"Our Luck's Out"
"That's done it!" ejaculated O'Hara.
"Perhaps," admitted Denbigh. "We'll have some grub and discuss the
situation. It's good to sniff the open sea, after being cooped up in
that pestilential river. That's one consolation."
The three chums ate sparingly, supplementing the provisions with the
milk of a coco-nut. The soda-water was by common consent kept intact.
As soon as the sun's rays acquired strength Denbigh washed his
mud-encrusted clothes in the sea and spread them out to dry.
"What's the programme?" asked Armstrong. "If we hang about here we
stand a chance of getting nabbed. Our flight will have been discovered
by this time, and they'll naturally conclude that we've made off
towards the mouth of the river."
"Unless they conclude, from finding the punt jammed alongside the pier,
that we've been slung out and drowned," rejoined Denbigh. "But we'll
take no needless chances. We'll go north. Once we pass the clearing
where the native village stands the coast ought to be fairly clear, and
we can still command a view of the entrance to the lagoon."
Without incident the three officers made their way for nearly three
miles along the coast. By this time the intense heat was making itself
felt, and at O'Hara's suggestion they retreated to the cool of the
forest, taking turns at keeping watch.
During the afternoon a native canoe appeared round a projecting bluff.
The men had been fishing, for they brought a goodly haul on shore.
Dragging the frail craft above high-water mark the blacks vanished in
the direction of the village.
O'Hara, who was keeping watch, astonished his companions by giving them
each a violent shake.
"What's wrong?" asked Denbigh, awake and alert in an instant.
"Nothing," replied the imperturbable Irishman.
"Then why this thusness?"
"Are you keen on a sea voyage?"
"A sea voyage?" repeated Denbigh.
"To Latham Island."
"Do you propose swimming there?" asked Armstrong with considerable
asperity, for he had been disturbed in the midst of a much-needed sleep.
"There's a canoe awaiting us," reported O'Hara. "The sea's calm.
To-night's the night. You told me that the _Pelikan's_ people left a
whaler and plenty of provisions and stores hidden on the island. With
luck we ought to be able to fetch there, resurrect the boat, and make a
dash for Zanzibar. We'd have the S.W. monsoon with us all the way, and
if we fell in with one of our ships so much the better."
"Where's your precious discovery?" asked Denbigh.
Accompanying his chum to the edge of the cliff O'Hara pointed out the
canoe.
"H'm, not much of a craft to make a voyage to a sandbank twenty-three
miles from land," remarked Denbigh.
"We can work inside the lagoon for several miles and then keep close
inshore until we reach Ras What's-its-name," continued O'Hara
optimistically. "I've seen these native canoes miles out to sea before
to-day. They seem pretty seaworthy."
While daylight lasted the three chums rested, after taking the
precaution of gathering a supply of coco-nuts and roots. The subs eyed
the latter with misgivings, in spite of Armstrong's assurances that
they were both edible and nourishing.
As soon as the sun had set behind the boundless mangrove forests the
daring trio made their way to the spot where the canoe was lying. The
craft was about twenty-four feet in length, but only four in beam.
With her half-dozen short paddles, a mast and sail, suitable only for
running before the wind, and a stone jar half-full of water. Owing to
the porosity of the earthenware the liquid was remarkably cool. A few
lengths of net completed the equipment, but these were considerately
left behind, since there was no need for unnecessary spoliation of the
natives, even though they were, perhaps unwillingly, subjects of Kaiser
Wilhelm II.
The canoe was light enough to enable the three men to carry her down to
the water's edge. Without delay they pushed off and headed for the
reef.
Here, on the lee side of the extensive coral ledge, they were in
comparative safety. The long line of foaming breakers thundering up
the reef afforded a guide to the position of the ledges; it deadened
all other sounds, and since no native boats would be likely to indulge
in night fishing, there was little risk of detection.
"We have company, you see," remarked Armstrong, pointing to a
phosphorescent swirl less than twenty yards astern. The disturbance of
the placid water was caused by the dorsal fin of a huge shark, that,
scenting a possible prey, was zigzagging in the wake of the frail canoe.
"'We do so want to lose you; and we think you ought to go'," misquoted
O'Hara, laying down his paddle and grasping his rifle.
"Hold on!" cautioned the mate. "You'll not only bring up every shark
in the lagoon to make a meal of this beauty, but you'll arouse every
native within hearing distance. Don't fire unless the brute gets too
attentive; then use your pistol. It makes much less of a flash and
report."
Hour after hour passed. The men took turns at paddling, since there
was not a breath of wind. The shark still kept doggedly in company.
As the canoe drew farther and farther away from the entrance to the
Mohoro River the miasmic mists gradually dispersed, until the three
officers found themselves under a bright starlit sky, and on the placid
surface of the lagoon there seemed one blaze of reflected brilliance.
"It looks as if we are nearing the northern limit of the lagoon,"
remarked Denbigh. "We'd better keep a sharp look-out for a passage
through the reef."
"What if we don't find one?" asked Armstrong. "The last gap of any
size we passed quite three miles astern."
"There's an opening of sorts," announced O'Hara, pointing to a dark
patch in the otherwise unbroken line of surf. "My word! I believe
there's a spanking breeze outside."
"Steady there!" cautioned Denbigh, as the frail craft approached the
opening, through which long undulations sullenly rolled in from the
vast expanse of the Indian Ocean. "If we get capsized heaven help us.
Our old friend has brought up a few more of his pals."
The sub was justified in advising caution. Half a dozen sharks were
close to the canoe. Emboldened by numbers, they swam around in
ever-decreasing circles, until one monster, braver than the rest,
rasped his skin along the side of the canoe.
As the craft tilted O'Hara aimed a blow at the brute with his paddle.
With a swift movement of its powerful tail the shark disappeared, only
to rise again and resume its embarrassing attentions.
"If those brutes' instinct isn't at fault there'll be a pretty
mess-up," thought Denbigh. "They evidently have seen native canoes
upset in the channel through the reef before to-day."
"Think it's worth while risking it?" asked O'Hara.
"No, I don't," replied his chum bluntly.
"We must hang on till daybreak, then," said Armstrong. "At dead-low
water there may be a trifle less swell."
"Yes," assented Denbigh. "We'll land on the lee side of the reef.
Gently with her; we don't want to be stove in against a sharp branch of
coral."
Without accident the landing was accomplished. The adventurers found
themselves on a broad part of the reef that was barely three feet above
the surface. Seaweed and driftwood had already accumulated, showing
that the coral was now only occasionally invaded by the sea. Fifty
yards away the surf broke heavily, but fortunately they were out of
range of the falling spray.
Almost in silence the three chums sat until the sun rose in a grey sky
above the horizon. Overhead a few large birds flew seaward--both
circumstances presaging a fine day.
The tide had now fallen, and, although there were several feet of water
in the channel, a detached reef about a hundred yards from the main
coral ledge, which had uncovered as the tide fell, completely broke the
breakers for some distance on either side of its seaward end.
"All aboard!" ordered Denbigh. "With luck we'll fetch Latham Island
well before sunset."
Broad on the port bow rose Ras Kimbiji, which Denbigh recognized by a
peculiarly-rounded and isolated hill rising two miles beyond the point.
From this cape, he knew, Latham Island bore 23 miles due east.
"Step the mast, Pat!" he exclaimed. "The breeze is well in our favour.
One thing, we are not over-canvassed."
Therein he was mistaken, for the small spread of sail was more than
sufficient to endanger the stability of the canoe. Since there were no
reef points recourse had to be made to a "Spanish reef", which consists
in gathering in a generous amount of one corner of the canvas and tying
it into a knot. Even then the little craft literally bounded over the
water. Before the S.W. monsoon Denbigh calculated her speed at seven
or eight knots.
At the end of three hours the breeze increased, and the sail had to be
still further reduced. Not daring to stand upright, the sub's range of
vision was considerably limited. He was beginning to think that a
slight error in the compass course had taken them past the low-lying
and almost invisible sandbank for which they were steering.
"Breakers ahead!" shouted Armstrong.
For nearly five minutes the gaze of all three men was directed upon a
patch of white foam in the midst of the dark-blue waters.
Then Denbigh broke the silence.
"We can finish off that soda-water now," he said. "That's Latham
Island."
They drained the bottle. There was now no need to husband their scanty
resources. Ahead lay the sandbank on which were hidden provisions in
plenty.
"Down rag and out paddles!" ordered Denbigh.
The sail was quickly stowed and the mast unshipped. Under paddles the
canoe was urged towards the lee side of the island, where a landing was
easily effected.
Dragging the canoe above high-water mark the three chums, wellnigh
"baked" by the heat, sat down upon the hard ground. Shelter there was
none. The whole of the white surface simmered in the rays, both direct
and reflected, of the tropical sun.
"Honestly I don't feel like work," remarked O'Hara. "It's too beastly
hot. Besides, we've anticipated our time-table considerably. The
sun's not crossed the meridian yet."
"It's a toss-up whether we set to at once or wait. In any case we
stew," said Armstrong. "I vote we dig for an hour and knock off for
the early afternoon."
"Yes," assented Denbigh. "That will, I think, be the better way. So
bestir yourself, Pat."
"Where's the spot?" asked the mate.
"Almost at the other end of the island," replied Denbigh. "I can
recognize it from the position of that jagged reef. Bring the paddles,
they'll make excellent sand scoops."
Across the glistening sand they made their way until the three men came
simultaneously to a dead stop.
Other diggers had preceded them, for where the whaler and the stores
had been hidden was a large, partly-silted-up cavity.
The versatile Irishman was the first to break the silence.
Throwing his paddle to the ground he ejaculated:
"Dash it all! Our luck's out this time."