Produced by Al Haines
[Illustration: Cover art]
[Frontispiece: AMID THE CHEERS OF THE BAND OF BRITISHERS THE ENSIGN WAS
BROKEN AT THE MASTHEAD. See page 68]
THE NAMELESS ISLAND
A Story of some Modern Robinson Crusoes
BY
PERCY F. WESTERMAN
_Author of "The Young Cavalier," etc._
London
C. Arthur Pearson Ltd.
Henrietta Street
1920
_Second Impression_
STORIES OF ADVENTURE.
_UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME_
Each Volume contains Eight Full-Page Illustrations by a well-known
Artist
The Boys of the Otter Patrol.
A Tale of the Boy Scouts. By E. Le Breton-Martin.
Kiddie of the Camp.
A Scouting Story of the Western Prairies. By Robert Leighton.
Otters to the Rescue.
A Sequel to "The Boys of the Otter Patrol." By E. Le Breton-Martin.
The Clue of the Ivory Claw.
By F. Haydn Dimmock.
'Midst Arctic Perils.
By P. F. Westerman.
The Phantom Battleship.
By Rupert Chesterton.
Kiddie the Scout.
A Sequel to "Kiddie of the Camp." By Robert Leighton.
The Lost Trooper.
A Tale of the Great North-West. By F. Haydn Dimmock.
The Brigand of the Air.
By Christopher Beck.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. THE HURRICANE
II. AGROUND
III. ABANDONED
IV. THE LANDING
V. THE CAMP
VI. THE ANIMAL THAT WOULDN'T BE RESCUED
VII. THE EMBLEM OF EMPIRE
VIII. "A SAIL!"
IX. UNWELCOME VISITORS
X. STRANGE ALLIES
XI. THE FRUSTRATED SACRIFICE
XII. AT BAY
XIII. ELLERTON TO THE RESCUE
XIV. ROUTING THE SAVAGES
XV. A KNIFE-THRUST IN THE DARK
XVI. THE GALE
XVII. BACK TO THE ISLAND
XVIII. A SURPRISE FOR THE INVADERS
XIX. THE PRISONER'S ESCAPE
XX. THE ENEMY IS CORNERED
XXI. THE BUCCANEERS' CAVE
XXII. THE TREASURE CHAMBER
XXIII. "A SAIL! A SAIL!"
XXIV. A FALSE AND A REAL ALARM
XXV. THE GREAT INVASION
XXVI. A GREAT DISASTER
XXVII. THE LAST STAND
XXVIII. THE RESCUE
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Amid the cheers of the band of Britishers the ensign was
broken at the masthead . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . _Frontispiece_
Ellerton was only just in time. Another dazzling flash enabled
him to see the helpless form of the crippled seaman
Andy, finding the bull close to his heels, gripped a rope and
swung himself into a position of comparative safety
The chief's canoe was paddled slowly towards the shore
Crash! fair in the centre of the lightly built fifty-feet hull
struck the sharp stem
"A sail! a sail!" he exclaimed breathlessly
A huge turtle had crawled across the beach and ... had set the
alarm bell ringing
With fierce shouts the savages tore down the path straight for
the barricade
THE NAMELESS ISLAND
CHAPTER I
THE HURRICANE
The _San Martin_, a single-screw cargo steamer of 3050 tons, was on her
way from Realejo to Tahiti. Built on the Clyde twenty years back, this
Peruvian-owned tramp was no longer in her prime. Since passing out of
the hands of her British owners, neglect had lessened her speed, while
the addition of various deck-houses, to suit the requirements of the
South American firm under whose house-flag she sailed, had not
increased her steadiness.
Captain Antonio Perez, who was in command, was a short, thick-set man
of almost pure Spanish descent, swarthy, greasy, and vain--combining
all the characteristics, good, bad, and indifferent, of the South
American skipper. As part owner of the _San Martin_ he was glad of the
opportunity of adding to the vessel's earnings, so he had willingly
agreed to take five passengers as far as Tahiti.
The five passengers were Mr. McKay, his son Andrew, Terence Donaghue,
Fanshaw Ellerton, and Quexo; but before relating the circumstances in
which they found themselves on board the _San Martin_, it will be
necessary to introduce them to our readers.
Mr. McKay, a tall, erect Queenslander, of Scottish descent, had,
through the death of a near relative, migrated from Australia to one of
the Central American republics in order to test the possibilities of an
estate which had been left him, before putting it into the market.
Andrew McKay, or Andy, as he was called, was a well-set-up young fellow
of nineteen, broad-shouldered and straight-limbed, with a fine head
surmounted by a crop of auburn hair.
Terence Donaghue, the son of an Irish Canadian, was about Andy's age,
and was on a visit to the McKays. He was impulsive both in manner and
speech, high-spirited, and good-natured.
Fanshaw Ellerton, a lad of sixteen, was supposed to be serving his
apprenticeship on board the _Tophet_, a barque of 2200 tons, of the
port of Liverpool. He was in reality a deserter--but in circumstances
beyond his control.
Taking advantage of general leave being granted to the crew of the
_Tophet_, Ellerton had gone "up-country," and, before he actually
realised it, he found himself besieged in Mr. McKay's ranch of San
Eugenio.
One of those revolutions that occur in many of the South Central
American states had broken out, and the rebels, thinking that Mr.
McKay's house and estate would prove an easy and profitable prize,
promptly attempted to take and plunder San Eugenio.
In spite of a vigorous defence, it seemed as if numbers would gain the
day, till Quexo, a mulatto lad on the ranch, contrived to steal through
the rebels' lines and bring timely aid, but not before Mr. McKay had
been severely wounded.
But, so far as his Central American affairs were concerned, Mr. McKay
was practically ruined, and he took steps to return to Queensland with
the least possible delay.
Andy, of course, was to accompany him, while Terence arranged to go as
far as Tahiti, whence he could take steamer to Honolulu and on to
Victoria, British Columbia.
"Never mind, old chap," exclaimed Andy, when Ellerton made the
startling yet not altogether unexpected discovery that the _Tophet_ had
sailed without him. "We've stuck together through thick and thin these
last few days, and it seems as if we have been chums for years. I know
the governor will be only too glad to have you with us, and no doubt
you can pick up your ship at Sydney."
Nor did Mr. McKay forget Quexo's devotion; and, to the mulatto's great
delight, he was engaged as servant at the--to him--princely salary of
five dollars a month.
A fever-stricken coast was no place for a wounded man, hence Mr.
McKay's anxiety to sail as soon as possible; and since ten days or more
would elapse before one of the regular line of steamers left for
Honolulu, passages were booked on the Peruvian tramp steamer _San
Martin_.
* * * * *
"What a scratch crew!" remarked Terence, pointing at the swarm of
olive-featured Peruvians who were scrubbing down decks with the aid of
the ship's hose.
"But even they have one advantage over most of the crews of the
mercantile marine," replied Ellerton. "They are all of one
nationality. Take the _Tophet's_ crew--there are only eight British
seamen before the mast; the rest are Germans, Finns, and Swedes."
"That is a crying scandal," interrupted Mr. McKay, who was resting in a
deck-chair a few feet from the head of the poop-ladder. "England, the
principal carrier of the world, has to rely upon foreigners to man her
merchant ships. And the reason is not far to seek," he added.
The _San Martin_ was in the Doldrums. Not a ripple disturbed the
surface of the ocean, save the white wake of the steamer as she pounded
along at a steady nine knots. Overhead the sun shone fiercely in a
cloudless sky.
"How deep is it here?" asked Terence, leaning over the rail.
"Do you know, Ellerton?" asked Mr. McKay.
"No, sir; I had no opportunity of examining a chart."
"It's approximately three thousand fathoms. Between the Galapagos and
the Marquesas is a vast sunken plateau. Sunlight never penetrates
these great depths; probably all is dark beyond two hundred fathoms."
"And are there fish or marine animals in the bed of the ocean?"
"No one knows. Possibly there are some marine animals capable of
withstanding the enormous pressure, for it may be taken for granted
that at three thousand fathoms the pressure per square inch is about
three tons."
"Is it always calm in the Doldrums?" continued Terence, for he had
never before "crossed the line."
"Often for weeks at a stretch. What's your experience of these,
Ellerton?"
"Three weeks with the canvas hanging straight down from the yards. If
you threw anything overboard it would be alongside for days. I can
assure you, Terence, that I am jolly glad we're on board a steamer."
"How did you get out of it?" continued the young Canadian, eager for
further information.
"By one of the frequent and sudden hurricanes that spring up in the
belt of the calms; but even that was looked upon as a slice of luck."
Thus the days passed. Conversation was the chief means of passing the
time, although the lads derived considerable amusement from their
efforts to teach Quexo English.
Reading was out of the question, for the ship's library consisted of
only a few Spanish books of little interest to Mr. McKay and Andy,
while to Terence and Ellerton they were unfathomable.
On the evening of the fourth day there was an ominous change in the
weather.
The sun, setting between high-banked, ill-defined clouds, gave out
bright copper-coloured rays that betokened much wind at no distant
date; while from the south-east a long, heavy swell, although far from
land, gave further indications of change.
"How is the glass, Captain?" asked Mr. McKay, as Captain Perez emerged
from the companion and began to make his way for'ard to the bridge.
The captain shrugged his shoulders.
"Low, senor. I like it not."
"What an admission," exclaimed Mr. McKay, as the officer mounted the
ladder. "Fancy a British skipper replying like that! Here, Andy, you
are not shaky on the pins like I am; just present my compliments to
Captain Perez and ask him to tell you how the barometer stands. I'm
rather curious on that point."
"You appear to have a good knowledge of seamanship, sir," remarked
Ellerton, as young McKay made his way to the bridge.
"Well, I must confess I have," admitted Mr. McKay. "Years ago I spent
some months on a pearl-fisher in Torres Strait; but that's a long
story. Some day, perhaps, I'll tell you more about it."
"Seven hundred and forty millimetres--a fall of twenty-two millimetres
in eight hours," announced Andy, reading the figures from a slip of
paper, on which he had noted the captain's reply.
"By Jove!" exclaimed Mr. McKay. "That's equivalent to a trifle over
29.1 inches. We're in for something, especially with that deck cargo,"
as he pointed to the towering baulks of mahogany which were stowed
amidships.
"Are they doing anything for'ard?" he continued.
"The men are placing additional lashings over the hatchways."
"Pity they didn't man the derrick and heave some of that stuff
overboard," replied Mr. McKay, eyeing the timber with concern.
"However, it will be dark in another quarter of an hour, so we had
better turn in and get some sleep while we are able."
It was shortly after midnight when Ellerton awoke, conscious that
something was amiss. He had slept through severe gales in the old
_Tophet_ when she was scudding under close-reefed canvas before the
wind or lying hove-to in a hurricane in Magellan Straits; but there was
something in the peculiar motion of the _San Martin_ that roused his
seaman's instincts.
It was blowing. He could hear the nerve-racking clank of the engines
as the propeller raced in the air, and the corresponding jar as the
ship's stern was engulfed in the following seas. That was a mere
nothing; it was the excessive heel and slow recovery of the vessel
which told him that things were not as they should be.
Hastily dressing, he was about to leave the cabin when a hollow groan
caught his ear. It was pitch dark, for the electric lights had failed,
and the after part of the ship was in a state of absolute blackness.
"What's up, Terence?"
Terence was like the sufferer on the Channel mail boat. He was past
the stage when he was afraid he might die, and was entering into the
stage when he was afraid he might not. Ellerton had suffered the
agonies of sea-sickness before, so, knowing that the unhappy victim
would prefer to suffer in solitude, he went outside.
In the alley-way he collided with the second mate, who, clad in
dripping oilskins, was returning from his watch on deck.
Ere the two could disengage, a heavy list sent them both rolling
against one of the starboard cabins, and, at the same time, Andy, who,
unable to sleep, was on the point of making his way over to Ellerton's
berth, stepped upon the writhing forms and promptly joined them on the
floor of the alley-way.
A number of choice expressions in English and Spanish, drowned by the
thunder of the "combers" on deck, arose from the struggling trio, till
at length Ellerton disentangled himself and succeeded in pulling his
chum from under the form of the second mate.
"Isn't it awful, this gale?" gasped Andy, whose right eye was rapidly
closing from the effects of an accidental knock from the Peruvian's
sea-boot.
"Yes, it's a bit thick," replied Ellerton, whose knuckles were bleeding
through coming into contact with the brass tread of the cabin door.
"But let's follow this chap up and get him to let us have a candle;
then we can see what we are doing."
As he spoke, a vivid flash of lightning revealed the Peruvian, still in
his wet oilskins, stretched at full length on his bunk, his head buried
in the blankets. He was in a state of absolute funk!
A swinging candlestick was affixed to the bulkhead, and Ellerton was
soon able to procure a light. Andy glanced at the barometer. The
mercury stood at 715 millimetres (28.15 in.)--a fall of nearly an inch
since six o'clock on the previous evening.
"Can't we go on deck?" asked Andy, as the _San Martin_ slowly recovered
from a dangerous list. "It's rotten being cooped up here."
"You would stand a jolly good chance of being swept overboard," replied
Ellerton. "Everything is battened down, and we can only get out by the
sliding hatch communicating with the----"
His words were interrupted by a succession of heavy thuds, plainly
audible above the roar of the wind and waves, while the shouts of the
frantic seamen showed that something had broken adrift.
Taking advantage of the lift of the vessel as she threw her stern clear
of a mountainous sea, Ellerton opened the steel sliding doorway
sufficiently wide for the two chums to gain the poop. Staggering along
the slippery, heaving deck, they reached the lee side of the
deck-house, where, gripping the stout iron stanchion-rail, they awaited
the next flash of lightning.
They had not long to wait. A brilliant, prolonged succession of
flashes dazzled their eyes, the electric fluid playing on the wet
planks and foam-swept waist of the plunging vessel.
The reason for the commotion was now apparent. One of the mainmast
derricks had broken adrift, and, charging from side to side like a
gigantic flail, had smashed the rail, crushed two steel
ventilator-cowls, and utterly demolished two boats in the davits.
The crew, trying to secure the plunging mass of metal, were working
with mad desperation, frequently up to their waists in water.
Two of the unfortunate men, crushed by the sweep of the derrick, had
been hurled over the side, while another, his leg bent under him, lay
helpless in the lee-scuppers, with only a few inches of broken bulwarks
to prevent him from sharing the fate of his comrades.
"Stand by, Andy!" shouted Ellerton. "Take a couple of turns round this
bollard," and throwing the end of a coil of signal-halliards to his
friend, he made the other end fast round his waist and jumped down the
poop-ladder.
He was only just in time. Another dazzling flash enabled him to see
the helpless form of the crippled seaman, and as he wound his arms
round the man's waist in an iron grip, a seething cataract of foam
swept the deck.
[Illustration: ELLERTON WAS ONLY JUST IN TIME. ANOTHER DAZZLING FLASH
ENABLED HIM TO SEE THE HELPLESS FORM OF THE CRIPPLED SEAMAN]
The ship, stunned by the force of the gigantic billow, listed till her
deck took an angle of 45 degrees, or more. To the young apprentice,
held only by a single turn of the thin signal-halliard, it seemed as if
the ship were already taking her downward plunge, for all round him
surged the torrent of solid water, his position rendered doubly
horrible by the intense blackness of the night.
Still he held on like grim death to the disabled seaman, the thin rope
cutting into his breastbone like a steel wire. His feet were unable to
find a hold; the last fragment of the bulwarks had vanished, and only
the rope held him and his burden from a prolonged death in the surging
ocean.
Quivering like an aspen leaf, the stricken vessel slowly resumed an
even keel, and then began the correspondingly sickening list to
windward.
Another flash revealed the charging derrick whirling over his head;
then, as he felt the rope slacken and himself slipping across the deck,
his hand managed to grasp the foot of the poop-ladder.
Almost breathless by his exertions, and half suffocated through being
so long under water, Ellerton retained sufficient presence of mind to
clamber up the ladder, Andy assisting his burden by steadily and
strongly hauling on the rope; then, as the _San Martin_ once more began
her sickening roll to leeward, he sank exhausted to the deck, safe
under the lee of the deck-house, with the Peruvian still in his grip.
That last tremendous breaker had been the means of saving the ship,
though at the time it had threatened to end her career. The dangerous
deck-load of mahogany baulks had been wrenched from its securing
lashings, and had been swept overboard; while the disabled derrick,
coming into contact with the donkey-engine, had snapped off short.
At the same time the waves had swept four more of the crew to their
last account, and the remainder, exhausted and disheartened by their
misfortunes, had gained the shelter of the fo'c'sle.
Securing themselves by the rope, Andy and Ellerton--the latter having
passed a bight round the now conscious and groaning seaman--hung on
with desperation.
From their comparatively sheltered position they could gain occasional
glimpses of the bridge, where Captain Perez, the first mate, and a
couple of seamen stood braving the elements, their sou'-westers just
visible above the top of the canvas storm-dodgers.
At one moment, silhouetted against the glare of the lightning, their
heads could be seen against a background of wind-torn clouds; at
another the vessel would be so deep in the trough of the waves that the
crests ahead appeared to rise high above the rigid figures on their
lofty, swaying perch.
"Will it hold?" shouted Andy above the hiss of the foam and the howling
of the wind, as a few tons of water struck the weather side of the
deck-house.
"I think so," replied Ellerton. "It would have gone before this if
not."
"Then let's put the man inside. We can then go below and get the
steward or some of the crew to look after him."
Accordingly they dragged the groaning seaman into the deck-house, and,
wedging him up with cushions to prevent him from playing the part of
Neptune's shuttlecock, they left him.
Seizing their opportunity, the two friends contrived to gain the
saloon, where they found Mr. McKay, who had succeeded in procuring and
lighting a pair of cabin-lamps.
"Thick, isn't it?" remarked Andy's father. Then: "What have you
fellows been up to?" for both were wet to the skin, while Andy's eye
was black and green, and Ellerton's forehead was bleeding from a
superficial cut.
"Oh, nothing much," replied Ellerton modestly. "We were caught in the
tail end of a comber. The deck cargo's gone, though."
"That's good news," replied Mr. McKay. "Though I fancy the worst is
yet to come. I suppose Captain Perez is steering to the south'ard to
try and avoid the main path of the hurricane?"
"I haven't had the chance of looking at the compass," replied Ellerton.
"But I must go for'ard and get help for the poor fellow in the
deck-house."
"What fellow is that?" asked Mr. McKay of his son as the apprentice
disappeared along the darkened alley-way.
While Andy was relating with whole-hearted praise the story of his
companion's bravery, Ellerton was feeling his way along the narrow,
heaving passage that communicated with the fore part of the ship.
At length he came to the engine-room hatchway. Down below he could see
the mass of complicated machinery throbbing in the yellow glimmer of
the oil lamps, while the hot atmosphere was filled with a horrible
odour of steam and burning oil.
Here, at any rate, the men were doing their duty right manfully, for he
could see the engineers, gripping the shiny rails as they leant over
the swaying, vibrating engines, calmly oiling the bearings of the
plunging rods and cranks. The "chief," his eyes fixed upon the
indicators, was alertly awaiting the frequently recurring clank which
denoted that the propeller was racing. For a few moments Ellerton
stood there fascinated, the spectacle of an engine-room in a vessel in
a storm was new to the lad, whose experience of the sea was confined to
a sailing barque.
Suddenly above the monotonous clank of the piston-rods came a hideous
grinding sound. The cylinders began to give out vast columns of steam,
as the engines ran at terrifying speed.
Through the vapour Ellerton could discern the "chief," galvanised into
extraordinary alertness, make a rush for a valve, while his assistants,
shouting and gesticulating, dashed hither and thither amid the confined
spaces between the quivering machinery.
The main shaft had broken, and the _San Martin_ was helpless in the
teeth of the hurricane.