Her light sails winged to catch every breath of the light but steady
breeze that chased her astern, the cutter for some hours bowled through
the water merrily. In the cabin Puggles and the captain's Black servant
snored side by side; whilst Don and Jack lolled comfortably just abaft
the mast-, where the night wind, soft and spicy as the breath of Eden,
would speedily have lulled them to slumber but for the excitement that
fired their blood. The Captain was at the tiller, Bosin curled up by his
side.
“If this 'ere wind holds, lads,” exclaimed the old sailor abruptly,
after a prolonged silence on his part, “we'd orter make the island agin
sunrise, shiver my forefoot if we don't!”
Don looked up with half-sleepy interest. “Island, captain? I thought we
were heading straight for the Indian coast.”
“Ay, so we be, straight away. But, y'see, lad, as I hinted a while back,
I has a sort o' innard idee, so to say, as the old woman ain't on the
mainland.”
“What old woman?” queried Jack, yawning. “Didn't know there was one in
the case, captain.”
The old sailor burst into a roar of laughter. “An' no more there ain't,
lad,” chuckled he; “an' slit my hammock if we wants one, says you. Forty
odd year has I sailed the seas, an' hain't signed articles with any on
'em yet. A tight leetle wessel's the lass for me, lads; for, unship my
helm! _she_ never takes her own head for it, says you.”
“Then what about the old woman you mentioned captain?” said Don
banteringly.
“Avast there now! An' d'ye mean to say,” demanded the captain
incredulously, “as you ain't ever hear'd tell o' the fish what sails
under that 'ere name? And a wicious warmint he is, too, shiver my
keelson! Hysters is his wittles, an' pearls his physic; he lives on 'em,
so to say; an' so I calls the cove as took them pearls o' your'n in tow
an old woman; an' why not, I axes?”
“But what about the island you spoke of just now, captain?”
“Why, d'ye see, it's this way, lads; there's an island off the coast
ahead, a sort o' holy place like, where them thievin' natives goes once
a year an' gets salwation from their sins. Howsomedever, that's neither
here nor there, says you; the p'int's this, lads: Somewheres about the
month o' March, which is this same month, says you, here the priests
flocks from all parts, an' here they stays until they gets a purty
pocketful o' cash. Now, my idee's this, d'ye see: the old woman--which
I means Salambo--lays alongside the schooner an' takes them pearls o'
your'n in tow. What for? says you. Cash, says I. An' so, shiver my
main-brace, he shapes his course for this 'ere island, an' sells 'em to
the priests.”
“Very likely,” assented Don. “He's bound to carry them to the best
market, of course.”
“And equally of course the best market is where the most priests are. By
Jove, you _have_ a headpiece, captain!” put in Jack.
“I'm afraid, though,” resumed Don, after a moment's silence, “I'm afraid
it's not going to be so easy to come at the old fellow as we think. You
say this island's a sort of holy place; well, it's bound to be packed
with natives to the very surf-line in that case. Rather ticklish work,
I should think, taking the old fellow among so many pals. There's the
getting ashore, too; what's to prevent their sighting us?”
“Belay there!” roared the captain, vigorously thumping the bottom of the
boat with his wooden leg. “Shiver my main-brace! what sort o' craft do
ye take me for, I axes? A island's a island the world over--a lump o'
land what's floated out to sea. Wery good, that bein' so--painters an'
boathooks!--ain't it as easy a-boardin' of her through the starn-ports
as along o' the forechains?”
“Oh, you mean to make the back of the island, and steal a march on old
Salambo from the rear, then?” cried Don. “A capital idea!”
“You're on the right tack there, lad,” assented the captain. “There's as
purty a leetle cove at the backside o' that island as ever wessel cast
anchor in, an' well I knows it, shiver my binnacle! Daylight orter put
us into it, if so be---- Split my sprit-sail, lads, if it ain't
a-fallin' calm!”
[Illustration: 0074]
An ominous flapping of the cutter's sails confirmed the captain's words.
During the half-hour over which this conversation extended the wind
had gradually died away until scarcely a movement of the warm night
air could be felt. The cutter, losing her headway, rolled lazily to the
motion of the long, glassy swell. Consulting his watch, Don announced it
to be three o'clock.
“This 'ere's the lull at ween the sea-breeze an' the land-breeze,”
observed the captain complacently, working the tiller from side to side
as if trying to coax renewed life into the cutter. “How-somedever, it
hadn't orter last long. Stow my sea-chest!--we'll turn in an' catch a
wink o' sleep atween whiles. Here, Master Jack, lad! take a turn at the
tiller, will 'ee?”
Settling himself in the captain's place, with instructions to call that
worthy sea-dog should the wind freshen, Jack began his first watch.
Becalmed as they were, the tiller was useless, so he let it swing,
contenting himself with keeping a bright look-out. But soon he concluded
even this to be an unnecessary precaution. Not a sail was to be seen on
the moonlit expanse of ocean; and even had a score been in sight, there
would still have been no danger whatever, in the absence of wind, of
their interfering with the cutter. In fine, so secure did he consider
their position, and so soporific an influence did the comfortable
snoring of Don and the captain exercise upon him, that in a very short
time his head sank upon his breast, and he fell asleep.
He had slept soundly for perhaps an hour, when a cold, touch upon the
cheek startled him into consciousness.
Rousing himself, he found Bosin at his elbow. The monkey for some
reason had left his masters side, and it was his clammy paw, Jack now
perceived, that had awakened him. It almost looked as if the monkey had
purposely interrupted his slumber. But what had roused the monkey? Jack
rose to his feet, stretched himself, and looked about him.
The night was, if anything, more breathlessly calm than when he had
relieved the captain. Upon the unruffled, deserted sea the moonlight
shimmered with a brilliancy uncanny in its ghostliness. From the cutter
straight away to and around the horizon not an object, so far as he
could make out, darkened the surface of the water, except under the
cutter's larboard bow, where the moon-cast shadow of the sail fell.
He fancied he saw something move there, close under the bow where the
shadow lay blackest. The next instant it had disappeared.
“All right, Bosin, old chap,” said he, stroking the monkeys back; “a
false alarm this time--back to your quarters, old fellow!”
The monkey, as if reassured by these words, crept away to his master's
side, whilst Jack resumed his seat, and again dozed off.
Not for long, however. It was not the monkey this time, but a sudden and
by no means gentle thud against the cutters side that roused him. Awake
in an instant, he sprang to his feet with a startled exclamation. Close
under the cutter's quarter lay a canoe, and in the canoe there stood
erect a native, with what appeared to be a boathook poised above his
head. All this Jack took in at a glance.
“Boat ahoy! Who's that?” he cried sharply, his hand instinctively
seeking the knife at his belt.
For answer came a savage, muttered imprecation; and the boathook,
impelled with all the strength of the native's muscular arms, descended
swiftly through the air. Starting aside, Jack received the blow' upon
his left arm, off which the heavy, iron-shod weapon glanced, striking
the gun'le of the boat with a resounding crash.
“The lascar!” muttered Jack between his teeth, as he stepped back a pace
and whipped out his knife in anticipation of a renewal of the attack.
But the lascar, baffled in his attempt to take his enemy by surprise,
did not repeat the blow. Instead, he drew off, and with all his strength
drove the iron point of the boathook through the cutter's side below the
water-line.
“By Heaven!” cried Jack, as he perceived his intention, “I'll soon
settle scores with you, my fine fellow.”
Springing lightly upon the gunle, at a single bound he cleared the few
yards of open water intervening between the cutter and the canoe, and
with all the impetus of his leap drove the knife into the lascar's
shoulder up to the very hilt.
The lascar went overboard like a log. The canoe overturning at the same
instant, Jack followed him.
The noise of the scuffle having roused the sleepers, all was now wild
commotion on board the cutter; Captain Mango roaring out his strange
nautical oaths, and stumping hither and thither in search of something
with which to stop the leak; Don shouting wildly at Jack, as he hastily
threw off shoes and coat to swim to his assistance. Before either well
knew what had actually happened, Jack was alongside.
“What's the matter? Are you hurt?” Don inquired anxiously, giving him a
hand over the side.
“Hurt? No, not a scratch,” said Jack lightly, scrambling inboard, and
proceeding to wring the water from his dripping garments. “A narrow
squeak, though. That lascar villain has got his knife back, anyhow.”
“Who?” cried Don in amazement; for, amid the confusion, neither he nor
the captain had seen the native.
“The lascar. What else do you suppose I went over the side for? I dozed
off, you see, captain,” said Jack, as the old sailor came stumping up
with extended hand, “and that lascar dog, who must have seen us sail and
paddled after us, stole a march on me, and tried to crack my nut with
a boathook. Lucky for me, he ran his canoe against the side and woke me
up. Got on my feet just in time to dodge the blow. Then he smashed the
boathook through the side. By Jove! I forgot that. We must stop the
leak, or we'll fill in no time.”
“Stave my quarter!” roared the captain, detaining him as he was about
to rush aft. “The leak's stopped, lad; but blow me if ever I hear'd
anything to beat this 'ere yarn o' your'n, so spin us the rest on it.”
“That's soon done,” resumed Jack. “When I found the fellow wouldn't give
me a fair show, I boarded him, captain, and treated him to a few inches
of cold steel. He won't trouble us again, I reckon!”
Scarcely had he finished speaking when Don gripped his arm and pointed
to where, a dozen yards away, the bottom of the canoe glistened in the
moonlight. A dark object had suddenly appeared alongside the overturned
skiff. Presently a surging splash was heard.
“Shiver my keelson if he ain't righted the craft!” roared the captain,
snatching up one of the muskets as the lascar was seen to scramble into
the canoe and paddle slowly away.
Don laid a quick hand upon the old sailor's arm.
“Let the beggar go,” said he. “He'll never reach land with that knife in
him.”
“Maybe not, lad,” replied the captain, shaking off the hold upon his arm
and taking the best aim he could, considering the motion of the boat.
“Bloodshed's best awoided, says you. Wery good; all' the best way to
awoid it, d'ye mind me, is to send yon warmint to Davy Jones straight
away. Consequential, the quality o' marcy shan't be strained on
this 'ere occasion, as the whale says when he swallied the school o'
codlings.” And with that he fired.
The lascar was seen to discontinue the use of his paddle for a moment,
and then to make off faster than before.
The old sailor's face fell.
“Spike my guns, I've gone and missed the warmint!” said he.
“Howsomedever, we'll meet again, as the shark's lower jaw says to the
upper 'un when they parted company to accomidate the sailor. An' blow
me, lads, here comes the wind!
“Ay, here's a master excelleth in skill,
An' the master's mate he is not to seek;
An' here's a Bjsin ull do our good will,
An' a ship, d'ye see, lads, as never had leak.
So lustily, lustily, let us sail forth!
Our sails he right trim an' the wind's to the north!”
It was now five o'clock, and as day broke the cutter, with a freshening
breeze on her starboard quarter, bore away for the island, now in full
view. When about a mile short of it, however, the captain laid the
boat's head several points nearer the wind, and shaped his course as
though running past it for the mainland, which lay like a low bank of
mist on the horizon. In the cuddy Puggles was busy with preparations for
breakfast, whilst Don lolled on the rail, watching the shore, and idly
trailing one hand in the water.
“Hullo! what's this?” he exclaimed suddenly, examining with interest
a fragment of dripping cloth that had caught on his hand. “Jack, come
here!”
Jack happened to be forward just then, hanging out his drenched clothes
to dry upon an improvised line, but hearing Don's exclamation, he sprang
aft. Somehow he was always expecting surprises now.
“Look here,” said Don, rapidly spreading out the soaked cloth upon his
knee, “have you ever seen this before?”
“Not likely!--a mere scrap of rag that some greasy native----” Jack
began, eyeing the said scrap of rag contemptuously. But suddenly his
tone changed, and he gasped out: “By Jove, old fellow, it's not the
handkerchief, is it?”
“The very same!” replied-Don, rising and hurrying aft to where the
captain stood at the tiller. “I say, captain, you remember my telling
you how I tied a handkerchief round that bag of pearls? Well, here's the
identical 'wipe.' with my initials on it as large as life. Just fished
it out of the water.”
For full a minute the old sailor stared at him open-mouthed. Then:
“Flush my scuppers,” roared he, “if this 'ere ain't the tidiest piece o'
luck as ever I run agin. We've got the warmint safe in the maintop, so
to say, where he can't run away--shiver my main-brace if we ain't!”
“Thanks to your clear head, captain,” said Don. “It certainly does look
as if he had come straight to the island here.”
“We'll purty soon know for sartin; we're a-makin' port hand over fist,”
rejoined the captain, bringing the cutter's head round, and running
under the lee of the island.
This side, unlike the wind-swept seaward face, was thickly clad in
jungle, above which at intervals towered a solitary palm like a sentinel
on duty. No traces of human habitation were to be seen; for a rocky
backbone or ridge, running lengthwise of the island, isolated its
frequented portion from this jungly half. Midway between the extremities
of this ridge rose two hills: one a symmetrical, cone-shaped elevation,
clad in a mantle of jungle green; the other a vast mass of naked rock,
towering hundreds of feet in air, and in its general-outline somewhat
resembling a colossal kneeling elephant. As if to heighten the
resemblance, there was perched upon the lofty back a native temple,
which looked for all the world like a gigantic howdah.
“D'ye see them elewations, lads?” cried the captain, heading the cutter
straight for what-appeared to be an unbroken line of jungle. “A. brace
o' twins, says you. Wery good; atween 'em lies as purty a leetle cove as
wessel ever cast anchor in--slip my cable if it ain't!”
“Are you sure you're not out of your reckoning, captain?” said Jack,
scanning the shore-line with dubious eye. “It's no thoroughfare, so far
as I can see.”
“Avast there! What d'ye say to that, now?” chuckled the captain, as the
cutter, in obedience to a movement of the tiller, swept round a tiny
eyot indistinguishable in its mantle of green from, the shore itself,
and entered a narrow, land-locked creek, whose precipitous sides were
completely covered from summit to water-line with a rank growth of
vegetation. “Out with the oars, lads! a steam-whistle couldn't coax a
wind into the likes o' this place, says you.”
The oars run out, they pulled for some distance through this remarkable
rift in the hills, the cutter's mast in places sweeping the overhanging
jungle; until at last a spot was reached where a side ravine cleft the
cliff upon their left, terminating at the water's edge in a strip of
sandy beach, thickly shaded with cocoa-nut palms.
“Stow my cargo!” chuckled the captain, as he ran the cutter bow-on into
the sand, “a nautical sea-sarpent himself couldn't smell us out here,
says you. So here we heaves to, and here we lies until----swabs an'
slush-buckets, what's this?”
For the captain had already scrambled ashore, and as he uttered these
words he stooped and intently examined the sand at his feet. In it were
visible recent footprints, and a long trailing furrow that started from
the water's edge and ran for several yards straight up the beach. Where
the furrow terminated there lay a native _ballam_.
Jack was first to espy the canoe. Guessing the cause of the captain's
sudden excitement, he ran up the sands to the spot where the rude vessel
lay. The _ballam_ was still dripping sea-water; and in it, amid a pool
of blood, lay a sailors sheath-knife.
“The lascar!” he shouted, snatching up the blood-stained weapon, and
holding it out at arms length, as Don and the captain hurried up; “we've
landed in his very tracks!”