"THE BURNING OF THE SOUTH SEAMAN"
The night passed without incident, and dawn found the _Ocmulgee_
jogging along with the yards just off the backstays.
The wind had steadied down to a fair south-west breeze; the sea was
much quieter, and matters were looking up all round.
Broncho was taught to steer, and Jim fished indefatigably, but beyond
catching a huge molly-mawk, which had swooped on the bait, he had not
had much success.
Tari, however, the skilled harpooner, had managed to spear several
dolphins, and dolphin stew made a welcome addition to the poor fare.
So the days passed.
Except for Lobu, the madman, who caused some anxiety by his queer
behaviour, all hands were pulling together well.
Tari proved to be invaluable. He had a soft, gentle nature and worked
like an ox, his disfigured countenance aglow with beaming good temper.
He cooked, he steered, he was ready for everything and toiled away
unceasingly with wonderful endurance. The man was untiring in his
efforts to please, and Jack especially he seemed to take to.
"You my _pleni_," he had announced to that worthy in his soft
Polynesian tones.
_Pleni_ means "friend," and has a peculiar sentimental significance in
the South Seas, and after this announcement Tari waited upon Jack like
a slave.
This behaviour seemed to impress the cowpuncher greatly, and about the
third day on board he commented on it to the rolling-stone.
"That 'ere Tari, whom you-alls say by his tattooing is a big chief,
behaves as if he's your nigger, Jack, an' he shore hungers to please
you. You sartinly has his affections roped, tied down, an' with your
brand on to 'em that-away. I watches him eyein' you with them big
antelope orbs o' his same as if you're some kind o' god, an' it's plumb
touchin' as a spectacle."
"That's the custom, Broncho, in the South Seas. The natives are like
affectionate dogs, and when a man announces that he is your _pleni_
it means that from then on you are his first consideration in this
world," replied Jack. "It's a far, far stronger affection than that
which lovers hold to one another in the Society and Marquesas groups,
passionate though they are."
"Wall, I reckon a pagan Kanaka shore calls the turn that-away on
redskins. Tari's a different breed entire to them yellow snakes. I
ain't never seen the redskin's eye I'd trust, but Tari's I'd jest as
soon stack upon as any white man's."
"How do you like the _Ocmulgee's_ tobacco?" asked Jack, as he lit his
pipe behind his hands.
"For smokin' it'll about run in double harness with tea, which same is
puttin' it some mild; but for chewin' it makes me as peevish as a sick
infant, it's that rank, an' shore gives a gent a ja'ndiced view of
life."
During this conversation they were seated round the cabin skylight in
the first dog-watch.
Suddenly Lobu, who as usual was engaged in mysterious confidence with
his black baby-god, sprang to his feet, and with a wild cry seized
Tari's harpoon, which was resting up against the fife-rail; then,
before any one of them could make a move, he had the weapon poised for
a terrific lunge at Jack.
Like a wild thing, Jim, who was steering, flung himself in front of
his hero. At the same moment, Tari, making a wonderful shot with a
belaying-pin, which he had snatched from the rail, dashed the harpoon
to the deck, and before the infuriated madman could pick up his weapon,
all hands had scattered for safety.
"He's running amuck! Look out for yourselves!" roared Jack, as he
dodged round the companion.
Broncho made a break for the tryworks, whilst Jim, springing on to the
main fife-rail, went hand-over-hand up the port lower-topsail sheet.
Foaming at the mouth and jerking forth queer, wild guttural cries,
Lobu, with weapon raised on high, hurled himself round the companion
after Jack; but the fleet-footed Britisher was too quick for him.
Foiled here, he suddenly turned and launched his weapon at Jim, who was
swarming up the purchase with the agility of a monkey.
Nothing but a sharp roll of the ship saved the boy, and the harpoon
stuck quivering in the mainmast.
Meanwhile, Broncho, with the ready resource of a frontiersman, had
seized the coil of line from a boat tub, and hastily making a running
bowline, crept up behind the unsuspecting Kanaka.
Lobu now stood hesitating, and gazing stupidly up at Jim above him.
With a quick twist of the wrist the rope snaked from the cowboy's hand,
and the loop dropped neatly over the insane man's head and shoulders.
With such an expert at roping and throwing as Broncho, it was but a
moment before Lobu lay on the deck, securely bound and helpless.
"My! That was close!" panted Jim, as he slid down to the deck.
"Jim, shake!" said the rover, breathing deeply and with the smallest
tremble in his voice. "I won't forget what you did to-day as long as I
live."
The boy blushed vividly with pleasure, and stammered out something
which was quite unintelligible, whilst Broncho said heartily:
"Good for you, son! It shore were a clean strain play o' yours, an'
plumb full o' sand as the Mohave desert."
Then Tari came in for congratulations and thanks, and the way Jack
gripped his hand made the Islander beam with pleasure and wince with
pain.
"Fine shootin', Tari, as ever I sees," commented Broncho. "Black Davis
is plumb childlike with a belayin'-pin compared to you."
The question now was, what was to be done with Lobu, who lay on the
deck panting and spent, and apparently sane enough again, though
rolling his eyes in wide alarm.
"I believe he thinks we are going to cook and eat him," observed Jack.
"The Marquesans always used to eat the captured amongst their enemies."
"I'm feelin' some hungry myself," asserted Broncho, with his slow,
quiet drawl, which always grew slower and more serious the lighter and
more flippant the remark he was making happened to be.
This was the way with the cowboy. On serious or more important subjects
he assumed a lightness and indifference in his speech which he was very
far from feeling, whilst he brought out a joke with more solemnity than
a Chancellor of the Exchequer introducing the budget.
"We'll shore have to skin him," he went on. "Eating a gent unskinned
when he's tattooed that-away would give folks delusions that
they're consumin' of boa-constrictors, which same is liable to give
palp'tations round the cartridge-belt to a gent who's been used to
beans, salt pig, an' air-tights, bein' some rich an' high-flung as an
edible."
Jack and Tari proceeded to have a long consultation together in the
Marquesan dialect, at the end of which the former turned to the others
and said:
"Tari wants us to set him loose. He says he'll watch him closely, and
give us warning if he looks like having another fit of man-hunting.
What do you say, boys?"
"Wall, you can bet your moccasins I'm goin' to pack 'round a
six-shooter in future. That 'ere Lobu springs his little game on us
that headlong an' sudden, an' puts sech fervor into it, that he comes
near callin' a show-down on the crowd; an' in the event of his scoutin'
off on the war-path again, I reckon I'll plant some lead amongst his
idees, an' sober him some," pronounced Broncho.
"He don't look any too safe," said Jim, as Lobu, having recovered his
breath, began to scowl and mutter to himself.
"I'm an Apache if he ain't hungerin' to begin his butchery again,"
drawled Broncho; "he's shore due to inaug'rate a holycaust if we turns
him loose."
"Heart no bad! Head bad!" said Tari sadly.
"Mebbe, son, mebbe. But he ain't sedentary enough to go skallyhootin'
'round onfettered; he's a heap too vivid an' high-sperited, an' is
liable to crease one of us mavericks."
"Better put him in the forepeak and clap the hatch on over him,"
proposed Jack.
"He's cert'nly too apparent on the scenery where he is," declared the
cowboy.
Jack's idea was finally acted on. Lobu and his ebony idol were
relegated to the forepeak, and once more serenity prevailed.
With sunset the wind died down considerably, and the long swell caused
the _Ocmulgee_ to roll heavily.
Night descended. The sky became one sparkling mantle of stars, and the
sea, in heavy black ridges, lumbered in from the westward, slow and
dignified, the last relics of the Roaring Forties.
At each lurch of the vessel her canvas thumped against the masts and
rigging, giving forth a sound like the cracking of an Australian
stockwhip.
The dark form of the cowboy at the wheel swayed slowly backwards and
forwards across the glittering moonlight as the vessel rolled.
The flare of the galley fire peeped forth forward in shafts of yellow
light. The silent decks were striped with cold moonbeams and inky
shadows, weird and eerie-looking, the great whale-jaws at the companion
giving a grotesque appearance to the after part of the barque.
Occasionally the top of a roller would slop in through a port, and
ripple across the sloping deck like a stream of shining silver.
Reclining on the locker which ran round the cabin skylight lay Jack
Derringer, pipe in mouth, lazily watching his beloved stars.
Forward the Kanaka Tari could be seen flitting backwards and forwards
across the shaft of light from the galley, busily engaged in gathering
fuel from the fore 'tween-decks.
Presently he went forward, and lifting the hatch of the forepeak,
looked down into the gloom, where lay the poor madman.
As he bent over the hatch a heavy volume of smoke poured forth,
enveloping his face and causing him to cough.
Hastily withdrawing his head he rushed aft, crying in his strange,
broken English:
"Shippe burn! shippe burn! Lobu settee fire shippe!"
Up jumped Jack, quick to think and quick to act.
"Leave the wheel, Broncho, there's not enough wind to hurt. You,
Jim and Tari, get the quarter-deck buckets forrard. Follow me,
Broncho--sail-locker, spare t'gallants'l."
Short and sharp came the words, and Jack was gone.
In an incredibly short space of time Broncho and the rover reappeared
with the sail on their shoulders.
Meanwhile, Tari and Jim had succeeded in hauling the senseless form of
Lobu out of the forepeak, and were hard at work throwing water on to
the smother of smoke.
It was a slow process, however, as the water had to be drawn over the
side, there being no pump on board.
Rapidly the sail was dipped overboard and spread out.
"Pass it down to me, boys," called Jack; and before any one could
divine his intention, he had descended the ladder into the midst of the
smoke.
With hurried hands the sail was lowered down after him, and for a few
minutes it looked as if the fire was going to be smothered.
With redoubled vigour they turned to the buckets, and, in a constant
stream, the water was sent sousing down.
Suddenly Jack's head appeared, soaking wet and blackened with smoke, at
the top of the ladder.
"An axe!" he gasped out. "The bulkhead's caught!"
"An axe! an axe!" repeated Jim aimlessly.
But Tari, with two bounds, reached the caboose, and snatching up the
weapon with which he had lately been chopping wood, dashed forward and
handed it to Jack, who once more descended, having tied a red silk
handkerchief over his nose and mouth.
Then the sound of blows could be heard below, as the rolling-stone
battled with the flaming bulkhead.
Suddenly the chopping ceased, the dense clouds of smoke were redoubled,
and a second later flames were perceived.
Meanwhile, no signs of Jack.
The bucket gang began to grow anxious.
"Hey, Jack, cut loose outer that, or you'll get straddled," called
Broncho.
In response, a faint cry as if from a long way off came floating up.
Still no Jack.
Moments passed, and it was plain to all that the fire was rapidly
gaining on them.
"Come up, Jack, come up!" cried the boy wildly.
"No use, Jim," growled the cowpuncher. "You can't ride him--no, not
with buckin' straps an' a Spanish bit."
No responding cry was heard this time.
"My God, where is he?" exclaimed Jim with alarm. "He'll suffocate and
lose his senses if he stays down there any longer."
"I guess I'll just scout 'round an 'see how he's playin' the game.
Mebbe them flames makes a winnin' against him," said Broncho leisurely,
in his most indifferent tones--the very carelessness a sure sign that
he was deeply anxious.
"Lemme go, lemme go!" urged Jim, his voice strained and overwrought.
"No, son, it's my bet," said the cowpuncher, as he slipped a rope's-end
over his shoulders. "Now, you-alls cinch on to the end o' this, an' if
I don't show up on the scenery in five minutes, just yank me out, an'
don't use no mildness neither"; and down went Broncho.
A minute later he reappeared, followed by an object whom they had some
difficulty in recognising as Jack Derringer.
He was black as a sweep. His clothes were in tatters and smouldering in
places; most of the hair on one side of his head was singed off, and he
was evidently very exhausted.
On reaching the deck he swayed unsteadily, and then toppled over in a
faint.
"One o' them locoed critters who don't know when they've got enough,"
growled Broncho, as he soused a bucket of water over the inanimate form.
"You go to blazes!" came in faint tones from the senseless man, and two
rows of gleaming white teeth appeared in the blackened countenance of
the rover, as his lips curved in a smile and he slowly opened and shut
one eye.
Jack was only overcome by the fumes of smoke, which had got into his
lungs, and the fresh air and cold water rapidly revived him.
Presently he sat up.
"It's no use," he exclaimed. "The ship's saturated with oil, and will
be in a blaze fore and aft in half an hour."
And the flames and smoke, which were now bursting through the scuttle,
gave point and emphasis to his remarks.
"Which is the best of the whaleboats, Tari?" he continued.
"De starbo'd boat on de quarter."
"Well, jump's the word, boys. Hustle, we've got no time to lose.
Broncho, you and Tari fill the water-breakers belonging to the boats;
Jim and I will get the grub on deck."
Working with a will, they got the whaleboat over, and whilst Tari and
Jim jumped into her, Jack and Broncho passed the provisions along.
She was a magnificent boat, a fine specimen of New Bedford handiwork,
and held a vast amount without any overloading.
The four boat-breakers were passed in, a keg of biscuits, and enough
salt horse to last close on a month with care; then a huge tarpaulin,
a spare mast and sails from one of the other boats, four Winchester
rifles and ammunition, whilst the three white men each buckled on a
revolver and belt of cartridges.
This armament was Jack's forethought, for he knew that possibly they
might find themselves amongst the Paumotu or Low Archipelago of atolls,
which had got a very bad reputation and lay right in their course for
either Tahiti or the Marquesas.
The sextant was not forgotten, or the chronometer; and even oilskins,
blankets, and spare clothing were handed aboard. Whilst the small
ship's company worked hard to provision the whaleboat, the old
oil-sodden _Ocmulgee_ was blazing furiously.
The whole of her, forward, was now a mass of flame, which with long
yellow tongues went licking out to the end of the jibboom and up the
tarred shrouds aloft. The foresail and topsails soon caught fire, and,
with the blazing jibs and rigging, lit up the scene until the castaways
were working as if by daylight.
At two bells in the first watch the fore-topmast came down with a
crash, a mass of sparks like a St. Catherine's wheel; then, plunging
into the sea with a loud hiss, it lay dead, a blackened, charred wreck.
By this time the main rigging had caught, and the ship was like a
gigantic beacon.
"We'd better shove off clear of her at once," cried Jack, as he
appeared out of the cabin entrance, his arms full of odds and ends.
"What you totin' along, Jack?" inquired Broncho, from the boat.
"Tobacco, matches, bull's-eye lantern, hammer, saw, packet of nails,
two towels, a housewife, fishing-lines and hooks, spy-glass, nautical
almanac, chopper----"
"Ain't you forgot somethin?" broke in the cowpuncher, with gentle irony.
Lobu had already been placed in the boat securely bound. He had
recovered his senses, and sat quiet and sphinxlike on the floorboards.
As they were preparing to shove off, Tari rushed forward, and presently
reappeared with his beloved harpoon.
"All aboard!" now sang out Jack lightly. "Any more for the shore?"
He was a most cheery person to be shipwrecked with. His spirits rose
with the danger. Desperate situations, hardships, the near approach
of death, all seemed to act upon him as a tonic and instil him with an
infectious gaiety.
He jumped lightly into the boat and they shoved on.
"_Kaoha, nuir!_" muttered Tari, as they pulled away from the burning
ship.
It was a friendly farewell, for the words, roughly translated, meant,
"We part in friendship!"
Jim hummed the famous chanty:
"Leave her, Johnny, leave her,
It's time for us to leave her."
"_To fa_,[11] old ship!" called Jack. "The luck's against you. Kismet,
always Kismet!"
"Yes, the kyards is stackin' up against you, an' like many another
clean-strain gent, you bucks against them without weakenin'. Finally,
you cashes in, back to the wall, boots on an' your gun empty. Old
_Ocmulgee_, I looks towards you, you're dyin' game." Thus Broncho.
It was a melancholy sight as, lying on the swell about half a cable's
length off, they watched for the end.
She was now in flames fore and aft. Every rope was a thread of fire.
Even where they lay to windward they could hear it roaring and hissing
as it wrapped the poor old barque in its furious toils.
The sea sparkled in the reflection. The smoke fell away to leeward in a
huge bank of black, blotting out the stars.
The faces of the boat's crew showed red and yellow in the glare of the
fiery blast--Tari's sad and downcast, Lobu's sullen and indifferent,
Jim's wide-eyed, the cowboy's keen and interested, and Jack's dreary
but resolute.
In silence they watched the end, each wrapped up in his own thoughts.
Tari wistfully wondered if he would ever see his beloved island home
again, with its breadfruit trees and cocoanut palms, its surf-beaten
shores and rocky headlands, its sandy inlets and crystal streams; and
not least, its light-hearted, flower-decked maidens. He was weary and
worn with this tragic voyage, tired of this buffeting by the Fates
about the rough world, and longed desperately for his own _paepae-hae_
once more.
Jim, who had never known a _paepae-hae_, whose only home had been a
ship's foc's'le, whose playground had been that rough one the wide
world, recalled tales of open-boat experiences with a feeling half of
dread for the future, half of excited anticipation, the glamour and
fascination of uncertain fortune making itself felt even in his small
but romantic breast.
Broncho pondered upon the strange freaks of Dame Fortune, the streaks
of good and bad luck, called by some "Providence," which go to make up
men's lives.
Jack stared with the bright glare of the flaming ship full in his
eyes, yet saw it not. His mind was far away. His memory was crowded
with strange events, perils overcome, dangers met and conquered on the
battlefield, in the bush, on deep water, and on mountain top, and his
courage rose high--that courage which, in conjunction with iron nerves,
great strength to suffer, and absolute fearlessness of death, made the
rolling-stone such a difficult man for the Fates to trample upon.
Well he knew the terrors which were likely to be before them, the
terrors of an open boat alone in mid-ocean--the torments of thirst
and hunger, the growing weakness of mind and body, the aching, cramped
limbs, the perils of storm and calm, the gradual feeling of despair,
the long days of helplessness, then the feverish senses full of
distorted views as mind and body grew more diseased, and, last of all,
the wild, raving delirium. Well he knew them. He gave himself a shake
and braced his mind to fight the coming battle.
All night the _Ocmulgee_ roared, hissed, and crackled. All night the
yellow tongues flared in fiery coils about her.
At six bells, eleven o'clock, the mainmast went by the board; then the
mizzen tottered, swayed, hung for a moment like a flaming Tower of
Pisa, and then slowly, deliberately, plunged into the sea.
A smother of foam burst forth, the sparkling white enveloping the
flickering yellow and extinguishing it.
In the black background of smoke the red sparks gleamed like myriads of
fire-flies.
And now, as the flames broke out over the hull, the salt-incrusted
timbers turned the yellow tongues into weird blue and green flares,
which in all the shades of the rainbow flickered and flourished.
Still the gallant old ship floated, and it was not more than an hour
before dawn when at last, being burnt down to the water's edge, the
_Ocmulgee_ had to give up the fight.
All this time the castaways lay off, waiting to see the last of the
burning ship.
Suddenly Jim sprang to his feet, shouting excitedly,
"She's going! she's going!"
Slowly the _Ocmulgee_ lifted her stern into the air; her weather-worn
rudder rose dripping from the ocean; then her keel showed, foot by
foot, draped with long streamers of seaweed, as if with a shroud.
She gave a heavy lurch forward, a plunge, and was gone, leaving nothing
but a swirling eddy of tossing white water.
FOOTNOTES:
[11] "Goodbye" (Samoan).