Chapter Twenty One.
An adventure.
Jack did not see the canoe, for his attention was taken up by the little serpent which had suddenly flung itself upon his hand, as he disturbed the cluster of flowers, and struck at his arm sharply—twice.
Sharply does not express the way in which the reptile attacked him, for the whole business from its springing, coiling, and striking seemed instantaneous. The effect upon the lad was peculiar. He had man’s natural horror of all creatures of the serpent kind, and as he broke off the sweetly-scented bunch of flowers a pang shot through him—a sensation of pain which made him turn cold and wet, while his senses felt exalted, so that sight, smell, hearing, and feeling were magnified or exaggerated in the strangest way, but his muscular power seemed to have failed. His man’s cries for help sounded deafening; the fragrant odour of the orchids made him feel faint; the little serpent appeared enormous, and its eyes dazzling, while the cold touch of its scaly body against his bare hand was of some great weight, and when it rapidly compressed his fingers with its folds, to give itself power to strike, and struck twice, the concussion of the lithe neck and jaws felt like two tremendous blows which paralysed him, so that he stood there as if turned to stone, with his arm outstretched staring down at the—as it seemed to him—gigantic head, which glided about over his enormously swollen arm, the sparkling malicious eyes seeming to search into his, and then about his arm for a fresh place at which to venom.
It was in its way beautiful, in its golden-brown and greenish tints, while the back appeared to be shot with violet and steel, as the light which flashed from the glittering sea was thrown up beneath the trees. Jack was so utterly fascinated for the time being that his eyes took in every detail, and he noted how the reptile’s tightly-closed mouth resembled a smile of triumph, and thought that the tiny forked tongue which kept on flickering in and out of the orifice in the front part of the jaws mocked at him as the creature laughed silently at his helplessness.
“It has killed me,” was the predominant thought in the boy’s mind, as he stood there for what seemed to be a long space of time, with Edward shouting for help and calling upon him to act, the words thundering in his ears.
“Throw it off, Mr Jack, sir. Chuck it away. D’ye hear me? Oh, I say, do something, or you’ll be stung.”
But the lad did not stir, merely remained in the same attitude with his arm outstretched. He was, however, fully conscious of what was going on, and he watched with a feeble kind of interest the action of the man, wondering what he would do.
For Ned, as he grasped his young master’s peril, did the most natural thing in the world to begin with, he called loudly for help; but fully grasping the fact that as he was nearest the first help ought to come from him, he dashed to Jack’s side.
“Ugh!” he cried angrily, “I can’t abear snakes and toads. If I touch him he’ll sting me too. Tied himself up in a knot too. Don’t try to chuck it off, Mr Jack, the beggar will only be more savage and begin stinging again. If I could only grab him by the neck I could finish him, but he’d be too quick for me. Here, I know. That’s right! Stand still, sir.”
This last was perfectly unnecessary, for the lad could not have stood more motionless and rigid if he had been carved in marble.
“What a fool I am!” muttered Ned. “Thinking about cutting sticks when there’s something ready here to be cut. I don’t want a stick.”
He whipped his long hunting-knife out of the sheath fitted to his belt, and the light flashed upon the keen-edged new blade which had never yet been used.
“Now then,” he said softly, “if I can only get one cut at you, my gentleman, you shan’t know where you are to-morrow.”
The plan was good, but not easy of performance, for he could not cut straight down at the reptile’s neck without injuring Jack’s arm, and for a few moments he stood watching and waiting for an opportunity, but none seemed likely to occur, and the serpent still held on by the boy’s wrist, and the front of its long, lithe, undulating body kept on gliding about over the brightly-ironed white duck sleeve, the head playing about the hollow of the elbow-joint, turning under the arm, and returning to the top again and again.
“I can’t get a cut at him—I can’t get a cut at him,” muttered Ned; and then a happy thought came: he stretched out the point of the glistening blade toward the serpent’s head, till it was a few inches from it.
“I don’t like doing it,” he muttered fretfully; “it’s running risks, and setting a dose myself, but I must—I must;” and he made the blade glitter and flash by agitating his hand.
It had the desired effect, for the head was raised sharply from the lad’s arm till it was six or seven inches above it, and the reptile seemed to be attracted for a moment by the bright light flashing from the steel.
Then the head was drawn back sharply, and darted forward as Ned expected, and with a slight jerk from the wrist he flicked the blade from left to right.
“Hah!” he cried joyfully, as the head dropped at his feet, and the long thin body writhed free from the lad’s hand and wrist; “a razor couldn’t have took it off cleaner. Hurray, Mr Jack! He half killed himself. But don’t—don’t stand like that. You’re not hurt bad, are you?”
“Here, let me look,” cried the doctor, who had now climbed up to where they stood, closely followed by Sir John. “Snake, was it?”
“Yes, sir; there’s his body tying itself up in knots, and here’s his head.”
As he spoke, the man stooped down quickly, made a dig with the point of his knife, and transfixed the cut-off portion through the neck just at the back of the skull, and the jaws gaped widely as he held it up in triumph.
“Here, let me see,” cried Sir John excitedly. “Yes, look, Instow, the swollen glands at the back of the jaw, and here they are like bits of glass—the poison fangs. Jack, lad, where did it strike you?”
“Strike me?” said the lad feebly, and shuddering slightly, as he stood with his eyes half-closed, and dropped the cluster of orchids.
“Yes; speak out, quick!” cried the doctor, grasping the lad by the arm. “Where are you hurt?”
“Twined round my hand, and bit at my arm twice—just there.”
He stood pointing dreamily at the thickest part of his forearm, just where the jacket-sleeve went into wrinkles through the bending of the joint.
“Yes, I see,” cried the doctor. “Here, Ned, man, jump down there and get my flask. You’ll find it in my coat. A plated one full of ammonia.”
Ned leaped in a break-neck way down the lava wall, and the doctor forced his patient into a sitting position and stripped off his jacket. Then he snapped off the wrist button and turned up the shirt-sleeve, to begin examining the white skin for the tiny punctures made by the two bites, while Sir John knelt by him, supporting his son, who looked very white and strange, and as if he were trying to master the sense of horror from which he now suffered.
“See the places?” said Sir John hoarsely.
“No,” replied the doctor, shifting his position and raising the arm a little. “The fangs are like needle-points, and make so small a wound. Can’t see anything. Whereabouts was it, Jack?”
“Just there,” said the lad, speaking more decisively; and he laid his left finger on his arm. “Two sharp blows.”
“And a keen pricking sensation each time?” said the doctor, looking curiously at his patient.
“No; I did not feel anything but the blows.”
“Here’s the silver bottle, sir,” panted Ned.
“Hold it,” said the doctor. Then to Jack, “Did the snake strike at you anywhere else?”
“No.”
“Pray, pray give him something,” cried Sir John impatiently; “the poison runs through the veins so quickly.”
“Yes,” said the doctor quietly, as he wrinkled up his forehead, and, dropping the boy’s arm, he caught the jacket from where it lay.
“Nothing here,” he muttered. “Pish! Wrong sleeve.”
He hastily took the other, and turned the sleeve up to the light.
“Hah!” he cried; “here we are. Look, Meadows!”
“Never mind the jacket, man,” cried Sir John passionately.
“Why not?” said the doctor coolly. “Nothing the matter with the lad. Touch of nerves. Horribly startling for him. See this?”
He held up the sleeve, and there upon the puckered part were two almost imperceptible yellowish stains, in each case upon the raised folds.
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“I couldn’t help it,” said Jack.
“Of course you couldn’t,” said the doctor.
“But father thinks that I was a dreadful coward.”
“Then he ought to know better,” said the doctor quickly. “Nothing to be ashamed of, my lad. Imagination’s a queer thing. I once fainted because I thought I had cut myself, while I was skinning a dog which had been poisoned. I was a student then, and knew the dangers of wounds from a poisoned knife; and, by the way, we must take care of the wounds from poisoned arrows. Well, when I washed my hand there wasn’t a scratch. You couldn’t help it, Jack. Any man might be seized like that after seeing Death make two darts at him and feeling him strike.”
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“Is any one hurt?” said a voice then; and Mr Bartlett’s head appeared above the edge of the lava wall.
“No; all right. Only an alarm, and a narrow escape. How about the savages?”
“They’re gone in the direction of the yacht, gentlemen, and we must get back as quickly as we can.”
“Ah, look! look!” cried Ned excitedly, as he pointed out to sea; “there’s a canoe—two canoes—three.”
They followed the direction of his pointing finger, and saw plainly enough three long, low vessels full of men gliding by, with their matting sails glistening in the sun, and not two miles out from where they stood.
“Worse and worse,” said the mate. “We must get back to the yacht, gentlemen.”
“Of course,” said Sir John, drawing a deep breath. “Why, there must be a hundred men in those canoes.”
“Quite that, sir, I’m afraid,” replied the mate. “Quick, please. It will be terrible if they attack the captain while he is so short-handed.”
“But he has the big guns, and the men are well-trained,” said the doctor, as they hurried down to the boats.
“What is the use of them, sir, when a crowd of reckless savages are swarming over the sides? He is lying at anchor too, and the yacht is made helpless.”
The men were soon in their places, pulling a long, steady stroke, and thinking nothing of the hot sunshine.
“It is of no use to try and hide ourselves,” said the mate, “for it is a race between us who shall get there first.”
“But they can’t know the yacht is there,” said Sir John.
“Perhaps not, sir; but they will soon sight us, and then run for the opening in the reef, if they were not already going there.”
“Well, there’s one advantage on our side,” said the doctor; “they can’t attack us till they get through the reef, so we’re safe till then.”
“Yes, sir,” said the mate bitterly; “but I was thinking of the captain, and his anxiety, alone there.”
“Yes, of course,” said Sir John; and he looked at the mate when he could do so unobserved; and it seemed to Jack that he thought more highly of Mr Bartlett than ever.
They had been rowing abreast, with the waters of the lagoon perfectly smooth; but as they began to round one of the huge buttresses of lava which had run down into the lake, they saw that the water all beyond was disturbed by a breeze.
The mate started up and began to give his orders directly. The mast in the bigger boat was stepped, the sail hoisted, and he shouted to one of the men to throw a line from the bows of Jack’s boat, to make fast to their stern.
“We can take you in tow, doctor,” he said, with the men still rowing and the sail flapping; then a little spar was set up from the stern, and a triangular sail hoisted from the bows to the mast in front.
“Four men in here,” cried the mate; “unless you two gentlemen would like to come.”
“No; we’ll stay here,” said the doctor. “Eh, Jack?”
“Yes; we’ll stay.”
“You’ll manage better with men who can work, we shall be in the way.”
“I want them for ballast to steady us with all this sail up,” said the mate, smiling; and without any pause the second boat was drawn close up astern, four men crept into the leader, and the rope was allowed to run out again.
“Think we’re going to have a fight, Mr Jack?” whispered Ned, as the doctor sat forward trying to make out the canoes through the sparkling cloud of spray here about a mile away; “It seems like it, Ned; but I hope not.”
“You hope not, sir?”
“Of course.”
“Oh, well then, I needn’t mind saying I hope not too. I never was anything in that line, sir, even when I was a boy.”
“What difference does that make?”
“Difference, sir? Oh, all the difference. Men can fight, of course; but if I was a king, and wanted to have a good army, I’d make it of boys.”
Jack stared at him, and in spite of the peril of their position, felt disposed to smile.
“Why?” he said at last.
“Because they can fight so. They’re not so big and strong; but then they’re not so easily frightened. They’re always ready for a set-to, and ’cepting where there’s snakes in the way, they never think of danger, or being hurt. And when they are hurt, the more they feel it, the more they go, just like horses or donkeys.”
“Excepting in the case of snakes,” said Jack bitterly.
“Oh, don’t you mind about that, sir. I was as scared as you were, I can tell you. I remember when I was a boy I wasn’t good at fighting, and I used to get what we used to call the coward’s blow, and that was the rum part of it.”
Jack stared.
“Ah, you don’t understand that, sir. But it was rum. You see it was like this; t’other chap as was crowing over me because I wouldn’t fight, would give me an out-and-out good whack for the coward’s blow, and then he wished he hadn’t.”
“Why?” asked Jack, after a glance at the doctor, who was still in the bows.
“Because it hurt me, and made me wild. And then I used to go at him and give him a good licking. That’s what I was when a boy, sir, and I am just the same now; I don’t feel at all like fighting, and, coward or no coward, I won’t fight if I can help it; but if any one hurts me, or begins to shoot at us, I think I shall get trying what I can do. But you see it won’t be fist-fists.”
“No,” said Jack thoughtfully; “it will not be fists.”
“Hi! look out!” shouted Ned. “You’ll be over.”
For a sudden puff of wind had caught the boat in front, and she heeled over so much with the large spread of sail that the water began to creep in over the leeward side. But at a word from the mate half-a-dozen men shifted their positions to windward, and there were two or three inches clear once more, as the boat with her three sails well-filled began to rush through the water.
“And now they’re goin’ to take us under,” said Ned, nervously seizing the side with one hand. “My word, we are beginning to go.”
“Yes; this is different to rowing,” cried the doctor, as their boat danced about and ran swiftly through the disturbed water left by their companion. “But, unfortunately, the wind will help the canoes as much as it helps us.”
“But if it does not help them more, we shall be up to the yacht first.”
“There’s another side to that, Jack,” said the doctor; “suppose they sail faster than we do. What then?”
This was unanswerable, and they sat back in the boat, running through the water with a little wave ever-widening on either side.
“I hope the painter won’t give way,” said the doctor at last, “and that they will not leave us behind.”
“They’d miss us directly,” said Jack. “Their boat would go so much faster.”
“Couldn’t go faster than she is. Why, Jack, it must be a clever canoe that can beat us.”
“Goes too fast to please me,” whispered the man at the first opportunity. “Strikes me, Mr Jack, that one of these times when they swing over to the left so they’ll drag us under, so that our boat will fill and go down; and if we do, what about that there pig?”
“What pig?” said Jack wonderingly.
“Why, you know, sir, close in there as we came along. If there’s things in this water that can pull down pigs, won’t they be likely to pull down us?”
“There’s plenty of real trouble to think about,” said Jack quietly, “without our trying to make out imaginary ones. The boat will not fill.”
“Eh? what’s that?” said the doctor; “this boat fill? Oh no; she rides over the water like a cork. Can’t see anything of the enemy, Jack; the spray along the reef makes a regular curtain, and shuts off everything. I hope it hides us well from our black friends, for I don’t want to get into a row of that kind. Well, Ned, if it comes to the worst, do you think you can manage a gun?”
“Cleaned Sir John’s guns often enough, sir.”
“Yes, but can you shoot?”
“That means holding the gun straight, sir, and pulling the trigger. Oh yes, sir; I can do that.”
“That isn’t shooting: you have to hit.”
“So I suppose, sir; but some of the governor’s friends, who come down in September and October, go shooting in his preserves and over the farms, but they don’t always hit anything.”
“But you will try if we want you, eh?”
“Yes, sir, if the governor orders me. And what about a cutlass? Can you handle that, do you think?”
“Don’t see why not, sir. I’m pretty handy with a carving-knife, both with meat and on the knifeboard.”
“Well,” said the doctor gravely, “I hope we shall not have to come to anything of that kind, for all our sakes.”
“How long will it take us to get back?” said Jack, after a silence, during which the thoughts of the danger seemed to be chased away by the beauty of the shore along which they glided.
“Hours yet,” said the doctor. “This wind will not last. If it would, we might be there before the canoes.”
Very few greetings passed between the two boats, for every one engaged in the race seemed in deadly earnest. There was the possibility of the people proving to be friendly, but as in all probability these great sea-going canoes belonged to a fighting fleet upon some raiding expedition, the hope in the direction of peace was not great.
About half of the way had been accomplished, when, as Jack sat watching the foaming waves break upon the reef, he caught sight of something misty and weird-looking apparently just on the other side, but it was too undefined for its nature to be made out.
He pointed it out to the doctor, who gave his opinion directly.
“One of the canoes,” he said. “That’s good, Jack. It shows that they have not distanced us.”
A hail from the mate told them that they too had sighted the canoe from the boat in front; but though they gazed long and watchfully, they saw no more.
Not long after the wind dropped suddenly, came again, and then fell altogether, the appearances being so marked that the mate had the sails lowered, and stowed after the oars had been going for some time, and now they made out from the boat astern that Mr Bartlett had divided his crew into two watches, one rowing hard while the other rested.
It was all plain enough to those astern that everything was admirably arranged, so that the well-drilled men shifted their places without any confusion or difference in the speed of the boat, the men changing one at a time.
And so the afternoon wore on.
“We shall be no sooner,” said Jack at last. “In an hour it will be dark.”
“Yes,” said the doctor with a sigh. “It would not matter if the blacks are not there first, but the worst of it is, as soon as it’s dusk the captain will be lighting up that firework business for a beacon, and that will show the canoes where to steer.”
It proved just as he said. The darkness came on with awful rapidity as soon as the sun disappeared beneath the waves, all searching the edge of the reef most anxiously during the last rays which flooded the sea; but in vain; and then for a full hour they rowed steadily on, guided by the gleaming of the fireflies against the black darkness ashore, but all at once a bright star shone out.
“There she is!” cried Jack excitedly. “Look how Mr Bartlett has turned the boat’s head straight for the light.”
“Yes; we shall follow the bright path straight away now,” said the doctor.
“How are you getting on there?” came from the boat in front. “Hungry, or will you wait till we get on board?”
“We’ll wait, father,” shouted Jack.
“Yes. Only half-an-hour now. Mr Bartlett thinks we’ve distanced the canoes.”
They were soon to learn for certain, as they followed the bright path of light which minute by minute grew clearer, till they could see as it were right up to the anchored yacht.
“Shall we hail the captain?” said Jack.
He had hardly spoken when he felt a jar run through the boat, and found that the towing-line had been hauled upon till the prow of the second boat touched the stern of the first.
“Hist there!” said the mate. “Perfect silence, please. We must creep alongside so as to give warning. There must be no hailing. This is the most dangerous time.”
“How far are we away?” said the doctor in a whisper.
“About five hundred yards.”
“How is it the oars go so quietly now?” whispered Jack.
“Muffled, and the men are just dipping them, so as to keep a fair way on.”
The next two or three minutes were passed in silence, Jack’s boat having once more dropped astern to the full length of the rope.
The lad had risen to stand up and watch the line of light extending from them right up to the source of the rays ahead, and from his position he could look right over the foremost boat.
“How deceptive it is!” he thought. “One can hardly tell how near we are, and—ah!—”
“What is it, boy?” whispered the doctor.
For answer Jack pointed right ahead to where something dark could be seen crossing the line of sight.
“One of the canoes,” said the doctor quickly. “We shall be right aboard her.”
He crept forward, but Jack forestalled him, and was hauling in the line till they wore close up.
“Mr Bartlett—father!”
“Yes; what is it?”
“You are rowing right into one of the canoes.”
Chapter Twenty Two.
A sharp lesson.
The men ceased rowing, and Jack sat with his heart beating painfully, his mind full of memories of accounts he had read concerning encounters with savages, and wounds inflicted by poisoned arrows and spears.
As he sat in the intense darkness, watching the brilliant star-like lamp, it all seemed to be dreamlike and impossible that he should be there—he who so short a time before was leading that quiet student life in the study or library at home.
But there was the black canoe gliding by the light, and like so many silhouettes the dark, clearly-defined figures of the savages busy paddling.
No, it could not be the canoe he had seen first, it must be another, and the next minute he had proof thereof, in this canoe passing across the disk of radiant light, leaving it for a few moments clear, and then another appeared, and he watched the little black silhouettes steadily moving as they paddled, till the long boat had gone by, when another appeared and passed.
“Give way!” came in a whisper; then the oars dipped silently, and they began to move onward.
“We must make a dash for it, or they will surprise the yacht,” whispered the mate. Then he leaned over backward, and the exciting words came—“Astern there. Guns ready and load.”
A faint whisper or two from the mate’s boat told that the men not rowing had received a similar command, and Jack, as he thrust a couple of cartridges into the breech of his gun, felt that the canoes would be paddling round the yacht, and have reached the other side by the time they were alongside.
“Are we not going to shout and alarm Captain Bradleigh?” whispered Jack to the doctor.
“No; sit still,” said that gentleman sternly. “He and your father are the leaders. We have only to obey. Don’t fire till you receive orders.”
A low deep sigh came from Ned, but it was accompanied by a faint “click—click; click—click.”
“Both barrels at full cock,” thought the lad. “But how horrible to have to fire at any one, even if he is black.”
But all the same, horrible or no, the lad cocked both locks of his own piece, and felt the flap of his cartridge satchel to try whether everything was handy if he had to reload; and just then, as they glided silently along in the full glare of the great artificial star, a feeling of angry resentment ran through him, and he said half aloud—
“Serve them right. Why can’t they leave us alone?”
“And so say all of us, Mr Jack,” whispered Ned, startling him he addressed, for he was not aware that his words were heard.
The only sounds to be heard now were the regular heavy boom of the breakers on the reef—a sound so deep and constant that it had already begun to count as nothing, and curiously enough did not seem to interfere with their hearing anything else, acting as it did like the deep bass in an orchestra or great organ, and making the lighter, higher-pitched notes more clear—and the light soft dip of the boat’s oars as the men silently pulled home.
Then, all at once, as Jack strained his ears to catch the paddling of the canoes, the deep voice of Captain Bradleigh rang out as if from the other side of the yacht.
“Ahoy! What boat’s that?”
Then in the midst of a dead silence there was a quick flash, and Jack held his breath, expecting to hear the report of a gun, but his eyes conveyed the meaning of the flash, not his ears.
The darkness was profound, for the light from the great star had been shut off in their direction, and directly after the shape of the graceful yacht stood out clearly, every spar and rope defined against a softly diffused halo as the star was made to perform the duties of a search-light, sweeping the lagoon beyond and showing plainly the long low shapes of four great canoes, each with its row of men, and about a quarter of a mile away.
Then all was black as pitch.
“Now for it, my lads,” whispered the mate. “Pull with all your might.”
The men made the water hiss as they drew hard at the long tough ash blades, and above this sound they could hear the hurry and rattle of something going on aboard the yacht. Quick short orders were issued; then Captain Bradleigh’s voice was heard again.
“Ahoy there! Sir John!”
“Right. Here we are.”
What the captain said in reply was confined to the word “Thank—” The rest was smothered by a sharp crash, and a check which took the small boat in which Jack sat sharply up against the other’s stern.
The crash was followed by a savage yelling and splashing; and as they went on again directly, the men pulling with all their might. Jack was conscious of struggling and blows, and he grasped the fact that they had rowed at full speed against the stern or bows of another canoe which had been invisible in the darkness, and that some of her occupants had seized the men’s oars on the port side. The blows, he found, were delivered by their men to shake off their adversaries, some of whom he dimly saw struggling in the water as the boat passed on; and, unable to control himself, Jack leaned over and caught at a hand just within his reach, the fingers closing upon his in a fierce grasp and nearly jerking him out of the boat, a fate from which he was saved by Ned, who seized him round the middle and dragged him back.
“Got him?” cried the doctor excitedly.
“You should have said ‘Got it,’ sir,” grumbled the man, with a drawing-in of his breath as if in pain. “But he’s all right. I wish I was.”
“What’s the manner, man?”
“Him a-holding his gun like that. Oh, my crikey! What a whack I got on the cheek!”
“What an escape, Jack!” cried the doctor.
“But the poor wretch was drowning. Hark! their canoe must be sinking—men struggling in the water.”
“Never mind: let them,” said the doctor. “They can swim like seals, and their canoe will float like a log.”
“But the sharks!” panted Jack.
“We can’t stop to think of them,” said the doctor.—“Are you all right there?”
“Yes, and alongside,” cried the mate, and there was the rattle of the oars being laid in.
“Thank heaven!” cried the captain from the deck, as both boats ground against the yacht’s side. “Quick, all aboard! Now then, hook on those falls and up with the boats.”
The boats were run up to the davits in regular man-o’-war fashion, the gangway was closed, and the men who were busy went on rigging up a stout net about six feet wide along from stanchion to stanchion, and shroud to shroud, while, after a word or two of congratulation upon their safe return, the captain went on giving his orders.
“Nearly surprised us, Sir John,” he said; “and it would have been awkward with us so weak-handed. All go to your stations; they may try to board at any time. Here, Mr Jack, you’d better go below.”
“What for?” said Jack quietly.
“To be out of danger, sir,” said the captain angrily. “Quick, sir, I have no time to be polite.”
“Are you going below, father?” said the lad.
“I? No, my boy. I shall stay.”
“So shall I,” said Jack; and a voice whispered at his ear—
“That’s it, Mr Jack. You stop; we don’t want to be out of the fun.”
Sir John was silent, and stood behind the captain, who looked out ahead at the canoes, shown up clearly by the search-light as four lay in a cluster together, their occupants watching the light as if puzzled.
The next moment the light was sent sweeping round to the other side; and there, plainly seen, was the fifth canoe, its gunwale level with the surface, and only its high stem and prow standing well above the water. And there clinging to her on either side were her crew, paddling away by striking the water, and sending the injured vessel slowly along, so as to cross the yacht’s stem, and take her to where the rest lay waiting, as if their leaders were uncertain what to do.
“There, you see, Jack,” said the doctor. “But what a crash! our speed saved us from being stove in, just as the tallow candle is said to pass through a deal board when fired from a gun.”
“Do you think they are all there?” said Jack.
“Oh yes, they would help one another; but I don’t think we should have been all here if they had had their way with us.”
They stood watching the damaged canoe till it had passed the yacht, and then the light was suddenly turned so that it lit up the four canoes, in which there might have been close upon a couple of hundred men; and to Jack’s horror he saw that they had altered their position, and were prow toward them in regular battle array, and only about forty or fifty feet apart.
“Does that mean coming on?” said Jack, and he thought of their own weakness.
“I expect so,” replied the doctor; “but I dare say a few volleys of small shot will give them such a sickening of the white man’s magic that they will turn tail. Why look at that.”
The light was now turned on to its full power, and the man who managed it kept on changing its position so that it blazed right upon each canoe in turn, with a singular result, each doing the same. For, as if startled by the light, the occupants began to paddle backward in a hurried way, till the beam was shifted, when they ceased.
“Why they’re regularly scared at the lamp, captain,” cried Doctor Instow.
“Yes, that’s so, sir,” replied the captain; “and it looks as if they knew that their deeds were evil, shunning the light in this fashion; but it can’t last. They’ll soon get used to it; and if they can only be scared until I get the steam up I don’t mind.”
“Are you getting the steam up, captain?” asked Jack eagerly.
“Yes; can’t you hear the fires going?”
Jack had been too much excited to notice any one special thing in the preparations to resist an attack, but he was now conscious of a dull humming sound which he knew was the softened roar of the furnaces.
“The yacht’s like a useless log lying here becalmed,” continued the captain; “but once I have a good head of steam on she becomes a living creature, and I can do anything with her—and with them if they don’t behave themselves. I don’t want to run down and drown any of the poor wretches; but if they attack us they must take the consequences.”
“Poor ignorant creatures!” said Sir John. “I suppose they don’t know our power.”
“That’s it,” replied Captain Bradleigh. “The more savage a man is, according to my experience, the more vain and conceited he seems. He believes in himself thoroughly, for he is generally vigorous and active as a wild beast, and looks down on an ordinary white man with a kind of scorn. You would be surprised, Mr Jack, what a number of lessons have to be given him before he will believe in our machinery and weapons of war, unless you can appeal to his brain by making him believe that they are what the Scotchman calls uncanny. If you once find him thinking that steam, or the gun which kills a man a couple of hundred yards away, is the result of fetish or the bunyip, or a diabolical spirit, he’s the greatest coward under the sun. Give them another brush over with the light, my lad.”
The man in charge of the great star sent the rays sweeping over the sea, once more making the dazzling beam play here and there at his will, upon first one and then another of the blacks in the canoes, with the result that they were all thrown into a state of confusion, each as the light dazzled his eyes ducking down right into the bottom of his vessel, or trying to bend behind his neighbour and to escape from the terrible blazing eye, which seemed to go through him.
“That’s right,” said Sir John.
“Now if we can only keep them off for an hour longer I don’t care. Give me that time and I’ll chase them all out to sea before they know where they are, or send them to the bottom if they don’t mind.”
The suppressed excitement on board the yacht was tremendous, but the men worked without a word. The thick net was strongly fixed so as to act as a barrier to the enemy who might try to climb on board. The yacht’s guns were cast loose, well shotted with small grape, and cartridges were ready for use. The men whose duty it was to repel attempts at boarding stood ready with their sword-bayonets at the ends of their rifles, and the engineer and firemen were below doing their best to get up steam, the humming noise going merrily on the while.
The captain paced the deck very calmly and quietly, night-glass in hand, with which he watched the movements of the savages, and handed it more than once to Jack to take a look through at the enemy, making remarks the while about their bows and arrows, spears and war-clubs, while the doctor and Sir John stood aft, well-armed and ready for any emergency, Sir John’s servant being close at hand.
“Don’t seem quite the thing, Jack,” said the doctor, as the lad came along the dark deck to where they stood.
“What doesn’t seem quite the right thing?” said the boy, glad to have an opportunity to talk and have some cessation of the terrible strain which kept his excited nerves at the highest pitch of tension.
“Why, the standing here with a double gun loaded with slugs, ready to pepper the niggers. I’m a curer, not a killer.”
“We must defend ourselves,” said Jack.
“You must. I ought to be below turning the cabin or the steward’s place into an operating room, getting my instruments, tourniquets, silk, and bandages ready.”
“Oh, don’t talk like that!” cried the lad with a shudder.
“Why not? Doctors must prepare for the worst.”
“Hope we shall have no worst, Doctor Instow,” said the captain, coming up. “If I could only get the signal that steam was ready! We are just swinging by the head to the buoyed cable, so that I can slip at any moment. Halloo! What’s going on now?” He ran forward, gave a word to the man in charge, and the beam of light swept round the yacht and back; but there was no fresh danger coming up, and the shouting and yelling which had taken the captain forward evidently proceeded from the two central canoes.
“Why, where’s the sunken one?” said Jack, as he shaded his eyes and peered forward.
“They’ve floated her right astern of them,” replied the captain, “half-an-hour ago, and the crew are distributed amongst the four. But I don’t quite make out what they were shouting about. Why— Steady there, my lads. You at the guns, be ready. The canoes are coming on. Oh!” he added to himself, “if there were only a capful of wind!”
But there was not a breath of air, as a loud yell from one voice was heard, and followed by a burst from the whole party. Then the paddles were plunged into the water on both sides, making it foam and sparkle in the bright light of the star, the canoes began to move very slowly, and Captain Bradleigh turned to the yacht’s owner—
“They mean mischief, sir. I’m afraid we must fire.”
“Only as a last resource,” said Sir John.
“If we wait for a last resource, sir,” said the captain sternly, “it may be too late. My lads could sink one of the canoes now, and that might check the advance. The guns are useless if we let them come to close quarters.”
“But I am dreadfully averse to what may prove wholesale slaughter,” said Sir John.
“So am I, sir,” said the captain dryly. “It is for you to decide.”
Jack stood quivering with excitement, and wondered what Sir John would say. But he said nothing, for all at once, as the canoes were coming on faster and faster in the bright light shed by the star, and the little crews of the two bright guns laid them ready for the shots they expected to hear ordered from moment to moment, the strange silence on board was broken by the clear loud ting of a hammer upon a gong close to where the principals stood.
“At last!” cried the captain; and before Jack could utter the question upon his lips as to what that stroke meant, order after order was delivered in quick succession.
At the first the cable was slipped. At the second, the star, which was vividly lighting up the approaching canoes, suddenly went out, leaving everything in darkness, for there was not another light visible on board. And at the third, a peculiar vibration made the slight yacht quiver from stem to stern, for the engine was in motion under a good head of steam, and the propeller revolved slowly in reverse, so that the yacht moved astern as fast as the canoes approached.
This went on for a few minutes, with captain and mate standing by the wheel, and the former suddenly turned to Sir John.
“I can’t keep this up in the dark, sir,” he said. “Perhaps we had better give them a shot or two.”
“Why not keep on retreating?”
“Because at any moment we may retreat on to a sharp coral rock, and be at their mercy.”
“Try everything first.”
“I will, sir,” said the captain; and suddenly changing his tactics, the order was given, the light flashed out again, and the canoes were made out four times the distance away, the men paddling with all their might, but stopping instantly in utter astonishment, for they were in perfect ignorance of the distance having been put between them, all being invisible in the darkness which followed the shutting off of the light.
There was another yell now, and plunging their paddles in again, the water once more flashed and foamed in the brilliant light.
Then there was a stroke on the engine-room gong down below, and the propeller began to revolve; two more strokes, directly after, another three, and the yacht gathered more and more way till she was rushing on full speed ahead, her light, like a brilliant star, hiding everything behind her, and apparently just above the surface of the water, bearing rapidly down for the centre of the little fleet of canoes.
On she went, and as she neared the rate at which the paddles were used increased in speed too, but it was to get out of the way, for the steersmen turned off to starboard and port, and though the slightest turn of the wheel would have sent the Silver Star crashing through either of the canoes the captain had chosen to select, she was steered straight through the little fleet till she was three or four hundred yards astern, and the canoes were invisible in the darkness. Then by a clever manoeuvre she was swung round in very little more than her own length, the light which had been shut off as soon as they passed being opened upon the enemy again, and the occupants of the deck saw the two pairs of canoes now lying waiting as if undecided.
Once more the order to go on full speed rang out, and the yacht was steered for the nearest canoe.
No movement was made at first, but the moment the enemy made out that the light was rushing silently at them again, they uttered a wild shout of horror and dismay and began to paddle as hard as they could for the opening in the reef, to escape from the fiery star that had dropped from the heavens and was now chasing them to burn them up.
Ignorance and fear went hand in hand, for there was the dazzling star but nothing more to be seen. There might have been no yacht in existence for all they could tell. It was enough that the fiery light like a great eye was fixed upon them in full pursuit, and away they went, faster probably than canoes ever travelled before, till the dark portion was reached where there were no breakers, and the leading canoe rushed out, followed by the others, and away to sea, horror-stricken at the great mystery they had seen, and in no wise lightened by the fact that the star suddenly disappeared as the last canoe dashed out from the lagoon.
“I think that has startled them,” said the captain, as he had the light shut off and gave the order for the yacht to go slowly astern, as he made, as well as the darkness would allow, for their old quarters, but did not reach them, it being more prudent to drop another anchor at once.
No lights were shown and the strictest watch was kept, when the gentlemen went below to their late dinner, and discussed over it the probabilities of a return of the enemy.
“No, you won’t receive another visit from them in the dark, gentlemen,” said Captain Bradleigh merrily. “The star they saw will be talked about among them for years. That big light must have been a scare; but I expect we shall have them again by daylight, for this yacht would be a prize worth having. But we shall see.”
“Well,” said the doctor, “I should think that the maker of that light would be surprised if he knew to what purpose it was put.”
“Yes,” said the captain, “I should say it is the first time an illuminated figure-head was used to scare a war-party of blacks.”
“What about to-night, Captain Bradleigh?” said Jack anxiously.
“Well, if I were you, sir, I should go to bed and have a good long sleep.”
“Oh, impossible,” cried the lad; “I could not close my eyes for feeling that the blacks were come back.”
“Try, sir,” said the captain; and when the others went to lie down, on the captain’s assurance that steam would be still on and the strictest watch would be kept, Jack lay down to try.
But he did not try, he had no time. Wearied out with the dangers of the day, he laid his head on his pillow, after placing a double gun and loaded revolver close to the bed’s head, and just closed his eyes.
They did not open again till Ned stood there and announced that it was “some bells,” and that it was time to rise.
“How many, Ned?” said Jack sleepily.
“Oh, I dunno, sir, only that it answers to seven o’clock.”
“And the savages?” cried Jack excitedly.
“Nowhere in sight, sir; but they’ve left the broken canoe as a present for you. It’s floating close in to the sands where we made our start the day before yesterday. Lovely morning, sir, but I wish the neighbours hadn’t been quite so friendly and wanted to come and see how we were getting on.”
Chapter Twenty Three.
The use of the lance.
Edward was right. There, a few hundred yards from the yacht, and close in shore, lay the great canoe; but not floating, for she was aground, with the water lapping over her, and only the prow and raised stern standing above the surface.
Jack had a good look at the vessel through his glass, and then turned to watch the proceedings going on, just as Captain Bradleigh came up to him.
“Well, squire!” he cried, “that was a bit of a scare for us.”
“Yes; it was horrible. But are they quite gone?”
“We can’t make out any signs of them from the mast-head; but as they know we’re here, they may set over their fright and come back.”
“Why, we’re steaming,” said Jack in surprise.
“We are, my lad. This is just the time when steam is useful; it helps me to run back gently to our old moorings; and as soon as Sir John comes up, I’m going to propose that we take a run right round the island from outside the reef, so as to make sure that the blacks have no village here.”
Directly after that the yacht hooked up the tub which buoyed the cable, and they swung in their old moorings.
“Now then,” said the captain, “I’m going to have a look at that canoe; will you come with me?”
“Of course,” cried Jack.
“Get your gun and cartridges then. It will not do to go unarmed anywhere now we have found that there is an enemy.”
Jack fetched his double gun, wondering whether he would ever have occasion to use it, and on returning to the deck he found the captain examining the stem of the cutter, now hanging from the davits.
“Look here, Squire Meadows,” he said, “this is a specimen of the value of good things. Now if this had been a common, cheaply-made boat her planks would have been started, and a lot of carpenter’s work wanted before she would have been any use. As it is, she will want a bit of varnish there, and a few taps of the hammer where the copper covers the front of the keel. You came a pretty good crash into that canoe, I suppose?”
“I was not in the boat; but they seemed to.”
“I suppose so. Well, come and jump in.”
He led the way to where Lenny was seated in the dinghy, and they stepped down, and were rowed by the man toward the submerged canoe.
“Keep a sharp look-out along the edge of the trees,” said the captain quietly. “I don’t think any one can have landed; but there is no harm in being safe.”
Jack began sweeping the green edge just beyond the golden sands, but his attention was taken off by the captain as they approached the canoe.
“Look at the brutes,” he said, pointing. “Half-a-dozen of them under her.”
Jack looked at him in horror.
“There, you can see their dusky bodies against the sand.”
“I thought they all escaped by swimming and hanging on to her,” he said a little huskily.
“Escaped by swimming?” replied the captain wonderingly. “What are you talking about?”
“The savages.”
“Oh!” cried the captain, bursting into a hearty laugh, to the boy’s great disgust, “I see. Well, I meant the savages too, but a different sort. Look down there.”
“I don’t care to!” cried Jack hoarsely. “Perhaps it is cowardly; but I don’t want to satisfy a morbid curiosity by gazing down at the dead bodies of my fellow-creatures.”
“Rather fine language, young gentleman,” said the captain, patting him on the shoulder; “but I like the sentiment all the same, and I should not have drawn your attention to them if it had been what you thought. The bodies I mean are those of half-a-dozen sharks. There they are.”
“Oh, I beg your pardon, Captain Bradleigh!” cried Jack. “How stupid of me!”
“Nothing to ask pardon for, sir,” said the captain, smiling. “See them?—Hold hard, Lenny.”
“Yes; quite plainly now. Six. How shadowy they look! Not very big though, are they?”
“Plenty big enough to tear a man to pieces. Why, that one’s a good nine feet long, and there isn’t one under six, I should say. But isn’t it strange how they seem to smell out danger? You know how they’ll follow a ship? Well, these brutes must have been following the canoes, expecting to get something, and this one being wrecked, they’re waiting by it as if they were ready for a grab at some poor wretch.”
“How horrible!”
“Ay, my lad, it is. I’m as bad as any of the sailors. Of course it’s the brutes’ nature; but I feel a thorough satisfaction when one is caught and killed; and if it was not that I don’t want to have any firing just now, I’d go back and make some kind of a dummy with a ship’s fender and some old clothes, and we’d pitch it overboard. It would tempt them to come at it, and we’d put in ball-cartridge and try a bit of shooting, and finish off this lot.”
“I wish you would,” cried Jack eagerly.
“Well, we’ll see after breakfast.”
Jack took up his gun and cocked it as he gazed down at the long, lithe creatures lying perfectly motionless beneath the injured canoe.
“No, no; don’t fire!”
“Not unless I’m obliged,” said Jack, who looked excited. “This boat is so small and slight, I thought that perhaps they might attack us.”
“Oh no; they will not do that. Scull round her bows, Lenny; I want to see where the cutter struck her.”
The man obeyed, and there about twenty feet from the prow, seen perfectly through the clear water, was a large gap where the cutter had acted up to her name, and gone right through the side, completely disabling the barbarian craft.
“Ah, shows the strength of our boats,” said the captain. “Fine canoe, too. Perhaps they’ll come after her, and tow her away to mend her. Takes them too long to make such a canoe as that to give her up easily. Humph! a good sixty feet long. That must have been a fine tree before it was cut down.”
“Was that made out of one tree?”
“Yes; all the bottom part. They cut one down, and hollow it out by burning and chopping, and then they raise the sides, and bows, and stern by pegging and lashing on planks. There, you can see the rattan cane they lash the planks on with. Look how the holes are plugged and filled up with gum. It’s rough, but good, strong work; and it’s wonderful what voyages they make from island to island in a canoe like that.”
“Look!” said Jack excitedly, “there’s one of the sharks rising.”
“Yes,” said the captain coolly. “Give me the little boat-hook, my lad.”
Lenny smiled grimly as he passed the little pole from where it lay.
“Like to have a prod at him?” said the captain.
Jack hesitated a moment, and then said, “Yes.”
The captain nodded approval, but did not hand the boat-hook.
“Better let me,” he said. “You shall have a turn with a lance, first chance. Look, here he comes. Wonderful how these things can move through the water. You can’t see him moving a fin, but he is rising slowly, and when he likes he can dart through like an arrow. One lash with the powerful tail sends the brutes a long way. I believe he is rising now from some management of the air-bladder. Swells himself out and makes himself lighter.”
Jack made no reply, for he was half fascinated, as he gazed down into the water, by the way in which, after passing under the canoe, the shark gradually and almost imperceptibly rose, with its head toward them, the sharply-rounded snout projecting over and completely hiding the savagely-armed jaws.
“Sit fast and don’t move,” said the captain, poising the little boat-hook; “he is sure to lash out, but it will be behind, and can’t touch the boat.”
Only a few moments passed, but expectation made them seem minutes, during which the shark’s head came nearer and nearer, and its shadow cast by the sun was perfectly plain on the sands a few feet below.
Then with all his force the captain drove the pole down; the aim was good, for the next instant there was a tremendous swirl in the water, the long, heterocercal tail, through which the creature’s spine was continued to the end of the upper lobe, rose above the surface, and was brought down with a tremendous blow which raised a shower, and at the same time Captain Bradleigh’s arms were dragged lower and lower, till he loosened his hold, and the pole of the boat-hook disappeared.
“I didn’t mean that, Mr Jack!” he cried, laughing, as the boat danced up and down, and the lad sat waiting to fire if the need arose. “My word, what a tug! Enough to jerk a man’s arms out of the sockets.”
“Will it attack us?” said Jack.
“Not he. Gone to get rid of that thing sticking in his head. No; got rid of it directly. Lucky for him. I dare say if it had stopped there his beloved brothers and sisters would have been at him for a cannibal feast.”
For about twenty yards away the handle of the boat-hook suddenly shot above the surface, and floated, bobbing gently up and down like a huge quill float, the metal on the end weighting it sufficiently to keep it nearly upright.
A touch or two with the oars sent the dinghy within reach, and the boat-hook was recovered, but with its gun-metal head a good deal bent.
“Got a good strong skull,” said the captain, holding the end for Jack to see. “Look under the canoe now.”
Jack glanced over the side, and there was not a shark to be seen as the agitated water grew calm again; but even as he looked, first one and then another shadowy object reappeared, until five had resumed their places, waiting for the dead that might float out of the canoe, but in this case waiting in vain.
“The horrible wretches!” said Jack.
“It’s their nature, sir. They are the scavengers of the sea in their way, just as the crocodiles are of the great rivers.—Row back, Lenny.—There is your father on the deck.”
“And Doctor Instow too,” said Jack.
“Here, I say,” cried the doctor, “play fair. Don’t have all the adventures to yourselves. Been harpooning fish? Ugh!” he continued. “Sharks. I should like a turn at them.”
Over the breakfast the position was discussed.
“Well, you saw, Sir John, we would be obliged to camp out for one, perhaps two nights, if we tried to row inside the reef, and it would be dangerous with the enemy about.”
“And the steam is up, and we could run round outside the reef, and be back here in the evening.”
“Why not try inside?” said the doctor.
“I was thinking of it,” replied the captain. “There is the risk of coming upon shallow water; but if Sir John likes we’ll try. I can have a couple of men sounding.”
“It would be much more interesting than going out to sea,” put in Jack. “It’s so much better than having to be always looking through a glass.”
“Try inside, Bradleigh,” said Sir John.
“It means coals, sir.”
“Never mind that,” said Sir John, who had just drawn a deep breath full of satisfaction to see the intense interest his son was taking in everything now.
“And what about our friends the blacks?” said the doctor.
“Well, sir, we should find out whether they are neighbours or visitors from some other island. I expect the latter,” said the captain, “but I want to know.”
“Wouldn’t there be time to try for the sharks first?” said Jack.
“Oh yes, we could give an hour to that,” said the captain; “for perhaps while we are rounding the island our friends of last night will come and fetch their boat. They are welcome to it, I suppose, Sir John. You don’t want to take it back to England as a specimen?”
“No,” said Sir John, smiling, “let them have it; and I hope we shall see no more of them while we are here.”
There was a little excitement among the men as the cutter was lowered down, and a couple of small harpoons, two lances, and a little tub containing a hundred yards of fine strong line carefully coiled in rings were handed down, along with three rifles.
Jack was looking on deeply interested after going with the doctor and Edward to fetch these and the necessary ammunition from the little museum-like place set apart for them and the magazine. He was so much occupied with the preparations and his eagerness to get back that he did not notice a peculiar cough which was uttered behind him twice.
But when it was delivered again with peculiar emphasis close by, and followed by a touch on the arm, he turned sharply round to find Edward looking at him with a most agonised expression of countenance—so bad did the man seem that Jack was startled.
“Why, Ned,” he cried, “what’s the matter? Here, doctor! doctor!”
“Hush! don’t, sir, pray,” whispered the man. “He couldn’t do me no good. Don’t call him, pray.”
“But you look horrible,” cried Jack.
“So would you look horrible, sir, if you was like me.”
“Then why don’t you speak out and tell me? Are you in pain?”
“Well, yes, sir, it is pain, and yet it ain’t, if you can understand that.”
“Well, Ned, I can’t. Let me fetch Doctor Instow.”
“No, no, sir, please don’t; he’d only laugh at me.”
“He would not be so unfeeling, I’m sure.”
“But he couldn’t do me no good, sir. Please don’t. Nobody but you could do me any good.”
“What nonsense, Ned! Just because I gave you a seidlitz powder once.”
“I don’t mean powders, sir.”
“Then what is the matter?”
“Oh, sir, you’d be just the same if you was like me. Can’t you see?”
“No; only that you look rather yellow.”
“Oh, don’t laugh at a fellow, sir. It does seem so hard. Sharks! and me left behind.”
“That’s it, is it?” cried Jack, laughing.
“Yes, sir; ain’t it bad enough? But I say, sir, it does do a fellow good to see you laugh like that.”
“Absurd! But I meant you to go, Ned.”
“Did you, sir?” cried the man joyfully.
“Of course. My father said the other night that I was to take you with me everywhere I liked, and have you as my regular attendant.”
“Did he, sir?” cried the man joyfully. “Think of that now. Well, I was going to ask him to raise my wages, and now I won’t. I say, Mr Jack, sir, ain’t it a lovely morning?”
“I thought it looked rather cloudy just now, Ned,” said Jack dryly.
“Now, my boy, are you ready?” said Sir John, coming up.
“Yes, father, but you’re not.”
“No, I’m not coming this morning. There’ll be plenty in the boat without me.”
“Oh!” ejaculated the lad, “you go, and I’ll stay behind.”
“Certainly not. You’ll have the doctor with you.”
“And Mr Bartlett,” said the captain, strolling up.
“But you’re coming,” cried Jack. “No; Bartlett’s a better hand at this sort of work than I am. He and Lenny will show you plenty of sport, and help to rid the seas of some of these dangerous brutes. Now then, over with you.”
Ned did not need the order, for he had already stepped over the side with the oarsmen.
“Make anything out, Bartlett?” shouted the captain.
“No,” came from the mast-head. “I’ve swept well round, and there’s nothing in sight.”
“Come down then, and I’ll send up one of the watch.”
The mate came down and joined the party in the boat, which pushed off in the direction of the sunken canoe.
“Stop,” cried Jack before they had gone fifty yards.
“What is it?” cried the doctor. “Captain Bradleigh said that he would have a kind of bait made to attract the sharks.”
“Here it is, Mr Jack, sir,” cried Ned from the bows. “I’m sitting on it.”
Curious to see what it was like, Jack went forward, the men laughingly making way for him to pass as they tugged against rather a swift current, for the tide was setting toward the opening in the reef; and the next minute he was examining a nondescript affair made of two ship’s fenders—the great balls of hempen network used to prevent injury to a vessel’s sides when lying in dock or going up to a wharf or pier. These were placed, one inside an old pea-jacket, the other in a pair of oilskin trousers, and all well lashed together so as to have some semblance to the body of a man.
“But a shark will never be stupid enough to bite at that,” said Jack contemptuously.
“Oh yes, he will, sir,” said the black-bearded sailor, grinning. “The cook’s put a bit of salt pork, beef, and old grease inside. They’ll smell that soon enough.”
It was soon put to the proof, for the boat was steered by the mate well beyond the sunken canoe. The men kept near there by clipping their oars, and then Jack and the doctor were each furnished with a lance, and the mate took the harpoon and attached it to the line in the tub.
“Would either of you gentlemen like to have first try?”
“No, no, I want to learn,” said the doctor. “What do you say, Jack?”
“No, thank you,” said the lad merrily; “I should be harpooning one of the men.”
“Not unlikely,” said the mate, smiling. “Don’t lift your lances till they are wanted, and then handle them carefully. I don’t say though that I shall strike a fish,” he continued, as he rose in his place and stood ready, with one foot on the side. “Now then, Lenny, overboard with the dummy, and make a good splash. Give it plenty of line, and let it sail by the canoe; then bring it back toward me; and you, my lads, try and give me a chance by backing water gently. Ready?”
“Ay, ay, sir.”
“Over she goes then.”
Splash! went the awkward-looking bundle the next moment, and began to float toward the stern of the canoe, beneath which the sharks had lain that morning, but were too far off now to be visible.
“I say, this is exciting, Jack,” cried the doctor, rubbing his hands. “I hope they’ll bite. Pike-fishing’s nothing to it.”
But there was no sign of anything stirring, as the unwieldy bait was allowed to float on between the stern and bow of the canoe; and though Jack watched, holding his breath at times in his excitement, there was not a ripple, and the dummy was dragged back alongside.
“Was it past there you saw them?” said the doctor.
“Yes, past there. Try again, Mr Bartlett.”
“Oh yes, we’ll try till we get one or two,” replied the mate. “Mustn’t go back without something to show.”
The men, who seemed as eager as so many boys, let the bait go again, and once more drew it back without result, then a third time, but were no more fortunate.
“The tide’s fallen since you were here,” said the mate, after a few moments’ thought. “Pull a few yards farther away from the shore, and let it go down to the right of the canoe, where the water’s deeper, and jerk it about like a man swimming—at least as near it as you can,” he added in a low voice to Jack and the doctor.
“Oh dear, I wish I was at that end of the boat,” muttered Ned, as the bundle floated down again from the fresh place, and it had not more than reached the canoe when a thrill ran through Jack, for the calm water was suddenly disturbed as if by something shooting through it.
“Look out!” said the mate sharply; “don’t let him have it—make him follow it up. See him, Mr Jack?”
“No! Yes, I can see that black thing sticking out of the water.”
“Back fin,” said the mate.—“Well done, my lad. Steady.—Make the poor victim swim for his life, Mr Jack, to escape the shark. Capital. Do you see he is following the dummy?”
“Yes, I see,” said Jack in a husky whisper. “Shall I get the lance?”
“No, no, not yet. That’s to kill him when he’s harpooned. This is a good big chap, judging by the size of his fin. Look at it sailing along like a tiny lateen-rigged boat. Oh, he’s coming on splendidly. Smells the meat. That’s it; coax him well up astern, Lenny.”
“Ay, ay, sir.”
And there, as the man hauled upon the line, and the dummy answered to each jerk with a splash, the black triangular back fin of the shark came on behind, cutting the water steadily, till the fish was only about ten feet from where the mate stood in the stern, giving a sharp look to see that the rings of line he had drawn out of the tub would run clear.
“Don’t move, either of you,” he said sternly, as he balanced the harpoon pole in his hand, well above his head.
Jack could hardly keep in his place as he strained his eyes to watch for the shark, and the next minute he saw its white under-part as it turned on one side to make a snap at the dummy, now close astern; but at the same moment the mate darted the keen-bladed harpoon downward with so true an aim that he buried it deeply in the shark’s sleek side. There was a tremendous swirl in the water as the dummy was dragged aboard; the rings of rope curled over the side, and others began to run out of the tub at a rapid rate, while the mate took a big leather glove out of his pocket and put it on.
“This is three times as big as the one that towed us before,” he said quietly; “but we’re better prepared this time.”
“What are you going to do when the line’s all out?” cried Jack excitedly. “Look! it will soon be gone.”
“I’ll show you,” said the mate, and taking hold of a piece of the rope secured to a couple of hooks in the outside of the tub, he cast it loose, hauled a few yards out, and secured the end of the line to a ring-bolt astern. Then, raising his foot, he pressed it on the line where it ran over the boat’s edge, slowly increasing the pressure so as to make his boot act as a brake, with the result that the boat began to follow the shark, at first slowly, then faster, and at last, when the line was all out, quite rapidly, farther and farther from the yacht.
“Not a wise shark this,” said the mate. “He is going against the tide. Make it all the better, though, for us. Does not disturb the water where the rest are.”
The shark took them for some distance, but at last began to show signs of being tired, and then made a curve round toward the sands, but, finding the water too shallow, made a tremendous leap right out, and came down with a heavy splash, to begin swimming back nearly over the same ground. “Cannot be better, eh?” said the doctor. “It’s splendid!” cried Jack.
“Haul upon him now, my lads,” said the mate. “Take the tub forward.”
This was done, the tub placed right in the bows, and as two men hauled, another laid the line back in rings, till, about a couple of hundred yards above the sunken canoe, the motion in the water, and the occasional appearance of the harpoon pole and shark’s back fin, showed that the end was getting near.
“Now, gentlemen, it’s your turn,” said the mate. “I’ll get out of your way. Hold your lances ready; wait till you get a good chance, and then thrust hard just behind the head. Into the white if you can.”
“Strikes me it only takes one to kill a shark,” said the doctor quietly. “Your lance there, Jack.”
“No, no, doctor—you,” cried Jack excitedly.
“Don’t lose the chance, Mr Jack. Be ready, sir. Haul, my lads. Put your foot on the thwart, sir. Now then! Let him have it.”
Jack stood there flushing with excitement, and with his eyes dilated, following out his instructor’s orders to the letter, till, startled at the aspect of the monster being brought close up astern, he was ready to shrink from his task.
But he did not. As the mate spoke he thrust the lance down with excellent aim, feeling the keen blade pierce into the great fish’s side, and then seeming to dart out again.
“Give it him once more. Well done, sir. Bravo! Now another.”
Jack, in his excitement, thrust twice to the mate’s orders, and each time the dangerous brute made a feeble rush, but the harpoon held firm, and the last thrusts were fatal. The water was dyed with blood, and the shark turned up, showing all white in the ruddy surface; its tail quivered a little, and its career was over.
A cheer, headed by Edward, rang out, and the beast was examined before being cast loose, a clever cut or two from Lenny’s knife setting the harpoon at liberty.
Then, as the dead fish floated away, a good ten feet in length, the tub was replaced astern, and the dummy brought into requisition for a repetition of the novel fishing.
“My turn now,” said the doctor.
“To harpoon?” said the mate.
“No, no, you do that; I’ll lance. And I flatter myself that if I have as good a chance as Jack here, I can perform that feat more artistically, and kill the monster at the first stroke.”
“Let’s see,” said Jack, laughing.
The opportunity soon came, for the blood in the water seemed to have excited the other sharks, one of which, on the same tactics being carried out, soon became fast on to the line; the harpoon held, and after it had towed them about a bit it was brought alongside.
“Now’s your time, sir,” cried the mate, and the doctor delivered a quick thrust, and, to Jack’s great delight, missed entirely.
“Well, that’s curious,” said the doctor; “I thought I had him.”
“Try again, sir.”
“Will you let me take my time, Bartlett,” said the doctor tetchily. “I want to strike in a particular place.”
The mate remained silent, watching; while, after letting two or three chances go by, the doctor struck again and wounded the shark, but with a stroke that seemed to infuse vitality instead of destroying it.
“Lesson, Jack, my lad,” he said, rubbing his ear. “Doesn’t do to be cock-sure about anything. Never mind, third time never fails. Here, you tell me when, Bartlett.”
“Very well,” said the mate; and as the shark was drawn close up, lashing about a good deal, he cried, “Now!”
The doctor thrust, and his stroke was this time so true that the creature gave a few sharp struggles and turned up dead.
“There, Jack,” cried the doctor, “what do you say to that?”
Two more were killed in the course of the next hour, and then one of the men drew the mate’s attention to different objects out toward the opening in the reef, and in turn the mate pointed them out to the doctor and Jack.
“I can count at least ten,” he said.
“What! sharks?”
“Well, their back fins, and they’re all heading up this way. Why, they must swarm on the outside of the reef. We might go on killing them all day.”
“We didn’t see any hardly before,” said Jack.
“Seems as if the more we kill, the more they come to the funeral,” cried the doctor.
“Oh, the reason is plain enough,” said the mate; “they scent the blood, which is carried out by the tide, and the more we kill, the more will come.”
“Signal from the yacht, sir,” said Lenny, pointing to a little flag being run up.
“All right. Give way, my lads.”
The boat’s head was turned, and they were rowed rapidly back, this ending the sharking.
“Strikes me the captain sights the blacks again,” said the mate, and in a few minutes they were alongside.