Chapter Thirty Six.
Running the reef.
The whole of that journey down the rugged gash in the mountain side was a prolonged agony to Jack, but he fought like a hero to keep his feet, and at last, satisfied that he could not escape, the man who had surprised him and treated him as his own prize caught him by the shoulder as he was tottering down the descent, with the stones every here and there giving way beneath his feet, and about to fall heavily. The next minute his numbed and swollen hands were set at liberty, so that he could better preserve his balance, and the first use he made of them was to point to Ned’s bonds, with the result that the man’s captor entered into a short colloquy with Jack’s; and the savage fitted an arrow to his bow and took aim, half drawing the arrow to the head, while he jabbered away and scowled menacingly, showing his white teeth the while.
“What does he mean by that, Mr Jack? going to shoot me—a coward?”
“No, no; he means he will untie your hands, but that if you attempt to escape an arrow will go faster than you can run, and he will bring you down.”
“And very kind of him too, sir. But I shan’t run away without you, sir. Here, undo ’em then, blackie.”
He bent forward so as to raise his tied hands, and the black began to unfasten the cane.
“I always knew you were a big scholar, Mr Jack, sir,” continued Ned, “but I didn’t think you were up to this jibber-jabber.—Thankye, old chap. Nice state you’ve got my hands in though. Why, I don’t believe the size gloves I should want are made. Look, Mr Jack, about four-and-twenty they’d take, wouldn’t they? How’s yours?”
“They ache horribly, Ned.”
“Oh, mine don’t. I shouldn’t know I’d got any if I couldn’t see ’em. Plain enough though, ain’t they?”
Ned had no time to say more, for his captor urged him on.
“Just like driving a donkey, sir, ain’t it?—All right, blackie, I’ll go.”
The party descended as rapidly as they could till just after the great orange sun had descended over the rim of the sea, and then, as if perfectly familiar with the place, they turned suddenly off to the left, down a second ravine much steeper than the larger one they had left, and after going down about a quarter of a mile to where dwarf trees were beginning to grow thickly again, they stopped short in a natural shelter close by a rock pool, into which a clear thread of water trickled.
Jack’s captor pointed to the pool, and the lad lay down and drank deeply, Ned following his example without orders, and upon being satisfied they rose, to find the men busily preparing a fire.—Then one of the party rubbed a couple of pieces of wood together till the friction produced sparks, which began to glow in the wood dust fanned by the fire-maker’s breath, and soon after the fire was burning merrily.
Jack did not see it dug out, but a quantity of closely-packed green leaves were lying about, and a rough hollow was close at hand where it had evidently been buried—it proving to be the hind-quarters of a small pig, which as the fire burned up well was put to roast, and soon began to send out a pleasant odour.
The prisoners had taken the place pointed out to them, and found that they were well guarded, Ned drawing Jack’s attention to this fact.
“And that means, sir,” he said, “that it’s of no use to try and run unless they go sound off to sleep again as soon as they’ve had a feast. We might perhaps steal off then, but not if we’re watched. I don’t want any more arrows in me, and I’m sure you feel the same. I say, sir, I hope they mean to ask us to dinner. Only fancy niggers dining at quality hours in black soots!”
“Don’t talk about eating, Ned; the idea makes me feel sick.”
“Fight it down then, sir. You must eat, or you can’t try to get away, and if you can’t try to get away, I can’t.”
“I’ll try, Ned,” said Jack abruptly.
“That’s right, sir; only let’s wait and see if they give us any first. Shame on ’em if they don’t.”
The pig extracted from the blacks’ hiding-place began to smell tempting enough to excite any one’s appetite, and as a good-sized piece was handed to each by their captors—
“Don’t mean to kill us yet, Mr Jack,” said Ned merrily. “Hope they don’t mean any of that nonsense later on.”
But Jack was too weary and low-spirited to reply to his companion’s jokes, and he lay back after a time, watching the soft glow over the volcano far above their heads, then the brilliant stars, which looked larger than at home, and glided suddenly into a deep sleep, from which he was awakened by a rough prod from the butt end of a spear.
The lad flushed angrily, but tried to curb his resentment, and turned away as he rose, to find Ned standing watching him in the early morning light.
“Never mind, Mr Jack,” he said softly. “It’s hard to bear; but this isn’t the time to show fight. That black brute kicked me to wake me, and it made me as savage as a bear. If he’d had boots on I should have hit him, I know I should, I couldn’t have helped it even if he’d killed me for it; but then you see he hadn’t boots on, though the sole of his foot’s almost like hoof.”
“They’re going on directly, Ned.”
“Are they, sir? Well, I must have a drink of water first.”
He took a step toward the pool; but a spear was presented at his breast, and it was not until Jack had made a sign of drinking that they were allowed to bend down over it.
Directly after they started back up the side gorge to where it joined the greater, and then began to descend again by what proved to be a very precipitous but direct way down toward the sea, water soon after making its appearance in a mere thread, which suddenly leaped down from a crack in the side and found its way to the bottom: while as they were hurried on by their more nimble captors, the stream kept on increasing in volume by the help of the many tiny tributaries which joined it.
Under different auspices the walk would have been glorious. Sir John and the doctor would have found it one grand preserve for birds and insects; but the prisoners had hard work to keep up with their sure-footed captors, and any hesitation on arriving at a difficult bit of the descent was looked upon as an attempt to escape.
The blacks were evidently quite at home in this one of the many ravines which carried the water condensed upon the mountain down to the sea, and consequently made pretty good speed; but this came hard upon their prisoners, who occupied so much time in descending the worst parts that they became at last menacing, and Jack trembled for the consequences of Ned retaliating with a blow.
“It would do no good, Ned,” he said earnestly. “But it makes us seem so cowardly to let them poke at us with their spears, sir, and never do anything.”
“Never mind how it seems, Ned. You are not cowardly.”
“Well, I’d punch any fellow’s head who said I was, sir, or who said the same about you.”
“They can’t say it so that we can understand, and let them think what they like. We’d fight if there was anything to be got by it; but there isn’t, Ned. Let’s pretend to be beaten now, and then they will not be so watchful. To-night they will sleep somewhere down near the shore, and we may get a chance to escape.”
“Then I’m not to hit out, no matter what they do to me?”
“Certainly not.”
“But suppose I see ’em hitting or prodding you, sir? Must do something then.”
“Nothing whatever, Ned; I’ll bear it patiently in the hope of getting a chance to escape later on.”
“All right, sir; but I’m getting very hungry for a bit of revenge.”
“Wait, Ned, and perhaps it will come.”
The difficulties of the descent detained them so that it was fast nearing sunset when the ravine began to widen out and pass beneath the branches of the huge forest monarchs which clothed the lower slopes of the mountain, and wearied out with the day’s exertion, Jack began to look out eagerly for the green, park-like expanse which followed the dense jungle, to be succeeded in turn by the sands that ran down into the lagoon.
The more open part appeared sooner than he expected, and with it the river widened into a good-sized pool of open water, where, to the prisoners’ surprise, they suddenly found themselves face to face with another party of blacks, who welcomed the new-comers with an eager jabbering as they closed round and examined their captives curiously.
“Our chance of escape cut shorter, Mr Jack,” said Ned.
“Yes, I’m afraid so, Ned. They must have been camping here; and I suppose we shall have to stop in this place for the night?”
“Dunno. P’r’aps,” said Ned. “See that, Mr Jack?”
He glanced down beneath the trees, where the water lay dark and deep; but for a few moments Jack saw nothing unusual. The next moment though he uttered a little cry of surprise.
“Yes,” he said, “I see it now, the boat—drawn right up beneath the boughs.”
It was impossible to comprehend the words of the reunited parties of the blacks, but easy to grasp the meaning of their gestures, and as Jack’s attention was caught by the eager conversation going on, he pretty well saw that those who had been waiting had seen danger, for they kept on pointing and making other signs, the end being that the prisoners were hurried down to the edge of the water, and pushed toward the great canoe.
“All right!” cried Ned angrily. “I ain’t a sack of oats: I can get in. Don’t chuck a fellow into the tub.”
Expostulation was useless, and the two were thrust down in the bottom; the blacks hurried in and took their places, each man seizing his paddle, and in perfect silence they began to dip their blades into the smooth water, the huge canoe began to move very slowly, and then by degrees faster, the men paddling almost without a splash.
“The Star must be pretty close at hand, Mr Jack,” said Ned, as they glided at last out of the little dark river into the bright, golden waters of the lagoon, “and they know it; that’s how I take all their play-acting jigging about to mean.”
“Yes, Ned, that’s it. Oh, if we could only see her, or one of the boats! Which way are they going?”
“Well, Mr Jack,” said Ned grimly, “I don’t like to tell you; but it seems to me that we’re off on a voyage to nigger-land, and yet the newspapers say that slavery’s nearly done away with now.”
“Slavery?” said Jack, and his heart sank within him. “Oh, Ned, that would be awful.”
“Better than being made beef and mutton of, Mr Jack. But don’t you be down-hearted; p’r’aps we may be together after all, and if we are, there ain’t nothing I won’t do to make it easier for you, sir, and we’ll cut and run, as the sailors say, some day. Ups and downs in life we see; right-tooral-looral-looral-lee. There’s only heads and tails to a penny, and if you spin it up in the air, it sometimes comes down one side, and sometimes the other. Well, it’s come down wrong way for us this time, next time p’r’aps it may come down right. If it don’t, well, you’ve got too much pluck in you to howl about it: so have I. Here, I don’t care; let’s look at the bright side of things.”
“Oh, Ned, how can we at a time like this?” groaned Jack.
“Easy, sir. It’s all adventures, and it might be a jolly deal worse.”
“How?”
“Why, this might be a poor old leaky canoe as wasn’t safe, and all the time it’s a fizzer. See how it goes. Then we might have had a shabby, common-looking crew; but I will say it for them, spite of all the love I don’t bear for ’em, they’re the blackest and shiniest set of fellows I ever did see. Look at their backs in the warm light; why, you might see to shave in ’em—well, I might; you’re lucky enough not to have any beard yet.”
“It don’t seem as if I shall live to have one, Ned.”
“Tchah! nonsense. You’ll live to a hundred now. This voyage has made a man of you, my lad. All you’ve got to do is to keep up your pluck. I say, look at ’em, Mr Jack; they paddle splendid. Talk about our boat-races; why look here, I’d back these chaps. What’s that old song? You know; voices keep toon and our oars keep time—only it’s paddles. Row, brothers, row. Keep it up, niggers. Slaves indeed! why they’re the slaves, not us; we’re sitting here as jolly as two lords in a ’lectric launch, going down to Richmond to eat whitebait and drink champagne. Let’s see though, I don’t mean Richmond, I mean Blackwall. Let’s think we’ve got a crew of blacks taking us to Blackwall.”
“Why, Ned!” cried Jack excitedly, “they’re paddling straight across the lagoon for the reef.”
“That’s right, Mr Jack; so they are,” said Ned recklessly. “Hooray! who cares! Go it, you black beggars. I say, Mr Jack, sir, look; did you ever see such lovely heads of hair? They’d make splendid grenadiers, and be an advantage to Government to ’list a lot of ’em. They’d come so cheap. They wouldn’t want any clothes, and there they are with their busbies a-growing already on their heads. Might call ’em the Blackguards, and that’s what they are.”
“But, Ned, this long low canoe can never weather the waves on the reef.”
“It can, sir, or they wouldn’t go for it. Tend upon it they know a place where they can get over, and that’s how they came. What do it matter to them if she fills with water? they only pop out over both sides, and hold on and slop it out again, and then jump in. Water runs off them like it does off ducks’ backs. I believe they oil themselves all over instead of using a bit of honest soap. Don’t matter though; the dirt can’t show. My word, we are going it. Straight for the reef.”
Ned was right; the long canoe with its fifty men paddling glided over the calm lagoon straight for where the great billows came curving over on to the coral reef with a deep boom, and it was now not above a quarter of a mile away.
“Take tightly hold of the side, Ned,” said Jack excitedly. “You are right, they will manage it, I suppose, or they would not attempt it.”
“Trust ’em for that, sir. I’ll stick to the canoe like one of those limpet things; mind you do too. I say, I’m beginning to like it, ain’t you?”
“It is exciting, Ned, and I don’t think I mind.”
“That’s your style, sir. That’s the true British boy speaking. Ah, it’s no wonder we carry all before us when we don’t get licked. There now, you look every inch of you like Sir John, and he’d be proud of you. Hooray! who cares! Go it, you black rascals. We shall go over that reef like a flash. One of our boats with a big crew dare not attempt it, and— Oh, I say, look, Mr Jack, look. You were wishing for it, and there it is, half-a-mile away—one of our boats coming to save us, and—”
“She’ll be too late, Ned,” groaned Jack, and, unseen by their captors, every man of whom had his back to them, and was working away with his paddle, the lad rose softly in his place and waved his hand above his head.
“Sit down, sir,” whispered Ned excitedly. “It means a topper if they catch you at it. But look, look, there’s some one waving his helmet.”
“Yes, yes,” whispered back Jack, “it’s father.”
“Hooray!” said Ned softly. “But what are they firing for?”
“Signal that they see us, Ned,” whispered back Jack hoarsely, as there were two faint puffs of smoke seen and the reports followed.
“Too far off to try and swim to ’em, sir?”
“Yes, Ned,” said Jack sadly, “and there are the sharks.”
“Ugh! yes, sir. That won’t do. Never mind, let’s sit still. They’ve seen us, and they’ll have us now.”
“But our boat can’t follow through the surf.”
“Can’t!” cried Ned; “it has to. Never know what you can do till you try.”
The rush through the water had been exciting before; it was tenfold more so now, and the prisoners looked wildly over the lagoon at the cutter, which was being pulled after them evidently with all the rowers’ might, the oars dipping and the water flashing in the last rays of the sun as it dipped swiftly down. But Jack’s heart sank again as he saw that they would be crossing the reef while the rescue party were still half-a-mile away.
Ned felt with him, and said softly—
“Oh, why don’t they go back to the yacht and signal to ’em to get under weigh and go out in chase of us—cut us off on the other side?”
“But where is the yacht, Ned?” cried Jack. “She may be the other way.”
“Ah, that’s what we don’t know, sir. There, we can’t do anything but sit fast. You get your arm over that side, I’ll hold on this.”
There was little talking now, the two prisoners’ attention being turned to the reef in front, which the paddlers were now straining every nerve to reach at full speed. Suddenly a couple of the blacks sprung up, came aft past where Jack and Ned sat, and thrust a long paddle over the stern to help in the steering, which so far had been managed by the paddlers themselves, one side easing when it was necessary.
The two men said something as they passed, but took no more notice of them, and after looking sharply ahead for a few moments, Jack turned to gaze at the pursuing boat, coming on steadily now. But the next minute it looked dim, then it died out of sight, for the canoe had entered into the mist of fine spray raised by the billows on the reef, and directly after they were in a thick fog, as they rushed into the tremendous race of waters leaping and surging about them. The long canoe quivered, the men behind them yelled, and were answered by a fierce shout as the crew frantically plunged their paddles into the yielding foam water, while the spray blinded, the canoe bumped again and again, and then all at once began to rise, till she seemed as if she were going to fall backward prow over stern.
“It’s all over with us,” thought Jack; but the next moment she began to sink toward the horizontal, hung for a second or two level, and then glided down after a tremendous pitch, rose again, and then began to race along on the top of a huge billow which foamed and raved hungrily by their side.
This was repeated again and again, but the canoe shipped very little water, and before Jack could realise that they were in safety, the wild excitement and confusion of the tumbling water was at an end, and they were being paddled away out to the open sea in the fast-coming transparent darkness of the brief evening, with a wall of white waters behind.
Chapter Thirty Seven.
A stern chase—very.
“Ah!” ejaculated Ned, as he sat wiping the salt spray out of his eyes; “can’t say as I should like to go through that again, Mr Jack, but now we have done it I like it. My word, how I can brag now to our chaps on board!”
“Do you think they will try and follow us, Ned?” panted Jack, who spoke as if he had been running hard.
“Surely not, sir. Never be so mad.”
“But I’m afraid they will. My father would never sit there and make no effort to save us.”
Ned was silent for some minutes, and the foam of the breakers on the reef began to soften as the blacks paddled hard straight out to sea.
A few minutes later it was night, with the stars beginning to shine out clearly from the purpling sky, and the paddles making the water flash into phosphorescent foam.
“You’re right, Mr Jack,” said Ned at last; “Sir John wouldn’t mind running any risk to save us, but he might see that it was only throwing away a chance to get the boat capsized, and he may have to row back to the yacht so as to get her out of the lagoon and after us to cut us off before these black ruffians can get home to where they came from.”
“It means slavery after all, Ned,” said Jack bitterly. “Why didn’t we jump overboard and—and try to swim to the boat?”
“What the doctor calls ‘law of self-preservation,’ sir,” said Ned quietly. “We’d seen too much in that lagoon, very pretty to look at, but too many ugly things about in the blue waters. Been just about as mad as for them to try and follow the canoe. What do you say to making ourselves comfortable, sir, and having a nap?”
“What, now? At a time like this?” cried Jack.
“Yes, sir, that’s what I was thinking, so as to be ready for work to-morrow.”
“I could not sleep,” said Jack sadly, as he sat gazing back in the direction of the reef.
“Very well, sir; then you take the first watch while I go below, only there ain’t no below. It’s of no use for you to look back at the reef, sir, for they couldn’t have got through, and if they could this canoe goes two miles to their one. What we’ve got to do is to wait for to-morrow morning, and hope for the best.”
Jack said nothing, but he knew that all his companion said was right, and he sat there silent, while Ned stretched himself in the bottom and was off soundly to sleep. Almost directly after about half the blacks withdrew the paddles from the water and lay down in the bottom, leaving the rest to urge the boat along.
It was hard work in the solitude of that night to keep from giving way to despair, and to cling to the hope that those in the boat had not attempted the daring feat performed with the canoe, but had turned back to the yacht to get her under weigh and come in chase. For always there came the thought that by morning the canoe would be out of sight, and he and Ned still on the way to some state of captivity, preserved for Heaven only knew what terrible fate.
From time to time the resting half of the savages sprung up, summoned by a thump given with the handle of a paddle, each rower awakening the man who was to relieve him after about an hour’s spell; and Jack watched all this in a dull, apathetic way again and again, till somehow the long weary night sluggishly drew near its end. Over and over again an angry feeling of resentment attacked the watcher, and when the sleeping savages were aroused he felt disposed to kick Ned and make him wake up and talk.
But a better feeling soon prevailed. “Poor fellow!” he said to himself; “why shouldn’t he rest and forget all his troubles for a few hours? It is only selfishness to rouse him.”
It was still dark when Ned suddenly sat up. “Morning, sir,” he said; “been to sleep?”
“I? No, Ned, I couldn’t sleep.”
“That’s a pity. I could, like a top. It’s done me a lot of good, and I’m ready now for anything, fighting, swimming, or breakfast, specially the last. Hot coffee, toast, fried ham, or a bit of fish. Not particular. Don’t do to be when you’re at sea.”
“You don’t seem to trouble much about our position, Ned,” said Jack bitterly.
“Not a bit, sir. What’s the good? Don’t make it any better to go on the dump. It can’t last. It’s like the weather—either gets better or it gets worse. My word, what a fine thing a bit o’ sleep is! Bit cool though. Always is just before sunrise. Seen anything of the yacht, sir?”
“Bah! Impossible! How could I?”
Ned said nothing, but glanced at the dimly-seen paddlers working away, and at the sleeping party who were in the bottom of the canoe, and then turned his attention astern.
“Wonder where they are taking us, sir,” he said. “There must be a big island somewhere out in this direction, and—”
He became silent so suddenly that Jack turned to him in surprise, and saw that he was gazing fixedly over the stern of the canoe into the black darkness, for there was no sign of the coming day.
“What are you thinking?” said Jack at last.
“That I shall have to report you to the captain, sir, for not keeping better watch. I didn’t set you to it. You volunteered.”
“What do you mean, Ned?” cried Jack excitedly.
“You said, when I asked you whether you had seen anything of the yacht, ‘Bah! Impossible! How could I?’”
“Well, how could I in the dark?”
“By keeping a bright look-out, sir. There’s her light.”
“What!” cried Jack.
“Steady, sir, steady. Don’t jump out of the boat.”
“But you don’t mean—”
“Oh yes, I do, sir. Look yonder.”
“Oh, nonsense!” cried Jack bitterly; “that must be a star setting in the west.”
“Well, it may be, sir, and if it is, it’s so close down that in another five minutes it’ll be one; but it strikes me that there’s a little lighter look yonder, and that it’s the east. Of course I don’t know for certain like, and I’ve been asleep. Let’s watch for a bit. I believe it’s our star as the guv’nor’s had lit up to let us know he’s coming after us—that’s what I think, sir.”
“It is too much to hope,” said Jack despondently.
“Not a bit, sir. You can’t say but what it’s as likely as likely. But there, we shall soon know. I wonder whether the niggers have seen it yet.”
Evidently they had not, and this, knowing how sharp-eyed they were, strengthened Jack’s belief that it was only a star, and he said so.
“All right, sir,” said Ned, after a long watching, “pr’a’ps you’re right; but it’s a new kind if it is, for it don’t come up nor it don’t go down. Anyhow that’s the east, for the sun means to come up there, or I’m a Dutchman.”
They sat watching for about a quarter of an hour longer, and then Jack exclaimed softly—
“You were wrong, Ned, it was a star, and it has sank out of sight.”
“Down in the east, sir?”
“It cannot be the east, Ned, it must be the west.”
“Then it’s last night again, sir, and that’s a speck left up to show where the sun went down.”
As Ned spoke he pointed to where there was a faint flush of light, which grew warmer and warmer as Jack sat trying to keep from being too sanguine. Then he turned away and feared to gaze aft any more, oh account of the blacks, who were paddling steadily away, for against a pale streak of light in the east, there, plainly enough to be seen, were the hull and spars of the Silver Star, while like a pennon there floated out behind her a long dark cloud of smoke, telling that her engine fires were roaring away and her propeller hard at work.
“I was afraid to hope, Ned,” whispered Jack. “Think they see us?”
“Think they see us, sir! Why, of course. Mr Bartlett’s up in the main-top with his glass to his eye, you may be sure, and the lads below are shovelling in the coals as if they cost nothing. Look at the smoke. I say, see how the niggers are at it. They know. Shouldn’t be surprised if we catch sight of the place we’re going to when the sun’s up. All I hope is that it’s so far away that they can’t reach it.”
The sun rose at last, and the mountain became glorified once more, but it was a long time before a glimpse could be caught of their destination, and then, like a faint cloud extending right and left for miles, there was land—dim, low-lying misty land, without a sign of elevation or peak.
“That’s it sure enough, Mr Jack, sir,” said Ned, shading his eyes from the glare of the sea; “and now it’s a question of paddles against screw.”
“Yes. Which will win, Ned?”
“Screw, sir. If it was wind and sails in this changeable sort of place I should be a bit doubtful, but I ain’t the least.”
A stern chase is always a long one, they say, and to the prisoners it seemed to be here, and Hope and Doubt alternately held sway, while to Jack’s agony the dim, distant flat land, which by degrees began to assume the aspect of a long range of extremely flat islands, appeared to come steadily nearer, while the yacht hardly seemed to stir.
“She will never catch us, Ned,” said Jack despondently.
“Go along with you, sir. She’ll do it before we get near. Not but what these fellows paddle splendidly. Hallo! what are they going to do?”
The answer came in the quick hoisting of a couple of low masts and the same number of matting sails, for the water was beginning to be flecked by a coming breeze. In addition, the men rapidly rigged out a couple of bamboos on one side, and lashed their ends to another which lay along the bottom of the boat, so as to form an outrigger to counteract the pressure of the sails.
A few minutes later the paddles were laid in, for the great canoe was gliding through the water faster than the men could propel her.
At last, though, hope began to grow stronger in the prisoners’ breasts, for it was plain now that with full steam on the yacht was rapidly coming up.
“They’d got no pressure on at first, sir, only enough to send her along a bit. What do you say to it now?”
“It’s in doubt, Ned. They may run us into shallow water where the yacht dare not come.”
“But she dare send her boats, sir. Oh, we’re all right now.—If they don’t knock us on the head when they find they’re beaten,” Ned added to himself.
The faces of those on board the yacht began now to grow plain as the mountain seemed to be steadily sinking in the distance, and figures could be made out on the low shore in front.
“Ned, Ned, look,” whispered Jack excitedly. “It’s all over with us.”
“Why, what for?”
“Can’t you see they are getting out two more canoes?”
“You’ve got better eyes than I have, sir; I can’t see anything.”
Jack proved to be right, for soon after a couple of great canoes came through an opening in a line of breakers, and made straight for the one which bore the prisoners.
“It’s going to be a close shave, Mr Jack,” said Ned at last. “If they get near enough to the land they’ll win, because the Star won’t dare to follow, but I don’t give up yet. Only look here, sir, if matters come to the worst they’ll try and kill us, so be on the look-out. You can swim now after those lessons I gave you.”
“Oh, Ned, only a few strokes. I cannot trust myself,” groaned Jack.
“Oh dear! and you a gent, and your education neglected like that. Why, to be able to swim now, sir, is worth all the Latin and Greek in the world. But never mind, I can, though all the Greek I know is quantum stuff, and p’r’aps that’s Latin. You do as I tell you; the moment you see that one of the niggers means mischief, over you go; I shall be there, and I’ll help you swim, sir, and the yacht’s sure to have a boat ready to drop and pick us up.”
On they went, with the wind sending the canoe rapidly along, and the blacks sat on the edge to keep her well down, and on the outrigger. The speed now was wonderful, the long elastic vessel bent and glided like some live creature over the swell, and had the blacks had another mile to go, the fate of the two prisoners would have been sealed; but at full speed now the yacht, with sail after sail shaken out to the help of the propeller, came up hand over hand, and when pretty close swayed off to windward, curved round as she glided by, and was once more answering her helm in the other direction, racing for the canoe’s bows, the steering being so true that the fore-part was forced under water while the stern rose slowly in the air. “Now for it,” said Ned sharply. Jack hesitated for a moment or two, and then tried to plant one foot upon the side and leap after his companion; but his momentary hesitation was nearly fatal, for one of the blacks made a dash at him, caught him by the shoulder, and struck at him with his raised club.
In his despair the lad forced himself forward, and instead of the head of the heavy club, it was the man’s arm which struck him across the shoulder, and the next moment they were thrown by the rising of the stern headlong amongst the struggling crowd as the canoe filled. Then all was darkness and confusion as the lad felt himself dragged down lower and lower, till it seemed as if he would never rise again.
Moments are changed to minutes at such times as these, but prolonged as the agony seemed, he was soon at the surface once more, panting for breath and beating the water like a drowning dog.
But coolness came with the strong desire for life, and he now struck out bravely as he saw the water about dotted with the black heads of his enemies, one and all swimming for the floating wreck of their canoe, whilst the yacht was far away, and Jack’s courage became despair as he kept on swimming slowly, better than he could have believed, so as to keep himself afloat.
“That’s the way, Mr Jack, sir,” came from behind him; “and you said you couldn’t swim.”
“Ned,” gasped the boy, turning in the direction of the sound, and his slow, steady strokes became on the instant fast and wild.
“Ah, don’t do that!” cried Ned, swimming alongside. “Slow and steady, sir. Don’t wind yourself. There, it’s all right; I could keep you up, but I want you to try yourself. Strike out as I told you last time we bathed. Slow and steady. Let your legs go down as far as they like. Never mind if the water comes right up to your mouth; lay your head sideways and screwed round so that you can look over your right shoulder, and rest the back of it on the water. That’s the way. Think you’re having a lesson in swimming, and do just as I do. See? We only want to keep afloat till a boat comes from the yacht to pick us up. Well done, sir. This is the best lesson in swimming you ever had.”
Jack took stroke for stroke feebly enough, and kept well afloat, but he felt all the time that if Ned were not at his side he would have begun to strike out again in frantic despairing haste, wearied himself in a very short time, and gone down.
“Man never knows what he can do till he tries, sir,” said Ned cheerily. “It’s all right. Just keep your mouth above water while you take a good long breath, and then shut it again. Lower you are the easier you float. When you’re tired you shall turn on your back, and I’ll guide you.”
“Shall we be drowned, Ned?” panted the lad. “We’ll talk about that by and by, sir. We can go on like this easy in the sea for an hour, if you do as I tell you. Now then, we’re not running a race. Just try to think you’re standing in the water, and to move your hands as slowly as you can. It’s all right, Mr Jack, sir. We’ve escaped. Here’s the yacht coming back to pick us up, and they’ve got one of the cutters ready to drop with the men in her. Don’t you say nothing. You just attend to your swimming lesson: I’ll do all the talking. I learnt to swim when I was a little bit of a nipper and went with the boys at school. They used to pitch me in, so that I was obliged to swim, I can tell you. That was only fresh water. It’s ever so much easier to swim in the sea—when it’s smooth. Mind you, I don’t know nothing about it when it’s rough.”
“Is the yacht near, Ned?” said Jack huskily. “What’s that to you?” cried the man fiercely. “You mind your lesson. Ought to know better than that. I want to see you swim well, and you were doing beautiful before you began to talk. No, you ain’t getting tired. If you was, as I told you, I’d make you float. Ur–r–r!”
Ned uttered a sound like a savage dog, for a panting and splashing had made him turn his head to see, not six yards behind him, a fierce-looking black face, with grinning teeth and flashing eyes, looking the more savage from the fact that, to leave his arms both at liberty, the black was holding his war-club in his grinning teeth.
The partly submerged canoe, burdened with its clinging crew, was a hundred yards away, the two which had been launched to her assistance quite three, and the yacht still two, but cutting the water fast.
Ned set his teeth; and for a brief instant thought of getting out his knife, but he knew it would be madness to attempt it, and he prepared with desperate energy for the worst.
“Don’t you take any notice of me,” he growled fiercely to his young master. “You keep on swimming. Do you hear?”
In utter ignorance of the peril behind, and influenced in his weakness and helplessness as a swimmer by one whom he instinctively felt to be at home in the water, and his master, Jack obeyed, keeping to the slow stroke with his arms, while his action with his legs was that of the well-known treading water.
All this was but brief.
After savagely shouting at Jack, Ned drew a deep breath and turned to meet the black, whose eyes glowed with race hatred as he raised one hand from the water, took the short melon-headed nulla-nulla club from his teeth, rose a little higher, and struck at his fellow-swimmer with all his might.
But it was for dear life. Ned threw himself sidewise, the head of the club grazed his shoulder as it splashed the water. Then, quick as thought, Ned retaliated by dashing out his left fist, and struck his enemy full on the cheek.
But it was a feeble blow, and did no more than make him fiercer as he turned to renew the attack.
“It’s all over!” groaned the poor fellow. “If they’ll only pick up the poor young governor in time!”
A hoarse sob of despair escaped from Ned’s breast, as he prepared to dodge the next blow from the club, meaning not to strike another nerveless, helpless blow from the water, but to grapple with the black.
“And then it’s who can hold his breath longest,” he thought. “Oh, why did I come on a trip like this?”
Thought comes quickly at a time like this.
The club was once more raised and held suspended in the air for a few moments, the wily black feinting twice over, and making Ned dodge. The third time he made another quick feint, and was in the act then of delivering a tremendous blow, when Jack uttered a wild cry, for he had turned his head to appeal to his companion for help.
At that moment Ned heard a whizz, as if some beetle had suddenly passed his ear; there was instantaneously a sharp pat, and the moment after the report of a rifle. The club fell into the water with a splash.
“Hah!” ejaculated Ned, turning on his side, and in a dozen side strokes he was alongside of Jack once more, as he was making a brave effort to come to his companion’s aid.
“Back, my lad, back!” cried Ned as he swam. “No, no; you’re not beaten yet. Hooray! the boat! They’re close here, and—Mr Jack, sir—it’s—it’s too much—I—I— Swim, sir, swim—don’t—don’t mind me!”
The poor fellow’s look seemed fixed and staring, his arms refused their office, and Jack caught at him to try and support him. Then struggling vainly the water closed over his head, as his starting eyes saw the flashing of the water thrown up by six oars, and a figure standing leaning toward him, boat-hook in hand.
Chapter Thirty Eight.
Not beaten yet.
“How are you, boy?”
The voice seemed to come from a great distance, and the face of the speaker looked far away, and yet his hand was being held in his father’s firm palm.
“Ah!” sighed Jack in answer. Then quickly, “Ned! Ned! Where’s Ned?”
“Safe here,” said Sir John. “In the boat. We were only just in time.”
“He’s coming to,” said another familiar voice. “Pull away, my lads. Well, Jack, old fellow, you’ve been carrying on a nice game. How are you? Glad to see you. No, no, lie back for a bit. We’ll soon have you on board.”
Jack said nothing for a few moments. Then quickly—
“Who was it fired that shot?”
“Oh, never mind about who fired it,” said the doctor gruffly; but he picked up a double rifle lying against one of the thwarts, and mechanically opened the breech, drew out a spent cartridge, and thrust in another.
“Have your pieces ready, my lads. Half at the word cease rowing, aim, and fire. Are you ready, gentlemen? They’re coming on very fast.”
“Yes; all right,” said the doctor; and Sir John rose in the boat, rifle in hand, and gave the mate, who had spoken, a nod, and then he smiled as Jack rose up quickly and picked up one of the loaded pieces at his side.
But no one fired at the rapidly advancing canoes, which were crowded with men; for suddenly there was a deep roar from the yacht, a heavy charge of grape-shot ploughed up the water in front of the first canoe, and the paddling in both ceased.
Another shot sent the water flying over the second canoe, and as if animated by one brain, the paddles began to work again, not to send the vessels forward, but back toward the island; and five minutes later the boat was alongside the yacht.
The men sent up a hearty cheer as Captain Bradleigh held out his hand to assist Jack on board, and his words were almost drowned in the welcoming cries; but Jack heard him, as the warm grip retained his hand, and another pressed his shoulder.
“The best day’s work, my lad, we ever did. God bless you, and thank Him for giving you safely back.”
Five minutes later the boat was swinging to the davits.
“Don’t want to punish them any more, Sir John, I suppose?” cried the captain.
“No, no, let the miserable wretches go,” said Jack’s father.
“Then we’ll go back to the old anchorage, sir, for there’s a look about the sky I don’t like.”
The signal was given, and the yacht began to glide rapidly through the water, back toward where the volcano rose up glowing with colour in the morning light, while Jack was at Ned’s side as he lay coming to on the deck.
He stared about him for a few moments, and then fixed his eyes on those of Jack, breaking out half hysterically—
“I couldn’t help it, Mr Jack, sir; don’t set me down for a cowardly cur.”
“Help what?” said the lad wonderingly.
“Turning like a woman, and fainting away that how. Oh, do give me a dose o’ something, doctor, I feel sick as a dog.”
“No, no; lie still for a minute or two, and you’ll be all right,” said the doctor, patting his shoulder, and Ned uttered a cry.
“Don’t, don’t, sir. It’s agony—my bad shoulder—the arrow—and he hit me there with his club.”
“Ned, Ned,” said Jack softly, as he bent over the poor fellow and held his hand, “who could think you a coward for saving my life?”
The men began to cheer again when Ned was helped by the doctor and Jack down to his berth, wincing at the slightest touch, for his arm had received a nasty jar, but a smile came into his drawn face as he heard the hearty welcome.
“Thankye, lads, thankye kindly,” he kept on saying till he got below, where the steward helped him to change his clothes, and Jack went to his cabin for the same purpose.
“Ever so much better, sir,” cried Ned half-an-hour later, when Jack went to see him, and found him dressed and ready to go on deck. “That crack was just like one on the funny-bone, sir, but it’s all gone off now. My eye, though! suppose it had been where he meant it! What a headache I should have had!”
By the time Jack reached the deck, the islands from whence the blacks came were hidden by a peculiar-looking haze, and the Star was racing through the sea to gain the shelter of the lagoon.
“A hurricane, my lad,” said the captain, “and we shall get into shelter none too soon.”
“A nice hunt you gave us, Jack,” said his father. “Here have we been with half the crew hard at work every day looking for you two. Well, thank Heaven you are both back safe and sound.”
“We did our best to get back, father,” said the lad, looking at Sir John wistfully.
“Of course, I know that, my boy, and I hope you think we did our best to find you. The doctor here pretty well lamed himself with walking.”
“Of course I did,” said that gentleman. “Doctors don’t like to lose their patients, do they?”
Go where he would during their run back to the harbour, Jack found the men ready to smile and salute him with a hearty “Glad to see you back, sir,” till it set him wondering, and finding Ned forward alone, he went to him and said something about it.
“Yes, sir, ain’t it queer? I was thinking the same. I ain’t done nothing but be civil to the chaps since we come aboard, but they’re as pleased as Punch to see us back again. They’re a bit disappointed though that Sir John didn’t go in for giving the black beggars an out-and-out good thrashing.”
“My father says he came for a pleasure-trip,” said Jack quietly, “and he does not wish to go back home feeling that it was obtained at the cost of killing a number of fellow-creatures.”
“No, no, of course not,” said Ned quickly; “only you must draw the line somewhere, and I want to know whether black fellows who shoot poisoned arrows into you, and when you’re swimming for your life, and ain’t never interfered with them, and they come and try to knock your brains out with clubs, is fellow-creatures. Why, if it was me, I’d rather try to make friends with a respectable set o’ wild beasts. They wouldn’t eat you unless they was hungry. Strikes me that if I hadn’t dodged that gentleman when he hit at me, I shouldn’t have been here; nor I shouldn’t neither if some one hadn’t fired that shot. I say, Mr Jack, sir; it was Sir John, wasn’t it?”
“No, Ned, it was Doctor Instow.”
“Then that’s two I owe him. I always used to think that Sir John was best man with a gun, but after that—well, I’m done. All I can say is, I hope my turn ’ll come to do something for the doctor, and till it does I’ll take anything he likes to give me, even if it’s jollop, and won’t make a face.”
Jack laughed.
“Oh yes, it’s easy to smile a grin, sir,” said Ned, “but if you’d tasted some of the stuff he gave me you wouldn’t.”
“Ah, well, you will not want any physic now, Ned.”
“Hah! it seems more natural on board now,” said the mate, coming up smiling. “You two have given us an anxious time. We must have it all over as soon as we’re safe from the hurricane.”
“Hurricane?” said Ned, staring. “What hurricane? Where?”
The mate pointed astern, and Ned stared out to sea as the yacht raced along.
“Well, I can’t see anything,” he said.
“Can’t you see that thick, hazy look astern?”
“What, that bit o’ fog?”
“Yes; it is chasing us pretty sharply; I’m afraid we shall not get into harbour before it’s down upon us. Ah, there’s the skipper.”
The speaker walked quickly aft, and found Captain Bradleigh, who had just come on deck from the cabin, and after a look round there was a brief consultation, and all hands were piped on deck. Then for the next hour there was a busy scene. The tops were sent down, the sails doubly secured, boats swung inboard and lashed, and every possible precaution taken to make all that could be caught by a furious tempest thoroughly secure.
“Well, I suppose they know what they’re about, Mr Jack, sir,” said Ned; “but it looks to me like taking a lot of trouble because the sky’s getting a bit dark, and a shower’s coming.”
But Ned’s knowledge of the typhoon of the eastern tropical seas was naturally not very extensive, and he altered his opinion an hour later, when, in spite of the speed with which the yacht had rushed away before the terrible storm sweeping after them, the sea was white, and half the heavens black as night. It was at half-speed the yacht ran in through the gates of the reef into smooth water, and then turning round at full speed again, went on and on, till she was well under the lee of the great volcano, which did its part when anchors were down, and head to the wind they lay facing the quarter from which the awful hurricane blew.
There was no narrative of adventure given by the seekers or the sought that night, nor any thought of sleep, for officers and men never left the deck, but passed a terrible time of anxiety in the expectation that one of the terrific blasts would tear the little vessel from her moorings and cast her upon the inner side of the reef. But the steam was kept up, and the propeller gently turning, sufficient to ease the strain upon the cables, and the anchors held fast.
“She’s a splendid craft, gentlemen,” said the captain, when they had assembled for refreshment in the cabin, during one of the brief lulls of the furious blast; “but I’m afraid we should none of us have seen another day if we had been caught outside. A man feels very small at a time like this. The worst hurricane I was ever in. Didn’t think the wind could blow so fiercely, Mr Jack, eh?”
Jack shook his head.
“It feels,” he said slowly, “as if the world had broke away, and was rushing on through space faster and faster, and never to stop again.”
“Yes, sir,” said the captain quietly, as he gazed at the thoughtful lad. “You’re a scholar, and have read and studied these things. So have I, sir, but not from books, and it seems to me that these things work by their wonderful laws for reasons far beyond our little minds to grasp, and all are working for some great end.”
No one answered, and the wind began to increase in violence again, the noise almost stifling the captain’s next words:—
“But we have not broken away, sir, and the sun will rise to a minute in the morning, just as if this hurricane had not come, and please God everything around us will be calm; but be sure yonder you will hardly know the island, it will be such a wreck.”
The captain’s words were true enough as to the calm, for just before daylight the intense blackness which had covered the heavens passed away, leaving the stars glittering with a most wondrous brilliancy; there was a deep murmur dying away in the distance, and, utterly exhausted, Jack laid himself down on one of the cabin lounges, to drop off into the deep sleep of utter exhaustion, one from which he awoke to find the warm glow of evening shining in at the open window, and his father watching him with an anxious expression upon his face.
Captain Bradleigh was quite right. The hurricane had passed, and the aspect of the island from where Jack stood with his glass on deck, sweeping the mountain slopes, in places a terrible wreck. The hollows and deep ravines had naturally escaped, but the higher portions, even on that side, were swept bare, and every now and then the lad gazed through his binocular at piled-up masses of tangled bough and branch shattered and splintered as if they had been straws.
“Yes, my lad, it looks a terrible ruin here and there,” said the captain, as Jack handed him the glass to try; “but changes take place quickly out here, and the sun’s hard at work already repairing damages. Those heaps will soon rot away, and fresh growth cover the bare patches. It’s bad enough, but an eruption from the mountain there would have done more mischief than this.”
Over a late meal there was a discussion about their future proceedings, and the elders went into the pros and cons of their position.
“You could find us another island, captain, couldn’t you?” said Sir John.
“Oh yes, sir; several that I dare say would answer your purpose, but I’m afraid that we shall have the native difficulty go where we may, for these sanguinary blacks are a restless lot, and wherever there is a beautiful spot they generally take possession of it.”
“Of course,” said the doctor gruffly. “We should do the same.”
“We have done the same all the world round,” said Sir John, laughing.
“Of course. ‘It is their nature to,’” quoted the doctor. “For my part it seems a sin to go away when we have not secured half the grand specimens of birds to be found.”
“And my cases of insects not half filled,” said Sir John.
“But after his rough experience,” said the captain dryly, “I cannot wonder at Mr Jack here feeling anxious to be homeward bound.”
“I?” cried Jack, turning upon the captain excitedly. “I anxious to go back? Why, what made you think that, Captain Bradleigh?”
“Oh, I thought you must be, sir, after what you have gone through. Nobody could like that.”
“Of course I did not,” said the lad, flushing. “It was terrible and risky while it lasted, but I don’t mind it all now, and we might stay here for months and never see the blacks again.”
“That means you would like to stay a little longer?”
“Yes, father,” cried the lad excitedly. “It would be dreadfully disappointing to go away and not climb right to the crater now I have been so near, and know the way.”
An hour later Jack was on deck watching the stars, and listening to the deep, heavy boom of the surf on the reef, thinking of how wonderful the contrast was, and mentally going over the horrors of the past night, when he heard a familiar air being whistled forward, one he had often heard coming from the pantry at home, and he walked ahead, to find Ned leaning over the side.
“Ah, Mr Jack! here you are then. I say, I’m not going to have any more of this nonsense. Doctor’s all very well, but it’s a strange thing if a man don’t know best how he is.”
“Why, what’s the matter?”
“Doctor Instow’s the matter, sir; and after all he ain’t my master. If the guv’nor says I ain’t to do a thing, or you, my young guv’nor, says it, why that’s enough; but Doctor Instow don’t pay me my wages.”
“What has he been saying to you?”
“Put his foot down, and wouldn’t let me wait dinner, sir. But I mean to go on as usual to-morrow morning.”
“Oh, very well; go on, then. But what do you think of our starting for home to-morrow morning, Ned?”
“What, sir? Start for home—to-morrow morning?”
“Yes, aren’t you glad?”
“Glad, sir? Will you excuse me asking you a question?”
“Of course. What is it?”
“Would you be good enough to tell me why we come out here, if, as soon as we find a place like this, we want to start back?”
“The place is dangerous. These blacks—”
“Bother the blacks! Who cares for the blacks, sir? Why, haven’t we licked ’em over and over again? Oh, well, sir, I’m not master. All I’ve got to say, sir, is, I’m jolly sorry we came.”
“Then you are glad we are going back?”
“That I ain’t, sir. I say it’s a shame. Why, the fun has only just begun.”
“Ah, well, we’re not going yet. I said I should like to stay and see more, and do more collecting, and ascend the mountain by the way we came down.”
“There, I beg your pardon, Mr Jack, sir, I do indeed, for I was all wrong. Thought you were saying that because of the niggers; and I did hope you were too English for that.”
“Well, Ned, I hope I am.”