A MESSAGE FROM THE PAST
"'What I dreaded has come to pass,'" read out the ensign; "'the men
mutinied, but thanks be to Providence, we are safe. But a fearful
catastrophe overtook the misguided fellows. Short handed as we were,
having lost ten hands by scurvy and drowning in the South Seas, the crew
mustered but eight men. Thus, with my two officers, we were three
against them. The attack came at midnight on July 27th, 1883. Luckily we
were on the watch, and as the men came aft we met them with firearms.
Four went down at the first volley. Three died shortly, the other the
next day.
"'The remainder fled, but before I could stop them my officers had shot
down three, leaving only the cook alive. I saved his life. But as we
were examining the injured, one of them whipped out a knife and killed
my first officer. The next day we buried the dead and worked the ship as
best we could with three hands. Luckily the breeze was light, for in a
brisk blow we could not have handled the ship.
"'Finding ourselves off the coast of the Carolinas, and despairing of
navigating the ship to port, we ran in and anchored off a small desolate
island. On it grew a few scrub trees, but not much else. After a
consultation we decided to abandon the ship; but first we agreed, while
the weather was fair, to bury the ivory on one of the islands. It was a
long, tedious task, but at last it was done, and the spot where it had
been secreted, marked.
"'This done, we rowed back to the ship to obtain my chronometers,
papers, and so forth. I should have explained that we had but one boat,
heavy seas off the Horn having smashed four of them, and a fifth was
broken in a fight with a whale. I was some time below, getting papers,
when suddenly I heard a splash of oars. By some inspiration, I guessed
what had happened. Rushing on deck I was in time to behold my rascally
second mate and the cook rowing from the ship with might and main.
"'I shouted, entreated, and raged. But it was all in vain. All the
rascals did was to laugh at me. I might have guessed their terrible
purpose to maroon me on my own ship, but I had paid no heed to some
whispering I had observed between them while on the island working at
the burial of the ivory. All this has been written since they abandoned
me in so cowardly a fashion for the sake of the ivory. Their intent, I
readily guessed. They would reach the shore ahead of me. Find some
capital, get a ship and seize the whole cache. I count myself lucky that
they did not kill me outright.'"
By this time the boys were leaning forward, all else forgotten in the
thrilling interest of the extraordinary narrative.
The ensign read on.
"I find no more entries till several days later," he said, "then comes
this one:
"'Since last I wrote I have encountered a fearful experience. The night
succeeding the occasion on which the two villains left the ship, a
terrific gale came up off shore. Unable to reef sail single-handed, I
was compelled to cut the cable and head out for sea. For three days we
scudded before the gale. The canvas was torn to ribbons, and one after
another my masts went. I managed to cut the wreckage free with an axe.
+ + + + +
"'Some days later. What is happening to the ship? She is being drawn by
some strong but invisible current. There is no wind, but she is moving
fairly fast. What can be going to happen to me? One thing is sure, I am
out of the track of ocean vessels. Heaven help me, for I fear I am
beyond human aid!'"
"The poor fellow's mind evidently gave way soon after this," said the
ensign; "the entries grow disjointed and wild. He declares the cabin is
haunted. That the ghosts of the dead mutineers haunt the ship. At last
they cease abruptly with the words, 'God be merciful to me, I am going
mad.'"
A silence fell over the party in the dead mariner's cabin. The mystery,
the spell of the horror of it all, was strong upon them. In each lad's
mind was a vivid picture of the unfortunate captain held in the grip of
a strange current, being driven day by day further from the track of
ships, while his fevered mind pictured ghostly forms all about him.
"How do you suppose his death came?" asked Rob, after the silence had
endured some moments.
"I have an ugly suspicion which I shall soon verify," said the ensign;
"you boys wait here for a time."
Alone he reentered the deck-house, where sat the dead seaman. When he
returned his face was very grave.
"Boys, my suspicions were correct," he said; "by the man's side I found
a pistol. Undoubtedly, crazed by despair, he ended his life."
"After writing this strange paper?" asked Rob.
"Evidently. To judge from the jumble of figures, it was the product of
his poor, demented brain."
"If you don't mind, I'll keep it, though," said Rob. "I've an idea about
it."
"In what way?"
"Why, that it may not be what you think, after all. It bears the
earmarks of an orderly cipher and is not scrawled at all as are the
final entries in the log book."
"That's right," agreed the ensign admiringly, "you Boy Scouts have
mighty keen minds. Well, my boy, keep it and study it at your leisure,
although I am free to confess that I cannot think of it otherwise than
in the way mentioned."
"Perhaps you are right," said Rob, "but I'll have a try at puzzling it
out, when I get time."