Self-preservation is the first law of life, and no sooner did Don feel
that iron grip compressing his throat, and dragging him down into the
depths of the creep, than he struck out to such good purpose that the
hold of his unknown assailant quickly relaxed. As he shot up to the
surface he found himself confronted by the dripping head and shoulders
of a native. A brief cessation of hostilities followed; each glared
at the other defiantly, the native's tense breathing and watchful eye
indicating that, though baffled for the moment by his opponents prompt
defensive measures, he was in no two minds about renewing the struggle.
Suddenly, by a lightning-like movement of the hand, he dashed a blinding
jet of spray into Don's eyes, instantly followed up the advantage thus
treacherously gained, grappled with him, and pinioned his arms tightly
at his sides. Then, to his horror, Don felt his head thrust violently
back, felt the fellow's hot, quick breath on his neck, and his teeth
gnashing savagely at his throat.
Luckily for himself Don was no mean athlete, and knew how to use his
fists to advantage when occasion demanded. Wrenching his arms free,
he seized the native by the throat, and in spite of his eel-like
slipperiness and desperate struggles, by an almost superhuman effort
forced him slowly backwards until he had him at effective striking
distance, when, suddenly loosing his hold, he let him have a tremendous
“one-two” straight from the shoulder, that stretched the native
senseless and bleeding on the water.
“You would have it!” he panted, surveying the native's sinewy
proportions with grim satisfaction. “Next time you won't wait to be
knocked out, I reckon. But 'twon't do to let you drown, though you
richly deserve it; so come along, you black cub!”
Seizing the black by the convenient tuft of hair at the back of his
bullet-head, he towed him to the strip of beach, and there hauled him
out upon the sand, directly into a patch of moonlight, as it happened,
that came slanting down through a rift in the canopy of palm-leaves
overhead. Something in the appearance of the upturned features caused
him to drop on his knees at the natives side.
“Hullo!” he cried, peering into the fellow's face, “Jack's lascar, as
I'm alive! By Jove, you are a prize! We'll keep you with us longer than
we did last time, my friend. Ha, ha! won't the captain chuckle, though!”
With his belt he proceeded to strap the lascar's hands securely behind
his back; but when it came to fastening his legs, a difficulty cropped
up. That is to say, the strap could not be used for both, and he had no
substitute. Fortunately the lascar wore about his loins the regulation
length of strong country cotton--his only covering--and this Don was in
the act of removing when a knife fell out of its folds.
“Lucky thing I didn't run against you in the water,” he soliloquised,
picking the weapon up. “Why, it's the very knife the lascar shot at
Jack from the schooner's deck; the one he let the fellow have back for
sending the boathook through the cutter's side; and that we afterwards
found lying in the _ballam_ here. And yet Jack certainly had it on him
when those niggers carried him off. So, old chap,” apostrophising
the insensible owner of the much-bandied knife, “so you had a hand in
kidnapping him too, had you? All the more reason for caring for you now
that we've got you.”
Following up this idea, he knotted the cloth tightly about the lascar's
legs, dragged him well up the beach, and went in search of the canoe.
This, fortunately, had not been molested in their absence; in a few
minutes he had it in the water. Then, seizing the paddle, he propelled
the light skiff swiftly in the direction of the rock platform, where he
found the old sailor stumping his beat in a terrible state of uneasiness
over his prolonged absence.
“Spike my guns, lad!” cried he, bearing down upon the young man with
outstretched hand and a smile as broad as the cutter's mainsail, “they
warmints's been an' done for Master Don this hitch, I says to myself
when the half-hour fails to bring ye. An' what manner o' mishap's kept
ye broached-to all this while? I axes.”
“Fact is, captain, I was attacked by the enemy. Came within an ace of
being captured, too. But, as good luck would have it, I managed to
get in a thundering broadside, boarded the enemy--there was only one,
luckily--spiked his guns, and towed him ashore, where he's waiting to
pay his respects to you now. But get in and see for yourself what a
valuable prize I've taken.”
The captain got in with all despatch, and, as soon as the canoe touched
the opposite beach, got out again without delay, so eager was he to
inspect, the captive. As it was now daylight, he recognised the fellow
the moment he set eyes on him. His delight knew no bounds. Bound and
round the luckless lascar he stumped, chuckling as he always did when
he was pleased, and every now and then prodding him in the ribs with
his wooden leg, as if to reassure himself that he laboured under no
delusion.
“Sharks an' sea-sarpents, lad!” he roared, when quite satisfied as to the
lascar's identity, “we'll keep the warmint fast in the bilboes a while,
says you; for, d'ye mind me, he's old Salambo's right-hand man, is this
lubber, as comes an' goes at his beck an' call, an' executes the orders
as he gives. So in the bilboes he remains; why not? I axes.”
“My idea precisely, captain. He can't be up to any of his little games
so long as he has a good stout strap to hug him; and, what's more, he'll
have a capital chance to recover from that nasty slash Jack gave him
the other night. By the way, I've often wondered, do you know, how he
managed to pull through that affair so easily. Suppose we turn him over
and have a look at his shoulder?”
No sooner said than done, notwithstanding the captive's snarling
protests; but, to their great amazement, his shoulder showed neither
wound nor scar.
“Well, this beats me!” exclaimed Don incredulously.
“An' is this the wery identical swab, an' no mistake? I axes,” demanded
the captain.
“Mistake? None whatever, unless Jack was mistaken in the fellow the
other day, which isn't at all likely. Besides, I've seen him twice
before myself; once in the temple, and again on the sands here. I'd know
that hang-dog look of his among a thousand. Then there's Spottie; he saw
him as well. Stop! let's see what Spottie makes of this.”
Spottie was summoned, and, without being informed of the point in
dispute, unhesitatingly identified the captive as the lascar.
“Then,” said Don, “Jack must have supposed he stabbed the fellow when he
didn't; that's the most I can make of it.”
“Belay there!” objected the captain. “What about the blood in the canoe
and on the knife when arterwards found? I axes.”
“There you have me. This fellow's the lascar fast enough; but how he's
the lascar and yet doesn't show the wound Jack gave him, I know no more
than the man in the moon. Ugh! what a greasy beast he is! I'd better
take the strap up another hole to make sure of him.”
So, for a time, the puzzling question of the lascar's identity dropped.
No food being procurable here, they decided to push oh to the Haunted
Pagodas ere the sun became too hot, and there endeavour to clear a
passage to the immured stores. Accordingly, when the canoe had been
dragged back to its former place of concealment, they set out, Don
taking charge of the lascar, who, clad in Spottie's upper-cloth, and
having his legs only at liberty, led as quietly as a lamb.
Two-thirds of the way up they came upon that portion of the hill which
had been ravaged by the fire. For the most part this had now burnt
itself out, leaving the summit of the elevation one vast bed of ghastly
gray ashes, with here and there a smouldering stump or cluster of bamboo
stems still smoking.
At the Haunted Pagodas two surprises awaited them. The first of these
was no other than Puggles himself, alive and lachrymose. On the floor
of the otherwise empty “fo'csle” he sat, blubbering dolefully. Comical
indeed was the spectacle he presented, with his woebegone face thickly
begrimed with a mixture of ashes and tears--a sort of fortuitous
whitewash, relieved in the funniest fashion by the black skin showing in
patches through its lighter veneer, and by the double line of vivid red,
stretching half-way from ear to ear, that marked the generous expanse of
his mouth.
The explanation of his sudden disappearance proved simple enough. He
had stumbled in the very act of following his master past the
swiftly-advancing fire, and crawling back on hands and knees to a place
of safety, had there passed the night alone in the jungle. On reaching
the encampment and finding it deserted, he jumped to the conclusion that
the fire had, as he put it, “done eat sahibs up,” stores and all. Hence
his tearful condition on their return.
The second surprise was one of an equally pleasing nature, since it
concerned the stores. The mass of _debris_ which blocked the tunnel's
mouth had subsided to such an extent in cooling as to admit of their
reaching the imprisoned stores with but little difficulty.
“All the same, captain,” remarked Don, when presently they began a
vigorous attack on the provisions, “I'm jolly glad our fear of being
buried alive drove us to the far end of the hole. We've got the key to
the Elephant Rock, and, what's more, we've got a grip on old Salambo's
right hand,” nodding towards the lascar, who was again bound hand and
foot, “that's safe to stand us in good stead when it comes to the final
tussle for Jack and the pearls.”
“Right ye are, lad,” said the captain in tones as hearty as
his appetite; “an', blow me!--as the fog-horn says to the
donkey-ingin--arter we snatches a wink o' sleep, d'ye mind me, we'll
lay our heads together a bit an' detarmine on the best course to be
steered.”
On the stone floor of the “fo'csle” the blacks were already sleeping the
sleep of repletion; and, their meal finished, Don and the captain lost
no time in following their example--for thirty-six hours of almost
unremitting exertion and danger had told heavily upon their powers of
endurance. Dead tired as they were, they gave little heed to the lascar
beyond assuring themselves by a hasty glance that his bonds were secure.
To all appearance he was wrapped in profound slumber.
The sun was at the zenith when they stretched themselves upon the
flags of the “fo'csle”; slowly it burnt its way downward to the western
horizon, and still they slept. Don was the first to stir. He raised
himself upon his elbow with a yawn, rubbed his eyes, gazed about him in
momentary bewilderment. Twilight had already crept out of the ravine
and invaded the ghostly, fire-scathed ruins. This was the first-thing he
noticed. Then the recollection of the events of the past day and night
rushed upon him, and he turned abruptly, with a sudden vague sense of
dread, to the spot where the lascar lay.
Lay? No; that place was empty!
He could scarcely believe the evidence of his senses. Had the fellow
somehow managed to shift his position, and roll out of sight behind one
of the numerous blocks of stone that lay about? Or had he----
With a cry of alarm he threw himself upon an object that lay where the
lascar had lain. It was the leathern belt with which he had bound the
fellow's arms. The tongue of the buckle was broken. He recollected now,
and almost cursed his folly for not recollecting before, that the buckle
had long been weak. Too late! The lascar had escaped!
Dashing the traitorous belt upon the stones, he hurried to where the
old sailor lay asleep, with Bosin curled up by his side, and shook him
roughly by the shoulder. He was in no gentle mood just then.
“Captain! Captain! Wake up! The lascars off!”
No response. No movement. Only the monkey awoke suddenly and fell to
whimpering.
The captain lay at full length upon his back, his bronzed hands clasped
upon his broad chest, his blue sailor's cap drawn well over his
eyes. Something in the pose of the figure at his feet, in its
stillness--something, too, in the plaintive half-human wail the monkey
uttered at the moment--struck a sudden chill to Don's heart. He dropped
upon his knees, lifted the cap, peered into the upturned face. It was
distorted, purple. He started back with a fearful cry:
“Not dead! Oh, my God, not dead!”