Wal Jessop hastily explained to Meri that it was their intention to
go in pursuit of the white man, and the chief said he would accompany
them. The meeting came to an end, the savages dispersing to their
various huts.
Meri, beckoning to Wal and Edgar to follow him, led the way across the
marum into the forest beyond. They were soon in richly-wooded country,
and found progress difficult. Edgar constantly stumbled over some
tangled, twisted root that lay hidden in his path; thorns, growing on
some of the bushes, pricked him and tore his clothes, and Wal Jessop
was in no better plight. Meri, however, did not appear to mind the
thorns, but walked on at a rapid pace.
They continued their tramp for some time, but saw nothing of the white
man who had so quickly and mysteriously disappeared.
When they halted to rest Wal Jessop questioned Meri, and learned that
the white man had been on the island for some time. He came in a
trading vessel, and was left behind, either wilfully or through his
own desire. The natives regarded him with superstition, and thought
him scarcely human. Meri himself was evidently a believer in the white
man’s powers over the natives for good or evil.
On resuming their search they came upon a pathway evidently cut in the
bush, and along this Meri led them.
He halted at the entrance to a small clearing, and here they saw a
strange sight.
Standing straight up from the ground were several large trunks of
trees, that had been hollowed out and rudely carved in the shape of
hideous heads at the top. They appeared to be idols, and Meri regarded
them with a look of awe.
‘This is a Sing-Sing ground,’ said Wal; ‘I have heard of them before,
but never seen one. This is where their gods live, and it is regarded
as a sacred grove. If the white man is here it easily accounts for the
fear with which he is regarded. No native would remain here alone; in
fact, they dare not venture except upon special occasions. I’ll ask
Meri about it.’
Wal questioned the chief, who said he could enter the sacred grove as
chief of his tribe, and they walked into the clearing. Raising his club
Meri struck one of the hollow trunks a blow, and it echoed through the
forest with a sound like a drum.
Edgar looked into the hollow of each tree, but saw nothing. Presently a
tall figure glided into the grove, and stood still regarding them.
They were at once convinced it was the unfortunate captain of the
_Distant Shore_ standing before them, but he showed no sign that he
recognised them.
He was strangely altered from the fine, stalwart seaman they had known
as Captain Manton of the _Distant Shore_. His figure was gaunt and
thin, and his arms and hands were mere skin and bone. His hair was
white, his beard of the same hue, and his eyes looked vacantly from
under his bushy eyebrows. He wore an old coat, which reached to his
knees, and his legs and feet were bare. As he advanced slowly towards
them Meri fell back, but Edgar and Wal stood their ground.
‘Begone!’ said this ghost-like figure of Captain Manton. ‘This is
no place for you. Begone, and leave me in peace! I harm no one. I am
quite alone--alone in a world of my own, peopled with the ghosts of the
drowned!’
Edgar stepped forward, and, looking him straight in the eyes, said:
‘Do you not know me, Captain Manton? I am Edgar Foster. I was saved
from the wreck with your daughter Eva.’
At the mention of Eva’s name a momentary light of intelligence came
into the man’s eyes, but it quickly died away, and left them dull and
vacant.
‘Poor fellow!’ said Edgar sorrowfully; ‘his brain has given way under
the strain. He must have suffered severely.’
‘Do you think he is mad?’ asked Wal.
‘Not a dangerous form of madness,’ replied Edgar; ‘but I have no doubt
he is not in his right mind. We must humour him, and question him. He
has a strange story to relate, if he can be persuaded to tell it, and
if he remembers all he has gone through.’
Edgar took the unfortunate man by the hand, and persuaded him to sit
down.
Meri looked on, his curiosity evidently being excited.
Edgar tried as gently and simply as possible to lead the wandering mind
of the captain back to the wreck of the _Distant Shore_, and found, to
his delight, that he succeeded in rousing his dormant memory.
Captain Manton began to talk in a strange, monotonous way. He was
evidently recapitulating what had happened to him after the wreck of
the _Distant Shore_, and he seemed almost unconscious of anyone being
present.
From time to time during the course of the strange tale he related
Edgar refreshed his weak memory.
‘If we can lead him on to tell us everything,’ said Edgar, ‘he may
recognise us in the end.’
‘I hope so,’ said Wal; ‘it is terrible to see him like this, but it may
be caused through not having any white men to converse with.’
Captain Manton--for, indeed, it was that unfortunate seaman--commenced
by telling them, in a somewhat incoherent way, that he was on a big
ship when it went on to the rocks and crashed to pieces.
‘It was the captain’s fault,’ he said; ‘he ought to have made for a
harbour; he is responsible for all our deaths.’
‘You were saved,’ said Edgar. ‘You are not dead, and you ought to be
thankful. It was not the captain’s fault, for he was a brave man, and
a good seaman. I knew him well, and he was incapable of a cowardly
action.’
‘I knew him once,’ said Captain Manton, ‘but it must have been a very
long time ago. He’s dead now, and you say I am alive. Strange how
little I remember of Manton, for I must have known him well.’
‘You did,’ said Edgar. ‘Have you forgotten? Can you not remember that
you are Captain Manton, and that I saved your daughter Eva?’
‘Eva,’ said Manton, with a deep sigh, ‘I know the name very well--Eva;
yes, I once knew little Eva.’
He spoke in such pathetic tones that both Edgar and Wal Jessop were
affected.
Suddenly Manton began to talk rapidly.
‘I remember now,’ he said; ‘the captain went down with the ship. I was
tossed about on the rocks--washed on and then off again. A huge wave
rolled me back into the sea, and I clutched a broken spar. The captain
clutched that spar, too, but I pushed him off--ah, ah! I pushed him
off because there was only room for one; but he came up again and sat
beside me, and I had not strength to push him off again. He did not try
to push me off. Out to sea we were taken, and then I recollect nothing
until I awoke on board a small craft, and the captain was not there. He
must have fallen off the spar, and been drowned. I was starved on the
boat, for they had very little to eat. When they landed on some island,
they went away and left me. The natives were kind to me and gave me
food. I have lived here many years. I do no one any harm, and I want
to stay here. You will not take me away?’ he said suddenly, turning to
Edgar and Wal, with an imploring look in his eyes.
Edgar evaded the question, and said:
‘I will tell you what happened on the night the _Distant Shore_ was
wrecked, and how Wal Jessop here saved me and your daughter Eva.’
‘My daughter Eva!’ said Manton, with a soft smile--‘my daughter Eva!’
He lingered fondly over the name, and Edgar said to Wal:
‘I believe if I relate all that took place he will remember. His
sufferings have caused loss of memory, that is all.’
‘I hope so,’ said Wal; ‘it is pitiable to find him like this.’
Edgar then told him as briefly as possible all that took place at the
wreck of the _Distant Shore_. As he described how Wal Jessop found
himself and Eva on the rocks, and at great risk got them to the top
of the cliffs, Manton’s eyes brightened, and he listened with intense
interest.
‘Eva is now a beautiful little girl,’ said Edgar, ‘and she has been
expecting to see you. We have always told her you would come back to
her, and I am sure you will do so. You remember me now, do you not?’
said Edgar; ‘and also your good friend in Sydney, Wal Jessop?’
‘Ay, you’ll remember me, skipper,’ said Wal, in a hearty voice; ‘I’ve
towed you safely into port many a time. Come, give me a grip of your
hand, and say you know me.’
Manton looked, first at Edgar, and then at Wal Jessop. He was wrestling
with the memories of the past that had so long been absent from him.
Gradually they saw his memory was recovering its power. The mind was
only clouded, and brighter days would chase the gloom away.
‘My God! can it be true?’ said Manton, as he gazed at them. ‘Am I
dreaming, or am I mad? Can this be Edgar Foster, and my old mate, Wal
Jessop? Where am I, and how did I come here?’
He was wrestling with his memory, and gradually drawing it back to
life. With the return of reason he failed to comprehend what had
happened to him, and why he was on this wild island in the New Hebrides.
‘True, true, true!’ he murmured; ‘they are indeed my friends!
He grasped their hands, and his frame shook with the intense emotion he
felt. He was in a very weak state, and the reaction was too much for
him. The change from darkness to light overpowered him, and he sank
back in a dead faint.
Meri, when he saw Manton fall back, to all appearance dead, sprang
forward and brandished his club in a savage manner. He thought Edgar
and Wal must have practised some witchcraft upon this white man, who
had been so long amongst them.
Wal Jessop, leaving Manton in Edgar’s care, explained, as well as he
could, what had happened. Meri looked displeased when Wal said they
would take Manton away with them, and said evil would fall upon their
tribe if they allowed him to go.
It was some time before Manton recovered, and when he did so he was
too weak to walk. Wal Jessop persuaded Meri to return with him to the
village, and obtain help to carry Manton to the beach.
Edgar remained with the captain, and did all in his power to cheer him.
He knew it would be some time before they returned, and Manton was not
in a fit state to be left alone. With the return of his memory he had
become nervous and excited. For the first time since that fatal night
when the _Distant Shore_ was wrecked, he began to remember clearly what
had taken place.
Edgar saw what it was preyed upon his mind, and said:
‘Everyone will be glad to hear you have been saved in such a strange
and marvellous way. You will be heartily welcomed in Sydney when we
return; and think of little Eva waiting and watching for you.’
‘The ship was lost,’ said Manton in a hollow voice, ‘and I am
responsible. Did all on board perish with the exception of three?’
‘Yes,’ said Edgar; ‘but you were not to blame. Everyone praised your
conduct, for I told them how you stood by your ship, and went down with
her. Nothing could have saved her. You did all that man could do.’
‘And my poor wife?’ he moaned.
Edgar was silent. He knew words would avail nothing.
‘How did you find me?’ asked Manton.
Edgar related how his father received a letter, and his own
determination to set out in quest of him in order to ascertain the
truth.
‘And you did this for my sake?’ said Manton.
‘I must not take too much credit for that,’ said Edgar. ‘A love of
adventure prompted me, and, although I hardly credited your being
alive, yet I knew it was not impossible.’
‘And where am I, and how long have I been here?’ asked Manton
wonderingly.
‘You are on the island of Tana, in the New Hebrides,’ said Edgar. ‘You
were no doubt picked up by a schooner on its way to the South Seas from
Sydney.’
‘It is all very strange,’ said Manton. ‘I must have been near to death
when I was rescued from the sea.’
‘Your sufferings were so great that your mind became deranged,’ said
Edgar. ‘With complete rest, and amongst your friends, you will speedily
recover.’
Manton shook his head despondingly. He was in a melancholy mood, and
his mind was not quite balanced. As Edgar looked at him his heart was
full of pity for him, and he fervently hoped it would not be many weeks
before Captain Manton was fully recovered both in mind and body.