A RESCUE.
They were soon in the forest. It required care and caution to make their
way through the tangled growth of climbing canes and vines. Some of these
were armed with terrible thorns, and as they had no hatchets to chop their
way through them they were often obliged to make detours to escape these
obstacles. Orchids of brilliant colours and fantastic shapes grew thickly
on the trees, ants in countless numbers swarmed up and down the trunks,
and many an angry exclamation was wrung from the seamen as a bite as sharp
as the sting of a wasp told that some of these insects had crawled up the
legs of their trousers or made their way down their neck.
“Unless we are going to live on ants,” the mate said ruefully as he gave a
savage slap at his leg, “it seems to me we are likely to starve, for I
have seen nothing whatever to eat since we entered the wood. Even if some
of the trees did bear fruit I don’t see how we are going to get at it, for
one would be eaten alive by these little brutes before we reached the
top.”
“I vote we turn back, Mr. Towel,” one of the men said. “I would rather put
to sea and take my chance than keep on being stung by these ants, when
there doesn’t seem the least hope of our finding anything.”
“There doesn’t seem much chance here, Nixon. I think we had best get out
of the wood and follow the edge along. We may come to some place where it
is more open, and may even strike on a stream. If we could do that we
might patch up the boat and pull up stream a bit. Anyhow, I don’t think it
is any use pushing on here. My jacket is torn in a dozen places already by
the thorns.”
“One of them has nearly taken my eye out,” another grumbled; and indeed
all were bleeding from the gashes they had received from the thorns. They
made their way back carefully, and there was a general exclamation of
satisfaction when the light could be seen ahead through the trees. As soon
as they were out on the sands shirts were hastily pulled off and a hunt
for ants carried out.
“It is lucky the bites don’t swell up,” Joyce said, “or I should be a mass
of bumps. It is as bad as if one had been attacked by a swarm of bees. Yet
there is only a little red spot to show for each bite.”
As soon as they had freed themselves from the ants they started along the
edge of the forest. After walking for two miles they gave a shout of joy,
for a river some fifty yards wide issued from the forest. The sand-hills
had hidden it from sight until they were close upon it.
“Thank God, we sha’n’t die of thirst,” the mate said. “It will be a hard
job to get our boat here, but it has got to be done. Even if we could
launch it through the surf there would be no getting in through the
rollers on the bar, at least I should not like to try it. So we have got
to drag her here somehow. It will be a tough job, but as there seems no
chance of getting food in any other way we must undertake it. Hurrah!” he
exclaimed suddenly, “there are some cocoa-nut trees on the other side of
the river. That settles it. Let us be off back again at once.”
They returned in much better spirits than they had before felt. On the way
they went a short distance into the forest, and cut off a number of thorns
some two inches long and seemingly as hard as iron. They breakfasted on a
biscuit, with a full allowance of water, and then set to work at the boat.
The thorns answered their purpose as nails admirably, and the planks soon
were securely fastened into their places against the stem; but without
nails to clench the planks together, it was evident to them all that the
boat would not float five minutes. They stood looking at it
discontentedly.
“What is to be done with it?” said Mr. Towel. “Can anyone make a
suggestion?”
“I should think, sir,” Stephen said, “that if we could get some strong
fibre, or some of those thin climbers that barred our way—they were not
thicker than string, but there was no breaking them, and I should think
that they would do—that with them we could sew the planks together and
caulk them afterwards with the threads from a bit of the leg of one of our
drill trousers.”
“A capital idea, Stephen. At any rate, it would be worth trying.”
“I will go and fetch some of those climbers, sir, and some long thorns to
make the holes with.”
“We may as well all go, Stephen; we have nothing to do here, and at any
rate it is cooler in the forest than it is on the sands. We shall want a
good stock of thorns, for we are sure to break lots of them in making the
holes.”
“I have a thing in my knife that will do for that, sir,” Joyce said; and
he produced from his pocket a knife with many blades, one of them being a
long pricker. “It was given to me the day before we sailed, and I have
always wondered what use that thing could ever be. Here is a use for it at
last.”
“Capital, Joyce! That is just the thing. There is flint and steel, and a
tinder-box in the locker, and our best plan will be to make a fire and
heat that pricker of yours red-hot. It would make the work a great deal
easier, and there will be less risk of breaking it or of splitting the
wood. So now we will collect dry wood and creepers and leave the thorns
alone.”
This was done; but when they returned to the edge of the forest all agreed
that they should lie down there in the shade until the sun had lost its
power, for their position being almost on the equator the heat out on the
sand was unbearable.
“It will be as well for one to keep a watch, lads,” the mate said. “We
have seen no signs of natives, but there may be some about. The sun is
nearly overhead, so it will be another four or five hours before we can
set to work. I will take the first watch. In an hour I will wake Mr.
Joyce; Mr. Embleton will follow him; then you, Nixon; that will take us on
till it’s time to move.”
These arrangements were carried out, and as the sun sank towards the
horizon the party went down to the beach. Some rotten wood was crumbled up
and a fire quickly made, then the work of boring the holes began, and was
kept up all night. As it was necessary to put them very closely together,
and the piercer had to be heated two or three times for each hole, two
worked by turns while the rest slept, and by sunrise the holes were all
finished. Then the work of sewing the planks together began, the boat
being turned on its side to allow the string, as they called it, to be
passed backwards and forwards. In two hours their work was completed.
Stephen cut off four or five inches of duck from the bottom of each leg of
his trousers, and unravelling the thread he and the mate pressed it into
the seams as fast as the sewing was completed.
“I think that that will do,” the mate said, looking with a satisfied air
at the work. “Now, what it wants is a little tallow to rub in; but there
is no candle handy.”
“When I was on watch, sir, I saw lots of bees flying in and out of the
trees. If we could light on a hive the wax would do first-rate.”
“So it would, Steve. However, until we can find one I fancy we shall get
on well enough. Five minutes’ bailing occasionally will keep her dry
enough, I am sure, at any rate for river work. Now we have got the big job
before us; let us have a try how we can move her.”
The nine men put their strength to the boat, but they found that the deep
keel buried itself in the sand, and that they could not drag her along.
Then they tried carrying her, the mate, the two boys, and two men on one
side, and the other four men on the other. She was a heavy weight, but
they could just manage it, and carried her for some twenty yards before
they put her down.
“This will never do,” the mate said. “We can’t use our strength to
advantage, else the weight would not be too great for us. Let us go up to
the wood, lads, and chop four poles, turn her over, and lay her down on
them. In that way I don’t think we shall have much difficulty about it.”
It took them longer than they expected, for the wood was so tough that
their cutlasses produced but little impression upon it. After an hour’s
hard work, however, they cut four poles, each about twelve feet long. With
these they returned to the boat, laid the poles down on the sand at equal
distances apart, and turned the boat over upon them; then a man took each
end of a pole, the two boys taking one end together, and at a word lifted
the boat with comparative ease. It was very hard work under the blazing
sun, and they had to stop every hundred yards or so to rest their arms.
Still they were successful, and after three hours’ toil they reached the
river. The oars had been lost when they landed, and they determined to
take the bottom boards out and cut them into paddles. The first thing,
however, was to bathe.
“Don’t go far out,” the mate said, “there may be sharks or alligators in
the river for aught we know.”
Greatly refreshed by their dip, they took the boards out of the boat,
carried them up into the shade of the trees, and with their jack-knives
fashioned them into rude paddles, with thin creepers strips of wood tying
down the handles to add to their strength. This took them all the
afternoon. When the sun had lost its power they put the boat into the
water, and made an experimental trip in her, and were glad to see that the
seams were almost water-tight, and that it would need but an occasional
use of the bailer to keep her clear. They at once paddled across the river
to the opposite side, and then pulling the boat up made a rush for the
cocoa-nut trees that they had seen the day before.
“How are we to get up?” Joyce inquired, looking with dismay at the smooth
trunks.
“I learnt that on the west coast of Africa,” the mate replied. “I was
there two years and got to know, I think, all there was to know with
regard to steering a boat in a surf; climbing a cocoa-nut tree is easy
work in comparison. Fetch the head-rope of the boat.”
This was done, and he asked who volunteered for the first climb.
“I will try it, Mr. Towel,” Joyce said, “if you will show me how.”
“Stand by the side of the tree, Joyce. Now I will put this rope round you
and round the tree, leaving a certain amount of slack in the loop. Now you
get a grip of the tree with your knees. Then with your hands you shift the
loop up as high as you can, and lean against it. Get a sort of purchase,
and so shift your knees a bit higher. No doubt you will feel it awkward at
first, but after a little practice you will find no difficulty whatever in
going up at a fair rate of speed.”
In spite of his experience aloft Joyce found it hard work to climb the
tree. As soon as he was at the top he broke off the nuts and dropped them;
when he had picked two nuts for each of the party he descended.
“They are not a bit like cocoa-nuts,” Stephen remarked as the first came
to the ground. “They look more like queer-shaped gourds.”
“They do, lad,” the mate agreed. “But you see they are not ripe yet, while
those we get in England are over-ripe; instead of the inside nut being
enveloped in fibre the whole thing is soft, and, you see”—here he suited
the action to the word—“you can cut a hole down right through, and then
all that you have got to do is to drink the milk.”
The men followed the officer’s example, and were soon taking long draughts
of the sweet, cool liquor, which differs widely indeed from that of the
ripe cocoa-nut.
“How is it that the milk is so cool, sir?” Steve asked.
“That is more than I can tell you, for no matter how hot the weather, the
milk of fresh cocoa-nuts is always cool; why it should be so I have no
idea.”
After they had drunk the milk they broke open the nuts and scraped the
soft cream-like paste which lined the inside, and which, when the nut
ripened, would have become hard and solid.
“You will find them of different degrees of ripeness,” the mate said,
“Some of them will furnish us with drink, some with food, and as there are
trees along here as far as we can see, we need not worry ourselves as to
victuals. Well, we have done our work for the day and will make this our
camp, and talk over what is the best thing to do next.”
After much deliberation it was decided that they should paddle up the
river the next day, leaving two of their number at the edge of the forest
to keep a look-out for the ship.
“It is as well to see what there is on the river,” the mate said. “Of
course if we come to a village we shall let ourselves drop down quietly
again. And we must keep a sharp look-out as we go; it would never do to
let them get a sight of us, for none of the natives of these islands are
to be trusted, and I am sure that none of us wish to have our heads used
as a decoration in their huts. What I hope to come upon is the site of an
abandoned village. These people often shift their quarters. They have no
belongings to speak of to move, and a couple of days’ labour is enough for
them to put up fresh huts. But in the places they have occupied we are
sure to find bananas; and if we can but get a boat-load of them we shall
be victualled for a voyage, and after waiting long enough to give the ship
a chance of finding us, the sooner we are off the better. Many of these
islands are inhabited by tribes that spare no one who falls into their
hands, and it would be better to take our chance on the sea than to remain
here. There are a good many little Dutch settlements scattered about. What
we have got to do is to light upon one of these. There is no mistaking
them for native villages, and once we can get a point of departure we
shall have no difficulty in laying our course either for Timor or Java.
Stephen, I shall leave you as the junior officer here to-morrow. Wilcox
will stay with you. If you see the ship you will light a big fire and
throw green leaves on it to make as big a smoke as possible. They would
know at once that it was a signal, for the natives would do nothing to
attract notice, especially if their intentions were hostile.”
“All right, sir! We will keep a sharp look-out. You won’t be away many
hours, I suppose?”
“Certainly not. We don’t want to do any exploring. All we want to do is to
look for food, and the most likely food for us to find is a troop of
monkeys among the trees overhanging the river. As a rule, I should not
like to shoot the beasts. They are too much like human beings. But if we
can get a supply of meat it will be welcome, no matter what it may be. Of
course we should not shoot many, for a couple of days would be the outside
that meat would keep good here.”
“But might not firing a gun bring the natives down on you, sir?” Stephen
said.
“Oh, we have seen no signs of natives!” the mate said impatiently, “and
there mayn’t be any within miles and miles of us, probably not nearer than
those hills; for I believe it is there that they principally do what
cultivation there is—in the first place, because it is cooler, and in the
next place because there are, we know, tremendous swamps in the low land
of Sumatra, though whether this is Sumatra or not I cannot say.”
The next morning the boat started as soon as a supply of cocoa-nuts,
sufficient for the day, had been thrown down, two or three of the sailors
adopting the means the mate had taught Joyce, and going up the trees very
much more quickly than he had done.
“What do you think of this ’ere business, Master Stephen?” Wilcox said as
they watched the boat making its way slowly against the current.
“I don’t know, Wilcox, what to think of it.”
“I calls it a risky affair,” the sailor said after a pause. “Mr. Towel is
a good officer, I don’t say as he isn’t, but I would rather see an older
head on his shoulders just at present. It is all very well for him to say
as there may be no natives within twenty miles; but how is he to know
that? There may be a village just round the turn of the river. All these
chaps are pirates when they get a chance, every mother’s son of them, and
there may be half a dozen war-canoes lying a mile up this river. It would
be natural that they should be somewhere near its mouth, ready to start
out if a sail is sighted, or news is brought to them that there is a ship
anchored off a coast village within a few hours’ row. As to firing a gun,
in my opinion it is just madness. As he says himself, meat won’t keep two
days, and it is just flying in the face of Providence to risk attracting
the attention of the natives, for the sake of a day’s rations of fresh
meat.
“It was all very well to bring the boat up here so as to lie out of sight
of any canoes that happened to be passing along the shore; but I would
much rather have left her where she was, though I allows it would have
been risky. I would have just chucked the sail over her and covered that
with an inch or so of sand, so that it would not have been noticed by a
boat a short way out. But if there is a village up here, why, a boat might
come down any moment to do some fishing, and there we should be caught at
once; as for getting away with them makeshift paddles, it would not be
worth even thinking of. I hope our chaps will come back without having
seen a monkey or a village, or as much as a banana, then the mate won’t be
hankering to go up again; and I should make free to advise him to get the
boat up amongst the trees here till we have decided that the ship won’t
come, and agree to make a start.”
“I am with you to some extent, Wilcox, and I do think that it is a risky
thing going up the river. If we were to fill up with cocoa-nuts they would
last us for a week anyhow, and then when we saw another grove of them we
could land and load up again.”
“You can’t take an observation, I suppose, Mr. Stephen, and find out in a
rough way whereabouts we are?”
Steve shook his head. “No, Wilcox. If I had had my quadrant I might have
got near enough to have made a rough guess, for I have got that watch I
bought in my pocket, and I have timed it every day with the chronometers,
and find that it does not gain more than half a minute a day, so that at
the present moment it is not much more than a minute out by them, and if I
had had the quadrant I could have made a pretty close calculation. We were
about a degree and a half south at noon before that cyclone struck us, but
I don’t see that that would help us now.”
“It is a pity, sir,” the sailor said, “for it would help us wonderful if
we could find out our position within fifty miles or so.”
“I wish we could, Wilcox;” and Stephen sat for some time thinking. At last
he said, “I might, anyhow, find out in a rough sort of way whether we have
been blown north or south. We will see if we can find a perfectly straight
stick, ten or twelve feet long. If I fix that upright in sand the shadow
would help us. It was the 25th of March yesterday, and the sun at noon
would therefore be exactly overhead of the line at twelve o’clock.
Therefore, if we have been blown north, we should get a very short shadow
to the south at twelve o’clock; whereas if we have been blown south, there
would be a shadow north. It might not be more than an inch long; but even
that would tell us something.”
They selected a long straight stick, drove it deeply into the sand, walked
round it several times so as to assure themselves that it was perfectly
upright, and then returned again to the shelter of the trees. An hour
later the sound of a gun came to their ears.
“He has found some of them monkeys,” Wilcox growled.
Three more shots were heard. “How far are they off, do you think?” Stephen
asked.
“I dunno, sir. If it was on the open sea and calm like this, I should say
they might be two or three miles, but in this ’ere forest there ain’t no
saying at all. I don’t reckon they would be above two miles anyhow, that
is if the stream is as strong up there as it is here. They were making
very slow way against it when they started. I reckon they have been gone
about an hour, and they would not have got more than two miles away
against this stream. Well, I hope that they will be content now and turn
back again.”
Half an hour passed, then they heard a gun again; it was quickly followed
by another and another.
“More monkeys,” Wilcox exclaimed in a tone of disgust.
“I hope it is monkeys,” Stephen said. “Listen. There are four more shots
close together.”
The sailor leapt to his feet. “I believe you are right, sir, that cussed
firing has brought the natives down upon them. They would not want to keep
on firing at the monkeys. We shall hear in a minute if they fire again.
They have all emptied their pieces. If they load quick and fire again it
will be a bad sign. There they are!” he broke off as two shots were heard.
“I am afraid that settles it, sir, and settles us too, for if they are
attacked there ain’t a ghost of a chance of their getting away, and there
won’t be much more chance of our doing so.”
Four more shots were heard, and then all was quiet. “Now, sir, we will be
getting pretty deep in among these trees, keeping close to the bank, so
that we can look through the bushes without being seen. If the boat comes
along all right, there ain’t no harm done; if it don’t come along after a
bit, we shall know what has happened.”
Picking up his gun, Wilcox was about to turn off into the wood when
Stephen said:
“We had better take three or four cocoa-nuts each, Wilcox. There is no
saying whether we shall come back to this place, and it is as well to have
something to eat.”
Each tied some nuts together, threw them over their shoulders, and started
along the river bank. The stream was bordered by a thick undergrowth,
which afforded an effectual screen for anyone behind it. After going for
about a quarter of a mile they stopped to listen. There was a faint
throbbing sound in the air.
“Paddles!” Steve exclaimed.
“Ay, and native paddles, sir. Our men don’t paddle like that, and I
fancy,” he went on after listening again, “there is more than one canoe.
That settles it, sir. There isn’t a chance of our ever seeing our mates
again.”
“Oh, don’t say that, Wilcox! Even if some have been killed, the others may
have been taken prisoners. I can’t believe they have all been murdered.”
“Well, I hope not, sir, but it looks very black. If they had pounced upon
them sudden, and there had been no fighting, they might have kept them
prisoners a day or two till they made a grand feast and killed them; but
that firing we heard settles it to my mind. I should say there ain’t no
manner of doubt that our fellows will have killed some of the niggers, and
I expect that the two canoes closed in on them, and then it would be all
over in a minute.”
When the canoes were within a quarter of a mile the rowers broke into a
sort of chant, with occasional wild shouts and yells.
“There they come,” Wilcox said as two long canoes, paddling abreast,
rounded a turn in the river a short distance away. “There must be
something like fifty men in each canoe.”
In a short time the canoes came along at a high rate of speed. The sailor
gave a sudden exclamation of fury.
“What is it?” Steve asked.
“Don’t you see, sir, in the stern of each of the canoes, piled up by the
steering oar, there are some heads.”
“I can’t look at them,” Steven said, drawing back from his peep-hole
through the leaves.
“They are whites,” the sailor muttered. “There ain’t no doubt about it. I
would give all my pay for the voyage to have the _Tiger’s_ crew here, that
we might give them murdering villains a volley.”
But Stephen did not hear him; he had thrown himself down, and the tears
were running down his cheeks. The loss of the second mate, who had always
been cheery and kind, and of his fellow apprentice, Joyce, completely
unnerved him. Up to now he had hoped, but what before had been doubt as to
their fate had now been converted into certainty.
“Don’t give way, Master Steve,” the sailor said, stooping over him and
laying his hand on his shoulder. “It is a bad job, there ain’t no denying
it. What happened to them half an hour ago may happen to us before long;
we have got to be up and doing, sir.”
“You are right, Wilcox,” Steve said, as he rose to his feet. “In the first
place, could you count the heads?”
“No; there was a pile of them in each boat; there may have been three,
there may have been four in each.”
“Well, one thing is certain, Wilcox; we must find out if any of them are
still alive, and if so we must try and get them out of the Malays’ hands.”
“I am ready to try, sir. When a chap sees such a thing as that he don’t
seem to care much for his life; and at least if we are caught we can
polish off a few of the villains before we go under, so I am game to do
anything you may order.”
“It is not for me to order, Wilcox; I am only a young apprentice, and you
are an experienced sailor; and now that we are alone and in danger
together, it is for you to lead.”
“Well, if that is the way you look at it, sir, I am willing to do all I
can; and if we find there is any of our mates alive we will get them out
if it is possible, never fear.”
“Do you think those canoes are going to put to sea?” Steve asked.
“Not they; they have just gone down to the mouth of the river to see
whether that boat came from a ship lying off the shore or whether it was
alone. There, do you hear those yells? They have got out of the canoes,
and found the place where we camped last night. We walked about there a
good bit, and it ain’t likely they will be able to find out whether there
was seven or nine of us. Besides, I don’t think they will look much, for
they would take it for certain we should all go up the river together; and
so we should have done if it had not been that you and I were left behind
to look out for a sail.”
In half an hour the two canoes came back again. They both kept well over
to the opposite side of the river to avoid the full force of the current,
and the sailor and Stephen attempted to count the heads in their sterns.
They could not make out the number, but were inclined to agree that the
two dark masses were about the same size.
“I think there can only be three in each boat,” Steven said. “In that case
one man may have been made prisoner; at any rate, Wilcox, we will go on
and see.”
As soon as the canoes had gone round the bend of the river, they proceeded
on their way. The ground presently became exceedingly swampy, and they
could see by the pieces of dead wood and litter caught among the bushes,
that in times of flood the river must overflow its banks and extend a long
distance into the forest. From time to time they had to wade waist-deep
across channels by which the water from the marsh was draining slowly into
the river. Before crossing these, at Wilcox’s suggestion they each cut
down a bush and beat the water with it.
“I expect there are no end of alligators in this swamp,” the sailor said;
“and I know that the natives, before they cross streams where the brutes
are likely to be hiding, beat the water with sticks or bushes to frighten
them away.”
It was hard work walking, for they often sunk knee-deep in the wet soil,
but after toiling for nearly an hour they heard a confused noise ahead,
and could ere long make out the beating of drums and the wild shouts of
Malays, mingled with a deep roaring sound made by horns. They now went on
more cautiously, and presently could make out through the trees a large
native village standing upon rising ground by the side of the river.
Creeping cautiously to the edge of the bush they could see that a large
number of men, women, and children were assembled in an open space between
the houses and the water. The women were bringing bundles of wood, and a
column of smoke rising in the centre of the crowd showed that the
preparation for a feast had begun.
“If we had but one of our ten-pounders loaded with grape with us,” Wilcox
said, “I would pour a volley into those black devils if it cost me my life
afterwards.”
“What do you think they are going to do, Wilcox?”
“I reckon there ain’t much doubt about it,” the sailor replied; “they are
going to make a feast of our mess-mates.”
Stephen uttered an exclamation of horror and disgust. “Do you mean to say
that they are cannibals, Wilcox?”
“In course I can’t say for certain, Master Steve. Some of these tribes are
cannibals and some ain’t, and I reckon by what I see going on that those
villains are. Are you a good climber, sir?”
“Do you mean climbing a tree. I have never had much practice at that,
Wilcox, but I dare say I could manage it.”
“Well, sir, you are lighter and more active than I am, and I was thinking
that if you could get up to the top of this tree you would have a view
down over the village. The leaves are pretty thick, and as the niggers are
busy there is not much chance of their looking about for a man up a tree.
You see the village ain’t above a hundred and fifty yards away, and the
ground ain’t more than twenty feet above the river. I should say that this
tree was seventy or eighty feet high, so that from the top you can get a
view pretty well over the place; if there is one of our chaps there he may
be lying tied up somewhere. Of course he might be in a hut, but it is much
more likely that they would have just chucked him down until they wanted
him. I think if you got on my shoulder you would be able to get hold of
that lowest branch where it bends down, and climb along it to the trunk;
after that the branches come pretty thick together.”
“I think I could manage that easily enough.”
“Well, then, here goes,” the sailor said, and took up his post beneath
where the bough was lowest. “If you can’t reach it from my shoulder, sir,
you step on my head. I can hold you easy enough. You keep the trunk as far
as possible between you and the village.”
“The leaves are thick up high,” Steve said, looking up at the tree;
“directly it gets above the level of these smaller trees it spreads its
branches out well.”
“Now, jump upon my back, sir, and then climb upon my shoulders. You had
best take hold of my hands to steady yourself.”
It was necessary, as the sailor had suggested, for Steve to stand upon his
supporter’s head before he could get hold of a branch sufficiently strong
to bear his weight. As soon as he did so he drew himself up, and was soon
climbing the main trunk. The higher he got the more convinced was he that
he would not be observed by the natives, for the trees behind him formed a
background, and therefore he could not be seen against the sky. He kept,
however, as the sailor had told him, on the other side of the trunk, and
when he had gained the smaller branches at the top of the tree he looked
out through an opening in the foliage. The village seemed to lie almost at
his feet, and he could see every object on the ground. It was not long
before he perceived a figure lying full length in front of one of the
huts, close to the spot where the people were gathered. It was certainly
an European, and from the whiteness of the trousers he felt sure that it
was either the mate or Joyce. He counted the number of huts, and found
that the one beside which the figure was lying was the eighth in the line
facing the river. There were two lines of huts with a sort of street
between them. Behind the second row the rise on which the village was
situated fell rapidly away and the jungle grew almost up to the back of
the huts. Those in the second line stood somewhat further apart than those
in the first, and he observed that the sixth house in the back line was
opposite the eighth in the front. Having gathered this information he
descended the tree.
“What news, sir?” the sailor asked, as Stephen dropped from the bough to
his side.
“There is one of our comrades lying by the huts, Wilcox. I can tell by his
white ducks that it is either Mr. Towel or Joyce; whether he is alive or
dead, of course I can’t say. I did not see him move, but no doubt he would
be tied hand and foot. I saw nothing of the others, and there would be no
reason why he should be treated differently from them if he were dead.”
“You may be sure of that. Well, that is better than I had hoped. If we can
save one it will be something.”
“I have been examining the ground,” Stephen went on, “and we could work
round close up to the second row of huts. We must count six of them, then
go along by the side of the sixth and cross the street to the hut
opposite. The prisoner is lying in front of that, I mean on the river side
of it. Of course, there is no doing anything until the sun has set, except
that we might work round to that hut. It will be easier to get through
this horrid swamp before it gets dark than afterwards, and there will be
less fear of our stumbling and breaking a branch. What time do you think
it is now?”
“I don’t think it is more than eight bells yet,” Wilcox said. “It is a lot
of hours to wait, and I would give a good bit to be out of the swamp
before it gets dark. Howsomever, if we keep along by the river coming back
we can’t lose our way, that is one comfort. Well, let us work round at
once, and then we shall see how the land lies. It is like enough that as
soon as they have got a big fire made up, and the cooking begun, they will
most of them turn in for a sleep till the heat of the day is over, and
begin their feast after sundown. They generally do sleep half the day, and
then keep it up half the night.”
Accordingly they started through the wood, and in a quarter of an hour
found themselves at the foot of the rising ground on which the village
stood. They had counted the huts, and now crawled up through the thick
bushes and stood within a few yards of the sixth hut. The swamp had been
very deep on the way, and they had had the greatest difficulty in getting
through it. Stephen had once sunk below his waist in the mud, and would
have been unable to extricate himself, had not the sailor held on by a
young tree with one hand while he stretched out the other to him.
“I am all right now as far as colour goes, Wilcox. Now, do you stay here
and I will crawl along by the side of the hut and have a look up and down
the street. I did not see a soul between the row of huts when I was in the
tree.”
When Stephen peeped out by the side of the hut he saw that there were
several people about, apparently returning from the spot where they had
congregated. He rejoined his companion, and they waited an hour. By this
time perfect silence had fallen on the village. The heat was intense, and
even in the forest all sound had ceased, as if birds and insects were
alike indulging in a mid-day sleep.
“I will go and have a look again now,” Stephen said. “If I find no one
about I will cross the street and try to cut the ropes, and bring him here
at once. If there is a guard over him I will come back again to you. We
ought to be able to silence the guard without his giving the alarm,
especially as he is likely to be half-asleep.”
“You had better leave your pistols here, Master Steve, and take your
cutlass. A pistol-shot now would bring the whole village down on us, and
we should have no chance of getting through the swamp with a hundred of
those fellows after us. You had better draw your sword, and leave the
scabbard and belt here. In the first place, it is handier to have the
sword ready; and it is not so likely to knock against anything when you
have got it in your hand as it would be trailing behind you as you crawl
along. I shall be on the look-out, sir, and shall be by your side in a
brace of shakes if you hail.”
Stephen parted the bushes, and then stepped lightly to the corner of the
hut. Not a soul was to be seen moving about, and he dashed across to the
house opposite, crawled along by its side, and then looked round. The
great fire had burned low, and Stephen shuddered as his eye fell upon the
mass of embers and thought of what was lying below them. There was no one
about—the whole of the natives had retired to their huts. In another
moment he was beside the prisoner. It was Joyce. Bands of cord-like
creepers were wrapped round his legs; his wrists were tied together, and
from them a rope went to a peg four feet beyond him, extending his arms at
full length beyond his head. A similar fastening from his ankles kept his
legs at full stretch in the other direction. Fastened thus, the Malays
evidently considered that there was no necessity for a guard over him.
“Joyce, old fellow,” Stephen whispered in his ear, “are you conscious?”
The lad opened his closed eyes with a start.
[Illustration: STEPHEN CRAWLS TO THE RESCUE OF HIS CHUM, JOYCE.]
“Don’t speak,” Stephen went on.
“Is it really you, Steve, or am I dreaming?”
“You are awake enough, Tom. I am here with Wilcox and will soon get these
things off you.” Drawing his jack-knife he cut the bonds. “Do you think
that you can walk, Tom?”
“Yes, the things were not very tight, only being pegged out like this I
could not move an inch.”
Stephen was lying down by his side while he cut the fastenings. He now
looked round again.
“There is no one in sight, Tom, but you had better wriggle yourself along
until you get to the corner of the hut.”
As soon as they were round the corner they stood up. As they did so, the
sailor put his head out through the bushes and waved them a silent cheer.
Stephen went first, and as soon as he saw that the street was empty he
beckoned to his companion, and they ran across to the other side; a moment
later they joined the sailor. The latter gave a grip to Joyce’s hand, and
then held out to him a cocoa-nut he had just cut open in readiness. This
he seized eagerly and took a long drink.
“I was choking with thirst,” Joyce gasped, as he finished the contents of
the nut.
“Take care how you go through the bushes,” the sailor whispered, as he
turned and led the way; “everything is so quiet that a rustle might be
heard.”
They went along with the greatest caution. Their bare feet fell
noiselessly on the spongy soil, but sometimes as they sank into the mud
the suck of the air as they drew them out made a sound that startled them.
At last they reached the tree where they had left all the cocoa-nuts with
the exception of the one that the sailor had brought on. When they
stopped, Joyce threw himself down and burst into tears.
“Leave me alone,” he said, as Stephen began to speak to him, “I shall be
better directly, but it has been awful. I will tell you about it
afterwards. I tried to make up my mind to stand it bravely, and it is the
getting out of it when there did not seem to be a chance in the world that
has upset me.”
In five minutes he rose again to his feet. “I am ready to go on now,” he
said.
“Yes, I think it is time to be moving, sir. As soon as those beggars wake
up and find you have gone, they will set out in chase, and the longer
start we get the better.”