AMONG THE CANNIBALS
The routine life of shipboard wore quietly on for several days without
interruption. The staunch ship held steadily on its course, and the
ceaseless vibrations of its engines came to be as unnoticed and as
unthought of as the beatings of their own hearts. There had been no
storms for some time, as indeed there seldom were at this time of the
year, and Bert's duties as wireless operator occupied comparatively
little of his time. He had plenty left, therefore, to spend with Dick
and Tom, and they had little trouble in finding a way to occupy their
leisure with pleasure and profit to themselves and others.
A favorite resort was the engine room, where in spite of the heat
they spent many a pleasant hour in company with the chief engineer,
MacGregor. The latter was a shaggy old Scotchman with a most stern and
forbidding exterior, but a heart underneath that took a warm liking to
the three comrades, much to the surprise and disgust of the force of
stokers and "wipers" under him.
"And phwat do yez think of the old man?" one was heard to remark to his
companion one day. "There was a toime when the chief 'ud look sour and
grumble if the cap'n himself so much as poked his nose inside the engine
room gratin', and now here he lets thim young spalpeens run all ovir the
place, wid never a kick out o' him."
"Sure, an' Oi've ben noticin' the same," agreed his companion, "an'
phwat's more, he answers all their questions wid good natur', and nivir
seems to have ony desire to dhrop a wrinch on their noodles."
"Perhaps 'tis because the youngsters ask him nothin' but sinsible
questions, as ye may have noticed," said he who had spoken first, as he
leaned on his shovel for a brief rest. "Shure, an' it's me private
opinion that the young cubs know 'most as much about the engines as old
Mac himsilf."
"Thrue fer you," said the other. "Only yisterday, if O'im not mistaken,
young Wilson, him as runs the wireless outfit for the ship, was down
here, and they were havin' a argyment regardin' the advantages of the
reciprocatin' engines over the new steam turbins, an' roast me in me own
furnace if I don't think the youngster had the goods on the old man
right up t' the finish."
"Oi wouldn't be su'prised at ahl, at ahl," agreed his companion. "The
young felly has a head for engines, an' no mistake. He's got a lot o'
book larnin' about 'em, too."
It was indeed as the stokers said, and a strong friendship and mutual
regard had sprung up between the grizzled old engineer and the
enthusiastic wireless operator. As our readers doubtless remember, Bert
had been familiar with things mechanical since boyhood, and during his
college course had kept up his knowledge by a careful reading of the
latest magazines and periodicals given over to mechanical research.
Needless to say, his ideas were all most modern, while on the part of
the chief engineer there was a tendency to stick to the tried and
tested things of mechanics and fight very shy of all inventions and
innovations.
However, each realized that the other knew what he was talking about,
and each had a respect for the opinions of the other. This did not
prevent their having long arguments at times, however, in which a
perfect shower and deluge of technical words and descriptions filled the
air. It seldom happened, though, that either caused the other to alter
his original stand in the slightest degree, as is generally the case in
all arguments of any sort.
But the engineer was always ready to explain things about the ponderous
engines that Bert did not fully understand, and there were constant
problems arising from Bert's inspection of the beautifully made
machinery that only the engineer, of all on board, could solve for him.
Bert always found a fascination in watching the powerful engines and
would sit for hours at a time, when he was at leisure, watching each
ingenious part do its work, with an interest that never flagged.
He loved to study the movements of the mighty pistons as they rose and
fell like the arm of some immense giant, and speculate on the terrific
power employed in every stroke. The shining, smooth, well-oiled
machinery seemed more beautiful to Bert than any picture he had ever
seen, and the regular click and chug of the valves was music. Every
piece of brass, nickel and steel work in the engine room was spotlessly
clean, and glittered and flickered in the glow from the electric lights.
Sometimes he and MacGregor would sit in companionable silence for an
hour at a time, listening to the hiss of steam as it rushed into the
huge cylinders, and was then expelled on the upward stroke of the
piston. MacGregor loved his engines as he might a pet cat or dog, and
often patted them lovingly when he was sure nobody was around to observe
his actions.
Once the engineer had taken Bert back along the course of the big
propeller shaft to where it left the ship, water being prevented from
leaking in around the opening by means of stuffing boxes. At intervals
the shaft was supported by bearings made of bronze, and as they passed
them the old man always passed his hand over them to find out if by any
chance one was getting warm on account of the friction caused by lack of
proper lubrication.
"For it's an afu' thing," he said to Bert, shaking his head, "to have a
shaft break when you're in the ragin' midst of a storm. It happened to
me once, an' the second vayage I evir took as chief engineer, and I hae
no desire t' repeat the experience."
"What did you do about it?" inquired Bert.
"We did the anly thing there was to be done, son. We set the whole
engine room force drillin' holes thrae the big shaft, and then we
riveted a wee snug collar on it, and proceeded on our way. Two days and
two nights we were at it, with the puir bonnie ship driftin' helpless,
an' the great waves nigh breakin' in her sides. Never a wink o' sleep
did I get during the hale time, and none of the force under me got much
more. Ye may believe it was a fair happy moment for all of us when we
eased the steam into the low pressure cylinder and saw that the job was
like to hold until we got tae port. Nae, nae, one experience like thot
is sufficient tae hold a mon a lifetime."
"I should think it would be," said Bert. "You generally hear a lot
about the romantic side of accidents at sea, but I guess the people
actually mixed up in them look at the matter from a different point of
view."
"Nae doot, nae doot," agreed the old Scotsman, "and what credit do ye
suppose we got for all our work? The papers were full o' the bravery and
cael headedness the skipper had exhibited, but what o' us poor deils
wha' had sweated and slaved twae mortal day an nichts in a swelterin',
suffercatin' hold, whi' sure death for us gin anything sprang a leak and
the ship sank? Wae'd a' had nae chanct t' git on deck and in a boat.
Wae'd have been drounded like wee rats in a trap. I prasume nobody
thocht o' that, howiver."
"That's the way it generally works out, I've noticed," said Bert. "Of
course, many times the captain does deserve much or all the credit, but
the newspapers never take the trouble to find out the facts. You can bet
your case wasn't the first of the kind that ever occurred."
"'Tis as you say," agreed the engineer; "but nae we must back to the
engine room, me laddie. I canna feel easy when I am far frae it."
Accordingly they retraced their course, and were soon back in the room
where the machinery toiled patiently day and night, never groaning or
complaining when taken proper care of, as you may be sure these engines
were. MacGregor would have preferred to have somebody make a slighting
remark about him than about his idolized engines, and would have been
less quick to resent it.
Bert was about to take his leave, when suddenly Tom and Dick came
tumbling recklessly down the steep ladder leading to the engine room,
and fairly fell down the last few rounds.
"Say, Bert, beat it up on deck," exclaimed Tom, as soon as he was able
to get his breath. "We sighted an island an hour or so ago, and as we
get nearer to it we can see that there's a signal of some sort on it.
Captain Manning says that none of the islands hereabout are inhabited,
so it looks as though somebody had been shipwrecked there. The skipper's
ordered the course changed so as to head straight toward it, and we
ought to be within landing distance in less than an hour."
"Hooray!" yelled Bert. "I'll give you a race up, fellows, and see who
gets on deck first," and so saying he made a dive for the ladder. Dick
and Tom made a rush to intercept him, but Bert beat them by a fraction
of an inch, and went up the steep iron ladder with as much agility as
any monkey. The others were close at his heels, however, and in less
time than it takes to tell they were all on deck.
Dick and Tom pointed out the island to Bert, and there, sure enough, he
saw what appeared to be a remnant of some flag nailed to an upright
branch planted in the ground. They were not more than a mile from the
island by this time, and soon Captain Manning rang the gong for half
speed ahead. A few moments later he gave the signal to shut off power,
and the vibration of the ship's engines ceased abruptly. The sudden
stopping of the vibration to which by now they had become so accustomed
that it seemed part of life came almost like a blow to the three young
men, and they were obliged to laugh.
"Gee, but that certainly seems queer," said Tom. "It seems to me as
though I must have been used to that jarring all my life."
"Well," said Dick, "it certainly feels unusual now, but I will be
perfectly willing to exchange it for a little trip on good, solid land.
I hope we can persuade the captain to let us go ashore with the men."
The captain's consent was easily obtained, and they then awaited
impatiently for the boat to be launched that was to take them to the
island.
The island was surrounded by a coral reef, in which at first there
appeared to be no opening. On closer inspection, however, when they
had rowed close up to it, they found a narrow entrance, that they
would never have been able to use had the water been at all rough.
Fortunately, however, the weather had been very calm for several days
past, so they had little difficulty in manoeuvering the boat through
the narrow opening. As it was, however, once or twice they could hear
the sharp coral projections scrape against the boat's sides, and they
found time even in their impatience to land to wonder what would happen
to any ship unfortunate enough to be tossed against the reef.
After they had passed the reef all was clear sailing, and a few moments
later the boat grated gently on a sloping beach of dazzling white sand,
and the sailor in the bow leapt ashore and drew the boat a little way up
on the beach. Then they all jumped out and stood scanning what they
could see of the place for some sign of life other than that of the
signal they had seen from the ship. This now hung limply down around the
pole, and no sound was to be heard save the lap of the waves against the
reef and an occasional bird note from the rim of trees that began where
the white sand ended.
The green trees and vegetation stood out in sharp relief contrasted with
the white beach and the azure sky, and the three boys felt a tingle of
excitement run through their veins. Here was just such a setting for
adventures and romance as they had read about often in books, but had
hardly dared ever hope to see. This might be an island where Captain
Kidd had made his headquarters and buried priceless treasure, some of
which at that moment might lie under the sand on which they were
standing. The green jungle in front of them might contain any number of
adventures and hair-raising exploits ready to the hand of any one who
came to seek, and at the thought the spirits of all three kindled.
"This is the chance of a lifetime, fellows," said Bert, in a low voice,
"if we don't get some excitement out of this worth remembering, I think
it will be our own fault."
"That's what," agreed Dick, "why in time don't we get busy and do
something. We won't find the person who put up that signal by standing
here and talking. I want to make a break for those trees and see what we
can find there."
"Same here," said Tom, "and I guess we're going to do something at last,
by the looks of things."
Mr. Miller, the second mate, who had been placed in charge of the party,
had indeed arrived at a decision, and now made it known to the whole
group.
"I think the best thing we can do," he said, "is to skirt the forest
there and see if we can find anything that looks like a path or trail.
If there's any living thing on this island it must have left some sort
of a trace."
This was done accordingly, and in a short time they were walking along
the edge of the jungle, each one straining his eyes for any indication
of a trail. At first they met with no success, but finally Tom gave a
whoop. "Here we are," he yelled, "here's a path, or something that looks
a whole lot like one, leading straight into the forest. Come along,
fellows," and he started on a run along an almost obliterated trail that
everybody else had overlooked.
You may be sure Bert and Dick were not far behind him, and were soon
following close on his heels. After they had gone a short distance in
this reckless fashion they were forced to slow down on account of the
heat, which was overpowering. Also, as they advanced, the underbrush
became thicker and thicker, and it soon became difficult to make any
progress at all. Great roots and vines grew in tangled luxuriance across
the path, and more than once one of them tripped and measured his length
on the ground.
Soon they felt glad to be able to progress even at a walk, and Bert
said, "We want to remember landmarks that we pass, fellows, so that we
can be sure of finding our way back. It wouldn't be very hard to wander
off this apology of a path, and find ourselves lost."
"Like the babes in the woods," supplemented Dick, with a laugh.
"Exactly," grinned Bert, "and I don't feel like doing any stunts along
that line myself just at present."
These words were hardly out of his mouth when the path suddenly widened
out into a little opening or glade, and the boys stopped abruptly to get
their bearings.
"Look! over there, fellows," said Bert, in an excited voice. "If I'm not
very much mistaken there's a hut over there, see, by that big tree--no,
no, you simps, the big one with the wild grape vine twisted all over it.
See it now?"
It was easy to see that they did, for they both hurried over toward the
little shack at a run, but Bert had started even before they had, and
beat them to it. They could gather little information from its contents
when they arrived, however. Inside were a few ragged pieces of clothing,
and in one corner a bed constructed of twigs and branches. In addition
to these there was a rude chair constructed of boughs of trees, and tied
together with bits of string and twine. It was evident from this,
however, that some civilized person had at one time inhabited the place,
and at a recent date, too, for otherwise the hut would have been in a
more dilapidated condition than that in which they found it.
They rummaged around, scattering the materials of which the bed was
constructed to left and right. Suddenly Tom gave a yell and pounced on
something that he had unearthed.
"Why don't you do as I do, pick things up and look for them afterward?"
he said, excitedly.
"What is it? What did you find?" queried Bert, who was more inclined to
be sure of his ground before he became enthusiastic. "It looks a good
deal like any other old memorandum book, as far as I can see."
"All right, then, we'll read it and see what _is_ in it," replied Tom.
"Why, it's a record of somebody's life on the island here. I suppose
maybe you think that's nothing to find, huh?"
Without waiting for a reply he started to read the mildewed old book,
and Bert and Dick read also, over his shoulder.
The first entry was dated about a month previous to the time of reading,
and seemed to be simply a rough jotting down of the important events in
the castaway's life for future reference. There were records of the man,
whoever he might be, having found the spring beside which he had built
the hut in which they were now standing; of his having erected the rude
shelter, and a good many other details.
The three boys read the scribbled account with breathless interest, as
Tom turned over page after page. "Come on, skip over to the last page,"
said Bert at last, "we can read all this some other time, and I'm crazy
to know what happened to the fellow, whoever he is. Maybe he's written
that down, too, since he seems to be so methodical."
In compliance with this suggestion, Tom turned to the last written page
of the note-book, and what the boys read there caused them to gasp. It
was scribbled in a manner that indicated furious haste, and read as
follows:
"Whoever you are who read this, for heaven's sake come to my aid, if it
is not too late. Last night I was awakened by having my throat grasped
in a grip of iron, and before I could even start to struggle I was bound
securely. By the light of torches held by my captors I could see that I
was captured by a band of black-skinned savages. After securing me
beyond any chance of escape, they paid little further attention to me,
and held what was apparently a conference regarding my disposal. Finally
they made preparations to depart, but first cooked a rude meal and my
hands were unbound to enable me to eat. At the first opportunity I
scrawled this account, in the hope that some party seeing my signal,
might by chance find it, and be able to help me. As the savages travel I
will try to leave some trace of our progress, so you can follow us. I
only hope--" but here the message ended suddenly, leaving the boys to
draw their own conclusions as to the rest of it.
For a few moments they gazed blankly into each other's faces, and
uttered never a word. Bert was the first to break the silence.
"I guess it's up to us, fellows," he said, and the manly lines of his
face hardened. "We've got to do something to help that poor devil, and
the sooner we start the better. According to the dates in this book it
must have been last Thursday night that he was captured, and this is
Monday. If we hurry we may be able to trace him up and do something for
him before it's too late."
The thought that they themselves might be captured or meet with a
horrible death did not seem to enter the head of one of them. They
simply saw plainly that it was, as Bert had said, "up to them" to do the
best they could under the circumstances, and this they proceeded to do
without further loss of time.
"The first thing to do," said Bert, "is to scout around and see if we
can find the place where the savages left the clearing with their
prisoner. Then it will be our own fault if we cannot follow the trail."
This seemed more easily said than done, however, and it was some time
before the three, fretting and impatient at the delay, were able to
find any clue. At last Bert gave an exultant whoop and beckoned the
others over to where he stood.
"I'll bet any amount of money this is where they entered the jungle," he
said, exultantly. "Their prisoner evidently evaded their observation
while they were breaking a path through, and pinned this on the bush
here," and he held up a corner of a white linen handkerchief, with the
initial M embroidered on the corner.
"Gee, I guess you're right," agreed Dick. "Things like that don't
usually grow on bushes. It ought to be easy for us to trace the party
now."
This proved to be far from the actual case, however, and if it had not
been for the occasional scraps of clothing fluttering from a twig
or bush every now and then their search would have probably ended
in failure. So rank and luxuriant is the jungle growth in tropical
climates, that although in all probability a considerable body of men
had passed that way only a few days before, practically all trace of
their progress was gone. The thick underbrush grew as densely as ever,
and it would have seemed to one not skilled in woodland arts that the
foot of man had never trod there. Monkeys chattered in the trees as they
went along, and parrots with rainbow plumage shot among the lofty
branches, uttering raucous cries. Humming clouds of mosquitoes rose and
gathered about their heads, and added to the heat to make their journey
one of torment.
Their previous experience as campers now stood them in good stead, and
they read without much trouble signs of the progress of the party in
front of them that they must surely have missed otherwise.
After three hours of dogged plodding, in which few words were exchanged,
Bert said, "I don't think we can have very much further to go, fellows.
I remember the captain saying that this island was not more than a few
miles across in any direction, and we must have traveled some distance
already. We're bound to stumble on their camp soon, so we'd better be
prepared."
"Probably by this time," said Tom, "the savages will have returned to
the mainland, or some other island from which they came. I don't think
it very likely that they live permanently on this one. It seems too
small."
"Yes, I thought of that," said Bert, "but we've got to take our chance
on that. If they are gone, there is nothing else we can do, and we can
say we did our best, anyway."
"But what shall we do when we find them?" asked Tom, after a short
pause, "provided, of course, that our birds haven't flown."
"Oh, we'll have to see how matters stand, and make our plans
accordingly," replied Bert. "You fellows had better make sure your
revolvers are in perfect order. I have a hunch that we'll need them
before we get through with this business."
Fortunately, before leaving the ship the boys had, at Bert's suggestion,
strapped on their revolvers, and each had slipped a handful of cartridges
into their pockets.
"The chances are a hundred to one we won't need them at all," Bert had
said at the time. "But if anything _should_ come up where we'll need
them, we'll probably be mighty glad we brought them."
The boys were very thankful for this now, as without the trusty little
weapons their adventure would have been sheer madness. As it was,
however, the feel of the compact .45's was very reassuring, and they
felt that they would at least have a fighting chance, if worse came to
worst, and they were forced to battle for their lives.