Mr Rimmer felt great unwillingness for anyone to leave the brig, but at
the end of forty-eight hours, during which no sign whatever had been
seen of the enemy, he felt that some investigations must be made to see
whether they had left the island or were lurking somewhere near, in one
of the patches of forest, waiting for an opportunity to take the
occupants of the brig at a disadvantage.
"And we know what the consequences would be, gentlemen, if they did."
These words were spoken in the cabin where, in spite of their injuries,
both Oliver and Panton eagerly took part in the little discussion.
Ever since the attack had ceased careful watch had been kept after the
windows had been made thoroughly secure and no one had left the deck of
the brig. But such a condition of affairs was proving terribly irksome,
besides cutting off the opportunities for obtaining fresh fish and meat.
The idea which found most favour was that the enemy had gone back to
their canoes and paddled away, but this had to be put to the test, and
various were the plans proposed, but none seemed to possess qualities
which commended themselves to the mate.
"No, gentlemen," he said, "I think my last idea will be the best; I'll
start before daylight to-morrow morning and steer for the sea, so as to
make out whether they have a canoe on the shore. If there is not one,
they must have gone."
"And what is to become of us and the brig if you are unable to get
back?" asked Oliver rather indignantly.
"Well," said Mr Rimmer with his eyes twinkling, "that would be rather
awkward for both of us, squire, but we won't look at the worst side of
the case, but at the best. I'll come back if I can."
"But I agree with Mr Lane," said Panton. "I don't want to be selfish,
but there are two things against you, Mr Rimmer, you would be deserting
your ship and crew as captain, and your patients as doctor. No, sir,
you must not go."
"Two things against me, eh?" said the mate. "And what do you say, Mr
Drew?"
"The same as my friends, sir. It is quite impossible for you to go."
"Three against me, eh? What are we to do, then; stay in this wretched
state of uncertainty, unable to stir a yard from the brig?"
"No," said Drew. "I shall go. I'll take Smith and Wriggs. I'm used to
those two men, and they're used to me. I'll start before daylight."
"That's good," cried his friends.
"Yes," said Mr Rimmer, "that's good, and I'll agree that it is the best
thing that can be done. But you'll have to be very careful, sir, and at
the least sign of danger begin to retreat. Look here, take this old
boatswain's whistle, and if you are pressed in any way, blow it as soon
as you are near the brig, and we'll turn out and come to your help."
"Thank you, Mr Rimmer," said Drew, cheerfully, "but I hope I shall not
have to use it."
A good breakfast was ready a couple of hours before daylight, and Mr
Rimmer himself called Drew up, doing everything he could to further his
object, even to taking four men well armed and making a long circuit of
the brig, while Drew and his two companions were partaking of a hearty
meal to fit them for their task.
"Can't see any enemy, sir," Mr Rimmer said as he came back and found
Drew waiting impatiently. "That's right, sir, make straight for the
shore, and I'd go first and see whether the boat's safe before hunting
to the south for the niggers' canoe. I'd keep in the cocoa-nut grove
all the way. It will shelter you all, and you'll be able to see well
enough whether there's anyone in the lagoon, for that's where their
canoes are sure to be."
"Then you think there's more than one?" said Oliver.
"Oh, yes, sir, I should say there are two at least. Those big
outriggers that hold forty or fifty men each. There, Mr Drew, off with
you, please, and don't get to fighting except as a last resource--so as
to escape. I won't come with you part of the way, it's better that you
should be off alone. You two lads," he continued as they reached the
deck, and turned to Smith and Wriggs who were standing in the darkness
very proud of the rifles with which they had been armed, "I look to you
to bring Mr Drew back safely."
"Ay, ay, sir, we mean that," said Smith. "Eh, Billy?"
"Ah," came in a deep growl. "That's so."
Mr Rimmer walked to the gangway and took a long steady observation, as
far as the darkness would allow. Then turning to the leader of the
little expedition,--
"Off with you, sir."
_Ha! ha! Ow, ow, ow_! came from a couple of hundred yards away--a
hollow, diabolical kind of mocking laugh which sent a chill through the
listeners.
"Hear that, Tommy?" whispered Wriggs as he caught his companion's arm.
"Ay, mate, I heerd it. They're a laughin' at us, and it's as good as
saying as they'll go and light a fire, and have it ready to cook the
lot."
"Gahn!" growled Wriggs. "I know now, it's one o' them stoopid-looking
Tommy soft sort o' howls, as Mr Oliver Lane shot at one day. You know,
lad, them big, all of a heap sort o' things, all duffie and fluff."
Just then the cry was repeated at a distance, and soon after farther
off.
"Why, it's an owl!" cried Drew.
"I thought it must be a bird," said the mate.
"Yer may well call 'em howls," said Wriggs. "That's just what they do
doos."
"I hope that's what it is," whispered Smith, shaking his head. "I've
heered howls often enough, Billy; but I never heered one as could laugh
like that."
"Whatcher think, then, as it was one o' they blacks?"
"Ay, or, if it warn't that, one o' they hissing things as lives in the
burnin' mountain. I've heerd 'em before now a pretendin' to be steam
when yer went to look for 'em."
"Now, my lads, off with you!" cried the mate, and they hurried down from
the side, joining Drew with arms shouldered, and a minute after they had
disappeared in the darkness on their way to the sea.