My father stared at him, muttered some inaudible remark and rose to return to the deck.
“Must you go?” I asked.
“It’s my place, Sam,” said he.
“But you’ll be careful?” I never said such a thing to him before, but I had poor Dick and Billy Burke in my mind—cautious fellows, both of them—and my father had a wooden leg.
“I’ll lash myself to the riggin’ when I get to it,” he returned, and disappeared up the companionway.
We sat in dismal silence for a time. The wind seemed to be abating, but the waves continued their mad rolling as vigorously as ever. Finally Madam de Jiminez expressed a wish to return to her stateroom. Nux understood Spanish, for our blacks were marvels at acquiring languages and could speak half a dozen tongues; so the steward assisted the old lady to her berth and made her as comfortable as possible. After a long argument Lucia prevailed upon her mother to go to bed, and the moaning, despairing woman was led to her room. Perhaps inspired by this example Uncle Naboth decided to “turn in,” but the two De Jiminez stuck it out and remained all night in the cabin, deploring their hard luck in choicest Spanish. As much to escape their moody companionship as anything else I went to my own room and lay down upon the bunk without removing my clothing. It was then about three o’clock, and although the motion of the vessel had greatly moderated I found it no easy task to stay in my berth. Being at the mercy of the waves the Seagull performed some queer antics, and once or twice I wondered if she wouldn’t “turn turtle,” so far over did the waves keel her. But, queerly enough, we get used to anything in time, and as I was much exhausted I finally fell into a doze, and then into a deep slumber.
Joe wakened me at early dawn, laying a wet, clammy hand in mine and jerking me to a sitting position.
“Get up, Sam!” he said. “Something’s going to happen pretty quick.”
“Are we leaking?” I asked as I tumbled from the berth.
“Yes; but that isn’t it. Come on deck; and step lively while you’ve got the chance.”
He rushed away with the words and I followed him closely.
The sky was gray and overcast, and although it was so early there was light enough to observe distinctly our surroundings. The waves were simply gigantic and the disabled Seagull was like a fisherman’s bob in their grasp. The cargo had not shifted, fortunately, owing to its being so heavy and so carefully stowed, so we kept on our keel as well as the sea would allow us. I found nothing terrifying in the view from the deck until my eye caught sight of a dark object looming ahead, which I instantly recognized as the rocky shore of an island. The waves were bearing us rapidly toward it, and we were helpless to resist.
“See there! and there!” cried Joe, pointing to right and left.
I saw. Rocks were everywhere, on all sides of us. We were right in the heart of a group of South Sea islands—what group, we had no idea. My father’s stern, set face showed from the poop; the sailors stood motionless at the rail. The two De Jiminez, father and son, clung together and stared with blanched faces at the threatening coast.
There was scarcely any wind, as we were partially sheltered in this location. A wind might possibly have saved us; but as it was, and in our crippled condition, there was absolutely no hope.
Uncle Naboth stumbled toward us and said to Joe:
“Call the passengers. Get ’em all on deck an’ see that there are plenty of life preservers. Ned’s getting the boats ready to launch.”
I went with Joe, for there was nothing I could do on deck. Madam de Alcantara began to scream again, but she was not slow in grabbing her jewels and gaining the deck, where she collapsed at once and sobbed like a baby. We got the old lady up easily, and she was as cheerful as anyone could be under such trying circumstances. I had Lucia search for all the cloaks and warm clothing she could lay hands on and Joe and I brought up a lot of blankets; for the air was chilly, even in this tropical clime, and I knew we would all be soaked if we managed to get ashore in the boats.
Bryonia provided a lot of food for us—tinned meats, biscuits and various edibles that might be eaten uncooked—and had the forethought to add some utensils for cooking, as well. A keg of fresh water was deposited in each of the boats. By this time the grim island ahead was very near, and Captain Steele shouted his orders to have the boats lowered.
We put the women into the first, while it still swung at the davits, and Ned Britton, cool as a cucumber, picked a crew to man it. He watched his chance and dropped the longboat neatly on the crest of a high wave, casting loose as the ship rolled heavily in the opposite direction. A little cheer arose from our men as they saw Ned’s boat floating safely, and at once Joe began loading the gig. The two De Jiminez and Uncle Naboth were with this lot; but Joe was not so fortunate as Ned had been. He dropped the boat all right into the gulf between two big waves, but a line got tangled, somehow, and in a jiffy the gig was over and her occupants struggling frantically in the water. The boatswain dropped the third boat quick as a flash, got free from the ship and began picking up the swimmers. Ned also came to the rescue, at the peril of capsizing his own frail craft, and he drew Little Jim aboard as the boy was sinking for the third time. His father was hauled in by a boat hook wielded by the sturdy boatswain, and fortunately Uncle Naboth was spilled so close to the side that he was able to seize a rope and hold fast until rescued. Not a life was lost and the third boat, the cutter, carried its double load easily.
There remained to us but one more boat to launch, and I went to my father and said:
“Come, sir; there’s nothing to be gained by waiting.”
He shook his head.
“Get aboard, Sam,” said he, “and take all the men that’s left with you. I’m goin’ to stay here.”
“But that is folly!” I cried. “It’s a useless sacrifice, father. You can’t help the poor Seagull by staying.”
“It’s my ship—part o’ her, anyhow—an’ I’ll stay by her like she’s always stayed by me,” he returned obstinately.
I was in despair and for a moment knew not what to do. Turning half around I found the two big blacks, Nux and Bryonia, standing just behind me. The remaining sailors were already in the boat, looking anxiously towards us.
I caught Bry’s eye and there was an inquiring look in it that could not be misunderstood.
“Take him, boys!” I exclaimed, and at the word the two promptly caught my father up and bore him kicking and struggling to the boat, where they dumped him on the bottom and then sat upon him.
The lines were quickly cast off and we floated squarely upon the brow of a wave. The men at the oars pulled lustily and we increased our distance from the ship with steady strokes. They then lay to, merely trying to keep a balance as we slid down the side of one wave and up the slope of another.
I had my eyes fastened on the Seagull, and presently a huge mountain of water came sweeping along, caught her full on its crest and rushed with her upon the rocks of the island, now very near to us.
The ship went ashore stern foremost, upright as a die and riding the top of the great wave like a swan. It tucked her into a cove between two elevated points of rock and then receded and left her perched there. There was no crash of splintering timbers—no sound at all. The foremast swayed, cracked off and tumbled over the side; but the other masts stood firmly and it seemed to our wondering eyes as if some monster had grabbed the ship from the sea and set it high on the rocks to dry. Our oarsmen had plenty to do just then to keep us from swamping, for although we were not directly in the track of the monster wave we were near enough to feel a portion of its resistless power and were nearly sucked in upon the reefs ourselves. But I shouted as frantically as a madman, and from the other boats, which were at the right of us, arose a hearty cheer that made our seamen pause long enough to stare over their shoulders at the marvelous sight. Then they cheered too, for we all loved the dear old Seagull.
Instead of a wreck—the fatal smash-up that had seemed imminent and was expected by all—the good ship was suddenly rendered safe from further harm, for no other wave that followed was powerful enough to dislodge her.
Nux and Bryonia allowed the captain to sit up to view the wonderful sight, and my father stared until his eyes bulged from their sockets. He said nothing, however, but turned his attention to our personal dilemma, for there was no surety that we could manage to gain the shore alive. A forbidding line of rocky reefs faced us and should we attempt to land among them our frail boats would be instantly dashed to pieces. Bryonia, who had stood up to look at the ship when he released my father, remained for some time upright, shading his eyes with his hand and peering attentively at the coast. Presently he gave a grunt and muttered something to Nux in their native language. I caught the words, for long ago they had taught me, merely as a pastime, their peculiar dialect.
“Faytan!” he said. “Look, Ketaha, is it not so?”
Ketaha was Nux’s original name, never used since Uncle Naboth had picked him up. He too stared at the coast line steadily, and then nodded his head.
“It may be Faytan, my Louiki. Perhaps we are wrong. But it surely looks like Faytan.”
“Do you know this island, then?” I asked, speaking their own language.
“If it is Faytan, we have been very near to it; but we have never landed upon the island,” replied Bry. “The Pearl People live in Faytan, and they are the enemies of all the other islanders—of all the world. If it is Faytan, we are risking our lives to land there.”
“It is risking our lives to try to keep afloat in this sea,” I replied. “Our men cannot fight these waves for long, Bry.”
He turned away and whispered to Nux. After a brief confab the latter said to us in English:
“Jus’ try to turn dat point o’ rock yonder, Cap’n Steele. Den I guess you find a cove to land, where dere am no rocks.”
The English of the blacks was somewhat imperfect, although they spoke their own language with excellent expression. But you must remember they had acquired our language on shipboard, from all classes of people, and seamen are not noted for grammatical precision.
Captain Steele at once took command of our boat and directed the men to pull around the point of rock. They obeyed with a will and, although they found it a desperately hard task in such a raging sea, finally succeeded in breasting the waves and making the point. Immediately we found ourselves sheltered from the force of the waves and, sure enough, a strip of white sand lined the shore of a small cove just ahead.
“Faytan!” cried Bry, and covered his face with his hands.
“Faytan!” echoed Nux; but he frowned and said nothing more.
The other boats had followed our lead and, heavily laden though they were, managed to round the point. Within half an hour we had run all three boats upon the tiny beach, pulled them out of reach of the sea, and stood wet and despondent in a dismal group upon this unknown isle.
“This is a terrible experience,” said De Jiminez in a gloomy voice. “A nation’s fate has been decided by a South Sea typhoon!”
“All is not lost,” replied Little Jim, attempting to console him. “The ship is high on the rocks yonder, and all the arms and ammunition may yet be saved. Perhaps the natives of this island are civilized and friendly, and will care for us until we can find another ship to take us to Colombia.”
His father shook his head disconsolately.
“I doubt if any people at all live on these rocks,” he said. “The place seems absolutely barren.”
“Why, there is a grove of big trees a quarter of a mile back,” declared Alfonso, “and the island is surely big enough to support many inhabitants. Wherever there are trees we are likely to find fields of grain and fruits. Come; let us go inland and explore the place.”
During this conversation the three women had huddled under their wet cloaks, terrified and trembling. To them this adventure was a dreadful thing. To be shipwrecked upon a barren island is not wholly unknown to mankind but may well be regarded at all times with foreboding and horror.
“Come, then,” said the elder De Jiminez; “let us walk to the forest yonder. We shall find better shelter there, if nothing more.”
“Wait a moment, please!” I exclaimed, for I had been watching Bryonia and Nux, who stood apart eagerly conversing together.
“Why should we wait?” demanded Alfonso, annoyed at my interference.
“Because these blacks are natives of the South Seas,” I replied, “and they think they recognize this island. Let us therefore counsel with them before we act.”
“Bah! Any of these islands is safe enough,” persisted the boy.
“I am not sure of that,” I responded. “We are far from the usual path of ships as we have been blown from our course by the gale. This island is not marked upon any chart, I am sure, which means that there is no record of a white man having ever visited it.”
This statement had its influence upon our passengers, for they cast uneasy glances around and I am sure De Jiminez had no desire to risk the safety of the women by acting recklessly.
Presently our blacks came toward us with grave faces. Bryonia approached my father and said:
“We pretty sure this Faytan Island, the home of the cruel Pearl People. If that is so, we no safe here, and better go away.”
“What, and leave the Seagull!” exclaimed my father.
“If no go away,” returned Bry in solemn tones, “we soon be dead.”
“Why?”
“Pearl People never let people come to their island. If people come, they kill ’em quick. Nux and I, we once live on island near here. Twice the young men of my people make a war party to conquer Pearl People. The first time none ever came back. The second time Nux and I we go with them. We have many hundred fighting men—warriors. We come to other side of island, where is big city. Pearl People see us and send many hundred boats to meet us on the water. We make brave fight. All our warriors die. Nux and me, we bound and put in bottom of canoe. Pearl People king say he take us to city and kill us with fire to honor his great Pearl God, who win him the fight. But sudden storm come up; very bad storm; our boat break away and drift out to sea; we nearly die from thirst and pain when you pick us up and save us. That the story of the Pearl People. They very bad, cruel blacks.”
Bry’s dramatic recital gave us all food for thought, as may well be imagined. The sailors and passengers formed an eager group around him and listened intently to the tale; but there was little of comfort in it for anyone.
Uncle Naboth, my father and I, Joe and Ned Britton, went a little apart from the others and held a council. After considering the situation we favored Joe’s advice, which was to cut across the end of the island to where the Seagull was perched upon the rocks, enter the ship and take possession of it before our enemies did. We could be more comfortable there than elsewhere on this bleak shore. Our supplies were there, probably uninjured; moreover, we could use it as a fort and defend it successfully against a horde if attacked.
If Bry and Nux were correct about this being Faytan, then this was the safest plan we could adopt. If our blacks were wrong we would soon discover the fact and could later decide on a definite plan of action.
It would be impossible to launch the boats again and return around the point to the ship, for the sea was yet in fearful turmoil; so we decided to leave the boats where they were, and try to find our way across the rocks.
Our passengers, when this was explained to them, readily agreed to the plan, provided the ship proved to be in a safe position and we were able to get aboard. Of course our crew, all old and tried men, were ready to obey any orders they received, so we lost no time in making the start and our promptness doubtless saved our lives.
There was a gloomy sky and the wind howled mournfully among the rocks. We appointed two men to assist Madam de Jiminez and two others to aid Madam de Alcantara who, since a real calamity had befallen us, had ceased to wail and settled into a state of helpless stupor. Alfonso and Joe walked with Lucia, but the girl was fully as active as they were and could climb the rocks like a mountain goat.
There was a fairly level country between the forest and the cove, but in order to reach the ship we had to clamber over a mass of jagged rocks that proved exceedingly difficult. There were high peaks with deep ravines between them, for the point we were crossing was of volcanic formation and some eruption had tossed the huge stones helter-skelter in a confused mass. At one time we were high enough to see the ocean—still rolling wildly—and at its feet the dear old Seagull perched like a monument on the rocks. Then we got tangled up with the ravines again and when next we emerged we were across the point, and only a hundred rods or so from the jagged coast where the ship was.
It was a marvelous thing, this high beaching of the Seagull. The wave that carried her ashore must have been a monster, for the ship stood at least twenty feet above the water level and she had been gently placed between two huge rocks in a cavity that seemed especially made to receive her. She stood level as a die, stern to the island and bow to the sea—the sea that she was likely never to sail again; for no human agency could ever launch her from that altitude, with a double row of sharp reefs between her and the deep water. As a seagoing vessel we admitted that the career of the Seagull was ended; but as a place of refuge—a residence and a fort—the ship in its present location would prove invaluable to us as long as we were obliged to remain upon the island.
We found the rocks that supported her so steep and difficult to climb that we sent Joe and Ned Britton ahead, they being as sure-footed as cats. On reaching the ship they found only a loose rope hanging over the side to enable them to get aboard; but Joe managed to mount by this means and at once let down a ladder. A few minutes sufficed to gather ropes enough for their purpose, which was to furnish something to assist us in mounting to the ship. It was not easy to get the two ladies up, but Lucia was as active as a boy and assisted her mother even better than we could.
Soon we were all aboard, and to us who had always trod the decks when the Seagull lay upon the bosom of the water it was a peculiar experience to find her stationary and wedged tight between two big rocks. There was more or less disorder on board, as was natural when you consider we had deserted the ship in a panic of fear; but there seemed no especial damage of any port and the men set to work and quickly put things to rights again.
The sea was falling rapidly. After we reached the ship there was no wave of sufficient magnitude to dash the spray over her side, and few that even wetted her. The passengers at once sought their staterooms and put them in order for further occupancy. De Jiminez was delighted at the thought that he had saved his precious cargo, although what good the guns and truck could do the revolution in Colombia was a mystery to the rest of us. Little Jim was in a sullen, silent mood and seemed to think fate was playing him a sorry trick. Perhaps she was; but my opinion is we were lucky to come out of the typhoon as well as we did. It was assuredly the worst storm I have ever experienced.
So far we had seen no natives at all, and Uncle Naboth said to Bryonia:
“Perhaps you’re mistaken about this being the island of the Pearl People. For if them natives you’ve described are as careful as you say they are about guarding their coast, they would have been after us long before this.”
“We quite sure we right,” answered Bry. “But you see, in such storm as this they think no natives of other islands can come here to attack, so they stay at home in their big city. To-morrow they come here, plenty of them; and then we must fight hard.”
This set my father thinking. He turned to Ned Britton and said:
“Do you s’pose we could get the boats around to-night? The sea’s easier now and if we wait till to-morrow we may have the natives on us. We can’t very well afford to lose the boats, for without ’em we’d have no way to leave this island.”
Ned cast a look over the water and then nodded.
“All right, Cap’n,” he said. “We’ll try it.”
He went away to pick his men, and Bry returned to the kitchen galley and started dinner. Fortunately the Seagull was well provisioned and we had enough supplies to last our party for several months.
As Nux was laying the cabin table for the noonday meal I said to him:
“Why are the natives of Faytan called the Pearl People—and why should your tribe make such a desperate effort to conquer them?”
“’Roun’ dis island, Mars Sam,” said he, “is de fines’ pearls in all de world. Dey grow in a certain sort o’ clamshell what can’t be foun’ anywhere else. An’ de Faytan natives dey jus’ crazy ’bout dem pearls, an’ fish fer ’em all de time. But dey won’t sell none nor give ’em away; dey jus’ keeps ’em all heaped up in de Pearl City, an’ wears ’em on deyre bodies fer orn’ments. Dey worship de pearls in de great temple an’ believes dey gives ’em strength an’ health an’ makes ’em defeat all deyre enemies. If any boat comes here an’ sends anyone ashore dey kill ’em quick. Sometimes de tribes of other islands come in big numbers to try to get de pearls; but Faytans always too strong for ’em an’ kill ’em all.”
“Then how do you know about the pearls, and the Pearl City, and the Pearl Temple, and all that?” I inquired.
“How we know?”
“Yes. If no one ever gets away alive, how did you find out about these people?”
“I tell you,” said Nux. “Bry’s father he great chief of our people—what you call king. One day when he go with many canoe to fight the Grinto Islanders, a storm come up an’ drive him far away. All de canoe keep together with lines, an’ lay still on de water all night, floatin’ wherever de wind drive ’em. When day break in mornin’ he find two canoe from Faytan have drift in among ’em. When Faytan people see our canoe dey go fast to escape; but our warriors go faster. Dey catch Faytan canoe an’ de Pearl People fight us. Dey kill twenty-two of our warriors an’ we kill six Faytan people an’ make two prisoners. The prisoners we carry back home. Dey big fellows an’ don’t talk much; but dey brag of de Pearl People an’ say they rich an’ strong, an’ nobody can ever conquer dem an’ get de pearls. Sometimes dey tell us all about de Pearl City an’ de great temple, an’ all dat; an’ our chief ask ’em to show de way to Faytan an’ he prove he can conquer de Pearl People. Dey tell chief dey hate us so bad dey will show de way. So many young men of our tribe go in canoe, an’ de two Faytan natives go an’ show dem de way. I guess ’bout four hundred went, but only seven came back. All de res’ was murdered by de Pearl People. De prisoners try to escape in de fight an’ get to land; but our chief he kill ’em both an’ den escape himself an’ come home with six others.”
“That was hard luck,” I remarked.
“My father,” said Nux, “was kill in dat fight.”
“But you tried it again?”
“Many years after. Chief he old, den, an’ his son grow up an’ want to go to Faytan. De chief’s son is Bry. He my cousin. We hear much talk about Pearl People, an’ Bry—his right name Louiki—he beg chief to go. So we get a thousan’ warriors with spear, ax an’ bow ’n’ arrow, and go in many canoe to Faytan. Bry told you what happen. I think we two the only ones that escape.”
I thought over this story with much care.
“Do you believe all that rubbish about the pearls, Nux?” I asked.
“Why not, Mars Sam? I see de Pearl People when I fight ’em. All have their bodies covered wid strings of fine pearls. Big pearls. Some white, some blue, some pink. I see de pearls. Why do I not believe?”
“Did you see the big city?”
“I see part of it from de sea. We couldn’t get on shore. It mighty fine city, Mars Sam—over on de odder side dis island.”
“Then how did you happen to recognize the back end of the island where we are now?”
“Before we fight we come close, in de night, to see if we can land here an’ not be seen. We think if we can fight on land we beat de Faytans, who fight best on water. But when we row up an’ down dis coast we find we cannot land. We try de little cove; but dey on watch. Dey on watch all aroun’ de island; so we go bold to de front an’ fight in sight of de city.”
“Seems to me, Nux,” I observed, turning this over in my mind, “we’re likely to have some lively times with these natives.”
The black nodded very soberly.
“Pearl People very big; very dang’rous,” he replied. “They thick as leaves on the trees. If we go ’way alive, Mars Sam, it’s cause we have a ship full o’ guns an’ ca’tridges, which shoot better than bow ’n’ arrow can.”
“Yes, indeed,” I said, smiling; “it is certainly fortunate we have such a cargo. And the ship, cast ashore in this place, is a splendid fort. We won’t despair yet, Nux.”
The ladies did not appear at dinner, all three having gone to bed to rest after their dreadful night. Nux carried coffee and toast to them, and the rest of us dined at the cabin table in rather solemn fashion. There was little in the situation to cheer any of us.
Toward evening Ned and his men left the ship and began their tedious climb over the rocky point to the cove where we had left the boats. I saw that all of them were well armed and warned them of the warlike disposition of the natives. The sea was now smooth enough to render the journey around by boat practical, and as we had seen no sign of any inhabitants, so far, we hoped we were as yet unobserved. But that thick forest ahead of us might be harboring a hundred watching eyes.
They failed to discover themselves, in that case, then or afterward. It grew dark quickly and I feared our boys would not reach the boats until long after nightfall. But the sky was clearing, in patches, and in places we could see thousands of stars glittering dimly.
We had established a good watch on deck and drawn up all the ladders, so that a surprise was well-nigh impossible. Joe and I paced up and down in the dusk, for we were careful not to show any lights, and talked about the queer stories we had heard of the Pearl People.
“If half these tales are true, Joe,” said I, “I mean to have a try at some of those pearls before we leave here.”
“Of course,” he returned. “It would be foolish for us not to land such a rare treasure when it’s right at hand—hunting for us, so to speak. But what interests me most, Sam, is the Pearl City, with its palaces and temples. That might be worth seeing.”
“Nux says the natives number many thousands, and they have decreed death to all strangers. But who knows, Joe? We may see the city after all.”
As he was about to reply we heard the far-off crack of rifles—a regular volley—and knew the sound came from the cove. After that there was deep silence.
The struggle had begun.
Because no sound of any sort now came to our ears we were beginning to worry about the fate of our men when Bry joined us on deck. He said the Faytans did not shout when they fought. They uttered no war cry of any sort, but went into battle silently and if slain died without a murmur. Victory was accepted with the same stoicism, so it was impossible for us to tell how the battle had gone. That Ned Britton’s party had met the natives there was no doubt. The shots told us that. Only time could disclose the result.
My father and Uncle Naboth had come on deck and soon young Alfonso joined our anxious group.
“I hope your men didn’t provoke a battle with the islanders,” said the latter. “My father and I depend on them for assistance in getting away from here.”
“They’ll be glad to assist you to get to glory,” replied Uncle Naboth, “for that’s their best stunt. Haven’t you been told these Faytans, or Pearl People, as our blacks call ’em, decree death to any who land on this island?”
“Oh, that’s Nux’s story; but I don’t believe it,” said the boy. “When we tell them who we are they’ll be sure to treat us decently.”
“Do you suppose they’ve ever heard of Colombia?” I asked.
“Why not?” he retorted. “They must have some intercourse with the outside world. Ships visit every known island, nowadays.”
“I doubt if a ship has ever been here before,” said I. “This isn’t a known island; it’s not on any map or chart or other record. There are plenty of such islands in the South Seas, I suppose. Bryonia and Nux happen to know this place, for their own native island is only about a hundred leagues away; but my father and uncle, who have sailed all the traveled paths in the South Pacific, have never heard of Faytan before.”
Alfonso became silent at this; but he remained on deck, and it was after midnight before our anxiety was satisfied.
Ned’s signal came as a joyful surprise to us, and we hastily threw down the ladders and ropes to assist the fugitives in gaining the deck, in case they were pursued. The mate leaped on board first of all, saying:
“Let down the davits; and lively, too, lads! We’ve got the boats; but Lord only knows what else we’ve brought with us.”
In the hurry that followed no questions were asked. It was better to work first and talk afterward. The davits were swung out and the ropes lowered; but after that it was some time before we got the first signal to haul away, for the men had to carry the heavy boats up the slanting rocks before they could be attached. Pretty soon the longboat came swinging up; then the gig, and finally the cutter. We had lost the fourth boat, the whaler, in launching it in the storm, but all the boats left on the shore of the cove, with their contents, were now secured. We had to work by the light of the stars, which was dim enough; for until the boats and all the men were under shelter we dared not show a light.
Finally three of our men were hoisted over the side moaning with pain. These were tenderly received by their fellows and stowed below, while Bry, the best surgeon on the ship, hurried after to see what could be done for them. When we got Ned into the cabin to spin his yarn we found his left hand covered with a bloodsoaked bandage torn from his shirt, yet he had been working so industriously we had not suspected he was wounded.
“We got to the cove, all right,” he said, “though it were a bitter climb over them sharp rocks. We didn’t wait a minute after gett’n’ thar, but run the boats down the beach into deep water an’ prepared to get away at once. Part of us were still waist deep in the water an’ the others gett’n’ the oars shipped, when without warnin’ a hail of arrers fell among us. It was dark, a’most, but when I glanced at the shore I could see the white sand covered with scores o’ black natives; so I knew our first move was to dig out lively. Yaller Tom were bleedin’ beside me in the water, an’ I had to pull an arrer out’n my own hand afore I could help him; but in a jiffy we were aboard an’ rowin’ like mad. The arrers kept fallin’ ’round us, but didn’t do any more damage, so afore we got out o’ rifle range I let the boys drop oars an’ fire one round into that black line o’ savages. Some of ’em must have dropped, but they never give a whimper; so we rowed on agin an’ soon lost sight of ’em. The waves rolled us ’round some, for the storm left a heavy swell, an’ to keep from grindin’ on the reefs we had to pick our way mighty careful. There ain’t no decent water anywhere near this ship, an’ at first I thought we’d never get the boats to it; but a mile or so north we found an openin’ in the first reef, an’ half a mile or so south o’ here we got through the second reef. We had to keep quiet, for fear the savages had followed us along the shore, so they could drop on us when we tried to land; but they failed to connect. Seen anything of ’em?”
“No,” replied Uncle Naboth. “Who’s hurt, Ned, besides yourself?”
“I guess Yaller Tom is done fer. The arrer’s broke off in his chest an’ he wouldn’t let us pull it out. Nicodemus Brown’s got a splinter through his shoulder, an’ young Dipps got an ugly gash in the leg. That’s the worst o’ the story, although several of us’ll carry scars to remind us of this night’s work.”
“I think,” said I, “you owe your escape to the fact that the natives had no canoes on this end of the island. They must have discovered you while you were climbing the point, but got to the cove just a little too late to meet you.”
“Perhaps,” said Captain Steele, “it would have been a more even fight if you could have faced them on land.”
“I’m satisfied as it was,” returned Ned, shaking his head doubtfully. “They were thick as fleas, Cap’n, an’ if we hadn’t got away in the boats when we did we could have shot ’em down till our cartridges give out, an’ then there’d have been enough left to have murdered us neat an’ quiet. We must get ready for them folks, sir; they’re sure to be on us in the mornin’, if they don’t arrive sooner. But I count myself lucky to have got back with the boats with no worse calamities than we really had.”
“So do I,” said my father. “I’m much obliged, Ned.”
I went to the forecastle to inquire about the wounded. Bry looked grave over Yellow Tom’s case, but said the others would quickly recover. Our islander knew all about arrow wounds, such as these, and could treat them more successfully than a regular surgeon might have done.
“Do you suppose the arrows were poisoned?” I asked.
“No,” he replied; “South Sea natives do not poison arrows. We leave that to the Negritos of the Philippines and inland tribes of Australia. We islanders fight like men, not like cowards.”
“I fear we shall find plenty of fighting ahead of us,” I remarked, rather gloomily.
The black nodded.
“If we stay here we must fight,” said he. “I think it better to take the women away in the boats, and trust the sea. From here I am sure I can find the way to my own island, where I am a chief.”
I made no comment on this suggestion and returned thoughtfully to the deck. I knew Bryonia’s advice was sound enough; but I hated to leave without an attempt to see the Pearl City and get some of the big pearls I had heard of. The result proved, however, that we could not have taken to the boats had we decided to.
We kept an alert watch that night, you may be sure, but not a sound did we hear except the sullen roar of the breakers against the reefs. As dawn broke the lookout made a discovery. About a quarter of a mile away, between the first and second reefs, was a solid line of canoes, each carrying from three to six native Faytans. This line extended from the point to half a mile down the coast, and the patrol so established was sufficient to render our escape in the boats impossible.
There was no sign of activity among the natives. They sat stolidly in their canoes, their eyes bent upon the ship, perched high before them, and these sentries were destined to remain at their posts for many days to come.
Now that we were discovered we experienced a feeling of relief. Whatever might happen from this time on we could accept calmly and with our eyes wide open. It was no game of hide and seek, but open defiance.
“I suppose we must accept this as a declaration of war,” remarked Señor de Jiminez at the breakfast table. The ladies had all risen early to go on deck and examine the canoe patrol, so for once we were a complete assemblage.
“It certainly is no peaceful demonstration,” I replied.
“Still, we may be able to treat with them and peace establish,” continued the Colombian. “Let us offer to give them a few guns if they will let us go.”
I noticed Nux grinning in a corner of the cabin and was at once reminded of the humor of the suggestion advanced.
“Do they know about guns, Nux?” I asked.
“No, Mars Sam.”
“If they did,” I asserted, “they’d realize their ability to capture all we have. But I understand these people never treat with intruders.”
“We did not mean to intrude!” exclaimed Madam de Alcantara in a frightened voice.
“No; it was forced upon us,” I agreed. “I wonder if these fellows, to whom a ship like ours is unknown, are not amazed to find the Seagull set high upon the rocks of their coast.”
“All savage tribes,” remarked Señor de Jiminez, reverting to the former subject, “are said to deal with foreigners as they are dealt with. These people may be inimical to other native tribes, who sometimes come to fight and rob them, but it seems to me if we treat them politely they will become friendly in return.”
“You may try it, if you like,” said Uncle Naboth dryly. “They didn’t wait to discover whether Ned Britton’s party were polite or not; they jest shot ’em up an’ asked no questions.”
“Oh, dear!” wailed Madam de Alcantara. “I’m sure we shall all be murdered by these heathen brutes. Why—oh, why—did I ever sail on your ill-fated ship!” and the poor lady began to shed real tears.
Lucia’s mother had a weak character, in spite of her proud and haughty airs when safe ashore in a civilized community. Any adverse fortune floored her at once and I am sure she had already suffered agonies such as ordinary death could not equal. Her daughter, attentive and sympathetic in a charming, unobtrusive way, sought to console and encourage her parent; but it was a hopeless task. The sight of the natives had completely unnerved Madam de Alcantara, and she sobbed so bitterly that Lucia had to lead her to her room.
Madam de Jiminez had nothing to say. She seldom asked a question, and knowing she would be cared for as well as circumstances would permit, showed us always a benign and cheerful face. She was never in the way, and we all so admired the old lady’s courage that she suffered no lack of attention. The one beautiful thing about her son and grandson was the devotion they lavished upon her. Selfish they might be in all other ways, but both were willing at all times to sacrifice their pleasure to insure her comfort. Misadventures such as this are sure to bring out the good and bad in one’s nature, and we learned to gauge one another quite correctly during this period of mutual danger and suffering.
On gaining the deck after breakfast we found that the idea of turning the ship into a fort was being carried out in a practical manner. We always carried a supply of rifles and cutlasses in the gun room, in case of an emergency such as this. These had been brought out and distributed lavishly along the deck, where one could conveniently seize them. We had plenty of ammunition without having recourse to the revolutionary supplies, and we judged that from the shelter of our bulwarks we could repel any horde of savages attempting to clamber up the rocks. Even if we allowed them to reach the summits of the twin peaks unmolested they could not scale the ship’s side; so, with plenty of provisions and an arsenal to fight with, we felt fairly safe for the present. In addition to the small arms, we had two brass howitzers mounted at the bow and stern of the Seagull. These were usually masked with canvas sacks, designed to disguise them so the ordinary observer would not notice our armament; but they were now uncovered and put in order for action, our men training them so as to command the open space between us and the edge of the dark forest.
We had ample time for these preparations. The canoes guarding the reef passages lay motionless and no sign of life was observable on the land side. We hardly knew how to account for this; whether they were tempting us to leave the ship or were themselves preparing for an assault. However, it was our business to “stand pat” and await results.