We rapidly “rose” the lower part of the island, and here and there among the trees we could see wreaths of silvery smoke, the brown thatch of native huts, groves of bananas, and clearings, where the people grew yams and other vegetables. As soon as we saw this, Bill Seaman and myself were for landing at once; but a heavy surf which was beating on the shore prevented this, and Tom said he would not consent to landing at any place until it was absolutely necessary to get food or water, unless he saw white men, for many of the inhabitants of the South Sea Islands were cannibals, and, if we fell into their hands, would think nothing of killing and eating us.

We skirted along the northern shore, and soon saw that Tom had been right in saying that the burning mountain was probably in the middle of a group of islands, for by mid-day we could see the tops of other islands away to the northward and westward.

We now debated what we should do, and after much argument decided we should coast along the shore of the large island of which the fiery mountain formed the centre, and look for some signs of the house of a trader or missionary; and if we saw one, to land there at once and make known our story.

Along the lee-side of the island we found there was no surf, but the shore sloped down into the sea, fringed by a belt of sand of silvery whiteness, the outline being here and there broken by small creeks running up inland; but the fair beauty of the scene was marred by broad scars where the liquid fire from the mountain was pouring into the sea, and by patches where tree, shrub, and hut had been involved in one common ruin and buried in ashes and cinders.

One of the streams of molten lava pouring into the sea caused clouds of white steam to rise, and made the water so hot for a considerable distance that the fish had all been killed, and were floating on the surface half cooked.

To the meeting of fire and water we gave a wide berth, skirting round the line of steam and heat, though we managed to pick up some of the half-cooked fishes.

Soon after passing this we lost the wind, being cut off from the trades by the bulk of the mountain, and having to resort to our paddles to get the Escape along, which was slow and tedious work; and though we saw among the trees several villages composed of huts which consisted only of roofs without any walls, we saw nowhere any signs of the habitations of either missionary or trader.

Late in the afternoon we saw an entrance to a creek between two overhanging rocks, and after much thought we decided that we would run the risk of putting in there for the night.

Before paddling in we loaded our muskets and looked to their priming, in case we should be attacked; but as we got inside the entrance, we saw there were no signs of any inhabitants. So, tying our boat up to the trunk of a tree close to the right-hand rock, we landed, and gave our legs a stretch along the beach, for we had found ourselves much cramped by the close quarters aboard of our little craft.

As soon as we had, as Bill said, got the kinks out of our legs, Tom set us to work to clear out and restow our stores, which had been pretty well tossed about while we were passing through the waves caused by the explosions of the volcano and the consequent earthquakes.

We found, indeed, that it was fortunate we had come in, for the greater portion of our stock of fresh water had been spoiled or capsized, and we took some time in replenishing it from a spring, and it was quite dark before we had got all things to rights and restowed.

I and Bill were about to light a fire on the beach to cook our supper, when Tom said,—

“For goodness’ sake, don’t be such fools; we don’t know nothing of what sort of folks there be in the island, and if they see fire we may have a lot of murdering cannibals down atop of us afore ever we know where we are.”

“But it’s cold, mate, and I want to roast some corn. It’s bad eating dry corn, like a horse,” said Bill.

“Very true,” said Tom; “but I fancy there’s a sort of cave just here, and we can make a fire inside and sleep there warm and comfortable.”

“Where away, Tom?” I asked.

“Not thirty fathoms away. Now, come on, as I marked it;” and following Tom we came to a hole in the rock which was almost hidden by a mass of creepers, and drawing them aside he told one of us to go in with an armful of dry leaves and set them on fire to see what it was like.

Both Bill and I were too much afraid to go into the cave in the dark, for fear we might come across some wild beast; so Tom, laughing at our fears, stooped down and went in alone. He soon had a fire of dry leaves burning, and called us to come, for there was no danger; and now that there was a light we did not hesitate, and found ourselves in a cave about twenty feet long by twelve wide and seven high, the floor of which was covered with fine, dry, white sand, while the roof and walls were of a dark, rough rock.

“There, mates,” said Tom; “there’s a bedroom fit for a king. Now, as we’re near men, we can’t all sleep at once; so as soon as we’ve had our supper we’ll settle about watches.”

Bill said that as he was cook he would have the morning, and Tom agreed that he should keep the first and I the middle watch.

Bill and I were soon asleep, for we were thoroughly tired; and I believe that Tom took pity on us both, for when he roused me out I am sure that the greater part of the night had passed away.

He had been walking up and down between the cave and the boat, carrying a musket, and told me to do the same, and to be careful to notice the smallest sounds. I said I would, and he then pointed out the position of the Southern Cross, and where it should reach before I called Bill, and went to his well-earned rest.

I walked up and down as I was told, though I must confess that I felt a most undeniable longing to sit down; but as, when I once leaned up against a palm tree, I found that I began to nod and dropped my musket, I refrained, and walked up and down steadily until the Southern Cross told me it was time to rouse Bill out.

He protested that he had only just lain down, and would not believe that the time for his watch had come; and it was not until I threatened to douse him with cold water that he would turn out and relieve me. I gave him the same orders as Tom had given me, and warned him to be specially careful when he made up the fire, so that no smoke should escape out of our cave, lest it might be seen by the natives.

I lay down again as soon as he was on watch, and was asleep in a moment. From my sleep I was awaked by Tom shouting out, “What’s up? There’s a musket-shot!” and we both rushed out of the cave, and found that Bill was nowhere to be seen.

Tom and I at once seized our muskets, saw that the boat was ready to shove off at a moment’s notice, and called out to Bill to know where he was.

Almost directly afterwards we saw a man running towards us, who fell down at our feet and caught hold of our knees; and then, before we could make out what it meant, we heard another shot, and saw Bill burst from some trees near, his musket in his hands still smoking, and crying, “Jump into the boat and shove off; there are a whole heap of people after me.”

We all jumped into the boat, followed by the stranger, who had nothing on him but a necklace of sharks’ teeth and shells, who said, “Plenty bad mans want kiki^[1] me.”

We seized our paddles, and began to pull out of the creek, and were only just in time; for some twenty men, armed with spears and arrows, came rushing on the beach and let fly at us.

Our new companion seized a musket and fired at them in return, knocking over a great big fellow who seemed to be the leader. This stopped them for a moment, but evidently they did not mean to let us off easily, for half a dozen or more plunged into the water and began to swim after us.

We paddled away for dear life, but the swimmers swam so fast that we saw they would soon catch us up unless something stopped them. “Pull, lads, pull for your lives!” cried Tom.

“Ay,” said Bill, “pull all you know. They’re murdering cannibals, and had killed one man, and were going to kill this fellow, when I shot one who was going to knock him over the head with a big club.”

We pulled with all our might, and got out from between the two rocks, with the swimmers only two or three fathoms astern of us, and straining every nerve to catch us up. It was fortunate for us in one way that they were so close, for their friends ashore were afraid to shoot their arrows at us, for fear of hitting their comrades in the water.

The man Bill had rescued wanted to fire another shot, saying, “Plenty bad mans. Kill white man. Kiki them. Kiki white Mary^[2] three moons.”

Tom, however, said he would not fire again unless it was necessary, and told the stranger to take my paddle, while I reloaded the muskets that had been fired, and came aft to be ready to resist any man that might catch hold of the boat.

The old boat went through the water as fast as my companions could urge her; but still the swimmers gained, and presently the leading man took a tomahawk from his belt and hurled it at me.

We all boated our paddles and seized upon the muskets, which we clubbed, and beat our assailants off; but one managed to get a footing on board, and seized upon the man whom we had rescued, and endeavoured to stab him with a knife made of hoop-iron. We were still busy beating off the others, and had neither time nor opportunity to help our new friend; but just as we had finished repulsing our other assailants, and were turning to come to his assistance, we saw that he had managed to wrest the knife from his opponent, and giving him two savage stabs he thrust him overboard.

We again bent to our paddles, our guest telling us in broken English to pull away from the island and steer for one which he pointed out down to leeward. We soon got out from under the lee of the island, and made all sail in the given direction, and then began to ask Bill how all the trouble began.

“Well, mates, you know how as I had the morning watch; and when Sam roused me out, I took the musket and marched up and down like a sojer on sentry-go, and heard never a sound, till just about when it began to get light I thought I would go up above the creek for a bit and look about. Well, so I went up through some trees, and then I came to a sort of a path, and went along for a matter of two or maybe three hundred yards, and then I thought I heard some men a-talking. I drops down at once on all fours, and begins to creep along towards them through the bushes; and I comes after a bit to the edge of an open space in the midst of which there was a big tree, and under the tree was an open hut in which there were an idol a-standing, with necklaces and all manner of things on it.

“In front of the hut there were a fire burning and a matter of thirty or forty men around it, and some one were cutting up a dead man, and two other bodies was a-lying on the ground, and this chap here were tied up to a post. I didn’t feel over comfortable, and thought as how I’d better be making tracks for the boat, when I sees one of the cannibals cut this fellow adrift and bring him out in the middle, and was just a-going to knock him on the head, when I fires and he falls. Our chum here he runs to me, and we both runs as hard as we could with all the other chaps after us hot-foot, and I a-ramming a cartridge into my gun, and so down we comes. And when I’d loaded I turned round, and then I sees a big chap close after me with a spear; so I up and let fly at him so close as I almost touched him. And then as he falls I run again and finds you and the boat all ready, and Johnny here aboard of her. And the rest—why, mates, you knows it as well as I do.”

“Thank ye, Bill,” said Tom. “It’s lucky it’s all figured out as it has, and we’ve saved Johnny’s life, as you call him; but mind, you had no business to go cruising about when you were on the lookout, and next time as it happens Sam here and I will have to reckon with you for it.”

While Bill had been telling his story, the man he had rescued was sitting down looking alternately at the island we had left and the one we were steering for, and gnawing away at a piece of pork we had given him in a manner that showed that at all events his appetite had not been impaired by the narrow shave he had had of being killed and eaten.

“Here, Johnny,” said Tom; “you savey English. You spin us your yarn, and tell us who you are, and where you hail from, and what brought you into the fix you were in.”

“Certain, sir, me speak Englis’; me live along a white man two yam time; me talky all proper.” And then, as if to prove his intimate acquaintance with our language, he gave a volley of oaths, which for piquancy and nautical flavour it would be hard to surpass.

“Here, stow that, mate; we want no swearing in this craft.”

“Hi! what? You be missionally man—no speak ’trong? Englis’ man, ’Mellican man, he speak people so.”

“Never mind; just talk without any Englis’ man or ’Mellican man palaver, as you call it. Who are you?”

“Me? Why, me be one big man, son one chief. Fader he name Wanga; me him name Calla. Fader he lib along of there,” pointing to the island we were steering for. “Aneitou him name. One white he stay there comprar^[3] copra, bechmer, shell—all kind. Now one moon and one bit, me come to here for find copra, slug, sandalwood, and make plenty trade what time mountain he blow. Dem island nigger say he be me, and catch me” (and on his fingers he counted carefully). “Two ten and two men live along of me. Plenty kiki. Kiki one and two ten, and then come where him boy come. Kill one man, two man, and make right kill me, when white boy he shoot, and nigger he tumble so.”

“Well, now, in your island—Aneitou, you call it—you say there’s a white man.”

“One man live there many yam time, and what time ship come plenty square gin. My! den he drink.”

“When does a ship come?”

“Sometime one yam time, sometime two, sometime three yam time.”

“You see, mates, there’s a chance. A ship looks in once in one, two, or three years; and I suppose this white man is some drunken old beach-comber. Anyway, we won’t be eaten there,” said Tom.

“What are you looking at, Johnny,” interrupted Bill, for he noticed that Calla was evidently anxiously looking at the island we had left.

“Be still, white man. Man flog war-drum for fight. Me look see where war-canoe come.”

“What?” we cried all together; “a war-canoe in chase of us! Do you see one?”

“No, me no see; but me sabey what time man flog war-drum, all same that. Plenty soon all man go for war-canoe.”

We had not noticed any sound; but now, listening intently, we could catch a few weird notes drifting down the wind towards us.

“Him plenty bad,” said Calla. “Him call five plenty big canoe. One canoe him have men four ten, five ten; come along plenty quick.”

“I hope the wind’ll hold, lads,” said Tom; “these big canoes go as fast as a ship with stuns’ls both sides.”

Though we were tired, we got out our paddles and oar, and rigged up another mat or two as studding-sails, so as to make as much headway as possible, and get within sight of Aneitou, whose people Calla told us would send out their canoes to meet those from the volcanic island, if they saw them coming.

We paddled and pulled, taking turns to steer, Calla doing yeoman service at a paddle; but after an hour or so, during which we had made some ten or twelve miles, and were about half-way across, we could hear the sounds of the war-drums astern of us. Calla laid in his paddle, and wanted to climb up our mast; but Tom pulled him down, for fear of capsizing the boat.

“Me want see how many canoe come. Plenty big chief live along of they. Big drum, big god, they bring in canoe.”

“Never mind now, Johnny; wait a bit. We’ll be able to see them from the deck soon. Paddle away.”

We kept on, straining every nerve, and the breeze fortunately freshening we made good way towards Aneitou; but the sound of the war-drums of our pursuers became louder and louder, and soon Calla, jumping up again, declared he could see them coming, and made us understand that before ever we could reach Aneitou they would be up with us.

“But, I say, Johnny,” I asked, “where are your canoes from your island? They must hear the drums now.”

Calla answered, “That live for true; but s’pose hear drum—man run one side, where canoe he be, and men make get bow and spear, make long time.”

“Give way, lads,” said Tom. “It’s no use wasting our breath talking. The nearer we get to this fellow’s island, the better chance we have. It’s a bad business, Sam, that you let that musket fall overboard. We have none now for Calla, who could use one well.”

Tom, when he had said this, paddled away some time in silence, Bill pulling the oar, and I steering; but the sound of the drums of our pursuers came nearer, and at last Tom said, “I can stand this no longer,” and laying in his paddle looked to the loading of our muskets, and cutting up some bullets into quarters he put them in on the top of the ordinary charge, and saw that the flints were properly fixed and touch-holes clear.

When he had done this he stood up and said, “I can see the canoes now. There are five, as Calla said—great big double ones; and besides the men paddling, there are a lot of chaps up on a great platform amidships.”

“How long before they’ll be up with us?” I asked. “Can we fetch Aneitou before they catch us?”

Tom looked round and said, “I scarcely dare say that. There’s a point as runs out, where maybe we might do it; but there’s such a surf a-tumbling on it as would smash up us and the Escape, and all belonging to us.”

“Have a good look, mate, and see if there mayn’t be a break in the surf,” I said.

Calla, who had been listening to what we were saying, now got up and stood alongside Tom, and pointed out what to him had been undistinguishable—half a dozen black spots falling and rising on the surface of the sea near the point.

“There, them be Aneitou canoe. White man he come along of them.”

“How can you tell?” said Tom.

“Me sabey him canoe.” And then looking to windward at our pursuers, Calla said, “Now plenty soon big corroboree. Aneitou men and Paraka men” (Paraka was the name of the volcanic island) “come all one time to we.”

“Pull away lads, pull away,” cried Tom; “as Calla says, we shall be saved yet, though I must own I thought at one time we should be caught. I own it ain’t so much the being killed I don’t like, as the being eaten after.”

“Why, what difference can that make?” said Bill and I together.

“Why, I don’t know as it makes any difference, but I owns as I should like to be buried shipshape and Bristol fashion, sewed up in a hammock with a twenty-four pound shot at my feet and a stitch through my nose.”

As we pulled along after this discussion, the drums of our pursuers sounded closer and closer; and presently, mingled with their deep boom, we could hear the war-song of the men who occupied their fighting-decks.

I looked round and saw astern of us, not more than five hundred yards away, the five great double canoes, with their lofty prows ornamented with human hair, skulls, and mother-of-pearl, while high up on their platforms, surrounded by warriors armed with spears and bows, were the sacred drums, on which fellows fantastically painted in white, red, and yellow were vigorously beating a kind of tune, to which the paddles kept time, making their strange craft fly through the water.

As far as I could make out, there were about thirty paddles in each of the canoes, and some twenty warriors on the platform; so that fifty men, as Calla had said, were about the complement of each canoe.

“O Tom,” I said, “do shoot at them; they’re so close.”

“Not yet, mate; wait a bit. We shouldn’t do them no harm now, and every inch brings us nearer to Calla’s friends. Hark! don’t you hear their drums and war-song now?”

Certainly the sound came up to us against the wind, and looking in that direction I saw the six canoes Calla had said were coming to our relief paddling up against wind and sea in a smother of foam, while from a pole on board one of them there floated a tiny flag, which I could not distinguish.

Calla, when he heard the sound of the drums and songs of his fellow-islanders, laid in his paddle, and seizing on an axe and knife commenced a dance in which he defied his late captors, accompanying it with screeches and howls of which I should have thought no human throat could be capable.

Closer and closer drew the canoes from Paraka, but still faster did we run down on those from Aneitou; and before Tom thought it well to open fire on our pursuers, we were passing through the fleet of our friends. And on the deck of the one on which we had seen the pole and flag, which we now made out to be an English red ensign, we could see mounted a small cannon, and standing by its breech a white man with a lighted match in his hand.

He hailed us as we passed to shorten sail and round to, and, if we had muskets, to open fire on the men of Paraka; and almost immediately his cannon rang out, pouring death and destruction amid the crew of the biggest of his opponents’ canoes.

We doused the mats we had as studding-sails, and took in our other sails; but by the time we had done so, we were at least a quarter of a mile from the two fleets of canoes, which had now met and grappled, and all whose occupants were by this time engaged in deadly conflict.

“Well, mates,” said Tom, “I suppose we must go and lend a hand. There’s hot work going on there, and it’s only fair that we should help those who came out to help us.”

No urging on his part was necessary, and we buckled to to pull back to where the fight was going on; but before we could reach the scene of conflict the fortune of the day had declared pretty decisively in favour of our friends.

The canoe which carried the white man had riddled one of the hulls of the double canoe carrying the leader of the men of Paraka, and in sinking it had so dragged down its twin that the whole fabric had capsized, and her crew, or such of them as were still alive, were struggling in the water.

Calla was mad with desire for fight, and it was not long before we got up near to the canoes. At first Tom thought it would be best to lay off and use our muskets, but we could not distinguish friend from foe; so, arming ourselves with trade hatchets stuck in our belts, we laid our boat alongside the canoe on board which the Englishman was, and springing on board, made our painter fast round one of her stern heads, and then forced our way to where our countryman was fighting at the head of his followers. But by the time we had reached him the men of Paraka had had enough, and two of their canoes, which were able to do so, sought safety in flight.

The others remained in the hands of the men of Aneitou, who secured such of the occupants as were still alive with lashings of sinnet, and then looked after their own dead and wounded.

Some of the Paraka men seemed to prefer to trust themselves to the waves to remaining in the hands of their enemies; but they gained little by doing so, for volleys of arrows were fired at them as they swam, and some of the more eager of the warriors of Aneitou plunged into the water in pursuit, and the conflict which had ended in the canoes began afresh in the sea.

Calla, with cries of joy, rushed to an old man, who was in full war-paint, and whose necklaces and bracelets of shells and beads and lofty head-dress of feathers seemed to denote a chief, and who held in his hand a rugged club, clotted with brains and gore, and kneeling down before him began a long and voluble speech, pointing the while to the two fugitive canoes.

The old chief was none other than Calla’s father, Wanga, and he raised up his son, and calling to some of his men gave orders which we could not understand, but of which the purport was soon evident, for the two least damaged of the canoes of Aneitou were hastily manned with unwounded crews, and their fighting-decks filled with warriors, among whom Calla took a prominent position, being easily distinguished, he alone being unadorned with war-paint; and soon these two were darting over the waves in pursuit of the beaten and flying men of Paraka.

While this was going on, we were speaking to the white man, who, when we came to where he was standing, said, “Why, where on earth did ye drop from? A shipwreck, I s’pose. How long ago? Ye’ve rigged that craft of yours up on some island.”

Tom told him our story in as few words as he could, and said how thankful we were to have met him, and be rescued from being killed, cooked, and eaten, which would doubtless have been our fate if we had fallen into the hands of the Paraka cannibals.

“That ’ud be about your lot anywheres here, for all of ’em eat men; only as how as you’ve brought off Calla, and his father’s a big man in his island, you may be safe for a time.”

“Well, but how do you live among them? Why haven’t they eaten you?”

“Oh, I’ve been too useful to ’em for ’em to want to eat me; and, besides, an old shellback such as I am would be too tough to make anything but soup of. But now, mates, let’s be getting home again; and when we come to my shanty, which is just behind the point where the canoes came from, we can have a palaver, and overhaul all our logs. I’ll come along of you in your craft and pilot you in. Can you stow a couple or four black fellows and their paddles? They’ll help you along.”

We eagerly agreed to the help of the natives, who with their great carved paddles certainly added much to our speed.

“Well, this here be a queer craft, and no mistake,” said our new friend, who told us his name was “Bristol Bob,” or “Bob” for short, when he had squatted down on the after-deck alongside of Tom, who was steering.

“Now, mates, fighting’s thirsty work; haven’t you ever a drop to drink,” asked Bristol Bob, “and a bit of bacca?”

I at once got him a drink of water, and said I’d hunt up some tobacco and a pipe for him.

“Water, lad? Well, I’ll have a drink; but haven’t you got anything better—no rum nor square gin?”

“There is a bottle of spirits, which we have kept; but it’s stowed away, and I can’t get it out unless we unstow the whole boat,” I answered.

“Never mind,” replied Bristol Bob, “I can do without it till we land. Fancy, lads, it’s three months since I’ve had a tot of grog, and till another trader comes round I shall have to go thirsty.”

All three of us—Tom, Bill, and myself—did not much care about this, for on board the Golden Fleece we had seen quite enough of the evils of drunkenness, and looked at each other rather gloomily. But all of a sudden I noticed that Bristol Bob’s shirt was stained with blood, and said to him,—

“Why, you’re wounded.”

“Why, yes, lad,” he said, “I believe I am; but you won’t think much of such a scratch as that when you’ve been knocking about as many years as I have.”

Tom and I, however, insisted on examining his wound while Bill steered, and pulling off his shirt we found under his left arm a small, punctured wound from which the blood was oozing slowly.

“Ah,” said Tom, “it don’t seem much; it ain’t more than a prick.”

One of the natives, however, who was watching what we were about, when he saw the wound, looked grave, and laying his paddle in, came and looked at it.

He said something to Bristol Bob which we did not understand, but as soon as he heard it the latter said,—

“Well, it don’t look much, but it may give me my walking ticket. Here, take my knife—it’s sharp enough; and if you can feel anything inside, cut it out.”

Tom felt carefully round the wound, and after some little time said,—

“I feel something like a splinter here, about an inch and a half from the hole.”

“Cut it out, then,” said Bristol Bob. “Don’t be afeared, but cut well in.”

Tom said he hardly liked to do so, but the wounded man insisted; so Tom cut in carefully, and found imbedded in the flesh a splinter of bone as sharp as a needle and two inches long, which he drew out and gave to his patient.

“Ah,” he said, “ ’tis as I thought. It’s one of they bone-pointed arrows has struck me, and they’s woundy poisonous things.”

I had now taken off my own shirt, which was but a ragged garment, and begun to tear it into strips to bind the wound up, but Bristol Bob said,—

“No, lad; don’t bind it up yet. We’ll burn it a bit first to get the poison out. Have you a cartridge handy?”

“Why, yes,” I said. “What do you want done?”

“Just empty the powder into the cut, and set it alight, and you may give me the bullet to chew the while.”

I and Tom looked aghast at this proposal; but Bristol Bob insisted, and laid himself down so that the powder could be put in the wound, and taking the bullet in his mouth he told us to fire it.

He rolled about and groaned while the powder was fizzing and sputtering, but less than we had expected; and when it was burned out he gave a long breath, and said,—

“You can lash it up now, and put some oil or grease on it, if you have any.”

Fortunately, we had brought a little cocoanut oil from Ring Island with us, and soaking some rag in this we put it over the burnt wound, and lashed it in place as well as we were able.

By the time this was done we were past the point from which the canoes had put out, and saw behind it a large bay, in one corner of which was a little island some three hundred yards long and a hundred wide, on which was a hut with whitewashed walls standing in the middle of a grove of bananas.

“There’s my shanty, lads,” said Bristol Bob, who was smoking his pipe as if nothing was the matter with him. “I finds it best to be away from the mainland, for none of these people is to be trusted over much; though for the matter of that water don’t make much matter to them, for they swims like fishes. Up there,” he said, pointing to the other side of the bay, “is Wanga’s village—there where you see the cocoanuts growing in a cluster.”

We steered for Bristol Bob’s island, and found behind it a perfectly secure anchorage for the Escape, and moored her carefully, and cleared out all her cargo.

Bristol Bob told us we were welcome to quarters in his house, which consisted of two rooms, one of which was locked up, being a store, and the other, twelve feet by twenty, was the living-room and bedroom all in one.

Close by were half a dozen native huts, which were only like thatched roofs resting on the ground, without walls, and open at both ends, in which lived some of the natives who were in his employment.

The men, except those who had come back in the Escape with us, were away in the war-canoes; but a dozen women and a lot of children were about, and soon carried up our traps to the house, where we found Bristol Bob lying down on his bed groaning.

“Are you very bad?” said Tom. “What can we do for you?”

“Nought,” he replied. “It’s only the pain of the burn. But where’s that bottle of grog you spoke about? I’ll have a tot, and that maybe will send me to sleep.”

We tried to dissuade him from drinking while he was suffering from his wound, but it was of no avail. He possessed himself of our bottle, and drank more than half of it, with the addition of very little water; and then he put the bottle under his head, saying that it would be handy if he was thirsty, and soon after fell asleep.

The room was a queer place. In each corner was a sort of bed-place furnished with blankets and rugs, on one of which Bristol Bob was sleeping. In the middle was a rude table, not over clean, which, with some stools and chests, completed the furniture.

We stowed away our belongings, and then, being somewhat hungry, we thought of getting something to eat, and went outside to find a place where we could cook; but one of the women, when she saw us making a fire, made signs that she had something ready for us, and brought in a large tin dish, in which was a sort of stew of fowls and salt pork, and two great yams which had been roasted in the ashes, and put them on the table, with some salt and capsicums.

As she left us when she had placed the food on the table, we supposed we should have to eat, as we had hitherto been doing, with our knives, and from the common dish; but Bill, who was always looking into holes and corners, found a sort of cupboard in one corner of the room in which were some coarse delft plates, steel forks, and pewter spoons, and also some drinking-vessels.

“Here we are. We can eat more respectably now,” said Bill. “But, hark! what’s that noise?”

Boom, boom, boom, came the sound of the huge drums of the natives, and mingling with their notes were shouts of revelry and shrieks of horror.

Bristol Bob, who had been sleeping, breathing hard and uneasily, began to move and toss on his bed, and presently sat up and stared around.

“What’s that?” he said. “The death-drums they’re beating for me?”

Tom at once went up to him and asked him how he was, and if he could do anything for him.

“Who are you?” said the sick man, whose eyes were now lighted up with the glare of fever. “Where do you come from?” And then, putting his hand under the pillow, he seized upon the bottle, and putting it to his lips took a long draught which almost emptied it.

“Ha!” he said, “I have it. Calla and Wanga are having a feast, and they’ll murder and eat me. Come; there’s not a moment to be lost.”

As he said this, Bristol Bob sprang from his couch; and seizing an axe which hung on the wall above it, he rushed out of his hut.

We followed him, wondering what he intended to do, and quickly as he went we were close on his heels, as he made his way to a small mound some thirty yards away. Here he stopped, and said,—

“Ha! ha! they shan’t eat me yet,” and then stooping down he began to clear away some leaves and wood, and disclosed a small door set in the ground and framed with stout posts. This he opened, and disclosed a passage dug in the ground, down which he went, followed by Bill and me; while Tom, who feared that Bristol Bob’s ravings might have some meaning, stopped behind to close and bar the door.

At the end of the passage we came into a chamber about twelve feet square every way, and here the wounded man struck a light with a flint and steel, and lighted a rude cocoanut-oil lamp.

By its feeble rays we could see that here were stowed away four or five kegs and a couple of small boxes. On one of the latter the madman, for Bristol Bob, from the combined effects of spirits and fever, was now no better than a maniac, placed the lamp, and then, with his axe, stove in the head of one of the kegs, which to our horror we saw was full of gun-powder.

The powder he poured on the floor near the other kegs, and then loosened their staves by a blow from his axe, so that the powder they contained would mix with that he had poured on the ground; and then he stood up and laughed as he rubbed his hands.

“They think they’ll eat Bristol Bob? Not if I knows it. I’ll blow myself up first.”

Bill and I stood aghast at his proceedings, and even watched Bristol Bob reach for his lamp to light the powder without interfering or moving, when Tom, who had secured the door, came down the passage, and saw at a glance what was going on.

Without any pause or hesitation he dashed at the madman, and snatched the lamp away and blew it out. Bristol Bob, with a roar like a wild beast, seized the smouldering wick, and threw it on the powder, where it lay smoking.

Tom, who was struggling with Bristol Bob, shouted to us to take the wick off the powder, or we should be all blown up. I was so unmanned by terror that I covered my eyes and waited for the explosion, paralyzed with fear, and Bill has since owned to me that he was as frightened as I was.

The time passed, and no explosion took place, though we could hear the sound of the struggles of Tom and Bristol Bob as they rolled on the ground, and the cries of the former to take the wick off the powder.

Finding that we were not blown up, I uncovered my eyes, and saw the wick still lying on the powder, a dull red spot covered with grey ash at the end of it; and mustering up all my resolution I stooped down, caught it away, and extinguished it.

“That’s right,” I heard Tom say. “Here, one of you, help me with this fellow—he’s most too much for me; and the other go up and unbar the door, and let’s get out of this.”

I went to Tom’s help, and together we managed to get Bristol Bob down, while Bill went up and unbarred and opened the door; and then, coming down to our assistance, he helped to drag the poor fellow back to his hut, where we placed him on his bed, and tied his hands and feet to prevent his doing any more mischief. But now he seemed in a sort of stupor.

This done, Tom replaced the dressing on his wound, and told Bill and me to go back and close and cover up the door of the place where the powder was. When this was done we came back to the hut. We found Tom sitting down with his elbows on his knees, and holding his head between his hands, while Bristol Bob moaned wearily on his couch; and always we heard the weird sound of the native drums.

We spoke to Tom two or three times before he looked up, and when he did he said,—

“I can’t make it out why the powder did not fire. It must have been damp or something; but anyway, ’tis only by the mercy of God we have been saved. Let us kneel down and thank Him for preserving us from great peril, and implore Him to guard us in the future as He has done in the past.”

When we had finished, I said to him,—

“How is it that you are so different from all other sailors? On board the Fleece, from the captain downwards, every one but you swore and used bad language.”

“Not from all other sailors, Sam. I learned it aboard of my first ship. Her captain was really a good man; but there’s no time to talk of these matters now. I doubt not that Bristol Bob’s madness had some reason in it, and that over at the chief’s village there’s murder and all sorts of horrors going on. The sound of them drums goes right through me. Now, if the idea gets in the savages’ heads to come after us, I don’t believe Calla nor Wanga nor any of their chiefs could hinder them, so we must keep a good lookout. I wish they had brought back the little cannon that was in the canoe.”

“What do you suppose they’d do?” asked Bill.

“Why, they might kill and eat us.”

“Not really. Why can’t we get down to the Escape and get away while it’s dark?” I said.

“What! with all our provisions and water ashore, and leave this poor fellow here?” said Tom. “No, we must keep a good lookout until they’re all quiet, and then to-morrow we can make our plans for going away.”

Even as we were speaking, the drums were beaten with less fury, and the shouts of the natives were less noisy and frequent; and after about another half-hour they ceased altogether.

“Now,” said Tom, “you two fellows go to sleep. I’ll look after the sick man to see if he wants anything. He seems pretty quiet now, so I’ll unlash his hands and feet.”