MAROONED
On the following morning Captain Marshall went out once more to look for
a passageway through the reef. Dave accompanied him, and so did Billy
Dill. In the meantime Roger and Phil rowed ashore, to see if they could
find any more traces of the natives.
The captain and Dave had been out about an hour, when they noticed a
small boat coming toward them, containing two sailors and the first
mate.
"Captain Marshall, you are wanted on shore at once!" cried Paul Shepley,
when within hearing distance. "Those two boys just sent word to the ship
by a native. They said to bring young Porter and Dill along."
"They must have discovered something!" cried Dave, quickly. "Oh, let us
go, by all means!"
"I will," answered the master of the _Stormy Petrel_. "Did they say
where they were?"
"Near the interior of the island, I believe," answered the mate.
No more was said, and, winding up his lead line, the captain had the
rowboat turned around and headed for the island. In the meantime the
first mate returned to the bark. Once on the deck of the ship he was
quickly joined by the former supercargo.
"What did he say?" asked Jasper Van Blott, anxiously.
"Said he'd go."
"Then we must lose no time in getting up the anchors. Luckily the breeze
is just right."
"Wait until they are ashore and have disappeared," answered the first
mate, nervously. He was really a coward at heart, and now fairly under
the thumb of Van Blott.
It took but a few minutes for the captain, Dave, and Billy Dill to gain
the stretch of sand. Then those on the _Stormy Petrel_ saw them draw the
small craft up to a safe place and disappear in among the trees.
"Now then, act as quickly as you can," said Jasper Van Blott.
An order was issued for the sailors to come on deck, and all did so, and
the second mate, a young man named Bob Sanders, also appeared. Then Paul
Shepley issued orders to hoist the anchors and raise some of the sails.
"What does this mean, Mr. Shepley?" asked the second mate, in surprise.
"The captain has found a passageway and wants me to take the ship out
and around to the other side of the island," replied the first mate. "He
wants us to be lively, too."
Bob Sanders was mystified, but, as he was not on particularly good terms
with the first mate, he asked no more questions. Soon the sails were up,
and Paul Shepley himself steered the bark toward the passageway he had
discovered.
"You are sure of what you are doing?" asked Jasper Van Blott, coming to
the wheel. "We don't want to strike and go to the bottom."
"I wish I was as sure of the future as I am of the passageway," answered
the first mate, somewhat grimly.
"Oh, don't worry about the future," answered the former supercargo,
lightly. "In a few days we'll have everything in apple-pie order."
There was a good breeze, and the bark cleared the reef with but little
difficulty. Then Paul Shepley had all the sails set, and soon the
_Stormy Petrel_ was leaving the island far behind.
In the meantime Captain Marshall, Dave, and the old tar were looking
everywhere for Phil and Roger. They dove straight into the jungle and
called out as loudly as they could. But no answer came back.
"It is queer that we can't locate them," was Dave's comment. "If they
wanted us, I should think they would be watching out, wouldn't you?"
"Perhaps they are in trouble," answered the captain, gravely.
He fired his pistol as a signal, and at last came an answering shot from
the lower end of the island. At once they hurried in that direction,
only to find themselves cut off by a stretch of impassable marsh land.
"Reckon as how we'll have to go around," observed Billy Dill. "If we try
to go through thet we'll git stuck, fer sartin!"
Going around was not so easy, and it took them nearly half an hour to
cover a mile. Then the captain discharged his pistol once more, and a
minute later came an answering shot but a short distance away.
"I see them--at the top of the hill!" cried Dave, and, looking ahead,
the others discovered Phil and Roger at the top of the slight rise of
ground, waving their handkerchiefs to attract attention. Soon the two
parties were together.
"What's the news?" cried Captain Marshall, looking around to see if
anybody else was present.
"No news," answered Phil. He gazed at them curiously. "What's up? You
look rather excited!"
"Didn't you send for us?" gasped Dave.
"Send for you? What do you mean?" queried Roger.
"The first mate said you sent a native to the bark, asking us to come
to you," said Captain Marshall.
"We sent nobody--we have seen no natives to-day."
There was a pause, during which each looked blankly at the others.
"I can't understand this," said Dave, slowly. "Mr. Shepley certainly
delivered that message."
"It is a trick of some sort!" burst out Captain Marshall. "The very best
thing we can do is to get back to the vessel without delay."
The others thought so, too, and in a moment more all were on their way
to the shore, hurrying through the undergrowth as rapidly as the bushes
and vines would permit. Phil and Roger had managed to shoot two small
animals that looked like hares, but that was all.
At last they came out on the sands, and a shout of dismay went up.
"The ship is gone!"
"The _Stormy Petrel_ has sailed away and left us!"
The boys and the old sailor turned to Captain Marshall, whose face had
turned white. Now it grew dark and stern.
"How could they get out of the harbor?" questioned Dave.
"Shepley must have found a passageway," answered the captain.
"But where has the ship gone to?" queried Phil. "I can't see her
anywhere."
Instead of replying, the captain of the _Stormy Petrel_ clenched his
hands and compressed his lips. He was doing some deep thinking.
"I must say, this looks to me as if somebody had run off with the ship!"
declared the senator's son.
"And that is just what they have done!" cried the captain. "Oh, the
rascals! the scoundrels! If I ever catch them----" He could not finish,
so great was his rage.
"Run off with the ship!" burst out Dave. "How could they do that? Do you
think there was a regular mutiny?"
"There may have been--anyway, the bark is gone--and we are left to shift
for ourselves."
"I think I see through it," said Phil. "The first mate and Van Blott
have hatched this up between them. I know they were as thick as peas--in
fact, I suspect Shepley helped the supercargo to hide away on board.
They must have bought over the crew and Mr. Sanders."
"I don't think they could buy over Bob Sanders," declared the captain.
"I know him too well. He is very quiet, but I'd trust him with almost
anything. But I can't say as much for all the crew. Shepley got some of
the men to ship, and he most likely knew whom he was getting."
"What are you going to do about it?" asked Roger.
"I don't exactly know what to do, yet, lad. We are marooned, that is all
there is to it. And it doesn't look as if they had left us anything to
live on, either," added the captain, casting his eyes along the shore.
"Do you mean to say they have deserted us?" cried Dave.
"Doesn't it look like it?"
"And stolen the bark?"
"Yes."
Dave drew a long breath. Here was another set-back, of which he had not
dreamed. If the _Stormy Petrel_ had really sailed away, not to return,
what were they to do, and when would they get a chance to leave the
lonely island?
"This is positively the worst yet!" groaned Roger. "The fellows who
would do such a thing ought to be--be hanged! And they haven't left us a
thing!"
"Let us separate and see if we can sight the bark," said the captain,
and this was done, one party going to the upper end of the island and
the other to the lower. But not a trace of the missing vessel was to be
seen.
It was a decidedly sober party that gathered on the sands two hours
later to discuss the situation and decide upon what was to be done. Here
they were, marooned on a deserted island, with no food and but little
shelter, and with only two pistols and a shotgun between them. It was
certainly not a situation to be envied.
"I used to think, when I was a small boy, that I'd like to play Robinson
Crusoe," remarked Roger. "But I've changed my mind, and I'd much rather
be back on the ship."
"Humph! If you are going to talk that way, what will you say if we have
to stay here weeks, or months, or maybe years?" asked Phil.
"Gracious!" burst out Dave. "You don't think we'll have to stay here
years, do you?"
"We'll have to stay until we can git away," was the sage remark of Billy
Dill. "Captain, are we in the track o' any ships?"
Captain Marshall shook his head slowly.
"I don't think we are. That storm blew us far out of our course. I doubt
if a ship comes this way once in three months."
"There, what did I tell you!" cried Phil. "But don't think I want to
stay," he added, quickly. "I am just as anxious to get away as any one,
and anxious to regain my father's ship, too. Why, to lose her would mean
a serious loss to my father!"
They talked the matter over until nightfall, but without reaching any
satisfactory conclusion. Not one of the party could bring himself to
think that he would really have to stay on the island for any great
length of time.
"If we do have to stay, we'll have to rassle around fer somethin' to
eat," remarked Billy Dill. "The mean sharks! They might at least have
left us a barrel o' salt horse an' some canned goods--an' a little
tobacco," he added, dolefully. His pipe was empty and so was his pouch,
and this added the last drop to his misery.
As night came on they gathered some driftwood and lit a campfire, not
because they were cold, but because it looked more cheerful, and because
it also helped to keep away some obnoxious insects that had appeared.
Over the fire they cooked the game Roger and Phil had shot, and made a
supper of this and some crackers the boys had been carrying in their
pockets. Then they sat down to talk the matter over once more. As the
night advanced, the bright stars bespangled the heavens and all became
perfectly calm and quiet. Tired out by what had passed, one after
another sought a comfortable resting-place, and soon all were sound
asleep.