"Hassan," called Denviers to our guide in an imperative tone, as the
latter was looking longingly at the wide expanse of sea over which our
boat was helplessly drifting, "lie down yonder immediately!" The Arab
rose slowly and reluctantly, and then extended himself at the bottom of
the boat out of sight of the tempting waters.
"How much longer are these torments to last, Frank?" I asked wearily, as
I looked into the gaunt, haggard face of my companion as we sat in the
prow of our frail craft and gazed anxiously but almost hopelessly onward
to see if land might even yet loom up in the distance.
"Can't say, Harold," he responded; "but I think we can hold out for two
more days, and surely by that time we shall either reach some island or
else be rescued by a passing vessel." Two more days--forty-eight more
hours of this burning heat and thirst! I glanced most uneasily at our
guide as he lay impassively in the boat, then I continued:--
"Do you think that Hassan will be able to resist the temptation of these
maddening waters round us for so long as that?" There was a serious look
which crossed Denviers' face as he quietly replied:--
"I hope so, Harold; we are doing our best for him. The Arab gets a
double share now of our pitifully slender stock, although, happily, he
doesn't know it; if he did he would certainly refuse to take his dole of
rice and scanty draught of water, and then I'm afraid that it would be
all over with him. He bears up bravely enough, but I don't at all like
the bright look in his eyes which has been there for the last few hours.
We must have travelled now more than half way across the Bay of Bengal
with such a driving wind as this behind us. It's certainly lucky for us
that our valuables were not on board the other boat, for we shall never
see that again, nor its cowardly occupants. The horses, our tent, and
some of our weapons are, of course, gone altogether, but we shall be
able to shift for ourselves well enough if once we are so lucky as to
reach land again."
[Illustration: "HELPLESSLY DRIFTING."]
"I can't see of what use any weapons are just at present," I responded,
"nor, for the matter of that, the gems which we have hidden about our
persons. For the whole five days during which we have been driven on by
this fierce, howling wind I have not seen a living thing except
ourselves--not even a bird of the smallest size."
"Because they know more about these storms than we do, and make for the
land accordingly," said Denviers; then glancing again at the Arab, he
continued:--
"We must watch Hassan very closely, and if he shows signs of being at
all likely to lose his self-control, we shall have to tie him down. We
owe a great deal to him in this present difficulty, because it was
entirely through his advice that we brought any provisions with us at
all."
"That is true enough," I replied; "but how were we to know that a
journey which we expected would occupy less than six hours was to end in
our being cast adrift at the mercy of wind and wave in such a mere
cockle-shell as this boat is, and so driven sheer across this waste of
waters?"
"Well, Harold," said Denviers, quietly, "we must stick to our original
plan of resting turn and turn about if we wish to keep ourselves alive
as long as possible. I will continue my watch from the prow, and
meantime you had better endeavour to obtain some rest; at all events we
won't give in just yet." He turned his head away from me as he spoke and
narrowly surveyed the scene around us, magnificent as it was,
notwithstanding its solitude and the perils which darkly threatened us.
Leaving the hut of the Cingalese after our adventure with the Dhahs in
the forest of Ceylon, we had made our way to Trincomalee, where we had
embarked upon a small sailing boat, similar in size and shape to those
which may be constantly seen on the other side of the island, and which
are used by the pearl-divers. We had heard of some wonderful sea-worn
caves, which were to be seen on the rocky coast at some distance from
Trincomalee, and had thus set out, intending afterwards to land on a
more southerly portion of the island--for we had determined to traverse
the coast, and, returning to Colombo again, to take ship for Burmah. Our
possessions were placed in a second boat, which had a planked covering
of a rounded form, beneath which they were secured from the dashing
spray affecting them. We had scarcely got out for about an hour's
distance when the natives stolidly refused to proceed farther, declaring
that a violent storm was about to burst upon us. We, however, insisted
on continuing our journey, when those in the second boat suddenly turned
its prow round and made hastily for the land, at the same time that our
own boatman dived from the side and dexterously clambered up on the
retreating boat, leaving us to shift for ourselves as best we could.
Their fears were only too well grounded, for before we were able to make
an attempt to follow them as they coolly made off with our property in
the boat, the wind struck our own little boat heavily, and out to sea we
went, driven through the rapidly rising waves in spite of our efforts to
render the boat manageable.
For five days we had now been whirled violently along; a little water
and a few handfuls of rice being all that we had to share between the
three of us who occupied the boat, and upon whom the sun each day beat
fiercely down in a white heat, increasing our sufferings ten-fold--the
effects of which could be seen plainly enough as we looked into each
other's faces.
Behind us the sun had just set in a sky that the waves seemed to meet in
the distance, and to be blended with them into one vast purple and
crimson heaving mass. Round us and before us, the waters curled up into
giant waves, which flung high into the air ridges of white foam and then
fell sheer down into a yawning gulf, only to rise again nearer and
nearer to the quivering sides of our frail craft, which still pressed
on--on to where we expected to meet with death rather than rescue, as we
saw the ripped sail dip itself into the seething waters like the wing of
a wounded sea-bird.
Following my companion's suggestion I lay down and closed my eyes, and
was so much exhausted, indeed, that before long I fell into a restless
sleep, from which I at last awoke to hear Denviers speaking to me as he
shook my arm gently to arouse me.
"Harold," he said, in a subdued tone, "I want you to see whether I am
deceiving myself or not. Come to the prow of the boat and tell me what
you can see from there."
I rose slowly, and as I did so gave a glance at the Arab, who was lying
quite still in the bottom of the boat, where Denviers had commanded him
to rest some hours before. Then, following the direction in which my
companion pointed, I looked far out across the waves. The storm had
abated considerably in the hours during which I had slept, for the
waters which stretched round us were becoming as still as the starlit
sky above. Looking carefully ahead of us, I thought that in the distance
I could discern the faint flicker of a flame, and accordingly pointed it
out to Denviers.
"Then I am not mistaken," he exclaimed. "I have been watching it for
some time, and as the waves have become less violent, it seemed to shine
out; but I was afraid that after all I might be deluding myself by
raising such a hope of assistance, for, as you know, our guide Hassan
has been seeing land all day, which, unfortunately for us, only existed
in his imagination."
"He is asleep," I responded; "we will watch this light together, and
when we get near to it, then he can be awakened if necessary." We slowly
drew closer and closer to the flame, and then we thought that we could
discern before us the mast of a vessel, from which the light seemed to
be hung out into the air. At last we were sufficiently near to clearly
distinguish the mast, which was evidently rising from out of the sea,
for the hull of the vessel was not apparent to us, even when we were
cast close to it.
"A wreck!" cried Denviers, leaning over the prow of our boat. "We were
not the only ones who suffered from the effects of the driving storm."
Then pointing a little to the east of the mast, he continued:--
"There is land at last, for the tops of several trees are plainly to be
seen." I looked eastward as he spoke, and then back again to the mast of
the vessel.
"We have been seen by those clinging yonder," I exclaimed. "There is a
man evidently signalling to us to save him." Denviers scanned the mast
before us, and replied:--
"There is only one man clinging there, Harold. What a strange being he
is--look!" Clinging to the rigging with one hand, a man, who was
perfectly black and almost clothless, could be seen holding aloft
towards us a blazing torch, the glare of which fell full upon his face.
"We must save him," said Denviers, "but I'm afraid there will be some
difficulty in doing so. Wake Hassan as quickly as you can." I roused the
Arab, and when he scanned the face and form of the apparently wrecked
man he said, in a puzzled tone:--
"Sahibs, the man looks like a Papuan, but we are far too distant from
their land for that to be so."
"The mast and ropes seem to me to be very much weather-beaten," I
interposed, as the light showed them clearly. "Why, the wreck is an old
one!"
[Illustration: "A STRANGE BEING."]
"Jump!" cried Denviers, at that moment, to the man clinging to the
rigging, just as the waters, with a swirl, sent us past the ship. The
watcher flung his blazing torch into the waves, and the hiss of the
brand was followed by a splash in the sea. The holder of it had dived
from the rigging and directly after reappeared and clambered into our
boat, saved from death, as we thought--little knowing the fell purpose
for which he had been stationed to hold out the flaring torch as a
welcoming beacon to be seen afar by any vessel in distress. I glanced at
the dangerous ring of coral reef round the island on which the ship had
once struck, and then looked at the repulsive islander, who sat gazing
at us with a savage leer. Although somewhat resembling a Papuan, as
Hassan had said, we were soon destined to know what he really was, for
the Arab, who had been glancing narrowly and suspiciously at the man,
whispered to us cautiously:--
"Sahibs, trust not this islander. We must have reached the land where
the Tamils dwell. They have a sinister reputation, which even your slave
has heard. This savage is one of those who lure ships on to the coral
reefs, and of whom dark stories are told. He is a black wrecker!"