Chapter Twenty Four.
A circumnavigation.
But no canoes were in sight, for Sir John cried directly—
“Come, I thought you had had long enough for one day. Up with you, we are anxious to be off. Captain Bradleigh says we’re wasting steam.”
“Beg pardon, coals,” said the captain, smiling; and giving his orders, the cutter was hoisted up, the screw began to revolve slowly, and with an easy motion the yacht glided on past the opening in the reef, and then to follow the course taken by the boats.
Two men were placed forward with leads to keep on sounding, but in a short time it was found that the deep water could easily be traced by its darker colour, and the mate ascended to the foremast-head to con the ship, the navigation proving in such perfectly smooth water free from all danger, so that a fair rate of speed was kept up.
The trip was glorious, and as the various points and indentations noted on the previous day were passed, they seemed to display fresh beauties, and Jack, full of animation, kept on calling his father’s or the doctor’s attention to the manifold points of interest.
“Oh!” he cried at last, “if people only knew what they would see if they travelled they would never care to stay at home.”
“Yes,” said Sir John dryly, “if they only knew.”
They reached the beautiful glen at last, where the two springs—hot and cold—sent their waters into the shadowed pool, Jack being now forward with Edward, who, as an excuse for being well to the front in anything fresh which might arise, made a point of keeping close behind his young master with the glass, which he handed to him from time to time.
Now it was to sweep the sea beyond the glittering, misty edge of the reef, where a rainbow showed brilliantly from time to time; now to look up through a deep gash at the summit of the great volcano, which curved upward till its crater was lost in a cloud of vapour. Every now and then too a flock of birds had to be watched in some huge tree a little way back from the sands.
And still the yacht glided on in perfect safety hour after hour, with the reef nearer or more distant, but always affording an ample space of deep pellucid water full of the wonders of the tropics, and calling for a brief inspection.
“Here, look, sir,” cried Ned suddenly, as they were passing a lovely park-like stretch which ran high up amongst the dense forest growth. “Catch hold, sir. It’s just your focus.”
“Pigs,” said Jack contemptuously, “half-a-dozen.”
“I never saw pigs like them, sir. Why, hark at ’em. They’re barking.”
“Well, pigs make a short, sharp, barking noise sometimes,” said the doctor, whose attention had been taken by the man’s words. “No, they’re not pigs, Jack,” he said, as he brought his glass to bear well upon the little cluster of animals running here and there among the trees, and ending by darting down upon the sands to stare at the yacht. “Dogs, by all that’s wonderful. Here, Meadows, Bradleigh, what do you make of these?”
“Mongrel wild dogs,” said the captain, after a glance; “descendants of some that have been left by a passing ship.”
“Why, we may find cows, sheep, and goats yet,” said the doctor.
“Very likely goats,” replied the captain, “but I doubt whether we shall find the others.”
Every mile they passed spread fresh beauties before them, the rugged nature of the mountain scenery precluding all sameness; and early in the afternoon, when, by the captain’s calculation, they had arrived nearly at the opposite point to where they had lain at anchor, Jack had come to the conclusion that they need go no farther on their voyage, for they had hit upon the loveliest place in the world, where they ought to stay for good.
He said something of the kind to Sir John.
“And what about studies, books, and the realities of civilised life?” said his father.
“I feel now as if I don’t care for them a bit,” replied the lad dreamily. “I should like to stop here and do nothing.”
“Do you mean that?”
“Well, not exactly nothing,” replied the lad, “for I should want to shoot and fish and collect all the birds, insects, flowers, and shells.”
“In other words, lead a very active life, my boy. But you would weary of it in time and want a change. Better do as we are doing now, visit an island like this and return home.”
“Yes, that is perhaps the best, father; and of course there are the troubles here—the dangerous reptiles and poisonous insects.”
“And the blacks,” said the doctor, who had been leaning over the rail with his glass to his eyes, but had heard every word.
“Yes,” said Jack with a shudder, “there are the blacks.”
“I should like to know whether they are cannibals,” continued the doctor. “The worst of it is, if we killed one we should be no wiser. You see, you couldn’t tell whether he was carnivorous or herbivorous by his teeth.—Well, captain, no signs of any inhabitants.”
“Not a bit; and we’re quite half-way round. No signs either of another opening in the reef. Fine island to annex, Sir John. It’s a regular fortification, a natural stronghold with an impregnable wall round it, and a full mile-wide moat inside. A fort at the point commanding the entrance would be sufficient.”
“But we do not want it,” said Sir John.
“No, sir, it’s on the road to nowhere.”
The captain went aloft, glass in hand, to have a good look ahead, and descended pretty well convinced that there would be nothing to hinder their progress round the island, the water of the lagoon being very calm, and deeper than on the other side of the island.
The gentlemen lunched and the men dined, and the afternoon was spent in gazing at the wonders of sea and shore. Shoals of silvery and golden fish, startled by the vessel, leaped out of the water and darted in all directions; a shark showed its back fin now and then, and twice over droves of pigs started up out of the hot sand to make for cover. But still there was no sign of inhabitant or opening in the reef, while scores of tempting places were passed, all inviting to a naturalist, and above all to Jack; vistas among the trees took his attention, and valleys rising upward toward the higher parts of the mountain.
Upon one of these occasions, when he was sitting back in a deck-chair, sweeping the side of the mountain with his glass, the doctor came up behind him.
“Looking at the mountain?” he said.
“Yes; couldn’t we get up there?”
“I vote we try,” said the doctor. “Will you come?”
“Yes,” cried Jack eagerly; “but we couldn’t land and start now.”
“Hardly,” said the doctor, laughing. “We should have to start at daybreak.”
“What, to get up a little way like that?”
“Yes, to get up that little way,” said the doctor, with a queer twinkle of the eye. “Well, we don’t seem to see anything likely to hinder our landing to-morrow and having a good time at collecting. We must soon get round to our starting-place. Let’s ask the captain how far we have come.”
“Roughly speaking, nearly fifty knots,” said the captain. “It’s getting well on toward six bells now, and we’ve been coming at a fair speed, and are going a bit faster. I want to reach the anchorage before dark.”
At one time this seemed to be doubtful, but just as the captain announced his intention of dropping anchor for the night, Mr Bartlett hailed him from above.
“I can just see the opening in the reef over that low strip of sand.”
“How far off?”
“About a mile,” was the reply; and the speed being increased, they picked up the buoy they had left in the morning just as it was beginning to grow dark, having completely circumnavigated the island.
“I say, Mr Bartlett,” cried Jack suddenly, as the mate approached him, and he pointed toward the shore. “Wasn’t it just there that we killed the sharks?”
“Yes; just there. Can you see any back fins?”
“No; but where’s the wrecked canoe?”
The mate clapped his glass to his eye, and swept the shore for some minutes.
“Could it have been carried out to sea?” said Jack excitedly.
“No; hardly possible.”
“Then has it sunk?”
“No; it could not sink.”
“Then what does it mean? We left it there.”
“It means that the blacks have been and fetched it while we were away,” said the mate, drawing a deep breath. “Just as Captain Bradleigh prophesied.”
“What’s that?” said the captain sharply.
“I don’t think there is any question about it. She might have drifted a little way, but that is doubtful, for one end was well aground. We must have had visitors while we were away. I thought they would not give up that canoe without a struggle.”
“Yes,” said the captain, “they must have been. That canoe was too valuable to be lost. I said so.”
“Then they may come again at any moment?” said Sir John.
“Yes, sir,” replied the captain; “and they must find us well prepared.”
“Mr Jack, sir,” whispered Ned at the first chance, “we’re going to have some fighting after all.”
Chapter Twenty Five.
“A was an archer, who shot—”
No more was seen of the blacks, while a fortnight passed; and encouraged by the utter solitude of the place, the well-armed parties which left the yacht made longer and longer excursions, coming home with an abundance of specimens to preserve. The sailors took to the task with the greatest of gusto, and evidently thoroughly enjoyed the hunt for rare birds and butterflies, of which there proved to be an abundance. One day Jack would be helping his father collect the wonderfully painted insects which hovered or darted about in the sunny glades or in the moist shady openings over the streams, where they hung over the lovely blossoms of the orchids. At another time the doctor would claim his attention, and shouldering one gun, while Edward carried another and the cartridges, long tramps were taken over the mountain slopes and at the edge of the forest, to penetrate which, save in rare places, was impossible. Their sport was plentiful enough, for the birds were fresh to the gun, and when startled their flight was short, and they alighted again within reach. They were all new to the boy, who seemed never weary of examining the lovely plumage of the prizes, which one or other of the sailors carried afterwards, slung by their beaks from a stick, so that the feathers should not be damaged. Now it was a green paroquet, with long slender tail and head of the most delicate peach-colour or of a brilliant orange yellow. At another time, after a careful stalk, one or other of the pittas, the exquisitely-coloured ground thrushes, in their uniforms of pale fawn and blue, turquoise, sapphire, and amethyst. And perhaps the next shot would be at one of the soft feathery trogons, cuckoo-like birds in their habits, but instead of being pale slate-coloured, barred and flecked like a sparrowhawk, Jack’s specimens would display a breast of the purest carmine, and a back glistening with metallic green. Something like cuckoos, Ned declared them to be, but not in aspect.
One morning, after several times hearing their calls in a clump of gigantic trees up one of the volcanic ravines, the doctor called the lad to be his companion to try and stalk what he believed to be birds of paradise; but they had evidently chosen the wrong time, for to their disappointment not a sound was heard, and they would have gone back to the yacht empty-handed if it had not been for Ned’s sharp eyes.
“There they are!” he whispered, pointing across the ravine to where another little forest of tall trees feathered the steep sides of the slope.
“What are?” said Jack excitedly.
“The birds you are looking for, sir. Saw about a dozen, big as pheasants, fly across and settle there.”
He pointed with the gun he carried to one tree which towered above the rest.
“They went down under there, sir. I could lead you straight to the place.”
Jack took out his small glass, and after gazing through it attentively he suddenly said—
“I saw a big bird fly down. Yes, and another.”
“They can’t be those we want,” said the doctor, “but they may be good specimens of something. What do you say, Jack, will you go down and across?”
“Oh yes,” he replied.
“It’s very steep, and will mean lowering ourselves cautiously.”
“I don’t mind,” said the lad. “If it’s very bad they will help me.”
“Oh yes, sir, we’ll help,” said Lenny, turning to his companions; “won’t us, lads?”
There was a chorus of “Ay, ays,” and the steep descent from the great grove commenced, it being necessary to get to the bottom of what became low down a precipitous gully, along which one of the springs which had its source high up in the mountain dashed along. This had to be crossed, and then there was a similar climb on the other side.
The start was made, and proved difficult enough, for where the trees were not close and their roots interlaced, there were openings where masses of volcanic rock were tumbled-together in inextricable confusion, and the way over them was made more difficult by the bushy, shrubby growth and creepers which bound them together.
But the sailors were activity itself, and they slashed and trampled down and hauled and lowered till the whole party found themselves upon a broad stony shelf at the very edge of a sharply-cut rift, whose sides showed that it must have been split from the opposite side by some convulsion of Nature, so exactly was the shape repeated.
At the bottom of this crack—for it could be called little else—the water of the stream rushed foaming along some thirty feet beneath, the whole place looking black and forbidding enough to make any one hesitate before attempting to cross, though the distance to the other ledge was not above five feet, a trifling jump under ordinary circumstances. But here, with the deep black rift and the foaming water beneath, it looked startling to a lad accustomed to a quiet home life. He, however, put a bold face on the matter and stood looking on.
Jack was, however, conscious of the fact that the doctor was watching him in a side-long way, as if expecting to hear him make some objections. As, however, the boy was silent, the doctor spoke.
“Rather an ugly jump, Jack,” he said. “Think you can manage it?”
“Oh, I think so. I shall try.”
“Try? It must not be a try. It has to be done.”
“Yes, I can do it,” said the lad confidently.
“Oh yes, you can do that, Mr Jack,” said Ned in a whisper, as the doctor turned off to speak to Lenny; “think it’s only a ditch a foot deep.”
The boy could not think that with the water roaring beneath him far below, and he could not help glancing back up the steep slope they had descended. This looked so forbidding and meant so much toilsome work, that he felt as if he would rather do the leap, though all the same there was the climb on the other side. Still there was an attraction there in the shape of the strange birds, which he was as eager to secure as the doctor.
“Who’ll go first?” said the doctor. “Here, I will.”
He handed his gun and satchel to Ned, walked a little way to select the broadest and clearest path, which happened to be a couple of feet higher than the opposite side, stepped back as far as he could, took a short run, and landed easily a couple of feet clear.
“There: nothing,” he cried, “but I shouldn’t like to try it back. Throw my satchel over, Ned.”
This was done and deftly caught. Then the gun was carefully pitched across, the others followed, and the specimens shot that morning.
Then one by one the sailors leaped over, and Jack and Ned remained.
“Will you go next, Ned?”
“Me, sir, and leave you behind? ’Tisn’t likely. Don’t think about it, sir. It’s easy enough. Off you go. The thinking’s worse than the doing.”
To an ordinary school-boy it would have been nothing. His legs, hardened by exercise, would have sent him across like a deer, but Jack’s muscles only a short time before were flaccid and weak in the extreme. Still the voyage had done something; the strong will growing up within him did more, and without a moment’s hesitation, feeling as if his reputation was at stake, he went sharply to the starting-point, took the short run, and leaped, but too hurriedly. If he had gone quietly to work it would have been different; as it was, he cleared the gulf and landed on the other side, but without throwing himself forward sufficiently to recover himself, and Ned uttered a cry of horror as he saw the lad apparently about to totter backward into the depths below.
Lenny saved him by a curiously awkward-looking act. He had been on the look-out on one side, the doctor on the other, to give the lad a hand as he landed, but instead of a hand he gave him an arm, delivering a sharp blow on the back, and driving him into safety just as he was hopelessly losing his balance, and the men gave a cheer.
“Thank you, Lenny,” gasped the boy breathlessly, as he saved himself from falling forward by catching at the nearest sailor; “but don’t hit quite so hard next time; it hurts.”
A roar of laughter followed this, and the doctor took off his pith helmet to wipe his forehead.
“That’s a nice sort of an example to set a fellow,” muttered Ned as he stood on the other side, rather unnerved by what he had seen. “Makes a poor man feel as if he would rather be at home cleaning the plate.”
Then in a fit of determination he flung up his arms, and in regular boyish fashion shouted—
“Clear the way, there. Here comes my ship full sail.”
He cleared the gulf with a good foot to spare, and felt triumphant.
Each took his gun or rifle directly without a word of allusion to Jack’s narrow escape, and with the doctor leading the way they began to climb the steep ascent in silence.
“I hope that fellow’s shouting has not scared our birds,” said the doctor after a time. “Quiet as you can, below there.”
“They were so far off I don’t think the birds could have heard him,” replied Jack. “Perhaps the noise would not have gone out of the gully.”
“Perhaps not,” said the doctor. Then laconically: “Hurt?”
“Oh, not much,” said Jack, smiling. “He did hit me a good bang though.”
“Never mind, my lad; I like to see you bear it stoically. Shows me you’re recovering tone. Phew! this is warm work. How much more of it is there?”
“Not half-way up yet,” panted Jack.
“Take it coolly, men, or our hands will be all of a tremble, so that we can’t shoot straight.”
There was no need to advise an impossibility, for no one could have taken it coolly. The blocks of stone, the tangled creepers, and higher up the dense undergrowth, made it a slow, laborious task; but at last the huge trees of the upper slope were reached, and the work promised to be lighter.
The doctor made a sign, and they both sat down to rest for a few minutes, the men who came on smilingly following suit; but all at once a peculiarly hoarse cooing sound arose from not far away among the trees, and all the fatigue passed away as if by magic.
“Pigeons!” whispered the doctor excitedly. “Hark! more of them! They must be the big fruit birds, Jack, and we must have a pair or two of these. When you’re ready we’ll go on.”
“I’m ready,” whispered Jack.
“Then we’ll go abreast. Don’t you study me. Keep your eyes open, and the first moment you have a good chance you fire. Get one with each barrel if you can.”
Jack nodded, and directly after they advanced among the trees, with Ned about a couple of yards behind, carrying a second gun for whichever needed it.
These were exciting moments, more exciting than they knew of, as they crept forward among the huge trunks, and gazing upward among the branches, expecting moment by moment to catch sight of the flock of great fruit-pigeons, whose cooing kept stopping and commencing again.
It had sounded to be so close that they felt puzzled, and wondered whether they had passed them, for the doctor argued that if they had taken fright the rustle of their wings would have been heard among the branches.
All at once Jack, who walked on the doctor’s left, held his gun in his left hand only, and made a sign with his right.
His companion crept close to him, and the next moment a flock of enormous pigeons, which had been feeding on the fallen nuts of one of the biggest trees, rose with a tremendous rushing of wings, and four barrels were fired into them, with the result that three birds fell.
“Our dinner, Jack, and the men’s too,” cried the doctor; and the boy felt a chill of horror run through him, as from close behind there was a wild cry from Ned, followed by a shouting amongst the men a dozen yards below. Then shot—shot—shot followed one another quickly, and Lenny cried—
“Down, gentlemen, down!”
The doctor dropped instinctively, and began to creep to Ned, who had fallen heavily, when he heard Lenny cry—
“Down, Mr Jack—down!” and he saw the lad standing motionless, staring with horror at the ground.
The next instant something whizzed by his ear and struck quivering in the tree-trunk behind. Then he dropped into shelter, and began rapidly to reload.
“Fall back on us, my lads,” said the doctor sharply, “and don’t fire unless you have a good chance. Keep well under cover.”
“The blacks?” panted Jack.
The doctor nodded. “Is Ned—hurt much?”
“Can’t tell yet, my lad. How are you, Ned—much hurt?”
“Oh, it hurts, sir, horrid,” said the man faintly; “but I shouldn’t mind that. It’s feeling so sea-sick and swimming I mind. Let’s go back to the yacht.”
“Yes, of course; but you can’t walk.”
“But I will walk, sir; must walk. ’Tain’t my leg, it’s my arm,” cried the man, who was sick with agony, but full of spirit. “Who’s going to carry a fellow in a place like this?”
“Much hurt, mate?” said Lenny, who now crept to them on all fours.
“What’s the good o’ asking stupid questions, old ’un?” cried Ned petulantly. “Course I’m much hurt. Can’t you see it’s gone right into my arm? Why look at this—gone right through. Going to cut the arrow-head out, sir?”
“No,” replied the doctor sharply. “Kneel, and be a man. I won’t hurt you more than I can help.”
“All right, sir. No use hollering,” cried Ned cheerily.
“Look out there!” cried one of the sailors from below. “They’re going to rush us!”
“Never mind me, sir,” said Ned, letting himself sink back. “You three has to fight. Nasty cowardly beggars—shooting a man behind his back! Let ’em have it, I say.”
He had hardly spoken when the men below fired a little volley across the gully, and then there was a cheer.
“That’s scut ’em to the right-about, sir. We’ve dropped two,” cried one of the men, and they crept back under the dense cover to where Ned lay.
The doctor had seized his gun, but he laid it down again, and took out a keen-bladed knife.
“Thought you wasn’t going to cut out the head, sir?” said Ned faintly.
“I am not,” replied the doctor.
“Oh, don’t you mind me, sir. I tell you I won’t shout. You do what’s right. I know it must come out; but I’d take it kindly, Mr Jack, sir, if you’d lay hold of my hand. Cheer a fellow up a bit. Go on, doctor; I’m game.”
“That you are, my lad,” said the doctor, and kneeling behind the sufferer he took hold of the long arrow, which had completely transfixed the fleshy part of the arm, and snapped it sharply in two on the side where it had entered, then in an instant he had drawn the head portion right out of the wound in the same way in which it was driven.
“That’s the way, sir. Don’t you be afraid to cut,” said Ned sturdily, but with his eyes shut. “I’ll bear it; but I didn’t know you’d got a red-hot poker up here to dress the wound with.—What! have you got it out?”
“Yes. Take hold of these pieces, Lenny.”
“Well, you have been quick, sir. My word, it was a stinger—just like as if twenty thousand wasps was at you. Eh! going to bind it up?”
“Yes, only lightly. It will be all the better for bleeding a bit. Now then! We must retreat as fast as we can. Can you get up, Ned?”
“Can I get up, sir! I should just think I can! I’m not going to make a regular how-de-do because I’ve got a prick from a bit of wood.”
“Are the enemy coming on, men?” said the doctor sharply.
“Can’t see any more of ’em, sir,” sail one of the sailors. “I think that volley scared ’em a bit.”
“Here, take my arm, Ned. Jack, you come next. Come on, my lads.”
“All right, sir, we will,” cried Lenny.
“Who has Ned’s gun?” said Jack. “That must not be left behind.”
“I’ve got it, sir; he’s loaded too,” said one of the sailors.
“Forward then,” cried the doctor.
“I can get on without your arm, sir,” grumbled Ned now sturdily. “No, I can’t. Things turn round a bit somehow. Thank you, sir. I shall be better directly.”
At that moment there was a heavy concussion, and a rolling echo which went reverberating up the gully toward the mountain top.
“One of the big guns,” said Lenny. “That means a signal to come back.”
“Then the black fellows are in sight there,” cried Jack excitedly. “Come on.”
The start was made, with Ned making a brave effort to keep his legs, and succeeding fairly well as they struggled on through the tangled growth, Jack springing to the front, hunting-knife in hand, to slash away at creepers and pendent vines which came in their way. But every now and then the poor fellow stopped short.
“Bit touched in the wind, gentlemen,” he said cheerily. “Go on again directly. If there is a chance to get a mouthful of water I should like it. If there ain’t, never mind.—Off we goes.”
The doctor said nothing, but supported him all he could, and they started again, with Jack leading and the sailors forming their rear-guard, retiring in regular military fashion, dividing themselves in twos, one couple halting face to the enemy till the rest had gone on a hundred yards and halted, and then trotting or rather forcing their way along the track, to pass their companions and halt again.
Moment by moment an attack was expected, but it was not made, though from time to time those in the rear caught sight of a black face peering round the trunk of a tree, showing that they were followed.
At last as they descended they came to a spot where the stream in the ravine could be reached, and the wounded man drank of the cool clear water with feverish avidity, while the doctor frowned as Jack looked at him with questioning eyes.
“Does take the conceit out of you, Mr Jack,” said Ned, as they continued their retreat. “I did think I was a better-plucked one than this. Talk about a weak ’un; I’m downright ashamed of myself.”
“Don’t talk so much, my man,” said the doctor. “Keep your breath for the exertion.”
“Cert’nly, sir. That’s right,” said the man in quick, excited tones. “Won’t say another word, only this. I should like to have just one pop at the chap who shot me, and hit him in the same place. I’m ashamed to see you working so hard, Mr Jack, sir. How far is it down to the boat?”
“About a mile, Ned; but pray do as Doctor Instow says—keep quiet.”
“Right, sir, I will,” replied the man, setting his teeth hard, his drawn face showing the agony he was in; and they went on descending, to be startled by another heavy detonation.
“Another signal,” said the doctor; but the words were hardly out of his lips when there was a fresh report running up the gully, and being multiplied in echoes which gradually died away.
“Those are not signals, Jack,” said the doctor quietly. “It means an attack upon the yacht by the canoes.”
“Oh! and we not there,” cried the lad excitedly.
“Well, the more lucky for us, eh?”
“Doctor Instow!” cried Jack indignantly; “when these men are wanted to help defend the vessel. Pray, pray try and walk faster, Ned.”
“Trying my best, sir, but I’m very shaky. Legs must be a regular pair of cowards, sir, for they won’t hurry a bit. Ah!”
The poor fellow reeled and would have fallen but for the doctor’s strong arm supporting him and letting him gently down.
Just then the regular short, sharp report of rifles reached their ears from below, announcing that there was no mistake about an attack being made upon their friends, and the anxiety of Jack and the doctor was increased as they trembled for the fate of the two men left as keepers of the boat in which they had come ashore.
“I hope they have escaped back to the yacht,” said the doctor.
“They wouldn’t do that,” cried Jack indignantly. “But what is to be done? Can’t we make a sort of stretcher with two of the guns?”
“No,” said the doctor, “it would take time; and the wood is too thick. I’ll carry him for a few hundred yards.”
“Let me have first go, sir,” cried Lenny. “You’re tired. I’ll take him. Help me get him on my back, so as not to hurt his arm.”
This was done, poor Ned remaining quite insensible; and once more they began to descend through the solemn aisles of the forest, with the sunshine coming through the leaves in showers of rays, while the firing away below them kept rolling up to where they were.
After a time Lenny was relieved, and dropped into the rear-guard, and this evolution was performed again and again, Jack still leading the way, and hacking through some growing rope from time to time.
“Soon do it now, sir,” said the man who was carrying. “Keep a good heart, sir. That’s the best o’ being mates. Chap goes down, and t’others ’ll always carry him. Hullo! what, a’ready?” he continued, as one of his companions came to relieve him. “I’ve only just begun.”
“Don’t be greedy, matey,” said the new-comer with a grin. “You allus was such a chap for wanting to have more ’n your share. Gently, let me get under the poor chap here without hauling him about so. That’s your sort. Warm work, mate?”
“Tidy,” said the man relieved with a grin. “Warmer where there’s none.”
On they went again with the relieved man taking his place ready for the defence if called upon, and the fresh bearer toiling on as if there was nothing to mind.
“Mustn’t whistle, I suppose, Mr Jack?”
There was a shake of the head.
“S’pose not. Like letting the beggars know where we are. My word, how things seem to grow here. Take some muscle to cut a good road. Say, sir; think poor Ned here’s much hurt?”
“Hurt a good deal, of course, but it can’t be a dangerous wound.”
“I dunno,” said the man thoughtfully, after a few minutes’ silence. “Is he onsensible like, sir?”
“Yes, quite,” said Jack, after a look at Ned’s face.
“Can’t hear what I say then, sir? I’m a bit afeard for him.”
“Why?”
“Chap wouldn’t go like this after a hole being made in his arm. I had a bayonet through mine once, but it didn’t turn me this way. Felt a bit sick at first, but it made me feel hot and savage after.”
“What do you mean?” said Jack, baring his head for a moment.
“Arrows, sir; poison.”
“Ah!” ejaculated Jack in horror. “Then that’s what made Doctor Instow look so serious.”
“That’s it, sir. But don’t you say anything. I dare say as soon as we get aboard the doctor ’ll put some of his acquy miracolus on it, and set it right again. My word, they’re having a good round with the niggers. I do wish we were aboard in the fun. I don’t like this running away.”
The bottom of the forest slope at last, and now an open park-like stretch lay between them and the patch of jungle which ran down to where they had left the boat. But upon this being neared they could see no sign of her.
Jack put a whistle to his lips and blew shrilly, but there was no sign still, and his heart sank as they hurried on across the open part toward the cover; and none too soon, for the party of blacks which had been following them from where the first attack was made suddenly appeared at the edge of the forest they had just left, and arrow after arrow came whizzing by to stick in the shrubs and dense grass around.
“Don’t stop to fire till we are in cover,” cried the doctor, and they kept on till they were once more hidden by the low jungle scrub, when at the doctor’s order four shots were fired amongst the trees from whence the arrows kept coming.
These had their effect, and the missiles ceased falling, but a dark figure appeared from time to time, and it was evident that the enemy were running from cover to cover, so as to try and cut them off from the shore.
Just, however, as this danger was growing imminent, there was a loud hail from the part of the lagoon hidden from them by the low scrub. “Here they are, sir,” cried Lenny. “Then now for it, my lads; a sharp run to the boat. Here, take my gun, some one. I’ll carry him now.”
“He’s all right, sir,” cried the man upon whose back Ned still hung, and the bearer rose from his knees. “Some one take care as they don’t spear me, and I’ll soon have him in the boat.”
“Lead on, Jack,” cried the doctor.
“All here?” said Jack.
“Yes. Forward.”
The distance was short now, and in a few minutes they had put the low growth between them and their enemies, and were running toward where the boat, with its two keepers, was being backed on to the sand.
“Hooray!” panted Ned’s bearer, as he waded in and let the poor fellow glide over the gunwale of the boat, following directly after.
The others, as soon as Jack and the doctor were aboard, dropped their rifles in, ran the boat out till they were waist deep, and then gave a final thrust and slipped over, to seize their rifles again and squat down ready to fire.
They were none too soon, for a party of about a dozen blacks, armed with spears and bows and arrows, came into sight, and began to shoot.
“Give them a volley,” said the doctor sternly. “Six of us. We can’t be merciful now.”
The pieces were rested upon the sides of the boat, and the sharp rattle of gun and rifle followed, Jack and the doctor firing both barrels of their fowling-pieces, loaded with largish shot.
The effect was instantaneous. As the cloud of smoke rose, they could see that two of the blacks were down, and several running wildly about as if in terrible pain. Then the two fallen men were seized by the wrists and dragged under cover, from which arrow after arrow was discharged—fortunately without effect—till the vigorous strokes of the oars took them beyond their reach, and toward where a dense cloud of smoke hung over the lagoon, drifting slowly toward them in the soft sea-breeze, and completely hiding the yacht.
Chapter Twenty Six.
A poisoned arrow.
“Better run out toward the reef and approach from that side,” said the doctor, after considering for a few moments the difficulties of their position.
For they were literally in the dark, and did not know but what they might be running into danger—that from the canoes which must be attacking the crew, or that of getting into their friends’ line of fire.
As the doctor kept a sharp look-out, he helped to lay the wounded man in a more easy position, and bathed his head and face with the comparatively cool water; but the poor fellow showed no sign of revival, and Jack’s face grew more anxious, the doctor’s graver and more stern.
At the end of a few minutes they had passed out of the smoke cloud, which was still increasing from the firing going on and the fumes rolling out of the funnel, and they could now grasp the position of affairs.
The steamer still lay at anchor, and she was engaging half-a-dozen long canoes, whose occupants were raining arrows upon the deck, and every now and then, with terrible temerity, they were paddled rapidly near enough to hurl their spears at any one they could see.
“Well, we must risk it, and get on board somehow,” said the doctor. “Give way, my lads, and pull for your lives. I’ll steer as well under cover as I can. Jack, lad, keep on bathing the poor fellow’s face.”
The men began pulling with all their might, and the nearer they drew to the yacht, naturally the better cover they secured, though, as Jack sat dipping his handkerchief in the sea from time to time, and laying it upon Ned’s burning head, he wondered that one or other of the canoes did not come round to meet them and cut them off.
Probably they were too much occupied by their own troubles, for, stung at last by the vicious attack into fierce reprisals, the yacht was giving the savages ample proof of her power.
“Don’t fire at them with rifles,” Sir John had said, “it is only slaughtering the poor ignorant wretches. Give them some good sharp lesson that shall teach them to respect an English vessel come upon a peaceful mission.”
“There is only one, sir,” said the captain quietly. “Sink two or three of the canoes with round-shot.”
“You feel that it is absolutely necessary?” asked Sir John.
“So necessary, that if we do not do that they will for certain board us, and as they are about fifty to one, we shall not be here to-morrow to tell the tale.”
Sir John hesitated no longer, and just as the boat was racing for the yacht, the firing had begun, the former shots having been with blank cartridge, in the vain hope of scaring the enemy away.
The boat was now sighted from the yacht’s deck, and a faint cheer reached Jack’s ears as they sped over the water. But while they were still some three hundred yards from the gangway, one of the great canoes suddenly started away from the others, and with the paddles making the water flash and foam, came round the yacht’s bows and made a dash for the solitary little boat to cut her off.
“Cease rowing,” cried the doctor; but every piece was already charged, and giving the order now for the rifles to be laid ready to seize at a moment’s notice, they began pulling now for the yacht’s bows.
“If they don’t give us some help soon from the yacht, Jack,” said the doctor rather despondently, “it will go rather badly with us.”
“Oh, don’t say that,” cried the boy, whose face was flushed with excitement.
“I am compelled to, my lad. If anything happens to me, keep the men rowing for the yacht. They must send help soon.”
“I don’t see them lowering down a boat,” replied Jack. “Oughtn’t we to fire?”
“I’m afraid that it would be no good. But we must not let them master us without striking a blow to save our lives.”
“Striking a blow to save our lives,” thought Jack, as he glanced round him and saw their helpless position, for to have tried to escape by rowing, if they were cut off from the yacht, seemed to be folly.
But, as is often the case when things look blackest, a ray of light suddenly gleamed out. There had been no signs of help from the yacht, but all the same those on board had not been neglectful, and as soon as the danger the returning boat ran was seen, Sir John and the captain prepared the needed help.
All at once there was a white puff of smoke seen to dart from the yacht’s bows. The water close to the middle of the great canoe was sent flying, and as the roar of a gun echoed from the mountain side, the canoe was seen to be cut right in two, and slowly settling down, with half her men in the water.
“That was a charge of grape-shot, I know,” growled Lenny. “Round-shot wouldn’t ha’ done it.”
“Hah!” ejaculated the doctor. “Pull, my lads, as you’ve never pulled before.”
The crew gave a cheer, and the cutter almost leaped to their vigorous strokes, every man being now at the oars.
A minute or two later they were alongside, having nothing to fear from the half-sunken canoe, whose occupants were struggling to keep themselves afloat till they could urge the portions of the damaged vessel on to the sands.
“Quick, all of you,” cried the captain, “and look out for the arrows. What! wounded man! Here, two of you.”
A couple of the crew ran to him, and poor Ned was lifted over the side and borne down into the cabin.
“Keep in shelter, Jack, my boy,” cried Sir John, as he caught his son’s hand. “The arrows are coming in like hail. You are sure you are not wounded?”
“Quite, father; I’m all right,” said Jack, as he stepped on deck.
“Is Edward much hurt?”
“Here’s Doctor Instow, ask him,” said the boy, as the doctor came up out of the boat, the last man but those who were hooking on the falls, to be run up.
“Ned? I can’t say yet. Don’t stop me. I’m not sneaking out of the fight, Meadows. I must go down to the poor lad.”
“Speared?”
“An arrow. For goodness’ sake keep in shelter, for I’m afraid they’re poisoned.”
“Glad to see you back safe,” cried the captain, hurrying up to him. “I can talk to the miserable wretches now. Hi! there, forward. Come away from those guns. Capstan-bars, all of you. Keep in shelter, and down with every one who tries to get on board; but mind the spears.”
A few more orders were given, a tub to buoy the cable thrown over the side, and the yacht began to glide steadily with the tide, as the engine clanked, and the motion of the shaft produced its regular vibration through the graceful vessel, with only two men visible to those in the canoes—the captain and the man at the wheel, and they both sheltering themselves from the black marksmen as well as they could, the sailor kneeling on the grating.
The savages in three canoes uttered a furious yelling, and plunged their paddles over the sides to attack in front and on both quarters, but one was a little late in crossing the yacht’s bows, and the next minute, with full steam ahead, and in obedience to movements of the captain’s hands, the sharp prow of the swift vessel struck the sluggish canoe full in the side about ’midships. Then a dull crashing sound, but no perceptible shock. The Silver Star cut the canoe cleanly in two, and the portions of the destroyed vessel floated by on either side, coming in collision with the others, which after closing in with a vain attempt to board, grated against the yacht and were then left far astern.
It was all the matter of a minute. A few black heads appeared above the bulwarks, as their owners leaped up and tried to climb on deck, but a sharp blow, rarely repeated, sent them back into the lagoon with a splash, to swim to the floating canoes, and the fight was over, save that an arrow or two came whizzing to stick in the white planks; but the enemy was too much engaged in picking up the swimming warriors to continue their assault.
“There,” cried the captain, rubbing his hands. “Your men-of-war may carry the biggest guns they like, and their crews may be drilled to the greatest perfection, but to my mind nothing comes up to the management of the craft under a good head of steam. Now, Sir John, shall we give them a few rounds of grape-shot, or let the poor wretches study the lesson they have had?”
“No, no,” cried Jack eagerly, “they’re beaten; let them go.”
Sir John nodded his approval, saying nothing, for he seemed eager to let his son come well to the front.
“Very good,” said the captain. “Then I think we’ll run outside and lie-to a mile or so beyond the reef, and see what they mean to do, for I suppose you don’t want to give up the island to the enemy!”
“No, it would be a pity,” said Sir John, “just when we are getting on so well. But what do you say, Bradleigh, will not this be a sufficient lesson for them?”
“It ought to be, sir; but we are dealing with savages, and I will not venture to say.”
The steward came hurrying up at that moment, to give a sharp look-out for danger, but seeing the enemy far astern, and the yacht gliding swiftly along toward the open sea, he walked confidently to where the group stood by the wheel.
“Doctor Instow would be glad if you would come into the cabin, Sir John.”
“It’s about, Ned,” cried Jack. “I’d forgotten him.”
He ran to the cabin hatch, and Sir John followed quickly.
“Hah!” cried the doctor. “I’m glad you’ve come. He’s very bad, Jack. Yes, very bad, Meadows, poor lad.”
“But from a wound like that?” said Sir John, and he and his son bent over the poor fellow where he lay on one of the cabin settees, with his eyes wide open, and looking very fixed and strange.
“Yes, from a wound like that,” replied the doctor. “It would be nothing in an ordinary way, but I saved the head of the arrow which passed through his arm, and it and the top of the shaft had been well smeared with some abominable preparation. The poison is affecting his system in a very peculiar manner.”
“Can he hear what you say?” whispered Jack anxiously.
“No; he is quite insensible. He was talking wildly a few minutes ago, but he could not understand a word.”
“Surely you don’t think it will prove fatal?” said Sir John.
The doctor was silent.
“Oh, Doctor Instow,” cried Jack in agony, “this is too terrible. The poor fellow came out for what he looked upon as a pleasure-trip, and now he is like this. Oh, pray do something.”
“My boy,” said the doctor gravely, “I have done everything possible.”
“But try something else,” cried Jack angrily. “I thought doctors could do anything with medicine.”
“I wish they could,” said his father’s friend sadly; “but it is at times like this, Jack, we doctors and surgeons find out how small our powers are.”
“But only this morning he was so happy and full of life and fun,” cried Jack, as he sank on his knees by the couch to take the poor fellow’s cold hand in his. “It seems too hard to believe. Ned! Ned! you can hear what I say?”
There was no reply, and the boy looked wildly from one to the other.
“Oh, father,” he cried, as he saw their grave looks, “is he dying?”
Sir John was silent, and Jack caught at the doctor’s hand.
“Tell me,” he cried. “But it can’t be so bad as that. It would be too dreadful for him to die.”
“He is very bad,” said the doctor slowly, “but I have not given up all hope. It is like this, Meadows. The poison is passing through his system, and in my ignorance of what that poison really is, I am so helpless in my attempts to neutralise it. Even if I knew it would be desperate work.”
“Then you can do nothing?” cried Jack in agony.
“I can do little more, my lad, but help him in his struggle against it. The battle is going on between a strong healthy man and the insidious enemy sapping his life. Nature is the great physician here.”
Jack uttered a piteous groan, and still knelt by the couch, holding the poor fellow’s hand, watching every painful breath he drew, and noting the strange change in his countenance, and the peculiar spasms which convulsed him from time to time, but without his being conscious of the pain.
As Jack knelt there it seemed to him that it was in a kind of confused dream that he heard his father’s questions and the doctor’s replies, as, after some ministration or another, they walked to the end of the cabin.
Then the captain came down softly.
“The enemy’s coming out to sea,” he said, “and making north; they’ll be in a fix if the wind rises, for they are clustering in their canoes like bees. How’s the patient?”
“Bad,” said Sir John.
“Tut—tut—tut!” ejaculated the captain. “I am sorry. But you’ll pull him through, doctor?”
“If I can,” said Doctor Instow coldly.
“That’s right. I have been so full up with my work that I seem to have taken hardly any notice of him. Wound through his arm. You have well cleansed it, of course?”
“Of course, and injected things to neutralise the poison.”
“Ah!” cried the captain, angrily, “it takes all one’s sympathy with the miserable savages away when one finds that they fight in so cowardly, so fiendish a fashion. I was ready to be sorry for them when I was crushing their boat. But this makes me feel as if one ought to lose no opportunity for sweeping the venomous wretches off the face of the earth. They have no excuse, you see. It is our lives or theirs. We are inoffensive enough surely; and they would have gained by our presence if they had been friendly. But they’re nearly all alike.”
“Have you seen cases like this before?” asked the doctor.
“Oh yes, several.”
“And after a few hours’ struggle the strength of the poison dies out, and the sufferer recovers?”
The captain glanced in the direction of Jack, and seeing that his attention was apparently entirely taken up by the sufferer, he said in a low tone—“Yes, sir, the strength of the poison died out, but the wounded man died too;” and every word went through Jack like some keen blade, and for the moment he drew his breath with as much difficulty as the man before him.
“In the cases I saw there was no doctor near at hand, and we who attended the poor fellows could do no more than try to draw the poison from the wounds and burn them out. But it seemed to me that the poison acted like the bite, of a snake, and altered the blood, while at last the symptoms were like those I have heard of when the patient has lock-jaw.”
“Tetanus,” said the doctor gravely.
“But it can’t be so hopeless here. You were with him and attended him from the first.”
“Yes; I have done all I can for him, poor fellow, and with his fine physique he may fight through it.”
“Would amputation have saved him?” asked Sir John.
“I do not believe it would have had any effect upon a wound like that, even if it had been performed ten minutes after the injury,” said the doctor. “The circulation is so rapid that the poison is running through the system at once, and to proceed to such an extremity seems to be giving the patient another terrible shock to fight against when his state is bad enough without.”
“Then you have done everything you can?”
“Everything. He is beyond human aid.”