weather-rail to the backstays. ‘Lay out there!’ and his voice rose to a
screech, for it was duff or dog’s belly, as the saying is, and it meant
life or death for all hands.
“In the gloom I saw a slight form spring into the ratlines and go aloft
hand over hand. Then the men followed, while Jensen was bawling, ‘Come
down, you devil’s limb! come down, or I’ll skin you!’
“But Johnnie was leading the way over the futtock-shrouds, so I grabbed
the ratlines and went up with the rest.”
Here Gantline stopped for a moment and expectorated violently down the
weather-side most unsailorly.
“And didn’t that coward Jensen go along, or was he too scared?” asked
Captain Green.
Gantline wiped his mouth and continued, slowly, “He may or may not have
been scared. He went aft. Johnnie gained the yard first with Williams
close behind him, and they started out to leeward with the watch
following.
“The yard-arm was jumping and springing under the shock of flying
canvas, and it was all a good sailor could do to hold on. The men soon
passed a line under the sail and got it on the yard amidships, while
Johnnie, knife in hand, cut away the flying canvas from the bolt-rope to
leeward.
“It was bitter work on that yard-arm in that freezing gale, and it took
a long time to get the sail ‘goose-winged,’--that is, with the bunt on
the yard and the weather-clew drawing,--and when we got through my hands
were so nearly frozen I could hardly hold on to a rope.
“The mate was on the poop, and we had just finished lashing the sail,
when I felt the vessel take a tremendous heave to windward.
“‘Hold hard!’ I yelled, for I knew what was coming. With a great heave
she rolled to leeward, and above the roar I heard the smothering rush of
water as the sea went over her.
“From the darkness to leeward I heard a sharp cry, and, looking to where
I had last seen Johnnie, I saw he was gone.
“I grasped the topsail clew-line and slid down to the deck. Making my
way aft somehow, I found the old man and one of the men at the wheel
holding on to a rope that trailed taut over the lee-quarter, while the
old man was bawling for some one to lay aft and help pull it in.
“I grabbed hold and we hauled it in together. A dark lump came over the
side and I grabbed hold of it and pulled it aboard. It was all that was
left of Jensen. He had seen Johnnie go, and had gone after him with the
line around his waist.
“The old man said nothing, but took his shoulders and I took his feet
and we carried him below. He was as dead as could be. A sea had hove him
under the ship’s counter as she squatted, and the top of his head was
stove flat.
“The old man didn’t say much, but I could see by the light of the lamp
there was more water in his eyes than that of the flying drift.
“The next day the carpenter sewed the mate up in canvas, along with some
sheet-lead. The old man read the service in spite of the gale, and then
he raised his hand.
“The men of the mate’s watch tilted the plank he was laying on, and the
white bundle went to leeward with a heavy plunge.
“Just at that minute the long, hoarse cry of a penguin broke on our ears
from the darkness to the s’uth’ard. That was all.”
Zach Green sat smoking, but said nothing. Gantline turned and noticed
me. Then he spat his quid overboard, and, giving me the course for my
watch, went slowly forward.
_THE TREASURE OF TINIAN REEF_
The tropical sun shone fiercely on the beach of coral sand. The
tall-trunked cocoanuts, with their bunchy, long-leaved tops, rustled
softly in the trade-wind on the shore, and stood like bold sentinels, or
a picket-line, for the serried ranks of thick jungle growth on the land
behind them. The long, heavy roll of the Pacific heaved itself up, as if
in defiance, as it rolled towards the land, mounting higher and higher
upon itself, until the blue wall wavered an instant, then fell with a
mighty roar into a waste of sparkling foam as it rolled over the
barrier-reef and rushed towards the beach beyond.
Sometimes the seas would come in quick couples, and the deep thundering
jar of their falling bodies could be heard clear back to Sunharon, where
Sangaan lived in the pride of his manhood and a grass-thatched palace.
Northward from the reef, well off shore, lay a small schooner, rolling
deep in the swell. Her mainsail was hauled flat aft, and she lay hove
to, while a small white speck in the sea between her and the shore,
growing rapidly larger every moment, told plainly to the curious native
sitting on the beach in the shadow of a palm that a boat was soon to
make a landing.
But Warto was not uneasy. He had seen boats land there before, and had
once helped to carry some of the men ashore, where a large fire had been
built and knives sharpened; but that was long ago, long before Mr.
Easyman had come there and taught him how to take care of his soul as
well as his huge brown body.
Still, memory made his eyes bright, and he involuntarily clutched a
short spear with his right hand as he sat and watched the small boat
near the surf.
“Steady your bow oar!” roared a deep-voiced, bow-legged man who stood at
the steering oar. Then he removed his cap and wiped a dent in the top of
his bald head, while he gazed steadfastly at a floating mass in the
water. “By the Holy Smoke, Gantline! but that’s some o’ that whale
slush, or bust my eyes!”
Gantline, pulling stroke oar, turned quickly in his seat at this and
gazed in the direction the boat was heading, where a small object
floated like a lump of tallow on the smooth water. His gray eyes grew
suddenly bright as he brought the object in range of his vision, but he
assumed a careless air as he answered Garnett.
“Nothing but a piece of whale-blubber,” he muttered, as he drew his oar
inboard. “Some of those niggers been trying out on the beach; and, by
thunder! if that ain’t one squatting there under that big palm right
ahead.”
“Get out your boat-hook,” roared Garnett to the man at the bow oar,
“and make a pass at it; for, by the Pope! it looks to me like a lump of
amber-grease.”
They were very close to the line of lifting water, closer, in fact, than
Garnett supposed; but he was so intent on capturing the floating prize
that he did not realize his danger.
The man forward reached for the floating mass with his boat-hook and
drew it alongside, but it took the united efforts of himself and the man
next him to lift the spongy, slippery lump into the boat.
There it was, a good hundred pounds of ambergris, worth fifty dollars a
pound anywhere on the West Coast.
Garnett removed his cap and mopped the top of his bald head, while his
eyes remained fixed upon the prize. “By the Holy Smoke, Gantline! you
see what comes o’ being in charge of a party. I came mighty near letting
you go ashore with the boat by yourself, and then I’d been out a few
thousand; but never mind, I’ll give you a pound o’ the stuff, anyways.”
Gantline gave a loud grunt of disgust. “Seems to me half and half would
sound better among old messmates like us. By thunder! if I had picked it
up you would have had your share fast enough.”
Garnett smiled broadly and replaced his cap on his head.
“It’s a pity that the devilish desire to prosper should come atween two
old shipmates like us two; but I remember the time, onct, when the
terbacker gave out on the Moose, and you never so much as offered me a
quid off your plug, even when you knowed I was suffering. Besides, it
not only wouldn’t do to divy up from a physical stand-point, but it’s
’gainst all morals and religion. What d’ye suppose old Easyman, ashore
there, would say if I gave up my rights? The Bible says, ‘He that have
got, shall have; and he that haven’t got, shall have that which he ain’t
taken from him,’ which goes to show that by all rights and religion I
should take away that pound I promised you.”
Gantline muttered something that Garnett couldn’t hear, and then resumed
his oar.
During all this time the boat had been drifting towards the beach, but
the wind had caused her to swing nearly broadside on while all hands
were busy with the prize. Suddenly Gantline looked seaward, and gave a
quick exclamation that brought Garnett to his senses and the steering
oar with a jump.
“Back port! Give way starboard, for God’s sake!” roared the mate, as he
swung all his weight on the steering oar to slew the boat head-on; but
it was too late. A great blue sea rose just outside of them, with its
inshore slope growing steeper and steeper, until it was almost
perpendicular. Then, curling clear and green, it fell over them, and in
an instant boat and men disappeared in the white smother.
“’Ternal bliss! ’ternal bliss!” lisped Warto, sweetly, as he sat
scraping his great toe-nail with a piece of shell. Then he glanced
sharply up and down the beach to see if anybody was looking who might
tell the missionary, and, grasping his spear firmly, dropped his grass
cloth and made for the surf.
The first thing that attracted his attention was a shining bald head
which glistened brightly in the sunshine, and he made his way swiftly
towards it.
“Get onto the divil av a naygur makin’ for us,” said a sailor. “Faith,
an’ if me eyes ain’t entirely full of salt, I do believe the black
haythen has a harpoon along with him. Now, bless me----”
This last remark was caused by the actions of Garnett, who was swimming
a little in advance of the rest, turning his head every now and then to
watch for the following breakers. The mate had an oar under each arm and
was using the boat-hook for a paddle, when he was aware of a black head,
with shining eyes and grinning teeth, close aboard him.
There was something suspicious in the manner the savage swam, for, while
he often held one hand clear of the water, Garnett noticed that the
other was always below the surface.
“Git out the way, ye murdering shark, or I’ll hook ye higher than
Haman!” roared Garnett, as he flourished his boat-hook and glared
fiercely at the islander. “None o’ your cannibal tricks on me;” and with
that he made a pass with his weapon so quick that Warto came near ending
his career as a beach-comber then and there.
As it was, he ducked his head just in time, and then, completely cowed
by this show of resistance from what he supposed were helpless men, made
for the beach.
Before Garnett made the land quite a crowd had collected, for the
fleeing savage had spread the news in a few moments, and then hastened
back to see if anything was to be gained from the new arrivals.
These came ashore in due course of time on whatever flotsam that
happened within their reach, Gantline astride of a keg which bore the
missionary’s name in large black letters, painted on the ends, while the
two sailors clung tenaciously to the sides of the capsized boat.
Soon the majestic form of Sangaan was seen approaching, accompanied by a
crowd of servants and the Reverend Father Easyman himself.
At an order from their chief, several stout fellows plunged into the
surf and assisted in getting Gantline and the men safely ashore; but
Garnett flourished his boat-hook when they approached him, and glared at
them so savagely that they soon let him alone and turned their attention
to securing whatever stuff still floated in the broken water.
When Garnett could stand, he turned and cast his eye along the white
line of rolling surge in search of his prize, but failing to see it, he
walked slowly ashore, looking intently from right to left.
Gantline and the men were already surrounded by the crowd of natives,
and the missionary was alternately shaking their hands and offering up
thanks for their safe deliverance from the perils of the sea. At a wave
of the good man’s hand, two strapping fellows picked up his keg and made
off in the direction of the mission, but the rest of the supplies, that
still floated, were piled in a heap upon the sand as fast as the men
could rescue them from the water.
“By the Holy Smoke! Mr. Easyman,” grunted Garnett, with a string of
oaths, “but you’re making a fine lot o’ these naygers when they swim out
and try to murder a man as soon as he gets into trouble. There was----”
“Ah, me!” gasped the missionary, lifting his hands and raising his eyes;
“so it is the violent one I see again,--the man of fierce speech. A warm
welcome to you, friend; for it has been a long time since you and Father
Tellman’s pig left the Marquesas suddenly on the same day. A mere
coincidence, however! a mere coincidence!” and he shot a vengeful look
at the mate, who smiled and spat a stream of tobacco and salt water upon
the sand.
“What is the invoice of goods that you have landed so disastrously. I
had thought you were a right good sailor, though I reckoned you a poor
Christian. Give me the bill and I’ll check off what I owe your captain
for. Ah, my friend, it gives me great unease to hear you use such
strange and unholy words, especially before my great friend, Chief
Sangaan, the greatest chief in the Archipelago, and also the greatest
ras----”
“’Tis Garnett, sure enough,” he continued to himself, as that sailor,
having handed him the list of goods, hurried off down the beach, where
Gantline stood with his eyes fixed on an object in the surf.
“Blast his eyes! if he don’t remember me when I was on the Pigeon,” said
Garnett, as he reached Gantline. “You remember that foolishness I told
you about concerning a pretty wench he had at the mission--ewe lamb, he
called her--and that infernal pig I pulled out of his friend’s pen the
day we sailed. Dernation! the beast was so tough I can taste it yet.”
“There’s a saying in the Holy Book that stolen fruits is sweetest,”
answered Gantline, with a grin; “which goes to show the onreliability of
misplacing these quotations. Which, the same, you seem to be doing in
regard to that lump of whale stuff. It seems to me that I might enter
into a dispute with you in regard to the ownership of it; for, if I see
straight, there it is just inside the first line of breakers, and
belongs to the man who can abide the longest for its sake.”
“Now, by the eyes of that sky-pilot, if you are bent on quarrelling and
intent on mutiny, it won’t take long for me to show you who is running
this affair,” said Garnett, as he glared at Gantline and began to make a
few preparations necessary for establishing his authority.
“We’re on the beach; and, Lord love ye, Garnett, I’ll make a fair
showing if you start for me. Afloat I’ll obey orders, but ashore you’ve
got to prove what’s what before I believe it.”
So saying, Gantline plunged into the surf and made his way rapidly
towards the floating mass, which represented, in value, his profits of a
dozen voyages.
“This is too infernal bad,” muttered Garnett to himself, as several
natives started out to help Gantline. “Here I’ll have to fight Gantline
or lose half of that lump o’ grease; but he brings it on himself, for
it’s mutiny.”
He grasped the boat-hook which he still carried, and waited patiently
until the lump was brought ashore. Then he approached the second mate,
who had had the prize carried above high-water mark, where he stood
astride of it.
The natives saw that something was wrong between the white men, although
they knew nothing of the dispute or the value of the fetid prize, so
they began to crowd around them in the hope of viewing and enjoying the
hostilities in which they had no desire to take part.
“’Tis no use, Garnett; you are too old a dog to make headway against me,
even with that hook, though there was a time when you might have held on
to some purpose.”
“I have had a clip or two in my time,” answered Garnett; “but we’ll see.
No matter if you do get to windward of me, Easyman and the chief will
hold you for mutiny till the skipper gets you. So stand away to leeward
of that lump or I’ll be for boarding ye.”
“Stand off!” bawled Gantline; “if I fire this chunk of coral into that
dent in your forepeak there’ll be trouble.”
“Ah, brothers! ah, brothers! what is this strife about? and what is that
lump on the sand?” asked a voice on the outside of the group. The
natives instantly stood aside, and the Reverend Father Easyman stood
before the quarrelling mates. “Oh, ho! it is my friend of the godless
tongue; and pray, my friend, what is it he desires to take from you? for
I reckon him a covetous man,” said the missionary, looking at Garnett,
but addressing Gantline.
“It’s just a find of grease,” answered Gantline, “and, as I went into
the surf after it, I want to divide it with Garnett here, who says it’s
his because he saw it first.”
“Lump of grease! Now, bless me, my friend, it has a most unholy odor for
grease. ’Tis a poor beef that gives forth such tallow; but let me
examine it closer, for there is no need to guard it, as Sangaan there
will have no disputes about the ownership of property on his most
civilized island.”
“Sangaan be hanged!” grunted Garnett; “the stuff’s mine, and I’ll have
it if I have to bring the schooner in and fire on the village with our
twelve-pounder. Who’s Sangaan, that he must meddle with the affairs of
an American citizen, hey? After a while I suppose I’ll have to be asking
permission from every chief in the Archipelago to carry the stuff we
just brought ashore for you. Have your niggers clear our boat and give
me the bill, for it’s time we were aboard again.”
“Not so fast, friend Garnett,” said the missionary; “your boat is stove,
and it will take a man a half a day to repair it, and as you haven’t
enough spare hands aboard your vessel to man another, you will have to
stay ashore with me this evening. Perhaps I may find a nice tender shote
and entertain you according to your taste,” and he glanced sharply at
the sailor. “As for this find, as you call it, it seems to me that I
have heard of the stuff before, and that it has some value; so I will
have it carried up to the village and stored safely. In the mean time we
can discuss its ownership and also examine certain articles billed to me
at our leisure; for although your captain is an honest trader and a true
Christian man, yet one of his last year’s kegs did contain a most
unsavory mixture, and gave rise to the impression that his vessel’s hold
contained much liquid tar in a free state. As for Sangaan, it will be
well for you to show him some deference, for, although a good chief and
a devout man, he has little love for sailors, as you may remember if you
have not forgotten that affair of the Petrel. He is coming this way now
with his men, so have a care.”
Garnett saw there was nothing to do but as the missionary said. The boat
was injured so as to be unsafe for a long pull through the heavy surf,
and it would have to be repaired before launching again.
Gantline had the fetid mass which he was guarding so closely put into an
empty keg, and several natives carried it off to the mission as Sangaan
walked up.
The chief evidently remembered the mate, for he advanced smiling and
held out his hand, saying, in good English, “How do you do? Had a bad
time in surf, so come up to the mission and we’ll have a good time.”
Garnett shook his hand, and then, the missionary joining them, they
walked towards the mission house together. They proceeded in silence,
Garnett eyeing the chief suspiciously and trying to remember if he had
ever committed any deviltries which Sangaan might still feel sore about.
The missionary kept Gantline and the two sailors in view, but appeared
to be lost in deep thought. A close observer, however, might have
noticed an unholy twinkle in his eye when he glanced at the natives who
were carrying the keg of ambergris towards his home.
As for Sangaan, he suddenly seemed to remember some of Garnett’s former
trips through the Archipelago, and asked very abruptly, “How’s Mr.
’Toole?” And at the memory of O’Toole’s affairs with the natives Garnett
snapped out, “He’s dead.” Whereupon the chief laughed so heartily that
Garnett’s suspicions were aroused again, and he remained silent.
“And Captain Crojack, how is he? He used to do good trade with the
people to the southward.”
“Oh, he’s still alive,” answered Garnett, somewhat reassured. “He’s in
the China trade now.”
“And ’Toole, his mate,--I think you must lie----”
“He is dead, I tell you,” answered the mate quickly, for it was evident
that the chief still wished to hear some news of him. “That’s a fine
big mission house, by the---- Beg your pardon, but it is just the same;
and, by thunder, it’s the best on the islands.”
“Be not so violent, friend Garnett,” said the missionary. “It is a good
house, and, by the blessing of Providence, we have striven successfully
to keep it in good repair against the fierce typhoon and the hot sun.”
“It’s good and large,” said Sangaan, with pride; “and you and your men
may sleep upstairs. The room is wide and cool.”
Garnett grunted out thanks for the chief’s hospitality, but remarked
that if the boat could be fixed in time he would rather go aboard the
ship. All he wished for was the loan of a few tools and a piece of wood,
and he thought the boat could be fixed fast enough. These the missionary
lent him; so, after going over the list of goods and testing some of the
contents of the kegs and packages, he and Gantline, accompanied by the
two sailors, went back to the beach and began work on the boat.
They were soon surrounded by a curious crowd of natives, who squatted
around them in a circle and looked on, regardless of the hot sunshine,
while the mates and men toiled bravely at their task.
The boat was so badly stove, however, that it was dark before they were
half through repairing her; so, when Father Easyman came down on the
beach and told them that they would find something to eat at the
mission, all hands knocked off and started for it.
Garnett and Gantline had been arguing about the possession of their find
of the morning, but had not come to blows; for the mate knew that it
would rest with the skipper as to who would have the largest share of
it, and that nothing could be settled until they got aboard ship. There
was little use, either, in getting the missionary mixed up in the
matter, for he would be likely to press the weight of his judgment
against him if called upon to help decide the case.
The mission house was a large frame building, built of boards brought
ashore from a vessel, and had a sloping thatch roof. It was two stories
high, however, the upper one serving as a loft for storing supplies
belonging to the missionary. It was now nearly empty; a large, cool
room, with a slight opening all around it under the overhanging eaves of
the thatch.
In this loft Garnett and his men were left to pass the night, after
having partaken of a good meal at the expense of their host, who lived
several hundred yards farther back in the village, in a modest little
cottage close to the larger abode of Sangaan.
The good chief had offered them shelter under his roof, but as he had a
numerous company in his household, and the weather being warm, the mates
had expressed a keen desire to sleep alone with their men. The keg
containing their prize was also stored away with them for the night, and
soon silence settled upon the peaceful village of Sunharon.
The gentle rustle of the trade-wind soothed the ears of the tired men
and they slept soundly on.
“By the Holy Smoke! what’s up?” exclaimed Garnett, as he sprang up from
the tarpaulin on which he and the men were lying.
There was a tremendous uproar in the room beneath, and the voice of
Sangaan could be heard singing lustily. It was a little past midnight,
but the chieftain’s voice was thick and husky, and it was evident that
he intended celebrating the arrival of the supplies.
Garnett had carefully withdrawn the charges from the brace of huge
muzzle-loading pistols he had carried ashore with him, and had managed
to get a handful or two of dry powder from the missionary, so he was
prepared to defend any attack upon his treasure.
He awaited developments, but as no one appeared on the ladder which led
to the loft, he crawled to the opening and looked below.
About twoscore of natives, with Sangaan in their midst, were crowding
around a keg which Garnett recognized as one of his own wares, and a
smile broke upon his grizzled features.
Gantline had come to his side, and they gazed down upon the mob.
In a moment Sangaan saw their faces and waved his hands, “Come down!
come down!” he cried in a thick voice, and the whole assembly took up
the cry, laughing and shouting.
“Come, drink health!” bawled Sangaan, as he staggered towards the
ladder.
“No, sirree!” roared Garnett. “What! you expect me to come down and
drink with a lot o’ niggers like them. No, sirree, not by a darned
sight.”