AT SEA: OFF BOUPARI.
Thirteen days out from Sydney, the good ship Australasian was nearing the
equator.
It was four of the clock in the afternoon, and the captain (off duty)
paced the deck, puffing a cigar, and talking idly with a passenger on
former experiences.
Eight bells went on the quarter-deck; time to change watches.
"This is only our second trip through this channel," the captain
said, gazing across with a casual glance at the palm-trees that
stood dark against the blue horizon. "We used to go a hundred miles
to eastward, here, to avoid the reefs. But last voyage I came
through this way quite safely--though we had a nasty accident on the
road--unavoidable--unavoidable! Big sea was running free over the
sunken shoals; caught the ship aft unawares, and stove in better than
half a dozen portholes. Lady passenger on deck happened to be leaning
over the weather gunwale; big sea caught her up on its crest in a jiffy,
lifted her like a baby, and laid her down again gently, just so, on the
bed of the ocean. By George, sir, I was annoyed. It was quite a romance,
poor thing; quite a romance; we all felt so put out about it the rest
of that voyage. Young fellow on board, nephew of Sir Theodore Thurstan,
of the Colonial Office, was in love with Miss Ellis--girl's name was
Ellis--father's a parson somewhere down in Somersetshire--and as soon as
the big sea took her up on its crest, what does Thurstan go and do, but
he ups on the taffrail, and, before you could say Jack Robinson, jumps
over to save her."
"But he didn't succeed?" the passenger asked, with languid interest.
"Succeed, my dear sir? and with a sea running twelve feet high like that?
Why, it was pitch dark, and such a surf on that the gig could hardly go
through it." The captain smiled, and puffed away pensively. "Drowned,"
he said, after a brief pause, with complacent composure. "Drowned.
Drowned. Drowned. Went to the bottom, both of 'em. Davy Jones's locker.
But unavoidable, quite. These accidents _will_ happen, even on the
best-regulated liners. Why, there was my brother Tom, in the Cunard
service--same that boast they never lost a passenger; there was my
brother Tom, he was out one day off the Newfoundland banks, heavy swell
setting in from the nor'-nor'-east, icebergs ahead, passengers battened
down--Bless my soul, how that light seems to come and go, don't it?"
It was a reflected light, flashing from the island straight in the
captain's eyes, small and insignificant as to size, but strong for all
that in the full tropical sunshine, and glittering like a diamond from a
vague elevation near the centre of the island.
"Seems to come and go in regular order," the passenger observed,
reflectively, withdrawing his cigar. "Looks for all the world just like
naval signalling."
The captain paused, and shaded his eyes a moment. "Hanged if that isn't
just what it _is_," he answered, slowly. "It's a rigged-up heliograph,
and they're using the Morse code; dash my eyes if they aren't. Well, this
_is_ civilization! What the dickens can have come to the island of
Boupari? There isn't a darned European soul in the place, nor ever has
been. Anchorage unsafe; no harbor; bad reef; too small for missionaries
to make a living, and natives got nothing worth speaking of to trade in."
"What do they say?" the passenger asked, with suddenly quickened
interest.
"How the devil should I tell you yet, sir?" the captain retorted with
choleric grumpiness. "Don't you see I'm spelling it out, letter by
letter? O, r, e, s, c, u, e, u, s, c, o, m, e, w, e, l, l, a, r, m, e,
d--Yes. yes, I twig it." And the captain jotted it down in his note-book
for some seconds, silently.
"Run up the flag there," he shouted, a moment later, rushing hastily
forward. "Stop her at once, Walker. Easy, easy. Get ready the gig. Well,
upon my soul, there _is_ a rum start anyway."
"What does the message say?" the passenger inquired, with intense
surprise.
"Say? Well, there's what I make it out," the captain answered, handing
him the scrap of paper on which he had jotted down the letters. "I missed
the beginning, but the end's all right. Look alive there, boys, will you.
Bring out the Winchester. Take cutlasses, all hands. I'll go along myself
in her."
The passenger took the piece of paper on which he read, "and send a boat
to rescue us. Come well armed. Savages on guard. Thurstan, Ellis."
In less than three minutes the boat was lowered and manned, and the
captain, with the Winchester six-shooter by his side, seated grim in the
stern, took command of the tiller.
On the island it was the first day of Felix and Muriel's imprisonment in
the dusty precinct of Tu-Kila-Kila's temple. All the morning through,
they had sat under the shade of a smaller banyan in the outer corner; for
Muriel could neither enter the noisome hut nor go near the great tree
with the skeletons on its branches; nor could she sit where the dead
savage's body, still festering in the sun, attracted the buzzing blue
flies by thousands, to drink up the blood that lay thick on the earth in
a pool around it. Hard by, the natives sat, keen as lynxes, in a great
circle just outside the white taboo-line, where, with serried spears,
they kept watch and ward over the persons of their doubtful gods or
victims. M. Peyron, alone preserving his equanimity under these adverse
circumstances, hummed low to himself in very dubious tones; even he
felt his French gayety had somewhat forsaken him; this revolution in
Boupari failed to excite his Parisian ardor.
About one o'clock in the day, however, looking casually seaward--what was
this that M. Peyron, to his great surprise, descried far away on the dim
southern horizon? A low black line, lying close to the water? No, no; not
a steamer!
Too prudent to excite the natives' attention unnecessarily, the
cautious Frenchman whispered, in the most commonplace voice on earth to
Felix: "Don't look at once; and when you do look, mind you don't exhibit
any agitation in your tone or manner. But what do you make that out to
be--that long black haze on the horizon to southward?"
Felix looked, disregarding the friendly injunction, at once. At the same
moment, Muriel turned her eyes quickly in the self-same direction.
Neither made the faintest sign of outer emotion; but Muriel clenched her
white hands hard, till the nails dug into the palm, in her effort to
restrain herself, as she murmured very low, in an agitated voice, "_Un
vapeur, un vapeur_!"
"So I think," M. Peyron answered, very low and calm. "It is, indeed, a
steamer!"
For three long hours those anxious souls waited and watched it draw
nearer and nearer. Slowly the natives, too, began to perceive the
unaccustomed object. As it drew abreast of the island, and the decisive
moment arrived for prompt action, Felix rose in his place once more
and cried aloud, "My people, I told you a ship, propelled by fire, would
come from the far land across the sea to take us. The ship has come; you
can see for yourselves the thick black smoke that issues in huge puffs
from the mouth of the monster. Now, listen to me, and dare not to disobey
me. My word is law; let all men see to it. I am going to send a message
of fire from the sun to the great canoe that walks upon the water. If any
man ventures to stop me from doing it the people from the great canoe
will land on this isle and take vengeance for his act, and kill with the
thunder which the sailing gods carry ever about with them."
By this time the island was alive with commotion. Hundreds of natives,
with their long hair falling unkempt about their keen brown faces,
were gazing with open eyes at the big black ship that ploughed her way
so fast against wind and tide over the surface of the waters. Some of
them shouted and gesticulated with panic fear; others seemed half
inclined to waste no time on preparation or doubt, but to rush on at
once, and immolate their captives before a rescue was possible. But
Felix, keeping ever his cool head undisturbed, stood on the dusty mound
by Tu-Kila-Kila's house, and taking in his hand the little mirror he had
made from the match-box, flashed the light from the sun full in their
eyes for a moment, to the astonishment and discomfiture of all those
gaping savages. Then he focussed it on the Australasian, across the surf
and the waves, and with a throbbing heart began to make his last faint
bid for life and freedom.
For four or five minutes he went flashing on, uncertain of the effect,
whether they saw or saw not. Then a cry from Muriel burst at once upon
his ears. She clasped her hands convulsively in an agony of joy. "They
see us! They see us!"
And sure enough, scarcely half a minute later, a British flag ran gayly
up the mainmast, and a boat seemed to drop down over the side of the
vessel.
As for the natives, they watched these proceedings with considerable
surprise and no little discomfiture--Fire and Water, in particular,
whispering together, much alarmed, with many superstitious nods and
taboos, in the corner of the enclosure.
Gradually, as the boat drew nearer and nearer, divided counsels prevailed
among the savages. With no certainly recognized Tu-Kila-Kila to marshal
their movements, each man stood in doubt from whom to take his orders. At
last, the King of Fire, in a hesitating voice, gave the word of command.
"Half the warriors to the shore to repel the enemy; half to watch round
the taboo-line, lest the Korongs escape us! Let Breathless Fear, our
war-god, go before the face of our troops, invisible!"
And, quick as thought, at his word, the warriors had paired off, two and
two, in long lines; some running hastily down to the beach, to man the
war-canoes, while others remained, with shark's tooth spears still set in
a looser circle, round the great temple-enclosure of Tu-Kila-Kila.
For Muriel, this suspense was positively terrible. To feel one was so
close to the hope of rescue, and yet to know that before that help
arrived, or even as it came up, those savages might any moment run their
ghastly spears through them.
But Felix made the best of his position still. "Remember," he cried, at
the top of his voice, as the warriors started at a run for the water's
edge, "your Tu-Kila-Kila tells you, these new-comers are his friends.
Whoever hurts them, does so at his peril. This is a great Taboo. I bid
you receive them. Beware for your lives. I, Tu-Kila-Kila the Great, have
said it."