far are they off, do you think?” Stephen
asked.
“I dunno, sir. If it was on the open sea and calm like this, I should say
they might be two or three miles, but in this ’ere forest there ain’t no
saying at all. I don’t reckon they would be above two miles anyhow, that
is if the stream is as strong up there as it is here. They were making
very slow way against it when they started. I reckon they have been gone
about an hour, and they would not have got more than two miles away
against this stream. Well, I hope that they will be content now and turn
back again.”
Half an hour passed, then they heard a gun again; it was quickly followed
by another and another.
“More monkeys,” Wilcox exclaimed in a tone of disgust.
“I hope it is monkeys,” Stephen said. “Listen. There are four more shots
close together.”
The sailor leapt to his feet. “I believe you are right, sir, that cussed
firing has brought the natives down upon them. They would not want to keep
on firing at the monkeys. We shall hear in a minute if they fire again.
They have all emptied their pieces. If they load quick and fire again it
will be a bad sign. There they are!” he broke off as two shots were heard.
“I am afraid that settles it, sir, and settles us too, for if they are
attacked there ain’t a ghost of a chance of their getting away, and there
won’t be much more chance of our doing so.”
Four more shots were heard, and then all was quiet. “Now, sir, we will be
getting pretty deep in among these trees, keeping close to the bank, so
that we can look through the bushes without being seen. If the boat comes
along all right, there ain’t no harm done; if it don’t come along after a
bit, we shall know what has happened.”
Picking up his gun, Wilcox was about to turn off into the wood when
Stephen said:
“We had better take three or four cocoa-nuts each, Wilcox. There is no
saying whether we shall come back to this place, and it is as well to have
something to eat.”
Each tied some nuts together, threw them over their shoulders, and started
along the river bank. The stream was bordered by a thick undergrowth,
which afforded an effectual screen for anyone behind it. After going for
about a quarter of a mile they stopped to listen. There was a faint
throbbing sound in the air.
“Paddles!” Steve exclaimed.
“Ay, and native paddles, sir. Our men don’t paddle like that, and I
fancy,” he went on after listening again, “there is more than one canoe.
That settles it, sir. There isn’t a chance of our ever seeing our mates
again.”
“Oh, don’t say that, Wilcox! Even if some have been killed, the others may
have been taken prisoners. I can’t believe they have all been murdered.”
“Well, I hope not, sir, but it looks very black. If they had pounced upon
them sudden, and there had been no fighting, they might have kept them
prisoners a day or two till they made a grand feast and killed them; but
that firing we heard settles it to my mind. I should say there ain’t no
manner of doubt that our fellows will have killed some of the niggers, and
I expect that the two canoes closed in on them, and then it would be all
over in a minute.”
When the canoes were within a quarter of a mile the rowers broke into a
sort of chant, with occasional wild shouts and yells.
“There they come,” Wilcox said as two long canoes, paddling abreast,
rounded a turn in the river a short distance away. “There must be
something like fifty men in each canoe.”
In a short time the canoes came along at a high rate of speed. The sailor
gave a sudden exclamation of fury.
“What is it?” Steve asked.
“Don’t you see, sir, in the stern of each of the canoes, piled up by the
steering oar, there are some heads.”
“I can’t look at them,” Steven said, drawing back from his peep-hole
through the leaves.
“They are whites,” the sailor muttered. “There ain’t no doubt about it. I
would give all my pay for the voyage to have the _Tiger’s_ crew here, that
we might give them murdering villains a volley.”
But Stephen did not hear him; he had thrown himself down, and the tears
were running down his cheeks. The loss of the second mate, who had always
been cheery and kind, and of his fellow apprentice, Joyce, completely
unnerved him. Up to now he had hoped, but what before had been doubt as to
their fate had now been converted into certainty.
“Don’t give way, Master Steve,” the sailor said, stooping over him and
laying his hand on his shoulder. “It is a bad job, there ain’t no denying
it. What happened to them half an hour ago may happen to us before long;
we have got to be up and doing, sir.”
“You are right, Wilcox,” Steve said, as he rose to his feet. “In the first
place, could you count the heads?”
“No; there was a pile of them in each boat; there may have been three,
there may have been four in each.”
“Well, one thing is certain, Wilcox; we must find out if any of them are
still alive, and if so we must try and get them out of the Malays’ hands.”
“I am ready to try, sir. When a chap sees such a thing as that he don’t
seem to care much for his life; and at least if we are caught we can
polish off a few of the villains before we go under, so I am game to do
anything you may order.”
“It is not for me to order, Wilcox; I am only a young apprentice, and you
are an experienced sailor; and now that we are alone and in danger
together, it is for you to lead.”
“Well, if that is the way you look at it, sir, I am willing to do all I
can; and if we find there is any of our mates alive we will get them out
if it is possible, never fear.”
“Do you think those canoes are going to put to sea?” Steve asked.
“Not they; they have just gone down to the mouth of the river to see
whether that boat came from a ship lying off the shore or whether it was
alone. There, do you hear those yells? They have got out of the canoes,
and found the place where we camped last night. We walked about there a
good bit, and it ain’t likely they will be able to find out whether there
was seven or nine of us. Besides, I don’t think they will look much, for
they would take it for certain we should all go up the river together; and
so we should have done if it had not been that you and I were left behind
to look out for a sail.”
In half an hour the two canoes came back again. They both kept well over
to the opposite side of the river to avoid the full force of the current,
and the sailor and Stephen attempted to count the heads in their sterns.
They could not make out the number, but were inclined to agree that the
two dark masses were about the same size.
“I think there can only be three in each boat,” Steven said. “In that case
one man may have been made prisoner; at any rate, Wilcox, we will go on
and see.”
As soon as the canoes had gone round the bend of the river, they proceeded
on their way. The ground presently became exceedingly swampy, and they
could see by the pieces of dead wood and litter caught among the bushes,
that in times of flood the river must overflow its banks and extend a long
distance into the forest. From time to time they had to wade waist-deep
across channels by which the water from the marsh was draining slowly into
the river. Before crossing these, at Wilcox’s suggestion they each cut
down a bush and beat the water with it.
“I expect there are no end of alligators in this swamp,” the sailor said;
“and I know that the natives, before they cross streams where the brutes
are likely to be hiding, beat the water with sticks or bushes to frighten
them away.”
It was hard work walking, for they often sunk knee-deep in the wet soil,
but after toiling for nearly an hour they heard a confused noise ahead,
and could ere long make out the beating of drums and the wild shouts of
Malays, mingled with a deep roaring sound made by horns. They now went on
more cautiously, and presently could make out through the trees a large
native village standing upon rising ground by the side of the river.
Creeping cautiously to the edge of the bush they could see that a large
number of men, women, and children were assembled in an open space between
the houses and the water. The women were bringing bundles of wood, and a
column of smoke rising in the centre of the crowd showed that the
preparation for a feast had begun.
“If we had but one of our ten-pounders loaded with grape with us,” Wilcox
said, “I would pour a volley into those black devils if it cost me my life
afterwards.”
“What do you think they are going to do, Wilcox?”
“I reckon there ain’t much doubt about it,” the sailor replied; “they are
going to make a feast of our mess-mates.”
Stephen uttered an exclamation of horror and disgust. “Do you mean to say
that they are cannibals, Wilcox?”
“In course I can’t say for certain, Master Steve. Some of these tribes are
cannibals and some ain’t, and I reckon by what I see going on that those
villains are. Are you a good climber, sir?”
“Do you mean climbing a tree. I have never had much practice at that,
Wilcox, but I dare say I could manage it.”
“Well, sir, you are lighter and more active than I am, and I was thinking
that if you could get up to the top of this tree you would have a view
down over the village. The leaves are pretty thick, and as the niggers are
busy there is not much chance of their looking about for a man up a tree.
You see the village ain’t above a hundred and fifty yards away, and the
ground ain’t more than twenty feet above the river. I should say that this
tree was seventy or eighty feet high, so that from the top you can get a
view pretty well over the place; if there is one of our chaps there he may
be lying tied up somewhere. Of course he might be in a hut, but it is much
more likely that they would have just chucked him down until they wanted
him. I think if you got on my shoulder you would be able to get hold of
that lowest branch where it bends down, and climb along it to the trunk;
after that the branches come pretty thick together.”
“I think I could manage that easily enough.”
“Well, then, here goes,” the sailor said, and took up his post beneath
where the bough was lowest. “If you can’t reach it from my shoulder, sir,
you step on my head. I can hold you easy enough. You keep the trunk as far
as possible between you and the village.”
“The leaves are thick up high,” Steve said, looking up at the tree;
“directly it gets above the level of these smaller trees it spreads its
branches out well.”
“Now, jump upon my back, sir, and then climb upon my shoulders. You had
best take hold of my hands to steady yourself.”
It was necessary, as the sailor had suggested, for Steve to stand upon his
supporter’s head before he could get hold of a branch sufficiently strong
to bear his weight. As soon as he did so he drew himself up, and was soon
climbing the main trunk. The higher he got the more convinced was he that
he would not be observed by the natives, for the trees behind him formed a
background, and therefore he could not be seen against the sky. He kept,
however, as the sailor had told him, on the other side of the trunk, and
when he had gained the smaller branches at the top of the tree he looked
out through an opening in the foliage. The village seemed to lie almost at
his feet, and he could see every object on the ground. It was not long
before he perceived a figure lying full length in front of one of the
huts, close to the spot where the people were gathered. It was certainly
an European, and from the whiteness of the trousers he felt sure that it
was either the mate or Joyce. He counted the number of huts, and found
that the one beside which the figure was lying was the eighth in the line
facing the river. There were two lines of huts with a sort of street
between them. Behind the second row the rise on which the village was
situated fell rapidly away and the jungle grew almost up to the back of
the huts. Those in the second line stood somewhat further apart than those
in the first, and he observed that the sixth house in the back line was
opposite the eighth in the front. Having gathered this information he
descended the tree.
“What news, sir?” the sailor asked, as Stephen dropped from the bough to
his side.
“There is one of our comrades lying by the huts, Wilcox. I can tell by his
white ducks that it is either Mr. Towel or Joyce; whether he is alive or
dead, of course I can’t say. I did not see him move, but no doubt he would
be tied hand and foot. I saw nothing of the others, and there would be no
reason why he should be treated differently from them if he were dead.”
“You may be sure of that. Well, that is better than I had hoped. If we can
save one it will be something.”
“I have been examining the ground,” Stephen went on, “and we could work
round close up to the second row of huts. We must count six of them, then
go along by the side of the sixth and cross the street to the hut
opposite. The prisoner is lying in front of that, I mean on the river side
of it. Of course, there is no doing anything until the sun has set, except
that we might work round to that hut. It will be easier to get through
this horrid swamp before it gets dark than afterwards, and there will be
less fear of our stumbling and breaking a branch. What time do you think
it is now?”
“I don’t think it is more than eight bells yet,” Wilcox said. “It is a lot
of hours to wait, and I would give a good bit to be out of the swamp
before it gets dark. Howsomever, if we keep along by the river coming back
we can’t lose our way, that is one comfort. Well, let us work round at
once, and then we shall see how the land lies. It is like enough that as
soon as they have got a big fire made up, and the cooking begun, they will
most of them turn in for a sleep till the heat of the day is over, and
begin their feast after sundown. They generally do sleep half the day, and
then keep it up half the night.”
Accordingly they started through the wood, and in a quarter of an hour
found themselves at the foot of the rising ground on which the village
stood. They had counted the huts, and now crawled up through the thick
bushes and stood within a few yards of the sixth hut. The swamp had been
very deep on the way, and they had had the greatest difficulty in getting
through it. Stephen had once sunk below his waist in the mud, and would
have been unable to extricate himself, had not the sailor held on by a
young tree with one hand while he stretched out the other to him.
“I am all right now as far as colour goes, Wilcox. Now, do you stay here
and I will crawl along by the side of the hut and have a look up and down
the street. I did not see a soul between the row of huts when I was in the
tree.”
When Stephen peeped out by the side of the hut he saw that there were
several people about, apparently returning from the spot where they had
congregated. He rejoined his companion, and they waited an hour. By this
time perfect silence had fallen on the village. The heat was intense, and
even in the forest all sound had ceased, as if birds and insects were
alike indulging in a mid-day sleep.
“I will go and have a look again now,” Stephen said. “If I find no one
about I will cross the street and try to cut the ropes, and bring him here
at once. If there is a guard over him I will come back again to you. We
ought to be able to silence the guard without his giving the alarm,
especially as he is likely to be half-asleep.”
“You had better leave your pistols here, Master Steve, and take your
cutlass. A pistol-shot now would bring the whole village down on us, and
we should have no chance of getting through the swamp with a hundred of
those fellows after us. You had better draw your sword, and leave the
scabbard and belt here. In the first place, it is handier to have the
sword ready; and it is not so likely to knock against anything when you
have got it in your hand as it would be trailing behind you as you crawl
along. I shall be on the look-out, sir, and shall be by your side in a
brace of shakes if you hail.”
Stephen parted the bushes, and then stepped lightly to the corner of the
hut. Not a soul was to be seen moving about, and he dashed across to the
house opposite, crawled along by its side, and then looked round. The
great fire had burned low, and Stephen shuddered as his eye fell upon the
mass of embers and thought of what was lying below them. There was no one
about—the whole of the natives had retired to their huts. In another
moment he was beside the prisoner. It was Joyce. Bands of cord-like
creepers were wrapped round his legs; his wrists were tied together, and
from them a rope went to a peg four feet beyond him, extending his arms at
full length beyond his head. A similar fastening from his ankles kept his
legs at full stretch in the other direction. Fastened thus, the Malays
evidently considered that there was no necessity for a guard over him.
“Joyce, old fellow,” Stephen whispered in his ear, “are you conscious?”
The lad opened his closed eyes with a start.
[Illustration: STEPHEN CRAWLS TO THE RESCUE OF HIS CHUM, JOYCE.]
“Don’t speak,” Stephen went on.
“Is it really you, Steve, or am I dreaming?”
“You are awake enough, Tom. I am here with Wilcox and will soon get these
things off you.” Drawing his jack-knife he cut the bonds. “Do you think
that you can walk, Tom?”
“Yes, the things were not very tight, only being pegged out like this I
could not move an inch.”
Stephen was lying down by his side while he cut the fastenings. He now
looked round again.
“There is no one in sight, Tom, but you had better wriggle yourself along
until you get to the corner of the hut.”
As soon as they were round the corner they stood up. As they did so, the
sailor put his head out through the bushes and waved them a silent cheer.
Stephen went first, and as soon as he saw that the street was empty he
beckoned to his companion, and they ran across to the other side; a moment
later they joined the sailor. The latter gave a grip to Joyce’s hand, and
then held out to him a cocoa-nut he had just cut open in readiness. This
he seized eagerly and took a long drink.
“I was choking with thirst,” Joyce gasped, as he finished the contents of
the nut.
“Take care how you go through the bushes,” the sailor whispered, as he
turned and led the way; “everything is so quiet that a rustle might be
heard.”
They went along with the greatest caution. Their bare feet fell
noiselessly on the spongy soil, but sometimes as they sank into the mud
the suck of the air as they drew them out made a sound that startled them.
At last they reached the tree where they had left all the cocoa-nuts with
the exception of the one that the sailor had brought on. When they
stopped, Joyce threw himself down and burst into tears.
“Leave me alone,” he said, as Stephen began to speak to him, “I shall be
better directly, but it has been awful. I will tell you about it
afterwards. I tried to make up my mind to stand it bravely, and it is the
getting out of it when there did not seem to be a chance in the world that
has upset me.”
In five minutes he rose again to his feet. “I am ready to go on now,” he
said.
“Yes, I think it is time to be moving, sir. As soon as those beggars wake
up and find you have gone, they will set out in chase, and the longer
start we get the better.”
CHAPTER V.
AGAIN ON THE ISLAND.
Over such ground it was impossible to hurry, but in three-quarters of an
hour they reached the edge of the wood.
“I have been thinking that we had better take to the water for a bit,”
Stephen said. “They are sure to think that you have made for the coast,
and they will not be long in finding our footmarks. Though I don’t know
much about the Malays, I expect they can follow a track like all other
savages. The only thing to settle is whether we shall swim across the
river and go along in that direction, or keep on this side. We have not
seen anything of alligators, and I don’t think the sharks ever cross the
bars and come into fresh water.”
“All right, sir! If you think it is best to cross, I am ready,” Wilcox
said. “A dip will do us good, for the heat in that wood is enough to roast
an ox; besides, it will wash the mud off us. But we must look about for a
log to put the gun and our pistols and the ammunition on, we must not risk
wetting that.”
There were many pieces of drift-wood by the edge of the water, and
choosing one of them they fastened the weapons and cartridges on the top,
and then, entering the water and pushing it before them, swam over to the
opposite side. Then taking the arms again they let the log drift down the
river, and keeping in the water ankle-deep they followed the stream down
to the sea, and continued their course along the sand washed by the surf.
“How long a start do you think we shall get, Wilcox?” Stephen asked.
“I should say that two hours is as much as we can hope for.”
“Well, we shall be a good long way off by that time. I feel a new man
after that swim.”
“So do I,” Joyce said, speaking more briskly than he had hitherto done.
“Well, we had better set off at a trot,” the sailor said. “I expect those
beggars can run a good deal faster than we can. The great thing is for us
to get so far away before it gets dark that they won’t be able to see our
figures. If it is eight bells before they fairly set off after us, they
will only have a little better than two hours and a half. They are sure to
be thrown out for a bit at the mouth of the river. They will see our
footsteps at the water side, but won’t know whether we have crossed or
have kept along on that side. Very likely some of them will go one way and
some the other, still they are sure to have a talk and a delay. They ought
not to travel twice as fast as we have, at any rate, and they would have
to do that to catch us before it is dark.”
They set off at a brisk trot. The sand was fairly hard below the spot
where the surf rushed up over it, and the walking was easy in comparison
to that in the swamp or on loose sand. Still it was hot work. The sun
blazed down upon them, there was not a breath of wind, and they were
drenched with perspiration. They kept on steadily, however, slackening
only occasionally into a walk for two or three minutes, and then going on
again at a sharp pace.
“They won’t catch us before it gets dark,” the sailor said confidently. “I
reckon we must be making near seven knots an hour, and even a Malay could
not go at fourteen; besides, they will have to keep a sharp look-out for
footmarks in the sand above water-mark, as we might at any time come up
from the water and take to the forest. Anyhow, we must keep it up as long
as we can go. We ain’t running for amusement, it is for a big prize, for
our lives depend on our keeping ahead.”
Anxiously they watched the sun as it sank down towards the horizon, and
there was an exclamation of satisfaction as it disappeared below the
water.
“Another half-hour and we shall be able to take it easy,” Stephen said. “I
should not think they would keep up the search after dark, and then we
could safely take to the forest. The wind is springing up already, and
this light drifting sand will cover all signs of our footsteps before
morning.”
“We had better keep in the water as long as we can, Master Steve. They
can’t trace our footsteps here, but they might under the trees. These sort
of chaps are like dogs. I expect they can pretty well follow you by smell,
and the hope of getting heads will keep them at it as long as there is the
slightest chance of their overtaking us.”
“Well, we may as well be on the safe side anyhow, Wilcox, and will keep on
here as long as we can drag our feet along. We have got no boots to pinch
our corns, and every time the surf rushes up it cools our feet, so we
ought to be able to keep on till eight bells in the middle watch, by that
time I should think we shall have gone something like forty miles from
that river.”
“All that,” the sailor agreed. “It was about four bells when we swam
across, and in the four hours we have certainly gone twenty-four knots,
and I should say a bit further than that. If we only make three knots for
the next six hours, we shall have logged over forty by eight bells, and I
should say that even the Malays will hardly come as far as that,
especially as the men who take this side won’t be sure that we have not
gone the other, and have been caught by their mates.”
They kept steadily on, but their speed gradually abated, and for the last
two hours before the hands of Stephen’s watch pointed to twelve o’clock,
they stumbled rather than walked.
“I think that will do,” he said at last, “it is nearly eight bells now.
Let us tread in each other’s footsteps as well as we can, so that there
shall only be one line of marks.”
The change from the firm sand to the yielding drift—in which their feet
sank three or four inches—finished them, and although they had not more
than a hundred yards to walk to the trees, it seemed to them that they
would never get there. At last they reached the edge of the forest,
staggered a few paces in, and then without a word dropped down and almost
instantaneously fell asleep.
The sun was high when they woke. Stephen was the first to get on to his
feet. He went to the edge of the trees and looked across. To his
satisfaction he saw that the drifting sand had obliterated all trace of
their passage.
“Then I vote,” Wilcox said, when he was told the news, “that we go a bit
further into the wood and camp there for the day. I am just aching from
head to foot.”
“I think we must go on a bit further, Wilcox. You see there are no
cocoa-nuts here, and we must keep on until we come to a grove of them. The
trees are never far apart, and we may not have a mile to go. We certainly
can’t stay here all day without something to eat and drink. You see we
threw our nuts away when we started.”
“I suppose you are right, sir,” the sailor said, slowly getting up on to
his feet; “but it is hard, after such a run as we made yesterday, to have
to get up anchor again.”
“Well, we can take it easily, Wilcox, and we will stop at the first
cocoa-nut tree we come to. Now, Tom, as we go along you shall tell us
about yesterday, we have not heard a word yet.”
“Well,” began Joyce, “we paddled up the river, as you know. It was as much
as we could do sometimes to make head against the current. I suppose we
had been gone about an hour when we saw a troop of monkeys on the boughs
of a tree overhanging the water. They did not seem a bit afraid of us, but
chattered and screamed. We shot three of them. I did not fire, for I could
not bring myself to kill one of them. It was like shooting at a child. We
picked them out of the water and put them in the boat, and then paddled on
again. We had just got to a turn in the river when two big canoes came
round the corner. It was of no use our trying to get away, for they could
go six feet to our one. Mr. Towel stood up in the stern and held both his
arms up to show that we were friendly, but directly afterwards a shower of
spears came whizzing down at us. One hit Jackson, who was in the bow,
somewhere in the body. He fired at them, and then fell down in the bottom
of the boat. Then the rest of us fired, and for a moment they sheered off,
but the men had just time to reload their guns when the Malays came at us.
The men fired again, and a moment later the canoes ran alongside. We took
to our pistols, but the Malays came leaping on board like demons.
“I don’t know anything more about that part of the business, for I got a
crack on the head with a club, and did not know anything more till I was
hauled on shore and chucked down. Then I saw them bring from the canoes
the heads of all the others. It was frightful. Then they dragged the
bodies out from the bottom of the canoes. They had all been stripped, and
I believe I should have fainted if a big Malay had not given me a
tremendous kick, and made me walk up to the village. As soon as I got
there they tied me up and staked me out. There was a tremendous noise and
shouting and yelling, but what was done I don’t know, as I could see
nothing but the sky and the wall of the hut. It was an awful time; first
because I knew that sooner or later they would kill me, and in the next
place, because I was driven pretty nearly mad by the flies and things that
settled on my face. Of course I could not brush them away, and all that I
could do was to shake my head, and they did not seem to mind that. It
seems ridiculous that, after seeing one’s friends killed and knowing that
one is going to be killed oneself, one should worry over flies, but I can
tell you I went nearly out of my mind with irritation at the tickling of
their feet. It seemed to me that I was there for ages, though I knew by
the height of the sun that it was only about noon. The thirst, too, was
fearful, and I made up my mind that the sooner they came and killed me the
better. I found myself talking all sorts of nonsense, and I do think that
I should have gone out of my mind before the day was over. When first I
heard your voice I thought it must be a dream, like some of the other
ideas that came into my mind. I had thought of you both when I was first
fastened up, and wondered whether the Malays would find you. I had even
thought at first that if you only knew where I was you might try to get me
away after dark if I was not killed before that, and you can guess my
feelings when I became convinced that it was really you. How did you know
what had happened?”
“You must have been insensible for a good bit, Tom. We heard the firing,
and thought that there was too much of it for shooting monkeys, and that
you must have been attacked, so we made our way along among the bushes by
the bank. Presently the two canoes came down, and we made out some heads
in the stern of each boat. They went to the mouth of the river, to see, no
doubt, if there was a ship there. They came back again in half an hour. We
tried to count the heads, and both of us thought that there were about the
same number in each boat. Of course we could not be sure, but we
determined to come on to the village and find out for certain. I climbed
up a high tree a short distance from it—the one where we came upon the
cocoa-nuts—and made you out lying beside a hut. I knew by the white ducks
that it was either you or poor Towel. Then we worked round, waited until
the village had gone off to sleep, and then came for you. You see the
Malays had no idea that there were any more whites about, and therefore
took no trouble about you. No doubt they thought that the boat had escaped
from a wreck, and that all who had got away in her had gone up the river
together. Ah! there is a cocoa-nut. I am glad our walk is over, for I am
beginning to feel hot and thirsty.”
“So am I, and stiff and sore all over.”
The cocoa-nut tree was the first of a grove. Stephen, who was by far the
most active of the party, soon climbed one of the trees, and threw a score
of nuts down. They went a little distance further back into the forest.
Each consumed the contents of four nuts, then two of them lay down to
sleep again, while the other kept watch. The march was not resumed until
after sunset. They had another meal of cocoa-nuts before they started, and
each took three nuts for use on the journey. They again walked at the edge
of the water, as they had done the day before. It was by far the
pleasantest way, and they kept on until daylight appeared, and then again
went into the wood.
“I should think now,” Stephen said, as after a good sleep they ate a
cocoa-nut breakfast, “that we need not bother any more about the Malays of
that village. It is quite possible that we passed another last night,
though of course the sand-hills would have prevented our seeing it. The
question is now, what are we to do next?”
“That is what I was thinking all the time that we were walking last
night,” Joyce said. “We can’t keep on tramping and living on cocoa-nuts
for ever.”
“That is quite certain, Tom, but there is no reason why we should do so.
There must be some villages on this coast, and when we start this evening
I vote we keep along here instead of going down to the water. Where there
is a village there must be fishing canoes, and all we have got to do is to
take one, and put to sea. I don’t mean to say that we can get in and push
straight away, for we must have some provisions; but when we have found a
village we can hide up near it, and get as many cocoa-nuts as we can
carry. Besides, there are sure to be bananas and other fruit-trees close
by, and after laying our cocoa-nuts down by the edge of the water, we can
go up and cut as many bananas as we like, and then we shall have enough
food to last us ten days or so. There is one comfort, wherever we may land
there cannot be a worse lot of Malays than there are about here.”
“That is a capital plan, Master Stephen,” Wilcox said. “I have not been
thinking of a village, except as to how to get past it; but, as you say,
there is no reason why we should not make off in a canoe.”
The next night they kept along just inside the trees, and had walked but
two hours when they found that these ended abruptly, and that they stood
on the edge of a clearing.
“Here is your village, Stephen.”
“Yes; one hardly hoped to find one so soon. Well, the first thing is to go
down and search in the sand-hills for canoes.”
Four or five were found lying together in a hollow some twenty yards
beyond high-water mark. They examined them carefully.
“Any of them will do,” Wilcox said, “but I think this is the best one. It
is a little larger than the others, and the wood feels newer and sounder.
I expect she is meant for four paddlers, and she will carry us and a fair
cargo well.”
“That is settled, then,” Stephen said. “I propose that we go back some
little distance from the village, get our cocoa-nuts at once, and bring
them back and hide them in the bushes not far from where the clearing
begins. It will save time to-morrow.”
“Why should we not go to-night?” Joyce asked. “It is only about nine
o’clock now, and if we get the cocoa-nuts near here, we can make two or
three journeys down to the boat with them, and be off before midnight.”
“So we might, Tom. What do you say, Wilcox?”
“The sooner the better, says I,” the sailor replied. “As Mr. Joyce says,
we can be off by eight bells easy, and we shall be out of sight of this
village long before daybreak.”
“Well, Wilcox, will you and Mr. Joyce get the cocoa-nuts, and while you
are doing it I will creep round this clearing and get bananas. I can see
lots of their broad leaves over there. As I get them I will bring them to
this corner, and by the time you have got a store of nuts, I shall have a
pile of bananas. I think you had better go four or five hundred yards away
before you cut the nuts, for they come down with such a thump that any
native who is awake here might very well hear them.”
“We will go a bit away, sir,” Wilcox said, “but if we take pains to let
them drop each time just as there is a puff of wind, there is no fear of
their hearing them.”
They separated, and Stephen, entering the clearing, soon came upon a
banana tree with long bunches of the fruit. Two of these were as much as
he could carry, and his portion of the work was soon done, and indeed he
had carried them down to the water’s edge before his companions had
brought three loads of cocoa-nuts to the point where he had left them. He
helped to take these down, then the canoe was lifted and carried to the
edge of the water, being taken in far enough to float each time the surf
ran up. Then the fruit was placed in it.
“I wish we had poor Mr. Towel with us to take her through the surf,”
Wilcox said.
“I wish we had; but fortunately it is not very heavy.”
“No, sir; it is sure not to be,” the sailor said. “I have noticed that
they always put their villages at points where the surf is lighter than
usual. I suppose the water is shallower, or deeper, or something. I don’t
know what it is, but there is certainly a difference. Besides, there has
been no wind to speak of since we landed, and the waves are nothing to
what they were then. Now, gentlemen, as I am more accustomed to this sort
of thing than you are, I will take the place in the stern, where I can
steer her a bit. The moment she floats as the surf comes in, and I see the
chance is a good one, I will give the word; then we will all paddle as
hard as we can, and go out as the surf draws back, so as to meet the next
wave before it breaks. Everything depends on that.”
They took their places in the canoe, and grasped the paddles that they had
found in her. Two or three waves passed under them, and then they saw one
higher than the others approaching them.
“We will go out on the back of this one,” Wilcox said. “Paddle the moment
the surf lifts the canoe, and don’t let her be washed up a foot.”
The wave fell over with a crash, and a torrent of foam rushed up towards
them.
“Now,” Wilcox exclaimed, as the white line reached the bow, “paddle for
your lives!”
For a moment, in spite of their desperate efforts, they were carried
upwards, then the canoe seemed to hang in the air, and they were riding
forward with the speed of an arrow on the receding water.
“All you know,” Wilcox shouted, and as the rush of water ceased they drove
her ahead to meet the next wave. It rose higher and higher. The canoe
reached it, and, as it passed under them, stood almost upright. Two or
three more desperate strokes, and they heard a crash behind them.
“Row, row!” Wilcox shouted, as they felt the boat drawn backwards. It was
but for a few seconds, then they moved ahead again, passed over the next
wave, and were safe. They now settled to steady paddling, and before they
had gone many hundred yards from shore they no longer felt the long smooth
rollers, over which the canoe glided insensibly.
By daylight the land they had left was far behind them, the low-lying
coast had sunk from their view, and the hills behind were almost shrouded
from sight by the mist that rose from the swamps.
“It was well we rescued Mr. Joyce before it was dark,” the sailor said to
Stephen. “One night in those swamps is enough to lay any white man up with
fever. That was why I was so anxious to get him away at once. I did not
think that they would kill him straight off. If they had wanted him for
the feast they would have cut off his head when they caught him. I expect
they would have kept him for some other occasion; but I wanted to get him
out of it before the mists began to rise from the swamps. Now, sir, as we
are well away, shall I put her head north or south?”
“I don’t think it matters much, Wilcox. There is some high land just ahead
now, we may as well make in that direction as any other; but if we get to
a small island on the way, I should think that it would be safest to land
there, and wait for a few days anyhow, as we agreed before, to see if
there are any signs of a sail. At any rate, we won’t go near, by daylight,
any island likely to be inhabited.”
After paddling for some hours they saw a low island that seemed to be
about a quarter of a mile in diameter, and headed towards it. Before they
reached it, however, Wilcox said:
“Do you know, Mr. Joyce, I have been thinking for some time that I knew
that hill we were pointing to, and, now we have opened it out a bit more,
I feel sure of it.”
The lads ceased paddling, and looked intently at the hill, now some twelve
miles away. It had a flat top that seemed to be split asunder by a crack
running through it.
“I know it now,” Stephen exclaimed excitedly, “it is the island where that
wreck was.”
“That is it, sure enough, sir. I have been thinking it was so for some
time, but it is only now that I have caught the light through that gap at
the top. It was more open from the point where the _Tiger_ lay when we
started for shore, but if we row on for a mile or two and then make
straight for it, I think we shall just about strike the point where the
wreck is lying. No, I think we had better wait a while, Mr. Joyce,” he
said, as the latter dipped his paddle in the water and turned the boat’s
head towards the island.
“I think we had better wait till the sun gets pretty low. We know there
ain’t any villages near the wreck, for she must have been there a good
month afore we found her, and it was certain then that no native had been
near her. Still there may be some higher up on the slopes, and they might
make us out, so it is better that we should not get within six or eight
miles of land before it begins to be dark. We could not go to a better
place. First of all, there are no natives; secondly, we may pick up all
sorts of useful things about the shore. We did not see anything but bales
and wreckage where we landed, but it was all rock there. Now some of the
casks and things may have floated along, and have been cast up upon the
sand. Then, it is about the likeliest point for sighting the _Tiger_. The
skipper would naturally say to himself, There is no saying where the boat
has gone to, but if it is anywhere near the island where we lost them,
they would be likely to make for the wreck in hopes of finding some
provisions cast up there; and so he would sail round to have a look.”
“I think he would,” the boys both agreed, letting the boat drift quietly.
They made a hearty meal of bananas and cocoa-nut milk, and then all lay
down in the canoe and dozed for some hours. The two lads were roused by
Wilcox saying:
“I think, gentlemen, we can paddle on quietly now; the sun will be setting
in less than an hour.”
Resuming their seats, they paddled gently on until the sun disappeared,
then quickened their pace, and in another hour reached the shore. They had
no difficulty in landing, for the side on which the wreck was lying was
sheltered by the island itself from the rollers, and it was a sandy beach.
“I don’t think that we are far from the spot,” Wilcox said, “for we made
straight for that crack on the hill, and kept it open all the while. I
reckon we can’t be more than half a mile from where the wreck was lying.
“I don’t suppose we shall see anything of that, the cyclone must have
finished it. However, we will walk along the shore till we get to the
spot. We cannot mistake that. We will keep a bit back from the sea. We may
light upon something as we go, but it will be sure to be well inland; you
know we saw how far the sea washed things up beside the wreck.”
The night was too dark, however, for them to distinguish objects ten yards
away, and they soon came down to the water’s edge again, following it
until the character of the shore changed and rocks took the place of the
sand.
“That is all right,” the sailor said; “now I think we had better go back
to the boat again till we get daylight. It would never do to walk across
these rocks in the dark with naked feet. It was bad enough when it was
light, but we should cut our feet to pieces if we tried it now. There is
no hurry about it, as we are within half a mile of the wreck. We know that
everything is pretty well smashed up that went ashore there, so that we
are far more likely to find something on the sands, and we shall see the
_Tiger_ just as well from where the canoe is as from the wreck. The first
thing to look for is water. I don’t say that the cocoa-nuts would not
supply us for another week; but if we are going to stay here long—and for
my part I don’t see anything better to do—we must either find another
cocoa-nut grove or water.”
“I don’t think we are likely to find another cocoa-nut grove,” Stephen
said.
“Why not, sir? They have them mostly on all these islands.”
“That is true,” Stephen agreed; “but I should say it is just because there
are none here that there are no villages anywhere about.”
“I did not think of that, sir; yes, I expect you are right; and in that
case it is still more necessary to hunt for water. If we can find it
within four or five miles either side of the wreck we are all right,
because the _Tiger_ could not come here without our seeing her; but I
should not like to be much further away. However, most of these islands
have water, especially when they are hilly; and as we have been lucky so
far, it will be hard if we don’t find a stream of some sort along ten
miles of shore.”
The next morning they set out on a tour of exploration. They were not long
before they came upon many relics of the wreck: planks, spars, and remains
of the cargo. They lay nearly two hundred yards from the shore, and bore
no signs of the rough usage that had marked the wreckage among the rocks.
“Hurrah! there are some tubs,” Joyce shouted, as they reached the top of a
low sand-hill. They broke into a run, and were soon standing beside six
casks, lying a short distance apart.
“Salt junk,” Wilcox said, as they looked at the cask they first came to,
“and no bad thing either; cocoa-nuts are good for drink, but that soft,
pulpy stuff inside don’t go very far; and after a chap has been eating it
for a week he wants to get his teeth into something more substantial. This
ain’t no good,” he went on, giving a kick at the next cask, “unless the
natives come up and we open trade with them. These are goods they shipped
at Calcutta. This is better,” he went on, as he looked at the next; “this
’ere is biscuits; and with biscuits and salt junk, and a banana now and
then, no man need grumble.”
The next two were, like the second, filled with trade articles; the last
was a cask of flour.
“Well, we can stop here a couple of months if we like, gentlemen, if we
can but hit upon water; for that, of course, we must look beyond the line
of sand; a river can cut through it, but a little stream would find its
way underneath the sand to the sea.”
As they approached the rocky ground, which rose like a ridge, and could be
traced far inland, the sailor said: “This is the most likely spot. Any
water that came down from the hills would run along at the foot of these
rocks to the sea.”
“I think that you are right, Wilcox; the foliage looks brighter along by
the rocks than it does anywhere else, and I should not be surprised if we
found a stream there.”
As they approached the rocks within a hundred yards, the hope became a
certainty, for there was some growth of verdure. They quickened their
steps and ran forward, but, to their disappointment, there was no stream,
however small.
“We have got to dig for it,” Wilcox said; “there is water not far down, I
will swear.”
The soil was chiefly composed of sand, and they set to work with their
hands to scrape a hole in it. They had got but a foot down when the soil
became moist, and a foot lower water began to ooze out of the sides into
the hole.
“Thank God for that!” the sailor said reverently, “that makes it safe.
This evening, when it gets cool, we will bring the paddles here, and will
soon dig a hole for our well. We can’t do better than roll a tub here and
sink it in the hole, and bring the canoe to the edge of that rock down by
the sea, then we have only got to chop some boughs and make a sort of hut,
and we shall be as comfortable as if we were back home.”
“It is curious finding a rock here,” Joyce said presently, as they made
their way over to it. “For all the distance that we have gone along by the
sea, it has been nothing but sand: it is rum black-looking stuff, too.”
“I expect it is lava,” Stephen said. “There are lots of volcanoes among
these islands, and I believe that high hill is one, and that if we were to
climb up we should find there was a crater there. You see we are just in a
line with that gap, and this rock goes exactly in that direction. I expect
that in some eruption ever so long ago, the crater split there, and the
lava poured down here into the sea.”
“Very likely that is it, Stephen; it must have been a long time ago
anyhow, you see there are big trees growing on it.”
In ten minutes they arrived at the spot where the wreck had been; her keel
remained there, but with this exception she had entirely disappeared. They
took another look among the wreckage, cut off some lengths of rope and
coiled them up, and also a sail, which the sailor pronounced to be a
top-gallant sail. This they rolled up, fastened it by short pieces of
rope, and then, the sailor taking the middle and the lads the ends on
their shoulders, they carried it to what they already called their “well”.
“We will set to work at once to rig up a tent under the shade of these
trees,” the sailor said, “it will keep the night mists off better than
branches; and we will bring another sail over to cover the ground and keep
the mist from rising inside.”
“What are we going to cook our junk in?” Joyce asked suddenly.
The sailor looked at his companion in dismay. “Dash my timbers,” he said,
“I never thought of that; that is a go. Perhaps we can manage it in the
native way: they boil things by putting water into a big shell, and
dropping hot stones into it until it boils. We have not got any shells,
but we might find a hollow in the rock that will hold water.”
“That is all very well, Wilcox; but how are we going to heat our stones?”
“You have done me there, Master Stephen,” the sailor said, in a tone of
utter disgust; “we have not got flint or tinder.”
“We might manage the tinder easily enough,” Stephen said, “by using rotten
wood; but tinder is of no use without steel. We shall have to eat our
biscuits without meat, Wilcox, unless we can light a fire by rubbing two
sticks together.”
“That ain’t to be done, sir; I have seen white men try it over and over
again, and I have tried it myself, but it ain’t no manner of good. The
Almighty has given us a lot of knowledge that he has not given to these
black fellows, but he has balanced it up by giving them the knack of
lighting a fire which he has not given to us. I never heard of a white man
who could make fire in that way.”
“Well, I will have a try, anyhow,” Joyce said; “there can’t be anything
special about a Malay that he can make fire more than a white man.”
“You may try as much as you like, Master Joyce,” the sailor said, shaking
his head solemnly, “but mark my words, you won’t be able to do it. It is a
pity, too, for with all this wood that has been drying as if on purpose
for us, we could have had one without being afraid of the smoke.”
“Well, we must not grumble; we have got a lot to be thankful for; and we
can do without meat well enough.”
“Yes, Mr. Joyce,” Wilcox said reluctantly; “only, you know, I wish we had
not come across that cask of salt junk, then one would never have thought
about it; but seeing it there, and not being able to cook it, is enough to
make a saint grumble, I should say.”
“Not if he were really a saint, Wilcox. However, don’t make up your mind
that you are not going to get your teeth into that junk till I give up the
hope of making a fire.”
“Well, sir, we will roll the three barrels over here, and then set about
rigging up the tent. There is nothing like being busy.”
By nightfall they had got the tent up. They had had some argument over the
best site. All would have preferred to have erected it on the low ground,
near their well, but finally a point was decided upon, some little
distance higher—a level spot being found on the rock where some trees
offered every convenience for pitching it, and the surface of the rock was
fairly flat. A few armfuls of coarse grass sufficed to fill up the
inequalities, and render it even enough for sleeping on. Here they had the
advantage of getting the sea-breeze, and of having a wide view across the
water, while trees growing behind them completely hid the tent from being
seen from the higher ground. Before erecting it they had deepened the
well, and found that the water was clear and good, and that it flowed in
so abundantly there was no fear whatever of the supply falling short.
The next morning Wilcox and Joyce started for an early walk, with a view
to seeing whether there were any things thrown up on the sand beyond the
rock. Stephen was to stay behind at the tent and keep watch for a sail.
“I will leave the gun behind with you, Master Stephen,” Wilcox said; “Mr.
Joyce has got his pistols, and I have my cutlass. If you want us back, or
if you make out a sail, you fire it off; we will come back as quick as we
can. Don’t you fidget if we are some time away; casks may have floated a
good bit along before they got thrown up, and it is just as well to see
the thing through now, and then we sha’n’t have to do it again. We will
keep a good look-out for a sail too, for it is like enough that we may be
a long way beyond the sound of the gun. You see we can make out from here
that a mile further on the trees come down to near the sea again, just as
they did on the other island. We will take some cocoa-nuts with us, in
case we should not light upon any there. We sha’n’t be uneasy about you,
because we know for certain that there ain’t any natives near; and, in the
same way, you need not trouble yourself about us.”
“All right, Wilcox! I will see whether I can’t get some junk cooked for
you, ready for a meal at sunset.”
The sailor smiled grimly. “All right, sir; if I find some meat cooked for
me, I will guarantee that I will eat it, even if it is as tough as an
alligator.”
CHAPTER VI.
HOME.
As soon as his companions had left him, Stephen went off and brought up as
much dried wood as he could carry, among it a piece of plank that was
almost rotten. This he crumbled up. Then he set the cask of salt junk on
end, and with a heavy piece of rock hammered away until he forced the head
in. Then he took out a good-sized piece of meat and put it into the well.
The water here was constantly changing, a current flowing through it
towards the sea. Then he brought up two or three more loads of wreckage
and sat down under the awning, for it could scarcely be termed a tent, as
both ends were open to allow a free passage for the air. Here he sat for
some hours, occasionally getting up and looking over the sea to the right
and left. It was not until it was nearly noon and the sun was overhead
that he could try the experiment upon which he relied to obtain fire. When
it was nearly vertical he went down to the well, opened his watch-case,
and dipped the glass carefully into the water. He thought of trying to
take it out of the case, but the risk of breaking it would have been too
great. Carrying it very carefully, he went up to the tent again and sat
down beside his little heap of crumbled wood and held the watch-glass full
of water over it.
As he expected he found that it made an admirable burning-glass, its only
drawback being that it was only available when the sun was overhead.
Almost instantaneously as the focus fell upon the wood the latter began to
smoke, and in less than a minute a flame sprang up. Some small splinters
that he had got ready were placed on it, and in a very short time a fire
was blazing. As soon as the wood was well alight he had poured off the
water and very carefully wiped the glass and the rim that held it. He went
a short distance away as soon as the fire was burning well, and was
pleased to find that no smoke was given off, the sun having dried the
wreckage until not the slightest particle of moisture remained in it. He
now kept a sharp look-out along the shore, but it was not until nearly
five o’clock that he saw his companions issue from the trees a mile and a
half away and move along the sand. He went down to the well, took out the
meat, and brought it up and laid it on the rock to dry. He felt sure that
by this time the water would have removed the greater portion of the salt,
and that he would now be able to roast it satisfactorily.
He had already got two forked twigs as a support for his spit, and, taking
the ramrod from the gun, thrust it through the meat. He had ceased putting
on fresh wood the moment he saw the others come from the forest. The fire
soon sank down to a mass of glowing embers, over which he put the meat,
the ends of the ramrod being supported by the forked twigs. He turned it
round and round occasionally to prevent it from burning, and although he
had himself been indifferent as to whether they could obtain means for
cooking the junk, he felt a ravenous appetite as the odour of the meat
rose. Just as he came to the conclusion that the meat must be cooked
through, Wilcox and Joyce arrived. They stopped in amazement as their eyes
fell on the fire.
“Come on, Wilcox,” Stephen said with a laugh. “Don’t stand staring there.
Dinner is ready, and I am only waiting for you to begin.”
“I am downright famished,” the sailor said as he came up. “I would not
have believed it if I had not seen it. How on earth did you manage it?”
“Not by rubbing pieces of wood together, Wilcox, but by filling my
watch-glass with water and using it as a burning-glass; it lit the wood in
less than a minute; only it would not do, you know, unless the sun was
right overhead, and I had to wait until twelve o’clock before I tried the
experiment.”
The meat was cut up into three huge portions, and using biscuits as plates
they speedily set to work upon it.
“You have pretty well got rid of the salt,” Wilcox said after his first
mouthful. “It is well-nigh as good as roast meat. How did you do that,
sir?”
“It was in the well for seven or eight hours,” Stephen replied. “The water
was running through it, so that it was as good as putting it into a river.
Salt meat is best boiled, but as I had no pot to boil it in, I thought I
would try and roast it; and, as you say, the water has got rid of the salt
altogether.”
“It is the best bit of meat that I have eaten since I left England,”
Wilcox said. “Well, I don’t mind now if we stop here for another month. We
have meat and biscuits, and I reckon, Mr. Stephen, that you will be able
to think of some plan for making flap-jacks out of the flour, and we have
found a cocoa-nut grove. So we shall be able to live like kings.”
The next morning Stephen was again left in charge of the fire, and the
other two started to fetch a fresh load of cocoa-nuts, saying that they
should be back by twelve o’clock, and should expect to find that he had
got something new for them. After putting a piece of meat into the well
Stephen made a fresh experiment. Fishing out a great lump of fat from the
cask, he first washed it carefully to get rid of the salt, then put it
into half a cocoa-nut shell, placed this on some hot embers and fried the
fat until most of it melted, and then squeezed the remainder between two
flat stones. Then he poured the fat into another cocoa-nut half full of
milk, put three or four pounds of flour on a flat rock, made a hollow in
the middle as he had seen the servant do at home while making pastry,
poured the liquor gradually into this, mixing it up with the flour until
he had made the whole into dough. Then he cleared away a portion of the
embers, and dividing the dough into flat cakes placed these on the hot
ground. Half an hour later he cleared another space from embers, and
turned the cakes over, and in twenty minutes they were baked through. They
were pronounced excellent by his companions as they ate them with their
meat.
“We must not be too lavish,” Stephen said, “as we do not know how long we
may have to wait here. I propose for breakfast that we have biscuits only,
then for dinner we will have some meat and biscuits again, and for supper
cold meat and cakes. How much meat do you think there is, Wilcox?”
“There is supposed to be a hundred and a half in that cask, Mr. Embleton.”
“Well, that will last us just about a month,” Stephen said, “at a pound
and a half each a day. I propose that we have that allowance for a
fortnight, and if there are no signs of the ship by that time we can then
reduce ourselves to three-quarters of a pound a day. At that rate it will
last for six weeks altogether. The flour and the biscuits would last twice
as long, but we must keep a good stock of them on hand, so as to have a
store if we take to the canoe again.”
This proposal was agreed to. They had, however, been there about a week
when early one morning Joyce discovered a sail far away on the horizon. In
great excitement they hurried down to the canoe, which had been brought
along and hauled up on the rocks.
“Put her into the water to see if the sun has opened her seams.”
Finding that it had done so, they filled her and then hauled her just
beyond the edge of the water. Then they went up to their tent again.
“There ain’t much wind,” the sailor said, “and it will die away altogether
in an hour or two. It is no good our doing anything until we see which way
she is heading. If it is the _Tiger_, I reckon she is making for this
spot, and we can wait till the afternoon anyhow before we take to the
canoe. If it is only a chance ship, and we find she is bearing a course
that brings her anywhere near us, we must take to the canoe at once. I
should say she is a good five-and-twenty miles away, but anyhow we can get
out to her before the evening breeze springs up.”
By nine o’clock they made out that the ship was certainly heading in their
direction. Then the wind left her, and presently they saw her swing
broadside on to them.
“She is very like the _Tiger_,” Joyce said. “She is just about the same
size and barque-rigged, but we cannot see her hull.”
“She is the _Tiger_ sure enough,” Wilcox said. “Her heading this way made
it pretty well certain, but I think I could swear to her now.”
“Well, I vote we start for her at once. What do you say, Stephen?”
“I think so, Tom. Certainly it will be a long row in the heat, but that
does not matter. We had better put a stock of biscuits and cocoa-nuts on
board. One never knows about the weather here, and before night there
might be another cyclone, then she might have to run for it. We should
have to make for the nearest land, and might not be able to get back here
for two or three days.”
As they had eaten their first meal there was no reason for any delay. The
canoe was emptied out, a store sufficient for two or three days put on
board, and they were soon on their way. They took the bearings of the ship
by various points of the island before they started, lest it should come
over thick.
“It ain’t no use hurrying,” Wilcox said as they dipped their paddles in
the water. “We have got a good five hours’ pull before us, and whether it
is five or seven it don’t make much difference.”
They had each cut a square of canvas with which to cover their heads and
shoulders, and at short intervals they dipped these in the sea and so kept
off at least a portion of the extreme heat. The boat was much less heavily
laden than it had been on their previous journey, and went lightly through
the water. In spite of their agreement to take it easy their impatience to
reach the ship, on whose upper sails their eyes were fixed as they
paddled, prevented their doing so, and for the first two hours they rowed
at almost racing pace. Then the heat of the sun began to tell upon them,
their efforts slackened, and their pace decreased materially. However,
they could now make out the line of the hull above the horizon, and knew
that she could not be at most more than some eight miles away, and in
little more than two hours they were within half a mile of her. It was
their old ship the _Tiger_. By this time they could see that they were
objects of eager curiosity on board, and presently they heard loud cheers
come across the water.
“They have made us out,” Joyce said. “Of course, at first they took us for
a native canoe, for they would be looking for the gig. They don’t know yet
what bad news we have to tell them.”
In a few minutes they were alongside, but as soon as they were within hail
the captain had shouted out:
“Are all well?”
“No, sir,” Joyce, who was in the bow, shouted back, “I am sorry to say
that Mr. Towel and the rest have all been killed by the Malays.”
The news effectually damped the feeling of delight that had been excited
on board when it was known that the canoe contained three of the boat’s
party, for whose safety the greatest anxiety had been felt, the captain
alone having entertained any hopes that the gig could have lived through
the storm. However, as they climbed up the ladder to the deck they were
shaken warmly by the hand by officers and crew, and then the captain
requested Joyce and Stephen to come down to his cabin, while Wilcox went
forward to tell the story to the crew. The first and third mates also came
into the cabin. Joyce then, as the senior, told the story of all that had
happened from the time the cyclone had burst upon them.
“You see, sir,” he said when he came to the conclusion, “I owe my life
entirely to Stephen and Wilcox.”
“I see that plainly enough, Mr. Joyce,” the captain said gravely. “They
behaved admirably both in that and in the whole subsequent proceedings.
You were lucky indeed in hitting on the spot where we were separated. We
were four hundred miles away when we got out of the cyclone. The wind has
been very light, and we have gone close to every island we have passed on
our way here. It was, of course, most doubtful whether you would be able
to find the place where the wreck was, for you too might have been carried
hundreds of miles in an entirely different direction, and without your
instruments you would have had but a small chance of discovering your
position or finding your way here. Still, it seemed the only chance. Of
course I could not tell whether when you landed you found the wreck had
been stripped by the natives; but if you had not done so it seemed to me
you would certainly make your way there if you could, for you would know
there were no natives near, and you might, for all I could tell, have
found various stores cast up that would enable you to live for a long
time.
“It has been, as you say, a sad business indeed. Six lives have been lost,
and, as it appears to me from your story, unnecessarily; it was a grievous
mistake going up that river. I can understand Mr. Towel’s anxiety to
obtain a stock of provisions of some sort to victual the boat for a long
cruise, but he should have endeavoured to ascertain first, by following
the bank on foot, whether there were any native villages there before
venturing up in the boat; and to fire guns until he had ascertained that
there were no enemy near, is another instance of that fatal carelessness
that costs so many lives. However, the poor fellow of course acted for the
best, and he has paid dearly for his error. That expedient of yours for
lighting a fire, Steve, was a very ingenious one, and does you a great
deal of credit. I don’t think that it would have occurred to me.
Altogether, young gentlemen, you seem to have behaved extremely prudently
and well. I am sorry to tell you that your
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