CHAPTER XXI.

THE MANGROVE CREEK.

The secluded creek in which the ship lay moored had a little history of its own, that was better than the misty recollections of old Marco Polo, who, by-the-way, never visited Madagascar at all. It was in this solitary little basin, or natural dock, that the high-pooped and low-waisted caravella of the first discoverer of Madagascar, Lorenzo Almieda (son of Don Francisco Almieda, viceroy of India for Don Emmanuel of Portugal, in 1506), came to anchor, after a voyage that was long and perilous; and now, as our friends Morley and Heriot gazed on its strange and fantastic cliffs, the former thought of the Serendib of the "Arabian Nights," and the latter, who was better read, recalled the Island of the Moon, and the Cerne of Pliny, with the works of other writers, who averred that Madagascar was an isle divided between two races—one of giants, and another of dwarfs—the Kimos—about three feet high. These were always at war, until the former were victorious, at a place called Itapere, two leagues south-west of Fort Dauphin, where a pyramid of stones attests the alleged slaughter and destruction of the poor dwarfs.

The creek was also known to be the haunt of the famous freebooter, Captain Avery, an Englishman who gained vast plunder by his piracies against the emperors of Mogul and China, and who, about the latter year of Queen Anne's reign, lived in and about Madagascar, with the strange title of King of the Seas.

Not the least remarkable features of this creek were its enormous blocks of rock crystal, that sparkled in the sunshine with a thousand prisms of wonderful light and beauty. Trees surrounded it; the tall and straight voua-azigne; the bushy fouraka, distilling its green-coloured balsam; the wild fig, whose fruit yields a milky juice; the palm-tree, whose leaves are like feathers, and form roofing for wigwams; the ancient papyrus, the cotton and the nutmeg trees, all grew on the rocks; while betel, pepper, and tobacco were the weeds that grew among the jungle, where the puff adder—a reptile about a yard long—and other serpents lurked.

Just as the sun was rising in his tropical splendour from the sea, and through the opening to the eastward sent a glorious flush of light into the leafy recesses of the creek, Noah caught a couple of gallant turtles, each weighing nearly three hundred pounds.

After bringing them on board, he lowered them into the water by a line, tied, as sailors alone can tie, round them, and left them to paddle about, to swim, duck, or dive as they pleased, till required for the larder.

As for the one brought by Captain Puffadder, he flatly refused to kill it till sunset, on the plea that "a turtle never dies till the sun goes down, that he warn't goin' to be so jolly cruel as to leave it a nole day in a nagony."

From the deck Ethel and Rose, with their opera-glasses, were never weary of watching all the strange trees, plants, birds, and insects that surrounded them; everything seemed novel, save the turtles, which, of course, were like those they had seen squattering in fish-tubs at home.

Prior to their appearance on deck, with the first peep of dawn, a long hose, water-casks, and so forth, had been put in operation, and thus, before noon, a sufficient supply of pure water had been pumped into the tank from a spring which flowed over a mass of crystal rock, and through the decayed trunk of a fallen tree, which formed a species of natural duct.

Morrison, Foster, and Noah Gawthrop then fell to work upon the starboard side of the fore-rigging; Phillips and Tom Bartelot on the other, and all proceeded to tar down, and in many places to rattle anew the shrouds, and various other repairs went on with rapidity; while the doctor and Morley, with a gun, went ashore, and ascended the rocks towards the summit of the cliff, which overhangs the entrance of the creek.

The ascent proved long and toilsome, for everywhere the matted jungle grew thick; the weedy luxuriance there is wonderful, and so woven that it seems the result, not of a season's rank vegetation, but of ages; and as many little reptiles are always lurking amid it, no small care is requisite for avoiding them.

At last the two explorers reached the plateau, or summit of the cliff, and merrily gave a united shout, which made their friends at work on the fore-rigging pause and look up, and Ethel and Rose, who were seated on the quarter-deck, wave their handkerchiefs in response.

From the elevation of more than 300 feet, the creek, when viewed, seemed like a pool, the ship a toy.

Beyond the islet Morley and Heriot saw the whole sweep of the southern end of the great island of Madagascar, from Cape St. Mary towards Ainse des Galiona, with the pale blue and distant summit of Botistmeni, the highest mountain to the southward of that lofty chain which divides the island into two parts.

In many places the coast was flat and low, and by their glasses they could see that the shore looked green and slimy, and here and there were dome-shaped huts of mud and palm-leaves, sheltered by clumps of ebony and raven trees.

North-westward, the ocean they hoped to traverse on the morrow was flashing in its noonday brilliance; but it seemed lonely and void; not a sail was visible on all its vast expanse. Towards the south-west the higher portions of the islet hid the watery path they had pursued from the great channel of the Mozambique.

"We may ascend higher in that direction," said Morley, pointing, "and see if a sail is in sight there."

"Stop!" exclaimed Heriot, in an excited tone, as he applied to his eyes his powerful double-barrelled ship-glass, and gazed intently towards the mainland.

"What do you see that interests you?"

"Look, Ashton, look! What is that creeping out from behind that wooded headland?"

"Where?"

"There—about five miles off."

"A boat—a long craft of some kind, without masts."

"Another follows now."

"And another—all painted red!"

"Three!" said Heriot, in a low voice.

"The proas—the three red proas!"

"Down, Ashton, stoop down, lest they see our figures at this distance against the clear sky!" exclaimed the doctor, suiting the action to the word.

Lying at full length among the thick grass that covered all the summit of the cliff, the two friends, resting on their elbows, took a long sight of the strange boats.

"Each is full of men. I could count their heads."

"They are pulling fast, and steering direct for this island!" exclaimed Heriot.

"We have been lured in here and deceived, I doubt not, by that old Malay villain, Puffadder. Old sailors have strange instincts at times, and Noah seemed to suspect as much."

"This is why he would neither come on board nor pilot us into the creek. But we may do him an injustice; he may not be in league with these pirates at all."

"Oh, Ethel!" exclaimed Morley, speaking as if to himself, "your forebodings, your dreams are perhaps about to be terribly realised."

"Let us away to the ship, we have not a moment to lose! See how the paddles flash in the sunshine. They are all pulling as if the devil was after them!"

Their mode of rowing was peculiar, for the paddlers all faced the bow of each proa, and scooped the water astern.

Breathless with excitement, heat, and alarm, and with their imaginations picturing visions of cruelty and slaughter, Ashton and Heriot came plunging down the jungle-covered steep with such speed and impetuosity, that their friends in the ship paused again and again to observe them in wonder, though believing that they had some very unusual reason for this sudden display of activity.

Both were young, light, and active; thus, in less than a quarter of an hour, they had reached the ship by means of the gig, which they had left moored among the mangroves, sprang on deck, and reported what they had observed towards the mainland of Madagascar.

Could they have seen a little way to the south-west they might have observed something more; but the sight of the three proas proved quite enough for them.

Their tidings produced instant consternation.

"That wily old villain, Puffadder, has recommended us to warp in here, and then betrayed our whereabouts. By Heavens—we are in a precious mess!" exclaimed the captain.

"And Ethel and Rose," said Morley, turning to Heriot, with a voice and face expressive of grief and terror; "what is to be done now?"

"Done! Why, sir, we must make the best of it," said Noah, energetically, as his old man-o'-war instincts came upon him, and he began to strip to his waist; "if these etarnal warmints get hold o' the ship, they'll pick every copper nail out of her!"

"Captain Phillips," said Morrison, a sharp-witted and resolute Scotchman, and who spoke with more rapidity than his countrymen usually do; "the ship is moored athwart the creek, with her port side to the mouth of it. Bring over her two starboard carronades, and work the four in battery together. Thus we may knock these proas all to pieces by round shot as they head for the creek in succession."

"You speak like a nangel or a nadmiral, Mr. Morrison!" said Noah.

"Excellent!" cried Phillips; "to work and with a will, my friends." He threw aside his coat, and bouncing about with an agility remarkable for one of his years and fat little figure, added, "Bring on deck all the arms and ammunition we have, doctor; get the powder out of the magazine aft, Mr. Ashton; and take your daughters below, Mr. Basset, please, for the sight of their pale and woe-begone faces flurries me. Look alive, my hearties. Captain Bartelot and Mr. Morrison help me here; bear a hand to cast loose these two starboard guns."

The two carronades were soon clear, their tompions taken out, their touch-holes cleaned, and they were run over to the port or larboard side. Originally the Hermione had been pierced for twelve guns, but, as we have stated, she had only four six-pound carronades, and only four shot remaining for each. They were loaded, shotted, and primed with great rapidity by Noah, who used a capstan-bar as a rammer. Then, diving below, he suddenly reappeared from the steerage with a hamper full of empty bottles.

"What are these for?" asked Captain Phillips.

"Grape and canister, sir," replied old Noah, as he proceeded to smash the bottles and fill the carronades with the fragments even to their very muzzles.

Morley was too busy distributing powder, even to speak one farewell word to Ethel, as she was taken below by Heriot, who soon after reappeared with all the arms they had on board: to wit—his own pair of excellent pistols, the captain's two six-barrel revolvers, six old brass-barrelled pistols taken from the mutineers, their sheath-knives, the double-barrelled fowling-piece, a sharp hatchet, and a harpoon.

Thus they had nearly a brace of pistols each, and, fortunately, plenty of ball ammunition made up into cartridge form for the contingencies of the Madagascar coast.

In less than ten minutes all was in readiness; all were certainly silent, pale, and desperate, for all felt that death and utter destruction were awfully close at hand.

The misery of the Bassets and the two lovers was more poignant than any emotion felt by their companions, who were chiefly inspired by the natural impulse of self-preservation, without the paralysing horror that on their lives depended the lives of others who were most dear to them; but the whole affair had come upon them with the suddenness of a thunderclap, and as yet, perhaps, they could scarcely understand the terrors of their situation.

"These cursed proas were about five miles off, you say, doctor?" said the captain, in a low voice, as he looked at his watch.

"Yes, sir; five to leeward of the island."

"The wind is light, though increasing."

"They had neither spars nor sails up, sir, and so may not be here for more than an hour yet, though swiftly paddled."

"They may not come here at all," said Bartelot; "for perhaps they may be quite ignorant that we are lying in the creek."

"If not aware now they will soon be," said Morley; "they were steering directly for the creek, and I don't think these mangroves will hide the ship's spars."

"Still they may pass it," said Tom, hopefully, as he carefully capped his revolver, and slung it by his side.

The others shook their heads despondingly, and Noah put a quid into his cheek, with the nowise cheering reflection that it was "mayhap the last" he would ever put there.

"It was a fortunate proposal of yours to climb the cliff, doctor," said Morley.

"I thank Heaven for the thought," replied Heriot, emphatically; "for had those Malay devils found us unprepared——"

"My blood runs cold at the idea."

"How quietly they might have come upon us in the night," suggested Morrison.

"They are perhaps strong enough to despise stratagem," said Captain Phillips.

"More likely, sir, that old bumboatman, Puff, hadn't time to blow the gaff on us, or we might all have been with Davy Jones last night," said Noah.

All spoke in a species of whisper, and all looked at their watches from time to time, and listened so intently, that an uninformed spectator might have thought they were waiting with impatience, but they heard no sound, save the buzz of insect life in the mangroves and dense jungle, around that slimy creek.

All was equally still below. Secured in the cabin, Ethel and Rose were on their knees, with their old nurse, in an agony of terror, amid which they strove in vain to pray. Mr. Basset, too frail to work at the guns, or be active in the defence of the deck, sat in the companion-way, ready to reload the fire-arms when they were discharged, and now Noah got the matches ready.

How the old fellow's eyes lit up! A brightness spread over his storm-beaten and sorely-wrinkled visage, making him seem almost young again, for he felt that it was to him—the old man-o'-war's-man—he who had heard the thunder of Sebastopol, and seen the Russian bombs strewing all the Valley of Death; he who had gone with Peel's Brigade and Havelock's Highlanders to Lucknow and to Delhi—his superiors and shipmates were now looking chiefly for direction and advice.

They all knew well enough how to load and fire, or ram home the charge with a capstan-bar; but skill in adjusting the sight and the quoin under the breech became a different affair.

"Now, gen'lemen shipmates by your leave," said he, "we must fire and reload each gun as fast as possible; but it will be safer if number four don't fire till number vun is reloaded."

Almost despairing alike of a successful defence, or an ultimate victory, Captain Phillips suggested the idea of putting Mr. Basset and his two daughters into the gig, and sculling her to a secluded place among the mangroves.

"But, if the ship is taken, and we are all destroyed," said Morley, "oh, what in Heaven's name would become of them then? They would die of terror, exposure, and starvation."

"The creek is full of alligators, too!" added Heriot.

"But what may happen to them on board if we are all killed?" asked Captain Phillips.

The contemplation of that result nearly drove Morley and Heriot mad, and they knew not what to reply.

"It might give the poor ladies, at least, one other chance for life if we hid them in the maintop, for we may have to take to the rigging yet, if these warmint capture the deck by boarding, and up there we may have to fight to the last with knives or pistols, or whatever we have."

"And how, Noah, if the Malays cut the mast away?"

"Or fire the ship?"

"No chance of escape, and none of rescue!" groaned Captain Phillips; "there is a fine breeze in the offing, as I can see by the whitening waves; but here, with not hands enough to tow her out, the crippled Hermione might as well be on the top of a mountain."

"Ah, if I had that artful savage with the cocked hat within range of this!" said Morley, through his clenched teeth, as he slapped the butt of his gun.

"Run up the ensign, Noah; let them look at that, whoever they are. We'll die game under it, anyhow," said Phillips, as something of a British sailor's pride and defiant spirit filled his heart.

"Aye," responded Noah, as he ran the scarlet ensign up to the gaff-peak, where it floated languidly at first on the still air of the sheltered creek, but anon the coming breeze made it stream out boldly; "many a round shot and Whistling-Dick I've seen a bowlin' under you," added Noah, as he made fast the halyards, looked up at the colour, and nodded to it as to an old friend.

Anxiously the eyes of the "few but undismayed"—for their courage certainly rose with the desperation of the emergency—were turned to the mouth of the creek, where, between the rocks and mangroves, the deep blue Indian sea, now flecked with white by the breath of a fine steady breeze, was seen stretching in the distance far, far away, until it blended with the sky.

Still nothing was seen and nothing heard!

But ere long, each of the eight men on the deck of the Hermione set his teeth, breathed hard, and turned to his companions, eye seeking eye, while all their hearts beat quicker.

For suddenly there was an unmistakable sound of paddling in the air, and then a shrill yell went up to heaven, as the sharp red prow of a proa, full of dark and active figures, shot round the entrance of the creek, and a row of rapidly-worked round paddles, shaped like huge battledores, furrowed up all the slimy water into foam, as they headed her straight for the ship.

CHAPTER XXII.

EIGHT AGAINST EIGHTY.

Noah had the first carronade on the right—that is, abreast of the mainmast. Stooping down, he trained it carefully, elevating and then slightly depressing the muzzle till he covered the object. He then smartly withdrew, lowered the match, and the recoil and report of the gun was followed by a yell from the Malays, whose rowers were seen tumbling from side to side, as if making summersets; for the shot, with its scattering accompaniment of broken bottles, made a complete lane from stem to stern, through the dingy occupants of the proa.

The echoes of the gun, with the cries of the Malays, rung with a thousand reverberations amid the rocks of the creek, startling clouds of wild birds from the mangroves and cane-brake beyond them.

"Fire number two—steady, Captain Phillips, please; here comes the next proa. Blaze away at the blasted warmint! Rake her fore and aft before she forges ahead!"

So shouted old Noah, while adroitly he assisted the recoil of his carronade, ran it back with the aid of Morley, and proceeded to reload and ram home. Captain Phillips, less used to this kind of work than he, levelled his carronade and fired; but he had not trained it properly, for, although the additional charge of broken bottles did some execution among the thick skulls of the Malays, the round shot whistled harmlessly over them all, and was seen ricochetting over the waves, till it made a white water-spout in the offing, far beyond the mouth of the creek.

Noah danced with disappointment and chagrin.

"Now, Mr. Morrison," he cried; "number three—level low—quick! here comes the next lot, a paddling like so many devils. Sweep the scum into eternity."

Morrison fired, and carried away the whole line of starboard paddles, and with them, perhaps, the rower's arms. Then, veering round, she thus fell foul of the first proa, just as the third came sweeping round, and headed towards the creek.

The scene was now terrible; there were some seventy or eighty Malays, many streaming with blood, all waving their paddles and weapons, and uttering such yells as one might imagine to rise from the infernal regions—yells inspired alike by the hope of plunder and of vengeance.

Then the contents of the third carronade, trained by Heriot and Foster, sped on the errand of death, right through them all, just as the leading proa got clear. Half its starboard side was torn away, and thus all its occupants were left to swim or flounder; the dead to sink and the wounded to drown, amid the slimy ooze of the creek.

While more than twenty were swimming, splashing, and scrambling ashore on each side, the paddlers in the other proas resumed their work, scooping the water astern with preternatural vigour, but to avoid a raking shot, presented more of their broadside to the ship, and hence retarded their own progress; so Noah fired his carronade right through one, just abaft the centre thwart, by this oblique shot killing or disabling three or four.

The yells were now appalling, the scene terrible, and yet withal most picturesque and striking.

The savage rabble in these proas were the woolly-headed Madecasses, who are partly of African descent; but all their leaders—and several appeared in each proa—were olive-skinned men, Hovahs, who are supposed to be of purer blood, and are viewed by the people of Madagascar somewhat as the Normans were by the Anglo-Saxons.

These men wore tunics of scarlet silk, like those of the Chinese, girt by sashes or belts; but their negro followers were naked, a few only having clothes about their middle, or wearing the ordinary garment of the Madecasses, which is made of bark, boiled and beaten, and shaped like a flour-sack, with a hole for the head, and four others for the legs and arms.

All wore chains, ear-rings, and bracelets of crystal cornelian, and even gold, and many were armed with assegais, headed like spears, with long, sharp, iron points; many had bucklers of hard wood, covered with hides. Some had ten or twelve javelins each; a few had clumsy old muskets, fortunately much addicted to hanging fire; and all had the native creese—a long, wavy, double-edged dagger. When we add to this equipment their black, ferocious faces, their shrill yells and diabolical activity, their white, glistening teeth, their glaring eyeballs, and whole tout ensemble, the reader may imagine the scene presented at this crisis in the mangrove creek.

The explosion of the first carronade had drawn a simultaneous shriek and shudder from the two girls, and their old nurse, in the cabin, and a cheer from their eight devoted friends on deck, while with it, and with every future discharge, the pintados, the black paroquets, the spoonbills, and the turtle-doves flew in screaming coveys out of the jungle.

"Depress your muzzles!" cried Noah, who had, by tacit consent apparently, constituted himself master-gunner; "they're nearing us, mates."

"Another dose of broken bottles; they make first-rate grape and canister," added Morrison.

"Crouch down—crouch down—here's a volley of something coming!" shouted Captain Phillips, from his gun, as four or five musket-bullets crashed through the bulwarks, and a number of arrows or javelins and assegais, whistled harmlessly over their heads, and fell pattering on the starboard side of the deck, as fast as the survivors of the shattered proas scrambled ashore, and began to use their weapons.

"The warp—the starn warp!" shouted Noah, as with muzzle depressed, he fired his carronade again; "pick off some o' those d——d heathen niggers afore they cuts it, some one."

Two savages had already reached the warp, which was carried through the taffrail to the kedge, and were proceeding to slash through the strands of the strong Manilla, hewing with their creeses, and, had they done so, the ship must have swerved round, and gone ashore, broadside on.

Morley snatched up the double-barrelled gun which Mr. Basset had just reloaded. Kneeling down, he levelled it steadily through the taffrail, and shot both down in quick succession—a strange and wild emotion coming over him as he saw them fall, and beat the earth with their hands and feet. This cooled the ardour of five or six others, who followed, for he saw them plunge down among the mangroves, where they lay flat in concealment.

At that moment, a Hovah, in a crimson shirt, who had clambered, all wet and dripping, up the mizzen chains, launched an assegai at Morley, which skinned his right ear, and stuck quivering in the deck, near the coaming of the main-hatch. He then proceeded to scramble on board, with his sharp creese in his teeth, and a savage glitter in his eye, when Morley clubbed the double-barrelled gun. and swinging it aloft at the full stretch of his arms, dealt the Hovah a blow on his hard caput, which tumbled him prone into the water; but the gun was destroyed, as it snapped in two at the small part of the butt.

Morley rushed back to rejoin his friends at the carronades; but found poor Noah grappling with a gigantic Malay, who had dropped over the bulwark near the starboard quarter, where they were rolling over each other, Noah swearing, and the Malay biting and howling, till the former, grasping the long, tawny ears of the latter, rings and all, dashed his head thrice on the deck, when he stunned, and then flung him overboard.

At that moment an arrow, which all feared might be poisoned—whistled through Noah's cheeks, knocking out a couple of his few remaining teeth; but with a pistol he shot dead the archer, who was nestling among the mangroves.

So far as the eight unfortunates on the deck of the Hermione could judge, they had been attacked by not less than eighty men!

Now the two proas were close alongside; another moment would have seen the savage Malays swarming in scores up the bulwarks and over the decks; but just as a groan of dismay simultaneously burst from the few devoted defenders of the Hermione, her head warp was slashed through by creeses, and she suddenly fell away round before the south-west breeze, with her bow towards the sea, thus increasing the distance between her assailants and herself by the whole length of her stern warp, at a moment when, all the Malays were in the act of standing up to leap on board, and as she so swerved away, she went right ashore, broadside on, amongst the mangroves, with all her four carronades pointed to the land, leaving her starboard side unprotected against the yelling occupants of the two remaining proas.

"God help us!" cried poor Captain Phillips, in despair; "all is over now!"

CHAPTER XXIII.

"WE'LL GO TO SEA NO MORE!"

The despairing exclamation of the worthy captain had a very singular sequel, for scarcely had it left his lips, and just when the paddlers were again scooping away, as, with yells of exulting fury, the Malays proceeded after the Hermione; just when those who were ashore were forcing a passage to her through the jungle, and when the full term of another minute would have closed the whole catastrophe—lo! with all the suddenness of a spectral illusion, or of the Flying Dutchman's famous craft, a noble-looking ship, all a cloud of canvas, white as snow, swept round the verge of the cliff, and lay to, right off the mouth off the creek.

Bending gracefully over beneath the south-west breeze, she had her royals and topsails set, and the scarlet British ensign streamed from her gaff-peak.

Like the work of magic, her lighter sails were taken in, and her head-sails clewed up; then, as she rounded to, under her mizzen-topsail, with her broadside fairly opposed to the creek, a plunge was heard as the great working anchor was let go.

At the same moment, fire and smoke burst from her quarter, and ran like a flashing garland along her whole side, as, with two twelve-pounders, and about twenty short Enfield rifles, her crew opened a destructive discharge on the Malays.

As the well-directed shot plunged through them, the two remaining proas were dashed to pieces, and, amid the fragments of wood, floating assegais, and gouts of blood, their crews were seen making for the mangroves, right and left, scrambling ashore, and taking to flight in every direction.

The great ship had no occasion to discharge her guns again; but the short Enfields of her crew knocked over a number of the Malays, as they became visible at times, while prosecuting their flight inland.

The moment the firing ceased, and before the white smoke had curled away, the yards were manned, and the three topsails disappeared into their bunt at once. From the foretopgallant-yard down to the stay, came the men, sliding like lightning, to furl and stow the jib in its netting.

The great white courses were furled with equal rapidity, and with a neatness that drew exclamations of admiration, mingled with those of surprise and joy, from those on the deck of the rescued Hermione. Then down came the royal yards from aloft, and, ere long, the great ship was bared of all, save her bright scarlet ensign, which floated out astern.

She was a splendid ship, full-rigged and full-manned, with a clean, white paint-stroke, and gaily-gilded quarter-galleries; she was remarkably straight in the bends, like a Spaniard or a Yankee, with all her rigging and spars in the finest order. Thus she presented a noble appearance, as she rode at her anchor under the brow of the lofty cliff. Then, with the same man-o'-war-like order and rapidity which characterised all her other manoeuvres, a boat was hoisted out, lowered away, and its crew carried an anchor astern, to moor her more securely.

From the stern davits, the captain's gig, light and smart as a London wherry, was lowered with a splash into the water. He was seen to descend the rope-ladder rapidly, to seat himself in the stern and to grasp the yoke-lines, while a crew of smart lads, chiefly ship-apprentices, pulled straight through the bloody débris of the creek towards the Hermione.

The captain, a ruddy-visaged and sandy-haired man, about thirty-five, with plenty of yellow beard and moustache, stood up, as he drew near, and waved his cap.

"You have had some sharp work here, I think," said he; "we heard the sound of the firing as we stood round the island. Glad we have been in time to save you."

"Thanks be to Heaven, you have—and many heartfelt thanks to you, for you have indeed saved all our lives, and my ship, also!" exclaimed Captain Phillips.

"All? There don't seem to be very many of you," replied the stranger, as his boat came sheering alongside, and the oars were all uplifted and laid in together, while he swung himself up with great agility, and jumped over the bulwarks on deck, when the eight of the Hermione gathered round him. "Creeping along the shore in search of fresh water," he resumed, "we were told by an old Malay boatman——"

"Puffadder?" said Bartelot.

"Yes; you know him then—that we should find it here."

"The old scoundrel!" exclaimed Heriot.

"With the same story he snared us into the creek," added Phillips.

"Old Puffadder wasn't to blame, for he begged me to make haste and assist a British ship that some island pirates were attacking, so we clapped on royals, skysails, gaff-topsail, and everything that would draw, got our small arms up, our guns cast loose and all ready to help you, and we seem just to have been in time."

"You have done well and bravely, sir," said Mr. Basset, with gratitude and enthusiasm.

"And what ship is yours?" asked Phillips.

"The Duke of Rothesay, 800 tons, hailing from Alloa, and bound for Singapore, Duncan Davidson, master (that is me) at your service; and yours?"

"The Hermione, of London, also bound for Singapore, and touching at the Isle of France."

And now various matters, which are already known to the reader, were related and explained to the Scotch skipper, which made him wonder very much; and much more was his wonder excited when, on being invited down to the cabin, he found himself fairly hugged by Rose Basset, who, in fact, was rather in a delirious state, after all the cannonading she had heard and the number of savage brown figures she had seen from the stern-windows skipping among the mangroves.

Ethel threw herself into her father's arms in a passion of tears, and pressed Morley's hand to her heart.

"Saved, Ethel, saved!" said Mr. Basset, caressing her tenderly.

"Yes, Ethel, saved," added Morley, "and except my scratched ear and Noah's cheek, not a man of us the worse of the whole affair."

"By Heaven's mercy and this gallant seaman's safe arrival, we have, indeed, escaped a great—it would have been, indeed, a last—peril, Ethel," said Mr. Basset, as she presented her hand to Captain Davidson, who, though a rough, weather-beaten, and rather plain Scotsman, surveyed her soft dark eyes, her pale and thoughtful face, that beamed with soul and feeling, her glossy hair and fine figure, with an admiration that he was too honest or too unsophisticated to conceal. So, while he addressed some words of congratulation and soothing, to the effect that "all danger was now over, as he had knocked the black niggers into the middle of next week," Captain Phillips, acting as his own steward, has wedged his fat figure into a locker, from whence he fished out sundry case-bottles and glasses with nervous rapidity.

And this fine stately ship of Alloa, on the Forth, armed with four twelve-pounders, and having a crew of forty men and boys, coming with all sails crowded before a spanking breeze, from near the cove where old Puffadder's wigwam stood, was what Morley and Heriot would have seen had they obtained a south-west view of the ocean, but, as we have related, an eminence hid her from them, and the entire islet hid her from the pirates, until, with shotted guns, loaded rifles, and colours flying, she came down full swoop upon them.

The cutting of the warp and the circumstance of the Hermione thereby falling away round from the centre of the creek, greatly favoured the fire of this friendly stranger's cannon and musketry.

So old Radama Puffadder was no traitor, but the means of saving them, after all!

"Those were heavy guns you fired, sir," remarked Morley to Captain Davidson, who had mixed his grog, and prior to imbibing it drank every one's health in the Scotch fashion.

"Heavy for a merchantman—yes; twelve-pounders."

"How came you to be so well armed?" asked Mr. Basset.

"Well, sir," replied Captain Davidson, laughing, as he tossed off his glass of grog, "whether it is the alleged national caution, or, what is better, the good old national spirit of pugnacity, I don't know, but our Scottish ships, especially in these seas, are generally well armed, and seldom unprepared for anything—and I have a splendid crew—the pick of Leith and Grangemouth! So now, Captain Phillips, my gig is alongside, and while our carpenters come aboard of you, and put you into a little shape, I hope the young ladies and your other friends will come and dine with me, and see what we can find in the lockers of the Duke? Don't be afraid, ladies—I shall give you something better than sheep's-head and haggis."

This invitation was as promptly accepted as it was hospitably given, and all prepared to accompany Captain Davidson, save Mr. Foster and Noah, who were obliged to remain on board; and fortunately, Heriot could now prove that the arrow which pierced the cheeks of the latter was not poisoned.

In and around the ships, there was much to make Ethel and her sister shudder.

On the deck, near the taffrail, lay a dead Madecasse, whose head Morrison had cloven with a hatchet. He had the smooth European hair, the Indian complexion, the broad forehead, the thin lips (now pale and ghastly) of his mixed and peculiar race. His right hand held a broken assegai, and his left yet clutched the peak halyards, which he had grasped on gaining the deck.

Many bodies floated about in the creek, many more had sunk, and several places bore unmistakable tinges of blood among the ooze and green slime, while four crocodiles were seen at one time devouring the dead, till fired on by the Scotch sailors.

But all these horrors, and their recent alarm, were gradually forgotten, amid the hospitality and jollity of Captain Davidson, his mates, and the numerous crew of the new ship; and as soon as their water-tank was filled next day, all bore a hand in getting the Hermione ready for sea, shipping jury spars on her fore and mizzen topmasts, and warping her out of the creek.

As the Hermione was so short of hands, Captain Davidson offered to put three men and one of his apprentices on board, to assist in working her; an offer which Captain Phillips gladly accepted, and they agreed to sail together in company.

On the second day after the conflict with the proas, both ships were ready for sea.

Morning was dawning on the cliffs of that lonely isle, and in great beauty. A long streak of opal-tinted light spread over the horizon; gradually it brightened into amber, and from amber melted into crimson—the deep crimson of sunset, elsewhere as the tall Alloa ship weighed anchor, set her canvas, and began to stand off towards the north-east.

A number of her men were still on board the Hermione, assisting to warp her out. Her courses hung in the clew-lines ready to be let fall; her three jury-topsails were cast loose, and ready for hoisting, and soon she was ready for sea.

Then Ethel and Rose, as they nestled together on their pillows in the cabin below, heard the cheerful notes of a fiddle, the tramp of feet as the capstan bars were shipped, and the Scotch sailors trod merrily round, to the air of "The Boatie Bows," while one sung a song well known on the banks of the Forth; and louder stamped their feet, and louder swelled their hearty voices at the chorus of each verse, of which there were several, like this:—

"I have seen the waves as blue as air,
    I have seen them green as grass;
But I never feared their heaving yet,
    Frae Grangemouth to the Bass;
I have seen the sea as black as pitch,
    I have seen it white as snow;
But I never feared its foaming yet,
    Though winds blew high or low."

"Now, boys," shouted Morrison; "chorus—chorus! Heave and rally! Walk away with it! Hurrah!"

Then heavier trod the feet, and louder swelled the fiddle, and all their voices rose together:

"When squalls capsize our wooden walls,
    When the French ride at the Nore,
When Leith meets Aberdeen halfway,
    We'll go to sea no more.
                                            No more,
We'll go to sea no more."*

* Book of Scottish Song.

The cheerful voice of Captain Phillips was soon heard, ordering:

"Let fall, and sheet home."

"Good morning, Ethel," said Morley, tapping on her cabin-door; "we are fairly clear of the creek and its crocodiles, and under weigh for the Isle of France."

It was, indeed, a glorious morning. Under a cloud of canvas, even to her royals and angular sky-sails, the Scottish ship took the lead, and her giant shadow fell far across the ocean.

Red, round, and flashing in his effulgence, up came the god of day, and the tall reedy cane-brakes and solemn drooping palm groves of the shore they were leaving, the sea ahead and the deck beneath their feet, were all red as if aflame. Ruddy gold, edged and gilt every rope, face, and object, the shadows of the two ships falling in purple on the crimson flush, which gradually melted away, as the sun rose upward, and lit all the far horizon of the Indian Sea.

CHAPTER XXIV.

THE ANCHOR IS LET GO.

Our story is now drawing to a close, but no sudden or striking tableau, no tremendous dénouement or poetical rhapsody will attend the fall of the curtain, albeit that truth is stranger than fiction.

The ships sailed in company. They were seldom far apart, and often were so near that those on board could hail each other and converse.

The weather was fine, the trade-wind steady, and the remainder of the voyage proved alike pleasant and prosperous.

Of the Isle of Bourbon they saw only the smoke of its volcano, rising into the clear air of a calm morning, and by sunset of the following day, the colours displayed from the gaff-peak of the Duke of Rothesay, which was ten miles ahead, and the discharge of one of her twelve-pounders to windward, announced that the Isle of France was in sight although not visible from the main-top of the Hermione; but the report of the gun sent a thrill through the hearts of all on board.

The stormy petrel was tripping around them the same as ever; but they had no fears now, for after sunset the harbour lights of Port Louis were seen to twinkle over the sea; so the cables were roused out of the tier, and rattled cheerily as they were laid in fakes along the deck; they were bent to the anchors; the deep sea lead was in constant requisition, and the hawsers were brought up from between decks.

By daybreak next morning the ships were close in shore, and in the pilot's charge, with a fine breeze, ran in between Fort Blanc and the Isles des Tonneliers, so the spires of the town were right ahead. As the ship, with her courses clewed up, ran under her jury topsails and driver into the fine old harbour of Port Louis, Morley and Ethel were on deck together. Rose was below with Nance Folgate, busy packing, though her more thoughtful sister had done all her own share of that duty long ago.

Morley seemed a prey to unusual sadness, and as she caressed his hand kindly from time to time, and while her gentle eyes filled alternately with pensive tenderness or sparkling animation, she could barely obtain a response to her inquiries; for now that the voyage was ended, that their dangers were over, and all excitement had passed away, he felt a melancholy that he could not overcome, and against which he struggled in vain. This emotion was very natural. He knew not what was before him now in this strange land—this half-French colony, where on the morrow he would find himself without a shilling in his pocket.

Hesitatingly, and while his now weather-beaten cheek glowed with honest shame, he said something of this to Ethel; but she sought to cheer him, and added that his friends, Captain Bartelot, the Scotch mate Morrison, and old Noah were precisely in the same predicament, yet they were all merry as crickets, whistling and singing, while, with the three men of the Scotch ship, they hoisted the great rusty anchors over the bows.

"Ah, Ethel, do not smile as if you would mock me," said Morley, with unwonted irritation; "it is our, or rather my, uncertain fortune that haunts and galls me now."

He knew, beyond a doubt, that the doctor would marry Rose as soon as he could rejoin her, or get quit of the ship; Morley knew that Heriot had his profession, a moderate competence, and excellent monetary prospects; but what had he?

Mr. Basset's health was so hopelessly impaired by all he had undergone as to preclude any chance of his assuming his legal functions, or, indeed, doing more in the matter of his judgeship than simply to resign it on landing.

His local influence would thus be dissipated, and already he spoke of returning to England on the first suitable opportunity, resolving to pass the remainder of his days there, even with his crippled means; so, after all they had endured, Morley and Ethel, as they gazed mournfully and tenderly into each other's eyes, felt that the course of true love was as unlike a railway as possible.

But now the sails were handed, the anchor let go with a plunge into the seething flood, and exactly three months and fourteen days from the time of her leaving the London Docks, the Hermione swung at her moorings in the harbour of Port Louis, distant only a few fathoms from her late companion and protector, the stately ship of Alloa.

Quarantine laws, custom-house harpies, and all such necessary annoyances satisfied, the ship brokers came on board, and one of them brought for Mr. Basset a packet of letters, which had arrived fully a fortnight before, by a passing ship.

There were letters for Ethel and Rose, from Jack and Lucy Page, and other dear friends at Acton-Rennel, full of home gossip, all of vast interest to them now; and there were some very business-like documents "for papa," who carefully wiped his gold spectacles prior to reading them; while Morley, who had not a friend in England, felt bitterly there was nothing for him; so he slunk, as he thought, unnoticed on deck, to watch the bustle of the port and shipping, and to forget even himself, if he could, for a time.

The contents of his two first letters certainly made Mr. Basset stare very much, and wipe his glasses again, ere he read them a second time, and fairly took in the full meaning of their contents.

They were from his old friend, the M.P. for Acton-Rennel, who had procured him the now useless judgeship, and from his solicitor in Westminster, informing him that, by two most unexpected deaths, Ethel and Rose, in right of their deceased mother, had become rich—quite heiresses in fact, of not less than three thousand pounds each, yearly, in government securities and other investments; full particulars of which would be forwarded by the next mail.

Ethel sat for a time like one bewitched, on hearing this.

Then, after Mr. Basset had explained it all to her, she hurried on deck to where Morley Ashton, with his head between his hands, was gazing moodily and dreamily over the gunwale, at the slime and ooze under the ship's counter; and caring little whether she were seen or not, she stole one arm tenderly round his neck, and whispered in his ear the story of their good fortune, adding that now she could reward him for all his love and faith, and for all he had endured: and more than once she had to repeat all this, ere she was fully understood by the poor bewildered fellow.

Thus, from a state of uncertainty, doubt, utter despondency at times, was Morley Ashton rewarded, indeed, for all he had undergone. The wheel of fortune had revolved completely in his favour, and he felt raised "to the seventh heaven" by Ethel's happy news.

So they were now safe, rich, and happy, with their dearest wishes about to be realised!

All around them seemed to be joyous and sunshiny. All so quiet, so still, and yet such happiness was theirs!

Their double separation, the sorrow of Morley's supposed death, his detention at Rio, and his sufferings on the wreck; the mutiny, and the piratical Malays; the entire past, with all its terrible contingencies—where was it now?

Gone indeed, and to be forgotten!

The future—oh, they had no fears for it; the present, the glorious, blissful present, was alone to be considered. And so thought Ethel Basset, as on the last evening they were to spend in the cabin of the Hermione she sat hand in hand with Morley, and alone, her head reclined upon his shoulder, and his arm caressingly around her, as they whispered of the arrangements they were to make at home, and how they would have Laurel Lodge again, with papa to care for, and how Rose and Leslie Heriot would have one of those pretty new villas with the green blinds and plate-glass windows at Cherrywood Hill.

Inquiries concerning, or, as the Scots say, "anent" the loss of the Princess, and the marooning of the crew of the Hermione in the Mozambique Channel, were duly conducted by Captain Sir Horace Seymour, of H.M.S. Clyde, and the nautical assessor of the Board of Trade at Port Louis, and the decision of the court freed our friends Bartelot and Phillips from all blame, their captains' certificates being returned to them by Sir Horace Seymour, with many complimentary remarks.

Mr. Basset resigned his appointment into the hands of the Governor, and prepared to return to England; but as there is no true happiness without alloy, Heriot could not procure a substitute or successor, and so, when the Hermione was refitted and fully manned, he found himself compelled to sail with her to Singapore.

Morrison went with her as chief mate, and Mr. Foster as second, and she sailed out of Port Louis, dipping adieux with her ensign, and firing her carronades in gallant style, old Captain Phillips and poor Heriot continuing to wave their hats so long as two figures in light dresses were visible on the mole.

Poor little Rose shed abundance of tears. She thought herself Virginia torn from her Paul, and the most ill-used young lady in the world. She moped for a long time, and gave up her diary; it was no use now, when she was so soon to see Lucy Page again.

We need not detail how, prior to their departure, many a picnic was made to all the places consecrated by the loves of Paul and Virginia, and how many a sketch was made in Ethel's portfolio of the Shaddock Grove, the marvellous Petterbotte, and other places.

Tom Bartelot was to return to England with them, and get another ship.

Noah had been offered a berth on board the Hermione, but he declined.

"No more marchantmen for me," said he; "I'm for the Queen's sarvice, so long as I can lift tack or sheet, hand or foot; then Grinnidge arter."

So he shipped on board the Clyde, which about this time steamed away towards the mouth of the Mozambique Channel, in search of the pirates, who had again made their appearance in several proas.

Noah acted as a species of guide; but no trace of their presence could be found in that quarter, save the bare, bleached skull of poor old Captain Puffadder, whose agency in our friends' escape had been discovered by the Malays, and who had been buried by them up to his neck in sand on the seashore, and left thus to perish under the advancing tide, like the famous Wigton martyrs of the delirious sheriff of Dumfries.

Notices will be found in the various newspapers of that month, stating that, in north latitude 27 deg. 30 min., and east longitude 40 deg. 10 min., near the Europa Rocks, H.M.S. Clyde picked up a boat, with two dead bodies in it. One was evidently that of a South American, with rings in his ears; the other was of great stature, and supposed to be a Yankee seaman.

Noah declared them to be Zuares Barradas and Badger, from Cape Cod—the last of the mutineers. By a curious coincidence, one of these papers paragraphed that the Portuguese at Tristan d'Acunha were building a chapel over the grave of the elder Barradas, who among them has the reputation of such great sanctity, that his island is now the scene of annual summer pilgrimages.

CHAPTER XXV.

CONCLUSION.

Eight months after all this, it was in the drawing-room of Laurel Lodge that those whose adventures we have traced so far were all waiting for the boom of the dinner-gong, for it was the evening of Ethel's birthday; and she had been a bride four months, while Rose had been wedded but a few weeks—so both were all smiles, white lace, and loveliness.

All that day the familiar chimes of Acton-Rennel (which had rung in honour of their return) had jangled merrily in the square Norman tower, sending their notes over the chase, the mere, the long green English lanes, and kindling joy in many a worthy heart that loved the Bassets, and who now, in home-brewed brown October, drank deep to their healths, and welcome home!

Many of "Papa's household gods," as Ethel named them, which had been bought by old friends, found their way back again to Laurel Lodge. "Mamma's" picture hung in the usual place—even on its old nails; and Rose's azaleas still bloomed in the conservatory, as on the night when Hawkshaw laughed at them.

Morley and Ethel occupied her old room, and often, when she drew the curtains, she thought of that terrible morning when she looked up to Acton Chine and thought a darkness had fallen on the outer world. How difficult to realise all that had passed since then!

There was present the old rector (papa's friend); he had read the last service for Ethel's mamma, and who preached the sermon prior to their departure; and there, too, were Lucy Page and her brother Jack, who looked not a whit the worse for being jilted by Rose, as all the folks in the village say he was, for the rector's black-eyed daughter has undertaken to console him, while Lucy leans with pleasant confidence on the arm of the young fox-hunting squire of Cherrywood Hill, in out-door sports the rival of Jack, who is a first-class shot, and scores with ease his ninety odd points among the members of the 1st A.R.R.R.V.C., which mysterious letters mean the Acton-Rennel Royal Rifle Volunteer Corps, a distinguished body of men, which our friend Morley has since joined.

The squire of Acton-Rennel had come over in his old lumbering coach, and sat as of yore in a cosy easy-chair, opposite Mr. Basset, whose hair has become rather gray, for he has been much aged by all he has undergone, though carefully tended by his daughters, by Morley and Heriot (who, though quite independent, is rapidly acquiring a splendid country practice at Acton-Kennel), and by old Nance Folgate, whose voyaging she believes to exceed in marvel all that ever was recorded by Sir John Mandeville or old Richard Hakluyt.

Bluff Captain Phillips (who is about to persuade the plump little widow of Gravesend to change her name to his) was there too, and his presence made them regret the absence of honest Morrison, who had gone home to Scotland, and of jovial Tom Bartelot, who was in London, it was whispered, with certain matrimonial views upon the girl of the Hampton Court memories, in which he indulged when on the wreck, and which views, we hope, he may realise ere long.

Noah Gawthrop, who was then, as he would have phrased it, "a brilin' aboard the Clyde," in the Indian Seas, was not forgotten when the cloth was removed after dinner; and we believe he will yet cast anchor in charge of the gate lodge, with its heraldic unicorns, and may yet teach a little Morley Ashton to handle an oar in the skiff on Acton mere, and may become in the bar of the "Basset Arms" a great oracle upon all that appertaineth unto salt water.

On this evening they were all very happy and merry, and the jolly rector, in proposing Ethel's health and prosperity, declared that Mr. Basset's daughters were alike improved in quality and tint, for having been—like good Madeira—twice round the Cape, a species of compliment which the two squires laughed at uproariously, so the hearty good-humour and merriment waxed apace.

"How unlike the past!" thought Morley, as he glanced at his beautiful young wife in diamonds and lace; "here, indeed, 'the world seems a good one to live in, and easy to get on with!'"

Morley felt half as in a dream.

It was the last day of October, the sun's declining rays were gilding the shamble-oak, and his brethren of the old Saxon chase, the tower of the village church, and the rocks of the chine. (You remember them, reader? If you don't, we rather think Mr. Ashton does.) A sky of clouds that were white, broken, and dappled, edged with gold, and floating in amber, was over all. Fragrance and verdure, fertility and vegetable life, that they may bud and bloom in all their strength in spring, were going to sleep for the winter in the coppice and on the uplands.

The nearly-stripped woodlands loomed darkly out of the golden evening haze, and the glorious sun, as he sank, while the village chimes rang out, made Morley feel somehow happy, charitable, and kind to the world in general. And so he thought, as he glanced from Ethel, who was now singing at the piano one of her old familiar songs to Rose, who, though a wedded wife, was seated on a hassock near her father's knee, which had always been her place after dinner, since she cut her first pearly teeth and drank milk out of the sponsorial silver mug, given her by old Mr. Page, Jack's father.

She was rollicking, as of old, with Lucy, a charming specimen of a frank-hearted, fresh-complexioned country girl, and teasing her brother Jack, a young Englishman complete, ruddy-cheeked, with a smart moustache, long whiskers, and a head of close curly brown hair.

Though the prime bowler of the Acton eleven, the crack shot of the Acton Corps, a fellow who could run, leap, or shoot even with a Highlandman, the good wine he had drunk loosed his tongue, and, as Morley and he promenaded in the avenue, he told him rather mysteriously, between the puffs of Latakia, which rose from his meerschaum, that he "had been jilted by Rose chiefly because he was a thundering bad dancer, and never knew a note of music in his life." But Jack, we have said, was likely to find consolation.

Though leaving them all happy in their old English home, we feel loath alike to part with them and with the reader, who has accompanied us so far; but we leave them all, we hope, with health, wealth, and young life before them.

The sun has set, and the Acton bells have ceased, so part we must, though, perhaps, for a time.

THE END.

CHARLES DICKENS AND EVANS, CRYSTAL PALACE PRESS.