FRIENDS IN NEED
Meanwhile at the moment of discovery the little company in the tunnel
was overcome with horror and despair. The strain of the last few
minutes had told upon Elizabeth's strength. She trembled in every
limb. The others were as though paralysed; and the missionary,
bewildered and unstrung, stood helpless, his arms clasped by Mary in a
convulsive grip.
The glare of the rekindled torches threw a sudden light upon the end of
the tunnel. The report of the shot seemed to shock Elizabeth into
renewed energy. "Back to the pit!" she cried. "Mary, go first with
the missionary."
He had now recognized Maku, and was lost in amazement. The whole party
set off along the tunnel. Elizabeth guessed that the ascent of the
wall would offer no difficulties to men practised in climbing cocoa-nut
palms, and though she was urging her friends towards the pit she had no
hope of ultimate escape.
The light soon failed. They had perforce to move slowly, and Mary
warned the missionary that presently when the roof became lower he
would have to crawl on hands and knees. She stretched her arms above
her head so that she might know when the time for stooping came. The
rest followed close behind, Elizabeth bringing up the rear.
The lowest part of the tunnel was about one-third of its length from
the gap. As she crawled through this with Tommy immediately in front
of her, Elizabeth had a sudden thought which turned despair into hope.
The roof was no more than three feet above the floor. If only the
narrow space could be blocked, an effective obstacle to pursuit would
be set up. Was it possible? This portion of the tunnel was but a few
yards in length. As soon as she was able to stand again she called to
the rest to halt.
"Have you your knives?" she asked her sisters when they came to her.
"Yes," they both answered.
"Come with me, Mary," she said, taking Tommy's knife from her. "Go on
with the others; we will follow soon."
Mary and she returned to the point where the roof sloped, and
Elizabeth, slipping to her knees, began to prod at it with the knife.
To her great joy a shower of loose shale fell.
"Help me, Mary; work as hard as you can."
They plied their knives energetically. The missionary, anxious to
learn what they were about, joined them, and, having no other
implement, lifted a piece of hard rock and prodded at the roof with
that. Soon a considerable heap of earth and shale was piled up on the
floor. But their tools were poor substitutes for pickaxes, and
Elizabeth feared that there would not be time to block the tunnel
effectively before the savages arrived.
All at once there was a tremendous crash, and the girls started back in
alarm, not quickly enough to escape some clods of earth that struck
them heavily. The loosening of the under layer of the roof had
disturbed the mass above, and there had now fallen upon the floor an
immense quantity of debris which completely blocked the tunnel, and
could only be removed with long labour.
Elizabeth gave a cry of joy.
"We are saved for the present," she said. "Come!"
They hurried after the others, whom they overtook just as they reached
the opening into the pit.
"We can't stay here," said Elizabeth; "they'll know there must be
another entrance, and will discover it as soon as it is light. We must
get up into the woods and hide."
"The precipice!" said Mary instantly.
"We could hardly get there in the dark," replied Elizabeth; "it's too
dangerous. But we must go as near it as possible, and climb to the top
when we can see our way."
They wasted no time, but set up the ladder at once and clambered out of
the pit. Their haste was such that none thought of taking with them
any of their belongings until Elizabeth, at the last moment, remembered
that there were no fruit-trees where they were going. She collected
all the food that remained and handed it up to her sisters, together
with their kettle and tin cups.
To Fangati was given the task of leading the party through the woods.
Their destination was a little hollow some distance away on the reverse
side of the precipice. It was thickly covered with trees, and would
afford shelter for the rest of the night. As soon as they dared they
would climb to the summit, a feat which in the darkness would be
hazardous in the extreme.
Fangati was an unerring guide, and a quarter of an hour's uphill walk
brought them to the wooded hollow. Elizabeth and Mary each took an arm
of the missionary to assist him; indeed, Elizabeth felt the need of
support herself; her strength was nearly exhausted. Not a word was
spoken during the journey. All ears were strained to catch sounds from
below. For a time they heard nothing, but presently the cries of the
islanders came faintly on the air from afar. These ceased before they
reached their shelter, and it seemed that the pursuit was taking
another direction.
They sank upon the ground beneath the trees.
"Let us thank God for all His mercies," said the missionary, and in
tones little above a whisper, he uttered a few simple words of
gratitude and of entreaty for protection during the night.
"I am filled with amazement at my marvellous deliverance," he said to
Elizabeth. "I know Maku and Fangati, but who are you, my dear young
ladies, and how came you upon this island? Have you nobody else with
you? But I am inconsiderate; you must be very weary: doubtless you
will tell me all in the morning."
"I am tired," Elizabeth confessed; "but I could not sleep, and the joy
of hearing an English voice is greater than I can tell."
There was a sob in her voice. Mary clasped her hand.
"I will tell our story, Bess dear," she said; "lay your head in my lap
and rest."
So Mary quietly began to relate the story of their voyage. As she
casually mentioned the name of the vessel the missionary interrupted
with an exclamation.
"The _Elizabeth_! Was her skipper Captain Barton?"
"Yes," said Mary in surprise. "Did you know Uncle Ben?"
"Know him! He was one of my oldest friends. I met him in London a few
days before he sailed; indeed, he offered to bring me back in his own
vessel. He mentioned that his nieces were accompanying him. What has
happened?"
Mary went on to tell of the wreck, the landing on the island, and the
simple outline of their life since.
"Marvellous," said the old man; "and my poor old friend!--you saw
nothing of the raft?"
"Nothing. Do you think that there is any chance at all that Uncle Ben
was saved?"
"I cannot tell. Strange things happen in the providence of God. I see
the hand of God in your presence here; but for that I should not have
lived another day. We can but trust that my old friend is safe. He
may be on one of these many islands. I hope so."
In answer to a question from Mary he related how he had gone from
London to San Francisco, and sailed thence in an American ship for the
South Pacific. Having made a tour of the mission-stations, he had only
reached his own island a few days ago. He had been met on the shore by
the natives with every mark of welcome; the absence of the chief was
plausibly explained; but the vessel had no sooner departed than he was
seized and tied up. He expected instant death, but had been reserved
for sacrifice at the ceremonies in connection with the inauguration of
the new chief.
"Did they give you food?" asked Tommy.
"Yes, my dear, or I should never have had the strength to profit by
your sister's brave deed. Do you know, when I heard her voice, I
thought it had been the voice of an angel, speaking to me as the angel
spoke to St. Peter in prison. The remembrance of how the apostle was
set free was very cheering as I lay waiting for night. Your sister has
indeed been an angel of deliverance. I thank God, who put courage into
her heart."
They talked until the light of dawn stole through the trees. Elizabeth
had fallen asleep. Without disturbing her the others rose and went to
the edge of the clump of woodland, whence a considerable portion of the
island was visible. No savages were in sight or hearing. They made a
breakfast of fruit, and when Elizabeth awoke, and had eaten, they took
their way with many precautions up the steep ascent to the summit of
the precipice.
There grew upon it a few palm-trees, which did not afford as good a
screen as the clump they had just left. On the other hand it commanded
a wider outlook over the sea. They hoped that the savages, failing to
discover them, would eventually return to their island. Only when they
saw the canoes departing would it be safe to venture down again.
Their situation gave them much anxiety. Their stock of food was small,
and they had now another mouth to feed. Already they felt the lack of
water. The stream that flowed near the pit and plunged down over the
waterfall was too far distant for them to attempt to visit it; and
while the savages were on the island the still longer journey to the
stream near the site of their original hut was out of the question.
They hoped with all their heart that the intruders would soon depart.
But this hope died as the day wore on. From time to time they heard
shouts, now distant, now nearer at hand. Clearly the men were
searching for them. Once they were greatly alarmed when they caught
sight of dusky figures crossing the open ground below their recent
settlement, and knew by their shouts and gestures that they had
discovered traces of habitation. The natives had indeed already come
upon the pit and searched it. By good fortune they had followed the
tracks down to the shore instead of up into the higher ground. They
scoured the copse in which the boat and canoe had been placed, and on
discovering them hastened along the shore in both directions. No doubt
it was only the apparent inaccessibility of the precipice that
prevented them from suspecting that as the fugitives' place of refuge.
The day passed. The little party lay in the shade of the trees, and
kept as still as possible; but they were much distressed by heat and
thirst, and at the fall of night the girls felt thoroughly worn out.
Mr. Corke, the missionary, arranged that they should sleep through the
night, while he and the two natives kept watch.
Elizabeth was very unwilling that this task should be undergone by the
old man; but he assured her that he was very tough, and had quite
recovered from the effects of confinement, owing to the fortunate
circumstance that the islanders had not deprived him of food.
When the next morning broke, and the girls, feeling weak and ill, rose
from their hard couches, they were amazed to discover that Mr. Corke
was no longer with them.
"Where is he?" asked Elizabeth anxiously.
"He go fetch water," said Maku. "He say mus' have water, so he go down
all-same fetch some."
"Why did you let him? Why didn't you wake us?" cried Elizabeth in
great distress.
"He say mus' go," persisted the old chief. "He say you do lot fo' he,
he do little t'ing fo' you."
Tommy ran to the edge of the plantation to look for the missionary.
Her sisters heard her give a low cry, and next moment she came running
back to them, her eyes ablaze with excitement.
"A ship! A ship!" she cried.
The startling news was almost overwhelming. For a moment the girls
stood as though rooted to the ground, then they rushed forward,
following Tommy, who had already darted back towards the edge. Their
hearts leapt within them as they saw, far out at sea, a line of black
smoke, and beneath it the low hull of a steamer.
"Is she coming this way?" said Mary anxiously.
"Oh, I do hope so," said Elizabeth. "We must make a signal. Let us
tie our handkerchiefs together; Fangati can climb one of the trees with
it."
In a few moments Fangati had climbed a tall stem, and tied the three
knotted handkerchiefs to a branch projecting towards the sea. Then the
girls remembered Mr. Corke, whom in their momentary excitement they had
forgotten. There was no sound from below; the natives had certainly
not yet seen him, or shouts would have announced their delight.
But his continued absence made the girls ache with dread.
They watched the steamer eagerly; the hull was enlarging; it was
approaching rapidly; it was heading straight for the island. The
signal had apparently been seen. But there was still no sign of the
missionary.
When the vessel was about half-a-mile from the shore its motion ceased.
"They are afraid to come closer because of the rocks," said Mary.
"Look, they're lowering a boat."
But at this moment their attention was withdrawn from the steamer by
startling sounds from below--loud, fierce shouts mingled with the
report of fire-arms.
"Oh! I'm afraid they've caught him," exclaimed Elizabeth, clasping her
hands in distress.
They ran along the edge of the precipice to a spot where they had a
better view of the open ground from the cove to the site of their huts.
The din was increasing in volume and fury, but as yet nothing could be
seen. Suddenly, from beyond the jutting edge of a crag, they saw the
missionary running with all his might, not towards them, but towards
the sea. The girls wondered at this, for he could not have caught
sight of the steamer, owing to the trees. It dawned on them afterwards
that the chivalrous old man, in his care for them, was leading the
pursuers away from their hiding-place.
Quivering with apprehension they watched the runner. Presently, less
than a hundred yards behind him, a horde of savages burst into view,
uttering frantic yells, as they leapt after their expected victim. For
some moments he disappeared from the view of the anxious spectators on
the precipice, hidden by the intervening trees. Then he emerged again;
he was still running at a speed amazing in a man of his years. What
would be the end of the race? The pursuers were gaining on him; they
were hard at his heels: it seemed impossible that he should not be
overtaken.
He was now upon the beach. A few yards of sand separated him from the
sea. He stumbled, recovered himself, dashed on again, and to the
girls' horror plunged into the water. The terrifying image of hungry
sharks rose in their minds. Several of the pursuers halted and
levelled their guns at the swimmer, others plunged in after him,
evidently determined not to be baulked of their prey.
All this time the attention of the girls had been divided between this
scene on the shore and the steamer's boat, which was rapidly
approaching. They could not tell whether it had been seen either by
the pursuers or the fugitive. They watched in breathless excitement.
The boat was drawing nearer to the swimmer, but the foremost of the
savages was nearer still. Suddenly there was a flash and a puff of
smoke from the boat, followed by a report. The brown men stopped:
there was a moment's hesitation, then they were seen striking out
vigorously for the shore.
"Saved! Saved!" cried Tommy, dancing for joy. "Oh, let's go and meet
them, Bess."
"Better wait, dear," said Elizabeth, whose lips were quivering. "Let
them drive the savages away first."
In tense excitement they watched the missionary lifted into the boat.
It was too far distant as yet for them to distinguish its occupants.
As soon as the missionary was aboard the sailors dipped their oars
again and pulled lustily for the shore. The girls strained their eyes.
The newcomers might be Dutch, French, English, or American; they were
white men; the long captivity was ended.
The boat had almost reached the beach. Suddenly Tommy gave a scream,
and clutched at Mary's arm.
"It's Uncle Ben! It's Uncle Ben!" she cried.