Chapter Fifteen.
The trio rested at the top of the peak for a couple of hours, and then started back, the doctor taking the lead again so as to vary the way of descent, and gain an acquaintance with as much of the island as was possible.
This had the effect of lengthening out the journey, for there were many detours to be made to avoid dense jungly patches through which they would have had to clear their way; so that it was getting on towards evening when, after descending slope after slope and dodging, as Carey termed it, through little maze-like valleys, they came in sight of the waving cocoanut palms beneath them, and finally passed through to reach the sands.
They were still some distance from the landing place where the raft lay, and the sand was hot, loose, and painful to walk upon; but at last the rocky natural pier was reached, the raft cut loose, and, there being a pleasant evening breeze sufficient to ripple the water, they sailed steadily across.
“Might get a fish or two for supper easy to-night, sir,” said Bostock. “I’ve got a line, sir. Shall I try?”
“No, we’ve done enough to-day,” replied the doctor. “Let’s be satisfied with what we’ve done and the provisions we have on board.”
“Right, sir,” said Bostock. “There is plenty of pickled fish.”
“I feel more like a cup of tea than anything,” replied the doctor. “It was a thirsty climb. Better take out the cartridges from your gun, Carey.”
“Mind taking mine out too, Master Carey?” said Bostock, who was steering.
“All right,” said Carey, following the doctor’s example and returning the little charges to the ammunition bag. “I say, we shall only just get aboard before dark.”
“We ought to have been half-an-hour sooner,” observed the doctor, and five minutes or so later the raft rubbed with a grinding sound against the side, where it was made fast to a ring bolt by their hanging ladder.
The doctor ascended first to the darkened deck, for the night had fallen very rapidly during the last few minutes. Carey followed him, and leaned down before he reached the top of the ladder for the guns, which he took from Bostock’s hands and passed up to the doctor.
The satchels and bucket of treasures they had found followed, and then Carey finished his ascent to the lofty deck.
“Look sharp, Bob,” he said, “and let’s have some supper at once.”
“Supper it is, sir, in a brace of jiffies,” replied the old sailor, as he stepped on deck, and he was in the act of turning to his left to go below to the galley, when he stopped short and uttered a warning cry.
“The guns—the guns!” he yelled.
Too late. There was a rush of bare feet on the soft deck, and through the gloom Carey was just able to make out that they were surrounded by a party of blacks, each poising a spear ready to throw and holding in his other hand either a knobkerry or a boomerang.
“Go mumkull white fellow; baal, lie down, quiet, still!”
This was said in a fierce voice by one of the savage-looking fellows, and Carey mastered the desire to bound away and take refuge below.
“Who are you? What do you want?” cried the doctor.
“Go mumkull white fellow; baal, lie down, quiet, still!”
“Says they’re going to kill us all if we don’t lie down and be quiet,” growled the old sailor; then aloud to the blacks, “Here, what do you want—’bacco—sugar? Give plenty. Black fellow go.”
“Want ’bacco, sugar, take white fellow old ship,” cried the black who had first spoken.
“Take our old ship, will you?” said Bostock. “I think not, my lad. There, put down spear, mulla-mulla. We’ll give you sugar, ’bacco.”
The man laughed, and his companions too.
“Where boat?” said Bostock, speaking as if he thought the savages must be deaf, and the spokesman pointed over the other side of the vessel.
“It’s all right, sir,” said Bostock. “Nothing to mind; they’re a party who’ve come in contact with English folk before, and they must have seen the ship. It only means giving them a bit of ’bacco and sugar and sending ’em away again. Don’t look afraid of ’em. Better give ’em what they want and let ’em go. They wander about, so we may never see ’em again.”
“Very well; fetch up some tobacco and sugar and give them,” said the doctor; but at the first step Bostock took half the men rushed at and seized him, making his companions snatch at their guns, but only to have them wrested away, the blacks cocking them and drawing the triggers so as to fire them off if loaded, with a sharp click, click, as the hammers fell.
“That’s bad, sir,” said Bostock, in his sourest growl. “It means fighting, and we aren’t got no tools.”
“It is horrible to be taken by surprise like this,” replied the doctor; “but it only means giving them presents; they were afraid we meant to shoot them.”
“Mumkull white fellow, baal, lie still,” cried the principal man, fiercely.
“All right, you dirty thick-headed black rough ’un,” growled Bostock. “Now then, what do you want? Give it a name. Tobacco or sugar, isn’t it, or both?”
“What’s that?” said Carey, quickly, for the sharp sound of a match being struck in one of the cabins came up. “There’s someone down below, getting a light.”
The attention of the blacks was taken too, and they stood as if listening, till there was the sudden glow of a lamp seen in the cabin entry, and directly after a fierce-looking ruddy-brown visage appeared, the swollen-veined, blood-shot eyes looking wild, strange, and horrible as the light the man carried struck full upon it and made the great ragged beard glisten.
Carey stared at him in wonder, taking in at a glance his rough half-sailor-like shirt and trousers and heavy fisherman’s boots. He noted, too, that the man wore a belt with holsters which evidently contained small revolvers.
The question was on his lips, “Who are you?” with its following, “What are you doing there?”
But the words were taken out of his lips by the doctor, who asked the questions angrily.
“Eh?” came in a hoarse, raucous voice, as the man rolled forward, with the lamp, till he was near enough to hold it close to the doctor’s face, and then to those of the others.
“Only three on ’em, then. Don’t let ’em go, my sonnies. Now then, you, what do you say? What am I doing here? What are you doing—what do you want aboard my ship?”
“Your ship, you bullying, drunken ruffian!” cried the doctor, in a rage. “You’ve been down in the cabin helping yourself to the spirits, or you would not dare to speak to me like this.”
“Well! You do talk,” cried the man, with a hoarse laugh. “Yes, I’ve had a drop I found down there. Thirsty, my lad, thirsty.”
“Did you bring these black scoundrels aboard?” cried the doctor, who was beside himself with rage.
“Sartain I did; they’re my crew, and I’m their master, and I’ve only got to say the word and over you go to the sharks. Eh, sonny? Sharks, eh?”
“Sharkum, sharkum!” cried the man who seemed to be the leader, and he caught hold of the doctor, his example being followed by his fellows; but in an instant he was sent staggering back, and Bostock’s assailant met with similar treatment, while Carey struck out, but with very little effect, save that he hurt his knuckles against the grinning teeth of the black who seized him.
“Hold hard, my sonnies; not yet. Let’s see how they behave themselves. Stand back.”
It was evident that the great coarse-looking ruffian had perfect command over the party of black fellows, who shrank back at a word, and waited with glistening eyes, their faces shining in the lamplight.
“There,” said the man, “you see; so don’t be sarcy. I let you off this time, because you didn’t know; only if there’s any more of it I says the word, and over the side you go. Now then, who are you?”
“I am the medical officer of this stranded vessel, the Chusan, upon which you have trespassed; and I hold her in charge for the company of owners until they send a relief expedition to reclaim or salvage her.”
“That all?” said the man, with a hoarse laugh. “That for you, then, and all you say,” and he snapped his fingers in the doctor’s face. “Now, look here, my fine fellow, I’m Dan Mallam, Beachcomber (see note), as they call me, King o’ the Pearl Islands, dealer and merchant in copra, pearl shells, and pearls. These are my reefs and islands. This is my estate, and all flotsam and jetsam as is washed ashore is mine. Do you hear me?—mine, to do as I likes with. This steamer’s come ashore on my land, and my black lads, as has been out shelling and collecting nuts, saw it come and tell me, who have come over to see what the sea has washed me up this time, for I’ve been getting short o’ odds and ends, and the rum was getting low. There was the steamer, empty and cast away, and I’ve took possession, when you come and begin bullying and pretending you’ve got a claim on her.”
“Claim on her, you scoundrelly pirate!” cried the doctor. “Why, men have been transported for life for what you are attempting to do.”
The man scowled at the word transportation, and his right hand went to one of the holsters, whose flap he pressed over the stud so as to lay bare the butt of the pistol within. This he drew out and cocked.
“I just warn you to be civil, my fine fellow,” he said. “I’ve only to say a word to my black fellows, and, in spite of your kicking, over you’d go into water that swarms with sharks; but when a man insults me, Dan Mallam, King o’ the Pearl Islands, my temper gets warm, and I show my boys what a shot I am. Do you hear?”
The pistol clicked, and sent a shudder through Carey, who started at the ominous sound and looked wildly round for the guns, in the mad idea that he might be able to catch one up, load it, and fire in defence of the man towards whom he felt as if he were an elder brother. But the guns were all in the hands of the blacks, and others had possession of the satchels containing the cartridges.
Second thoughts convinced him that such an attempt could only result in the ruffian carrying out one of his threats, for he was beyond the reach of the law, if he were, as he said, a dweller in some neighbouring island, ruling probably over a little tribe of blacks.
What was to be done?
Just then the doctor spoke.
“Look here,” he said, “I do not wish to insult you, but I am not going to give up to a man who is acting as you are. I tell you once more, I hold this vessel in my charge, and I am prepared to defend it on behalf of the owners.”
“How?” said their visitor, with a mocking laugh.
“Never mind how,” replied the doctor, more calmly. “I am not to be frightened by empty threats. We are not so far from civilisation that you dare injure me and my companions. The news would be carried to Brisbane, Adelaide, or Sydney, and one of her Majesty’s war ships on the station would soon be here to call you to account.”
“How’d they get the noos?” said the man, mockingly.
“In the same way that you did: the blacks would hear it.”
“Let ’em,” said the man, fiercely. “A black fellow’s life aren’t worth much, but they think too much of it to care about chucking it away.”
“The report would certainly reach headquarters, and, like the black fellows, sir, you care too much for your life to care about chucking it away, as you call it. Now, look here, I am not frightened by your threats, neither do I want to quarrel.”
“Same here, sonny, so let’s forget what’s passed and be friends,” said the man, replacing his little revolver.
“Hear me out first,” said the doctor. “I am in command here, and I mean to retain it, but I do not wish to be grasping or unfair to an Englishman in want of necessaries out in this wild place. I will let you have what things you require in the morning.”
“Thankye,” said the man, drily. “Now then, we’ve only just got here after a long paddling against the currents, and the wind against us. I want something to eat, and my boys are pretty sharp set. Where do you keep your prog?”
“Call the men off, and tell them to camp down forward on the deck,” said the doctor. “They can have a sail for tent, and they shall have such rations as we have ready. You would like a cabin, I suppose?”
“Well, rather,” said the man, with a peculiar smile.
“We shall have a kind of supper ready soon; so call off your men at once.”
“All right; only no games.”
“Treachery?” said the doctor; “I had no thought of anything of the kind.”
“Here, Black Jack, let go, and take the boys forward. No mumkull, baal, spear, baal, nulla-nulla. Plenty much eat soon. Get out.”
The man grunted, said a few words to his fellows, and they all trooped forward and squatted on the deck.
“Beg pardon, sir,” growled Bostock; “give ’em some ’bacco; there’s plenty.”
“All right,” said their leader; “give ’em plenty of ’bacco. That’ll keep ’em quiet for the night. Only I say, just a word of advice. Don’t try to play no tricks, for they’re about as nasty as a bag o’ snakes. Rile ’em or rile me, and they’ll bite. If they bite they kill, and if they kill you three there’ll be no work got out of ’em for a week. Understand?”
“No,” said the doctor, quietly.
“Then I’ll tell you: they’ll take you ashore, and make a fire, and cook you.”
“Ha, ha, ha!” laughed Carey, derisively.
The next moment the man’s hand closed tight upon the boy’s shoulder, holding him fast.
“You don’t believe it, eh?”
“No,” said Carey, boldly; “not a word of it, and don’t grip my shoulder like that—it hurts.”
“Meant it to, puppy,” growled the man, menacingly. “D’ye hear? Cook you and eat you, and they’ll begin on you, because you’re young and tender; and they’ll go on eating you till they’re as dizzy as drunken men. Then they’ll go to sleep, and wake up again, and go on cooking and eating till they can’t see, and keep on till they’ve finished you all.”
“Find me pretty tough,” growled Bostock.
“Not they,” cried the man. “You’d be tender by the time they got to you. They don’t mind how long it is first. Don’t believe it, eh?”
“No,” said Carey, setting his teeth hard to master the pain he felt. “It’s a silly story about cannibalism to frighten me.”
“Think so?” said the man. “All right. Here, Black Jack!” he roared.
The leading black snatched up spear and club and bounded to the speaker with wonderful alacrity, his eyes flashing, and he looked from one to the other as if expecting orders to slay.
“Ask him,” growled his leader.
Carey was turning faint with pain, and the doctor saw it and stepped forward.
“Take hold of his arm,” he said to their captor; “the boy has had his collar-bone broken.”
As he spoke he removed the great coarse hand to the boy’s fore-arm, and Carey uttered a sigh of relief. Then, turning to the fierce-looking savage, he said quickly, “Here, you blackie.”
“Not Blackie; Black Jack.”
“Well, Black Jack, what do you do with your prisoners?”
The fierce look died into a broad grin, and he showed his white teeth.
“Make fire; eatum,” he said, promptly. “Make big feast.”
“Go back!” growled the so-called king.
“No. Mumkull; kill, eatum.”
“Not now. Be off.”
The black darted back to his companions, and the beachcomber turned to Carey.
“Want some more proof?” he said.
Carey was silent.
“Here, you,” said the man, turning to Bostock. “Been in these parts before?”
“Lots o’ times,” said the old sailor.
“Tell him, then.”
“Is it true, Bob?”
“Yes, my lad, it’s true enough,” said Bostock. “They eat their prisoners, their old folks, and the babies and wives, too, when starvation times come.”
“What, do you mean to tell me that such things go on out here in Australia and the islands—now?”
“It’s true enough, Carey,” said the doctor, gravely. “I’ve seen the bones at one of their camps after a feast.”
The beachcomber laughed hoarsely.
“Now you know what you’ve got to expect, youngster; so behave yourself,” he said. “Now, doctor, you know. Be civil, and I daresay we shall be very good friends; be nasty, and I shan’t keep my black pack quiet, but let ’em do as they like. Hi! Black Jack!”
The savage bounded once more to his side.
“See that the canoe and boat are fast, and then you shall have a feast.”
“All fast. Tie rope,” said the black, pointing to the farther side of the steamer deck. Then, to Carey’s horror, he made a peculiar gesture and pointed at him.
“No. Salt beef. ’Bacco,” growled his leader, and the man once more bounded away.
“Come below,” continued the man, hoarsely, “and get those brutes something to keep ’em quiet; and I want a big drink. You three go first.”
Carey glanced at the doctor and then at Bostock, both of whom avoided his eye and went to the cabin entrance, leaving the boy to follow, feeling half-stunned and wondering whether they ought not to make some effort to drive the intruders overboard.
Note: Beachcomber. A white man who settles down in one of the South Sea Islands and lives by trading with the natives for copra—the dried kernels of cocoanuts—pearl shells, and the sea slug Beche de mer; often living by wrecking, kidnapping the natives, or any nefarious scheme. Many of them have been drunken, unprincipled scoundrels, their ranks in the old days having been recruited from the convicts escaped from Botany Bay or Norfolk Island.
Chapter Sixteen.
To Carey’s rage and discomfiture he found that their captor treated him as the ship’s boy, following Bostock to the store-room and ordering him to carry the most solid of the provisions to the blacks.
“They won’t want any knives and forks and plates, young ’un. Wait a moment. Where’s the tobacco?”
This was produced in its tub, and in obedience to his orders Carey took out twenty of the long square compressed cakes.
“That’s right. Twenty of ’em, and don’t let either of the warmint snatch two.”
“How am I to stop them?” said Carey, bitterly.
“Got a fist, haven’t you?”
Carey nodded shortly.
“Hit the first as does in the mouth.”
“To be knocked down with a club,” said the boy, bitterly.
“No one dare touch you, my lad, unless I give ’em leave. I’m king here, I tell you, and the black dogs know it. Be off.”
“You hideous, red-eyed brute!” said the boy to himself, as he took his load and turned to go. “How I should like to—”
He did not mentally say what, for he was brought up short by the word “Stop!” roared in a bullying tone.
“Here, you,” cried the man to Bostock, “light a lanthorn; it’s dark on deck. Follow him, and hold it till he’s done. And look here, bring it away again, or they’ll be setting the ship afire. They can see in the dark like cats. They want no light.”
Bostock fetched a lanthorn, lit it in a surly way, and then went first, closely followed by Carey, who just caught sight of their captor pouring himself out a tumbler of rum from a half-emptied bottle; but there was no water near.
“Bob,” panted the boy, as they reached the deck, “are we going to put up with this?”
“Dunno yet, my lad,” growled the old sailor. “Not for long, I hope. Seems to me like me knocking that there red and white savage’s head off, and then blowing up the ship.”
“But why doesn’t the doctor do something?”
“Aren’t made up his mind yet what to do, my lad, seemingly. He’s hatching. That’s what I think he’s a-doing of. I s’pose we’d better wait.”
“I can’t wait,” whispered Carey, “I feel in such a rage, I must do something.”
“Take the prog to them black beasts then, sir, now. They aren’t much better than annymiles.”
“Look sharp, you two, and come back to the cabin,” came in a fierce, hoarse voice from the cabin stairs, proving that they were watched.
“Come on, and get the dirty job done, Master Carey,” whispered Bostock. “I shall ’ave to kill somebody over this before I’ve done.”
Carey said nothing, but walked forward with his load, hearing the savages, who were chattering loudly, suddenly cease as if listening, and the next moment Black Jack came bounding to their side, looking eagerly from one to the other.
“Why can’t you walk?” growled Bostock. “Can’t you get over the deck, and not come hopping like a hingy-rubber ball, or one of your kangaroos?”
“Kangaroo? Wallaby?” said the black. “Over there. Lots.”
“Go and join ’em then, you sable son of a three-legged pitch-pot.”
“Got meat?”
“Yes,” said Carey, and he served out the big lumps cut ready, while Bostock held the light, the blacks taking it steadily enough till all were served, and Carey stood looking at them.
Then a murmur arose, Black Jack shouting the one word “’bacco,” and his fellows all joining.
“Can’t you wait a minute, you set o’ undressed nigger minstrels?” growled Bostock. “There, give ’em the cakes o’ ’bacco, sir, and I wish it would make ’em sick.”
Carey had placed the oblong squares of compressed leaf in his pocket, and he now took out half-a-dozen, the light being cast upon his hands and giving the boy a glimpse of one of the party in the act of making a snatch.
Carey recalled his orders, and he was in the right humour for taking advantage of it, for his blood was up, and he jumped at the opportunity of getting a little satisfaction out of his enemies.
The black was quick, but the boy was equally so, and as the savage made a snatch, Carey’s disengaged fist flew out in good school-boy fashion. There was the sound of a heavy blow, a yell, and the black bounded off the deck, to come down again club in hand and grinning ferociously as he raised it as if to strike.
Carey did not pause to think.
“Ah, would you?” he cried, and he struck out again quick as lightning, striking the black on the right cheek and drawing back quickly, expecting a general attack for his pugnacity.
But to his great surprise and satisfaction there was a yell of laughter, and the party danced round him, shouldering their fellow away, as in a series of strange antics they displayed their delight at his discomfiture.
“’Bacco, ’bacco!” they kept on shouting, as they pressed round, each taking his portion eagerly enough, but there was no snatching, till all had received a cake save the one who had been made to give way.
“There you are,” cried Carey, holding out the last, but standing on his guard so as to avoid an expected blow.
But it did not come. The black took his cake and joined the others, to go back chattering to partake of their meal, while Carey and Bostock turned to go back to the cabin.
“Now, I call that there plucky,” said the old sailor, gruffly.
“What?” said Carey, wondering.
“You hitting that walking blacking bottle twice over in the mouth. I don’t know as I should ha’ dared.”
“Plucky!” said Carey, wonderingly. “You don’t know what a fright I felt in when I did it; but I was in such a passion that I was obliged to hit something.”
“And so you did, sir, a regular smeller. I don’t believe a French or a Jarman boy would ha’ done it.”
“Nonsense, Bob.”
“Oh, no, it aren’t, my lad; it’s some sense, and it’s taught me a deal.”
“What do you mean?”
“Why, it’s give me a feeling as we’re going to get out o’ this job without being cooked and eaten. You see how they go down on their knees like to old Bottle-nose yonder?”
“Yes.”
“Well, it’s because he’s a white man and not a bit afraid of ’em.”
“Yes, of course; but we—I mean, I am.”
“Not you, sir. Didn’t look like it just now. Well, you’re a white un. I won’t call you a white man; that would be gammoning you, because man you aren’t yet. But you’re a plucked un, and they was all delighted to see you hit their mate. Well, you go on like that, and they’ll be afraid of you. There’s something in a white skin as is too much for them, and you’ve only got to let ’em see that you don’t care a quid o’ ’bacco for their blunt wood sticks and knob clubs, to keep ’em where they ought to be, down—right down. For they’re only good enough to make door-mats to wipe your shoes on. Eat us? I should like to ketch ’em at it!”
“I shouldn’t, Bob.”
“Ah, well, I didn’t quite mean that, sir; it was only a way o’ speaking.”
“Are you two chaps going to be all night?” came in a fierce voice from the cabin stairs.
Carey stepped up to the speaker directly.
“My black pack haven’t worried you, then?” said the man, with a grin which showed two or three yellow teeth. “I began to think they’d eaten you raw, as you didn’t come back. There, I don’t want to starve you; get below and have your supper along with your mate. I’ve half done mine.”
They went into the saloon, to find the doctor waiting for them with some food ready at one end of the table, while at the other the beachcomber’s stood, consisting of a ship’s biscuit and about half of the bottle of rum, which he had taken possession of before they came back.
“Get your prog, my lads, and then go to sleep. And look here, don’t you either of you try any games, or maybe you won’t see daylight again.”
As may be supposed, the trio had not much appetite for their suppers, but they made pretence of eating, and saw that their captor was watching them all the time, sipping his neat rum and nibbling a little of the hard biscuit, which he softened a little at times by dipping it in his rum glass.
“Now then,” he said at last, “is that your cabin?”
“It is mine,” said the doctor.
“All right. Go in then, all three of you.”
“I don’t sleep here,” growled Bostock. “I’ve got a bunk below.”
“You’ll go in there,” said the man, fiercely.
“But there aren’t room.”
“Sleep on the floor then.”
Bostock turned to the doctor, but the latter’s eye was averted, and he made no sign, nor spoke.
“All right,” growled the old sailor, and he turned to Carey. “I won’t snore more’n I can help, sir,” he said. “It aren’t my fault.”
“In with you all,” said the beachcomber, roughly; “and look here, I’m going to sit here a bit to finish my physic, so don’t come out and disturb me. My black pack used to come prowling round sometimes of a night, but they never do now.”
As he spoke he took out a revolver and cocked it, before laying it down beside his tumbler of spirits with a meaning look.
“Are we to consider ourselves prisoners, sir?” said the doctor, speaking at last.
“Dunno,” was the reply, shortly given. “All depends. If you ride the high horse I may tell my pack to set you ashore somewhere else, but if you’re civil—well, we shall see. Only just recollect this, and don’t argue. These are my islands all round here, and all that comes ashore’s mine. Now go to bed.”
He threw himself back in his chair and raised the glass to his lips, and without a word the three prisoners filed into the state-room, and the door swung to and clicked behind them.
Chapter Seventeen.
They were in total darkness, but Bostock took out his match-box and struck a light to apply to the lamp, which he coolly proceeded to regulate, and then turned to wait for the doctor to speak.
Doctor Kingsmead was standing with the veins in his forehead swollen, his teeth set, and his hands clenched.
“The dog—the brutal ruffian!” he said, as if talking to himself. “So helpless. Quite at his mercy. Seemed like a coward and a cur.”
“No, you didn’t,” said Carey, shortly. “We were taken by surprise, and they’re seven to one, and all armed.”
The doctor turned to him sharply.
“Seven to one?” he said.
“Yes, I counted them; twenty black fellows and him.”
“And threes into twenty-one goes seven times,” growled Bostock.
“Yes, yes, seven to one,” said the doctor, drawing a deep breath, “and the ruffian has us at his mercy, for those black fellows would rush at us at a word, like the black pack he calls them. It’s plain enough they have been within sight in a canoe, and reported to him what they saw. The scoundrel has, no doubt, played the part of wrecker for years and taken possession of every unfortunate vessel that has come ashore, plundered and burnt it.”
“Humph!” growled Bostock.
“What do you say?”
“On’y grunted, sir. That’s it. I’ve heard tell of chaps like him here and there in the South Seas. They knocks a few of the black fellows or coffee-coloured ones down, and makes ’em afraid, and then they do as they like, sir.”
“But is it true about their eating people?” said Carey, in a low voice, and he glanced at the door as if half-expecting to be overheard.
“Oh, yes, sir, that’s true enough. Our captain once said, when we had a report of a ship going ashore and the crew being massacred, that these chaps in some of the islands get such a little chance to have anything but fruit and fish that they’re as rav’nous as wild beasts for flesh.”
“Yes, yes, true enough,” said the doctor. “So unfortunate for them to come when we were away. We could have defended the vessel easily.”
“That means fighting, sir,” growled Bostock.
“Yes; wouldn’t you have struck a blow to defend the vessel?”
“Well, you see, sir, I’m only a sailor and not a fighting man,” said Bostock, slowly.
“You coward!” cried Carey, indignantly. “Why, boy as I am, I’d have tried to do something, if it was only reloading the guns.”
“Course you would, sir; I know that,” said the old sailor, quietly. “Didn’t you give that there nigger a smeller just now?”
“What!” cried the doctor, sharply.
“Got in a temper with one of ’em for trying to steal more’n his share o’ ’bacco, sir, and give him two, one in the mouth and one in the cheek. Stop a moment; let’s tell the truth if I die for it. Warn’t one o’ them cracks on the nose, sir?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Carey, hurriedly. “But I did think at a time like this, you’d have been ready to fight, Bostock.”
“Bob, if it’s all same to you, Master Carey, and I didn’t say I warn’t ready to fight. Why, o’ course I will at the proper time.”
“Then I beg your pardon, Bos—”
“Bob, sir.”
“Well, Bob then, for we can’t sit down quietly like this.”
“That’s what I think, sir, but I aren’t the skipper, and it’s what the doctor says as’ll have to be done.”
“Yes, of course, Bostock,” said the doctor, hastily; “but I was so absolutely stunned by this surprise.”
“Yes, sir, reg’lar took aback, I know.”
“I have not known what to do or say. I must have time to think.”
“That’s it, sir. I know you’ve got to make your plans. Bit o’ scheming, because we none on us want one o’ them dirty black warmint’s skewers run through us. You make up your mind what to do, and tell me which rope I’m to pull, and I’ll spit on my hands and haul like a man.”
“Yes, yes, I know you will,” said the doctor. “As to that old beachcomber, sir, shooting aren’t in my way, but ’volvers or no ’volvers, you give the word when you’re ready and I’ll chuck him overboard to get some water to mix with his rum; and I believe that’d be doing a good action.”
“Yes,” said the doctor. “Look here. That man can’t go on drinking strong spirit as he does without soon being quite prostrate.”
Bostock looked at the speaker with an expression of disgust and contempt upon his face.
“I What, sir? Do you think that old rough would ever drink enough rum to make him stupid?”
“Of course.”
“Never, sir. He just about lives on it. Bound to say he’s gone on for a score o’ years. Didn’t you see as he only nibbled a biscuit?”
“Yes, I noticed that,” said Carey, quickly.
“Yes, sir. Rum won’t have no more effect on him than tea would on you and me. You try another idea, sir. What do you say to frightening them black fellows overboard? They’re a rum lot; just like a pack o’ children. Frightened o’ bogies. Show ’em a good scarecrow or tatty dooly, as the Scotch folk call it, and they’d think it was what they call a bunyip.”
“What’s a bunyip?”
“What they calls a debble-debble, sir. They’re awful babies in anything they can’t understand. You must give ’em some red fire, or blue fire, or ’lectricity.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” said the doctor, impatiently. “We must temporise. It is no use to try and do anything in haste. The first thing we have to find out is whether that ruffian goes off to sleep or keeps watch.”
Carey pointed to the ventilator over the door.
“I could see through that,” he whispered, “if you could take me on your shoulders.”
Bostock nodded, and placed his hands firmly on the sides of the door, bending down his head and standing as firm as a rock, while Carey’s first instinct was to take a run and a jump; but he did not, for one reason, there was not room, another, that it would have been folly; but he placed his hand upon the man’s shoulders and steadily climbed up till he could stand stooping upon his back, and then he cautiously peered through a little crack, and the first thing he saw was the beachcomber sitting back fast asleep.
This sent a thrill of satisfaction through him, and he turned his eyes towards the saloon door, and a chill of horror ran through him, for he caught sight of something bright and flashing, and it was a few moments before he grasped the fact that it was the lamp reflected from the eyes of one of the blacks close to the floor.
Nearly a minute elapsed before he could make out the black figure of their owner, and then he saw it move.
It was plain enough now as it crept in and nearer to the shaded rays of the lamp. Carey could even see that the black had his club and the curved knife-like blade of his boomerang stuck behind in the coarse hair girdle he wore about his waist.
“Why, he’s creeping in to kill his master,” was the boy’s first thought, and a chill of horror ran through him.
The black crept slowly and silently over the floor of the saloon, and Carey would have uttered words of warning to his companions, but he could not speak, every faculty seeming frozen, save that he could see; and he stared wildly as he saw now two more pairs of eyes and a couple of the blacks creep in silently, but only to stop at the door, squatting on their heels, as if watching their leader.
The latter took up Carey’s whole attention now, and he waited to see him take out his club before he uttered a warning shout to the sleeping man, for he felt that he could not stand and see him murdered in cold blood.
The black crept on till he was quite close to the sleeper, and then he rose, squatted like his companions, and at last raised his hand.
The warning cry rose to Carey’s lips, but it did not leave them, for the black did not bring out his club, but softly took down the empty glass, smelt it and then thrust in a long black finger, passed it round and sucked it, repeating the action several times, till he could get no more suggestion of the taste of the spirit, when he replaced the glass, to sit staring at the bottle; but he did not touch it, only squatted there like a great dog watching over his master, while his two companions remained silent as a couple of black statues at the door.
That was enough, and Carey softly dropped down and whispered what he had seen to his companions.
“And they could brain the old scoundrel at any moment with their clubs,” said the doctor. “It is astonishing.”
“Yes, sir,” said Bostock, softly; “but aren’t it a bit like big savage dogs as I’ve seen? They could take a man by the throat and shake the life out of him in a minute, but they don’t. They sits and watches over him, and it’d be an ugly business for any one as attempted to touch him. He’s got hold of the black fellows, sir, and can do just what he likes with ’em. That’s how it is there.”
“That makes our position more difficult,” said the doctor.
“Well, it do, sir; but if I might make so bold, I should like to propose something.”
“Yes, by all means, Bostock. What is it?”
“You sleep on it, sir, and see how you feel in the morning—both on you, and I’ll take the watch.”
“It is impossible to sleep to-night,” said the doctor, with a sigh.
“Yes; suppose those blacks were to take it into their heads to come and finish us.”
“Nay, they won’t do that, sir. Besides, I shall be on the watch.”
“No,” said the doctor; “you and Carey will lie down and sleep if you can. I will take the watch. Do as I tell you at once.”
“But it isn’t fair, sir,” said Carey, protesting.
“I must be obeyed in this time of emergency,” said the doctor, sternly. “Lie down and sleep if you can, and I will try and think out some way of proceeding. Good-night.”
Ten minutes later the doctor was sitting with his back to the door, and in spite of all that had gone by and the belief that he could not sleep a wink in the midst of the peril, Carey dropped off fast, and Bostock’s loud breathing told that he had followed suit, while the three blacks squatted there hour after hour, watching their master and tyrant like so many faithful hounds.
Chapter Eighteen.
Carey opened his eyes just at sunrise, feeling, as a healthy lad should, light-hearted and happy; for he was perfectly unconscious of all that had taken place overnight till he turned his head a little and saw Doctor Kingsmead with his arm resting against the side, gazing out of the open port.
Then it all came to him, and he felt horribly selfish and miserable.
“Oh, doctor!” he cried.
“Ah, Carey, lad!” said the doctor, starting and turning to him. “Morning. You’ve had a capital sleep.”
“Yes, and you watching there. Why didn’t you rouse me up to take my turn?”
“I’ve not been watching all the night. I sat thinking till I felt that it was of no use to worry any longer, and then I dropped asleep. I’ve not been awake now for more than half an hour.”
“Ah, that’s better,” said Carey, raising himself a little to look towards the door, to see Bostock lying across it, turning himself into a human bar to prevent any one from entering without waking him up. He was now on his back, sleeping heavily, with his mouth open.
The doctor looked at him too and then smiled sadly at Carey.
“I say,” said the latter, “it seems rum, doesn’t it, for us three prisoners to go off to sleep like that without minding a bit?”
“Nature will have her own way,” said the doctor.
“Eh? Right, sir! I—well, look at that now! It’s a rum ’un.”
Bostock had suddenly awakened, and he now rose quickly and stared at Carey.
“I say, I aren’t been asleep all night, have I?”
“Yes, Bob. There, it’s all right.”
“Well, they haven’t killed and eaten us, sir; but I don’t like this. You ought to ha’ wakened me, doctor.”
“I was not awake myself, Bostock.”
“Oh! That was it, was it?” said the old sailor, shaking his head and looking very serious. “Then about work, sir; what’s the first thing? Shall I see about breakfast?”
The doctor was silent for a few moments.
“Yes,” he said at last. “I have thought over our position again this morning, and it seems to me that the best thing to do, if we are allowed, is to go on quietly and submit, until a good opportunity occurs—say of the blacks going ashore in their canoe.”
“And then seize the vessel again?” said Carey, eagerly.
“And chuck Mr King Beachcomber overboard, sir,” whispered Bostock.
“Or make him prisoner till we can hand him over to the authorities,” said the doctor.
“But there are no authorities to hand him over to, sir,” said Carey.
“Have patience, my lad; we never know what may happen. We had a piece of bad luck last night; to-day we may have a bit of good. Yes, we’ll go on as usual. See to the breakfast.”
“Right, sir,” cried the old sailor, and he turned the handle of the door without effect.
“Locked?” said Carey, in a hoarse whisper.
“Can’t say, sir, but it’s made fast somehow.”
To the surprise of all, though, the door was opened the next moment, and their captor stood before them, looking from one to the other, while at a glance Carey saw that the blacks had disappeared.
“Come out of that,” growled the ruffian, sourly. “I want some breakfast; and you, sailor chap, get out rations of beef or pork for my pack. They’ll be hungry again by this time. Light the fire first, and let’s have some tea soon.”
Carey involuntarily glanced at the bottle on the table, and saw that it was empty. He saw, too, that his glance was noticed, for the beachcomber said with a hoarse laugh:
“Oh, yes, I drink tea too. But put another bottle of that stuff on the table as well.”
They passed out into the saloon, and Carey made at once for the door.
“Where are you going, boy?” cried the beachcomber.
“To get a bucket of fresh water and have a sluice,” replied Carey, sulkily, for he objected to be called “boy.”
“Humph! You look clean enough,” growled the man. “Be off then, and make haste back to get breakfast.”
Carey stepped back to catch up a towel, and then went to the saloon doorway and out on deck.
“Yes, I’ll come back soon, and I’ll help,” muttered the boy through his teeth; “but only wait till I get my chance. Brrrr!” he snarled, “how it all makes me feel as if I should like to do something to somebody.”
He walked sharply to where the bucket he used every morning stood ready, with a line attached to the handle; but before he reached it, there was the soft pattering of feet, and the pack of black fellows came running to meet him, headed by Black Jack, who stopped short close upon the boy to strike an attitude, making a hideous grimace, and poising his spear with one hand while he rested it upon the fingers of the other as if to steady it for hurling, while his companions snatched melon-headed clubs or boomerangs from out of the cord-like girdles which supported a broad shell hanging in front.
Carey had not had his breakfast, a fact which added fuel to the hot temper he was already in, consequent upon his treatment in the saloon.
Feeling perfectly reckless and irritated by the action of the naked blacks, and the most utter contempt for their childish attempt to frighten him, Carey’s temper boiled over.
“Out of the way, you black monkey,” he cried, and, treating the threatening spear with the most perfect contempt, he made a dash at the black and flicked at him sharply with the towel, catching him with a smart crack on the thigh and making him utter a yell, as he bounded back, dropping his spear and stooping to rub the place.
As soon as Carey had delivered the flick so dexterously, one often practised on bathing excursions when at school, he repented, fully expecting that the others would rush upon him with their clubs.
But to his utter astonishment and relief, they uttered a shout of delight on seeing their leader’s discomfiture, and some broke into a triumphal dance, chattering and laughing, while three of the party threw themselves on deck and rolled about in convulsions of mirth.
“I don’t care,” muttered Carey; “I’ll let them see I’m not afraid of them,” and, without pausing now, he walked to the side, caught up the bucket, and twisting one end of the line round his left hand, went to the open gangway of that side of the vessel to throw down the bucket into the clear, cool water.
But he paused, for just beneath him, fastened by ropes, were a small whale-boat and an outrigger canoe.
He walked farther, and as soon as he was clear of the two craft, he sent the bucket down topsy-turvy so that it filled; hauled it up and turned to find himself hemmed in by a semi-circle of blacks.
Again acting on the impulse of the moment, Carey placed a second hand to the bucket and gave it a quick swing round, discharging its contents in an arc, with the intention of dowsing the savages; but they were too quick for him, bounding back, grinning with delight at their cleverness, but coming forward again, laughing like a pack of mischievous boys to tempt him to throw again.
“Oh, I’m not going to keep on at that,” muttered Carey, as he raised the bucket again and threw it overboard for a fresh supply; and as soon as he had it up, he knelt down by it, had a good sluice, and rose to begin towelling, while the grinning blacks looked on.
As he finished, with the towel now well damped, he made believe to throw the water over his audience, and as they bounded away, he hurled the contents over the side, put down the bucket under the bulwarks and turned to go back to the cabin, making the wet towel snap like a whip as he flicked at first one and then at another of the naked bodies so temptingly displayed, the blacks roaring with laughter as they leaped and bounded about to avoid the cuts; but far from showing any resentment against the boy, evidently treating it all as a magnificent piece of fun.
The boy left them chattering and laughing, Black Jack as merry as the rest, while the object of their mirth began to wonder at the power he seemed to have exercised over the pack of childlike savages, and to ask himself whether there was anything in these people to mind.
“But dogs will bite if they are set at any one by their master,” the boy said to himself in conclusion, and found himself face to face with the man of whom he had been thinking.
“Oh, there you are,” he said, sourly. “Go and help them with the rations, and then go and feed the black dogs.”
Carey nodded, and from some half-conceived and misty notion that he could not even analyse to himself, more than that it had something to do with trying to make himself as much master of the black fellows as the beachcomber seemed to be, he went about the work with alacrity, finding Bostock with his jacket off and sleeves rolled up, fast filling a basket with ship’s biscuit.
“I s’pose I shall have to boil up a lot of the men’s pork, Master Carey,” he said. “The black beggars must be satisfied with biscuit this morning.”
“I’ll take it to them, Bob,” said Carey. “I say, though, can you find a jar of molasses?”
“Ay, there’s plenty, my lad. Going to give ’em that?”
“Yes, look sharp.”
In another minute or so, the jar was brought out of the store, and Carey provided himself with a big iron cooking spoon, and thus armed and with basket and jar, he made his way towards the deck, to be met directly by the blacks, ready to chatter, grin, and dance about him, as he brusquely walked right through them till well forward, where he seated himself on a ship’s fender and set the basket and jar before him.
Black Jack did not seem to display the slightest animosity as he pressed forward, grinning and showing a set of the whitest teeth.
“Whar bull cow meat?” he cried. “Baal beef.”
“None cooked yet,” said Carey, shortly.
“What dat?” he cried, and his hand darted at the treacle jar.
Crack!
Carey was as quick, bringing the iron spoon down heavily on the black’s hand, making him utter a sharp cry as he snatched it away, sending his companions into an ecstasy of delight, and making them dance about and twist and writhe.
Black Jack clapped the back of his hand to his mouth, and then, as if the injury were not of the slightest consequence, he pointed now at the jar, in which the boy was inserting the big spoon.
“Dat not good,” he shouted. “Dat mumkull, kill a fellar. Chuck um—chuck um away.”
“Ah, you thick-headed, tar-faced idiot!” cried Carey. “Not good, indeed! I suppose you want raspberry jam.” And he brought out the spoon covered with the stringy treacle, turned it a few times and placed a great dab on one of the biscuits.
“Baal good!” cried Black Jack, angrily. “Mumkull. Black fellow. Chuck um ’way.”
He made a snatch at the biscuit, but down came the spoon on his black hand.
“Yah!” he yelled, and clapped the treacly place to his mouth, tasted the molasses, and the fierce look died out, his countenance expanding into a grin as he sucked, and then in good animal fashion began to lick, holding out his other hand for the biscuit.
The next minute he was munching away in a high state of delight, while the others crowded round with hands extended, and were served as fast as the boy could place dabs of the sticky syrup on the hard biscuits.
They crowded him so that several times over he whisked the spoon round, giving one a dab on the hand, another on the cheek, while one had a topper on his thick, black-haired head—all these rebuffs being received with shouts of laughter, the recipients setting to work at once to prevent the saccharine mess from being wasted.
But at last all were supplied, and the boy rested for half a minute, looking at the merry, delighted crowd with good-humoured contempt.
“Well, you are a set of savages,” he said.
“More—gib more,” cried Black Jack, who had just finished.
“You look a pretty sticky beauty,” said Carey.
“Berry ’ticky good,” said Black Jack. “Gib more; plenty ’ticky.”
Carey took another biscuit from the basket and put a very small dab of treacle upon it, to the black’s great disgust.
“No, no, no!” he yelled, with childlike annoyance. “Plenty ’ticky—plenty ’ticky.”
“Not good,” said Carey, mockingly. “Kill a black fellow.”
Black Jack’s face expanded again into a tremendous grin.
“Yah!” he cried; “baal mumkull. Good—good—good!”
“There you are, then,” said Carey, giving the spoon a twirl and dabbing a goodly portion on the biscuit. “That do?”
“Good, plenty ’ticky,” cried the savage, gumming his face gloriously and grinding up the biscuit as easily as if it were a cracknel.
By this time the others were finishing, and for another quarter of an hour the boy was kept busy at work, to find in the very thick of it that he had an addition to his audience in the shape of the coarse-faced beachcomber, who looked less ferocious now, with his countenance softened by a good-humoured grin.
“Feeding ’em up then,” he said. “Mind they don’t finish up by eating you.”
“I’m not afraid of that,” said Carey, shortly.
“Aren’t you? Well, perhaps we shall see. But it’s your turn now: breakfast. Come on.”
Carey followed him without a word, and, like his companions in adversity, ate the meal in silence.