We lay under the lee of the South Cape or New Britain for nearly a
fortnight, during which time we effected all the necessary repairs to
our own vessel, and fitted Yorke's cutter with a new rudder. So far he
had not told us anything further of his intentions as regarded either
the further prosecution of his trading voyage, or its abandonment.
At breakfast one morning, Guest told him that he (Yorke) could have a
couple of our native hands to help him work the cutter to Manila, or any
other port in the China Seas, if he so desired.
He stroked his big, square jaw meditatively.
“That is very kind of you, Captain Guest,” he said; “but to tell you the
exact truth, I don't know my own mind at this moment. I've a hazy sort
of an idea that I'd like to keep the Fray Bentos company for a bit
longer. I can outsail you in light winds--and I really don't care what I
do now. And if you can spare me a couple of hands, I could jog along in
company with you indefinitely. But, please understand me--I don't want
to thrust myself and the _Francesco_ into your company if _you_ don't
want_ me_. As a matter of fact, I don't care a straw where I go--but I
certainly would like to keep in company with you, if you don't object.
Perhaps you would not mind telling me where you are bound?”
Guest looked at me interrogatively.
“Well, Captain Yorke,” I said, “one confidence begets another; your
confidence in us is worth a heap of money to Guest and myself, and, to
be perfectly frank and straightforward with you, the captain and myself
intended to lay a proposition before you whereby we three might possibly
go into this New Hanover venture on our own hook. But Guest and myself
are bound to our present employers for another seven months.”
Yorke nodded. “That will be all right. I'm ready to go in with you,
either at the end of seven months or at any other time which may suit
you. You can count on me. I'm not a rich man, nor yet am I a poor
man; in fact, there's a thousand pounds' worth of stuff under the
_Francesco's_ hatches now.”
“Well then, Captain Yorke,” I said, “as Guest here leaves me to do all
the talking, I'll tell you _why_ we are so far up to the northward,
out of our usual beat. We heard in Samoa that a big ship, named the
_Sarawak_ had run ashore and been abandoned at Rook Island, in Dampier
Straits, between the west end of New Britain and the east coast of New
Guinea, and both Guest and myself know her to be one of the largest
ships out of Liverpool; she left Sydney for Hongkong about six months
ago with a general cargo. And 'there be pickings,' for she is almost a
new vessel, and her gear and fittings alone, independent of her cargo,
ought to be worth a thousand pounds. All we could learn at Samoa was
that she had run up on a ledge of reef on Rook Island, and that the
skipper, with three boats' crews, had started off for Thursday Island,
in Torres Straits. Now, it is quite likely that, if she has not broken
up, there may be a lot of money hanging to it.”
“For your owners!” said Yorke, with his slow, amused smile.
“Just so, Captain Yorke. 'For our owners,' as you say. But even our
owners, who are rather 'sharp' people, are not a bad lot--they'll give
Guest and myself a bonus of some sort if we do them good over this
wrecked ship.”
“And if you don't 'do them good'?” he asked, with the same
half-humorous, half-sarcastic smile.
“If we don't, the senior partner in our highly-esteemed, sailor-sweating
firm, will tell Guest and myself that we 'made a most reprehensible
mistake,' and have put the firm to a considerable loss by doing too much
on our own responsibility.”
He nodded as I went on--“We heard of this wreck from the officers of a
French cruiser which called at Samoa while we were there. They sighted
her lying high and dry on the reef, sent a boat ashore, and found her
abandoned. She was bilged, but not badly, as far as they could see. On
the cabin table was nailed a letter, written by the captain, saying
that being unable to float the ship again, and fearing that he and his
unarmed crew would be attacked by the savages, he was starting off in
his boats for Thursday Island, the nearest port. Now, that is a big
undertaking, and the chances are that the poor fellows never reached
there. However, Guest and I thought so much of the matter that we
hustled through our business in Samoa, and sailed the next day direct
for Rook Island, instead of doing our usual cruise to the eastward. But
we met with fearful weather coming up through the Solomon Group, lost
our foretopmast, and strained badly. And here we are now, tied up by the
nose off the South Cape of New Britain instead of being at Rook Island
at work on that wreck.”
Yorke thought a moment. “Well, gentlemen, let me come in with you--just
for the fun of the thing. I don't want to get any money out of it, I
assure you, and I'll lend you a hand with the wrecking work.”
“Agreed,” said Guest, extending his hand, “but only on this
condition--whatever our owners give Drake and myself, we three divide
equally.”
“As you please, as you please,” he said. “Now come aboard my little
hooker, and have a look at what is in the hold.”
We went on board the Francesco with him, and made an examination of
her small but valuable cargo, and Guest and I agreed that he had
underestimated its worth by quite four hundred or five hundred
pounds--in fact, the whole cargo would sell in Sydney or San Francisco
for about sixteen hundred pounds.
We sailed together that afternoon, the cutter getting under weigh first.
We had given Yorke three of our men--Napoleon the Tongan, and two other
natives--and before ten minutes had passed, Guest and everyone else on
board the _Fray Bentos_ could see that the _Francesco_ could sail rings
round our old brigantine, even in a stiff breeze, for the cutter drew
as much water as we did, and had a big spread of canvas. By nightfall we
were running before a lusty south-east breeze, the cutter keeping about
half a mile to windward of us, and taking in her gaff topsail, when it
became dark, otherwise she would have run ahead of, and lost us before
morning. At daylight, when I went on deck, she was within a cable's
length, Yorke was steering--smoking as usual--and no one else was
visible on deck.
I hailed him: “Good morning, Captain; where are your men?” “Taking it
out in 'bunk, oh,'” he answered with a laugh. “I came on deck about two
hours ago, and told them to turn in until four bells.”
“You'll ruin them for the _Fray Bentos_, sir,” cried our mate with
grumbling good-humour. “Why don't you start one of 'em at the galley
fire for your coffee!”
“Because I'm coming aboard you for it,” was the reply. He hauled in the
main-sheet, lashed the tiller, went quietly forward without awakening
his native seamen, and put the staysail to windward. Then he came
amidships again to the main hatch, picked up the little dingy which was
lying there, and, despite his bad hand, slid her over the cutter's rail
into the water as if she were a toy, got in, and sculled over to the
brigantine, leaving the cutter to take care of herself!
Charley King, the mate of the _Fray Bentos_ turned to me in
astonishment. He was himself one of the finest built and most powerful
men I had ever met, not thirty years of age, and had achieved a great
reputation as a long-distance swimmer and good all-round athlete.
“Why, Mr. Drake, that dingy must weigh three hundred pounds, if she
weighs an ounce, for she's heavy oak built! And yet with one gammy hand
he can put her over the side as if she was made of brown paper.”
Yorke sculled alongside, made fast to the main chains, clambered over
the bulwarks, and stepped aboard in his usual quiet way, as if nothing
out of the common had occurred, and asked the mate what he thought of
the _Francesca_ as a sailer. King looked at him admiringly for a moment.
“She's a daisy, Captain Yorke.... but you oughtn't to have put your boat
over the side by yourself, sir, with that bad hand of yours.”
The big man laughed so genuinely, and with such an infectious ring in
his voice, that even our Kanaka steward, who was bringing us our coffee,
laughed too. The dingy, he said, was very light, and there was no need
for him to call one of the men to help him. As we drank our coffee he
chatted very freely with us, and drew our attention to the lovely
effect caused by the rising sun upon a cluster of three or four small
thickly-wooded islets, which lay between the two vessels and the
mainland of New Britain, whereupon King, who had no romance in his
composition, remarked that for his part he could not see much difference
between one sunrise or sunset and another. “One means a lot of wind, and
another none at all; one means decent weather and another means rotten
weather, or middlin' weather.”
“Ah, Mr. King, you look at everything from a sailor's point of view,” he
said good-naturedly. “Now, there's nothing gives me more pleasure than
to watch a sunset and sunrise anywhere in the tropics--particularly if
there's land in the foreground or background--I never miss a sunrise in
the South Seas if I can help it.”
Presently we began to talk of the voyage, and I asked him a
question--which only at that moment occurred to me--concerning himself
before we met.
“I wonder, Captain Yorke, when your crew were cut off, that it did not
occur to you to run down the west coast of New Ireland, between it and
New Britain, to Blanche Bay, where there is a German station, and where
you could have obtained assistance. It would have been much easier for
you instead of that long buffeting about on the east coast.”
He made no answer at first, and I saw that his face had changed colour.
Then he answered slowly:
“Just so. I knew all about the Germans at Blanche Bay, but I did not
want to go there--for very good reasons. Will you come aboard and have
some breakfast with me? I'll send you back again any time you like;
the sea is so smooth, as far as that goes, that I could run the cutter
alongside, and let you step off on to your own deck.”
Just as we were pushing off from the brigantine, Guest came on deck,
glass in hand, to have a look at the cluster of islands, at the same
time calling out to Yorke and myself to wait a little. After scanning
the islands from the deck, he went aloft for a better view, then
descended and came aft again to the rail.
“Good morning, Captain Yorke. I've just been taking a look at those
islands over there, and an idea has just come to me. But, first of
all, are they marked on your chart? They are on mine, but not even
named--just dots.”
“Neither are they on my big sheet chart--and I have no other of this
part of the Western Pacific.”
“Well then, here's my idea. I see from aloft that there is a good-sized
blue water lagoon there, and as likely as not there may be pearl-shell
in it. Anyway, it's worth seeing into, and so if Drake and yourself like
to take our boat and half a dozen men, you might have a look in there.
I can't see any houses, but at the same time, be careful. You can run
in with the cutter pretty close, and then go ashore in the boat. You are
bound to find a passage into the lagoon somewhere or other. I'll send
Tim Rotumah and George” (two of our native crew who were good divers)
“with you in the boat; they'll soon let you know if there is any shell
in the lagoon. If there is, light a fire, and make a smoke, and I'll
anchor the brigantine and come after you.”
I was delighted with this, and at once returned on board, while Yorke
went off to the cutter to give his crew their instructions. In ten or
fifteen minutes the whaleboat was over the side awaiting me, manned by
six of our native crew, all of whom were armed with Snider carbines and
revolvers. Pushing off from the _Fray Bentos_, we went alongside the
_Francesco_ to pick up Yorke, who was waiting for the boat. As the wind
had now fallen very light, he suggested to me to make a start at once,
leaving the cutter in charge of Napoleon, with orders to anchor if it
fell calm, and he was on easy soundings.
The morning was deliciously bright, clear, and, for those latitudes at
that season of the year, very cool. As the boat skimmed over the placid
surface of the ocean, “schools” of bright silvery gar-fish and countless
thousands of small flying squid sprang into the air and fell with a
simultaneous splash into the water on each side and ahead of us. Then
“George,” a merry-faced, broad-chested native of Anaa, in the Paumotu
Islands, after an inquiring glance at me, broke out into a bastard
Samoan-Tokelauan canoe song, with a swinging chorus, altering and
improvising as he sang, showing his white teeth, as every now and then
he smiled at Yorke and myself when making some humorous play upon
the words of the original song, praising the former for his skill and
bravery, and his killing of the man-eating savages of New Hanover, his
great strength and stature, and his kindly heart--“a heart which groweth
from his loins upwards to his throat.”
Long, long years have passed since that day, but I shall always remember
how Yorke turned to me with a smile when at something George had sung,
the rest of our crew burst into approving laughter.
“What is he saying about me?--of course I can recognise that 'Ioka'
means 'Yorke,'” he said.
“It's extremely personal, but highly complimentary to you. Now, wait a
bit, till they come to the chorus, and I'll try and translate it. There,
he's starting:”
“Miti Ioka, malie toa, toa malohi
Kapeni Iota, arii vaka!
Tule Ioka, fana tonu!
Mate puaka uri, kai tino.
Maumau lava, nofo noa!
Maumau lava, nofo noa t
Halo! Tama, Halo Foe!!!
“E aue l le tiga ina
Ma kalâga, ma kalâga
O fafine lalolagi
E kau iloay i nofa noa
Kapeni Ioka
Halo! Tama, Halo Foe!!!”
“which goes,” I said, “as far as I can understand, something like
this--'Mr. Yorke, warrior brave and fighter strong, Captain Yorke,
the sailor captain, leader Yorke who fired so truly, slew the black,
man-eating pigs of savages! Oh, the pity he is single, oh, the pity he
is single! _Pull, men, pull!_ The next verse says that did the world of
women know that such a fine man as yourself was a bachelor, they would
consume themselves with grief.”
“I wonder why they should take it for granted that I am a single man,”
he laughed, as he began to fill his pipe; then he added quietly--“I may
be a widower for all I know. I was married in Copenhagen thirty years
ago, and have never seen my wife since, and trust I never may.” Then in
a moment he changed the subject, and I took good care not to mention the
matter again.
An hour after leaving the brigantine, we found a passage--narrow but
safe--leading into the lagoon, which was a mile or mile and a half in
width, and but for the one opening in the reef, completely land locked
by four small islands, all low and densely wooded with banyan and other
trees, and connected with each other at low tide. Here and there, at
intervals, were groves of coco-palms, and a few _vi_ trees--the wild
mango of the Western Pacific, growing close down to the beach, which on
the inner side of the lagoon was of bright yellow sand, and presented a
very pleasing appearance.