THE LONELY SAILOR
Once more the Tartar was off on her strange cruise. This time she
carried an added passenger, or, rather a second member of the crew,
for Slim Jim bunked with Joe, and was made assistant engineer, since
the negro proved to know something of gasoline motors.
After hearing the story told by the colored fisherman, and confirming
it by inquiries in St. Kitts, Jack, Cora and the others decided that
there was but one thing to do. That was to head at once for the
lonely island where the sailor, probably maddened by his loneliness
and hardship, was marooned.
As to the location of the island, Slim Jim could give a fair idea as
to where it rose sullenly from the sea, a mass of coral rock, with a
little vegetation. The truth of this was also established by
cautious inquiries before the Tartar tripped her anchor.
Lonely Island, as they called it, was about a day's run from St.
Kitts in fair weather, and now, though the weather had taken a little
turn, as though indicating another storm, it was fair enough to
warrant the try.
More gasoline was put aboard, with additional stores, for Slim Jim,
in spite of his attenuation, was a hearty eater. Then they were on
their way.
Aside from a slight excitement caused when Walter hooked a big fish,
and was nearly taken overboard by it--being in fact pulled back just
in time by Bess, little of moment occurred on the trip to Lonely
Island.
Toward evening, after a day's hard pushing of the Tartar, Slim Jim,
who had taken his position in the bows, called out:
"There she lies, boss!"
"Lonely Island?" asked Jack.
"That's her."
"Since you've been there, where had we better anchor?" asked Joe,
with a due regard for the craft he was piloting.
"Around on the other side is a good bay, with deep enough water and
good holding ground," said the negro. "If it comes on to blow, an'
it looks as if it might, we'll ride easy there."
Accordingly, they passed by the place where the negro fishermen had
been frightened away with their empty water casks, and made for the
other side of the island. Recalling the story of the queer and
probably crazed man, Jack and the others, including Slim Jim, gazed
eagerly for a sight of him. But the island seemed deserted and
lonely.
"What if he shouldn't be there?" whispered Belle to Cora.
"Don't suggest it, my dear. It's the best chance we've yet had of
finding them, and it mustn't fail--it simply mustn't!"
It was very quiet in the little bay where they dropped anchor, though
a flock of birds, with harsh cries, flew from the palm trees at the
sound of the "mud hook" splashing into the water.
"Now for the sailor!" exclaimed Walter.
"Hush! He'll hear you," cautioned Belle.
"Well, we want him to, don't we?" and he smiled at her.
Eagerly they gazed toward shore, but there was no sign of a human
being around there. Lonely indeed was the little island in the midst
of that blue sea, over which the setting sun cast golden shadows.
"Are you going ashore?" asked Walter of Jack, in a low voice.
Somehow it seemed necessary to speak in hushed tones in that silent
place.
"Indeed we're not--until morning!" put in Cora. "And don't you boys
dare go and leave us alone," and she grasped her brother's arm in a
determined clasp.
"I guess it will be better to wait until morning," agreed Jack.
Supper--or dinner, as you prefer--was served aboard, and then the
searchers sat about and talked of the strange turn of events, while
Jim and Joe, in the motor compartment, tinkered with the engine,
which had not been running as smoothly, of late, as could be desired.
"I hope it doesn't go back on us," remarked Jack, half dubiously.
"Don't suggest such a thing," exclaimed his sister.
They agreed to go ashore in the morning, and search for the marooned
sailor supposed to be on Lonely Island. The night passed quietly,
though there were strange noises from the direction of the island.
Jack, and the others aboard the Tartar, which swung at anchor in the
little coral encircled lagoon, said they were the noises of birds in
the palm trees. But Slim Jim shook his head.
"That crazy sailor makes queer noises," he said.
"If he's there," suggested Walter.
In the morning they found him, after a short search. It was not at
all difficult, for they came upon the unfortunate man in a clump of
trees, under which he was huddled, eating something in almost animal
fashion.
With Jack and Walter in the lead, the girls behind them, and Joe and
Jim in the rear, they had set off on their man-hunt. They had not
gone far from the shore before an agitation in the bushes just ahead
of them attracted the attention of the two boys.
"Did you see something?" asked Walter.
"Something--yes," admitted Jack. "A bird, I think."
"But I didn't hear the flutter of wings."
"I don't know as to that. Anyhow, there are birds enough here. Come
on."
They glanced back to where Bess had stopped to look at a beautiful
orchid, in shape itself not unlike some bird of most brilliant
plumage.
"Oh, if father could only see that!" she sighed. "It is too
beautiful to pick."
Cora and her chums closed up to the boys, and then, as they made
their way down a little grassy hill, into a sort of glade, Cora
uttered a sudden and startled cry.
"Look!" she gasped, clutching Jack's arm in such a grip that he
winced.
"Where?" he asked.
"Right under those trees."
And there they saw him--the lonely sailor, crouched down, eating
something as--yes, as a dog might eat it! So far had he fallen back
to the original scale--if ever there was one.
Some one of the party trod on a stick, that broke with a loud
snap-almost like a rifle shot in that stillness. The lone sailor
looked up, startled, as a dog might, when disturbed at gnawing a
bone. Then he remained as still and quiet as some stone.
"That's him," said the negro sailor, and though he meant to speak
softly, his voice seemed fairly to boom out. At the sound of it, the
hermit was galvanized into life. He dropped what he had been eating,
and slowly rose from his crouching attitude. Then he turned slowly,
so as to face the group of intruders on his island fastness. He
seemed to fear they would vanish, if he moved too suddenly--vanish as
the figment of some dream.
"Poor fellow," murmured Cora. "Speak to him, Jack. Say something."
"I'm afraid of' frightening him more. Wait until he wakes up a bit."
"He does act like some one just disturbed from a sleep," spoke
Walter. "Maybe you girls--"
"Oh, we're not afraid," put in Bess, quickly.
Not with all this protection, and she looked from the boys to the two
sturdy men.
Now the lonely sailor was moving more quickly. He straightened up,
more like the likeness and image of man as he was created, and took a
step forward. Finding, evidently, that this did not dissipate the
images, he passed his hand in front of his face, as though brushing
away unseen cobwebs. Then he fairly ran toward the group.
"Look out!" warned Joe. But there was nothing to fear. When yet a
little distance off, the man fell on his knees, and, holding up his
hands, in an attitude of supplication cried out in a hoarse voice:
"Don't say you're not real. Oh, dear God, don't let 'em say that!
Don't let 'em be visions of a dream! Don't, dear God!"
"Oh, speak to him, Jack!" begged Cora. "He thinks it's a vision.
Tell him we are real--that we've come to take him away--to find out
about our own dear ones--speak to him!"
There was no need. Her own clear voice had carried to the lonely
sailor, and had told him what he wanted to know.
"They speak! I hear them! They are real. And now, dear God, don't
let them go away!" he pleaded.
"We're not going away!" Jack called. "At least not until we help
you--if we can. Come over here and tell us all about it. Are you
from the Ramona?"
"The Ramona, yes. But if--if you're from her--if you've come to take
me back to her, I'm not going! I'd rather die first. I won't go
back! I won't be a pirate! You sha'n't make me! I'll stay here and
die first."