MR. BILLY WARNER, OF PONAPÉ.
Ten days after leaving Sydney the _Mahina_ had rounded the
south-eastern end of New Caledonia, and was steering a northerly course
between the New Hebrides Group and the great archipelago of the Solomon
Islands for Arrecifos Lagoon. During these ten days Barry had had time
to study Captain Rawlings and the rest of the ship's company, and had
come to the conclusion that there was some mystery attached to both
ship and crew. The latter, with the exception of the boatswain, who
was a dark-faced, ear-ringed Greek, and the four new hands brought on
board by the captain, were all natives of various islands of the
Equatorial Pacific. Seven of the twelve, with two of the white men,
were in Barry's watch; Barradas had the rest. Among Barry's men was a
stalwart young native, much lighter in colour than the others, very
quiet in his demeanour, but willing and cheerful. His name, so he told
Barry, was Velo, and he was a native of Manono, in the Samoan Group.
For the past four or five years he had been wandering to and fro among
the islands of the Pacific, his last voyage being made in a luckless
Hobart Town whaleship, which he had left at Sydney in disgust and
without a penny in his pocket. Like Barry, he had been attracted to
the _Mahina_ by the fact of her being engaged in the island trade, and
indeed had only joined her two days before Barry himself. His
cheerful, ingenuous manner, combined with his smart seamanship, made
the chief officer take a great liking to him, and even Barradas, gruff
and surly and ever ready to deal out a blow, admitted that Velo was,
next to the boatswain, the best sailorman of all the crew.
On the second day out the strong westerly had failed, and was succeeded
by light and variable airs, much to Rawlings' anger. Walking the poop
one day with Barry, he gave vent to such a sudden outburst of rage and
blasphemy at the little progress made by the brig that the chief
officer gazed at him in astonishment. However, on the morning of the
fourth day, a steady breeze set in, and Rawlings' equanimity was
restored. His anxiety to make a quick passage was very evident, and
when the vicinity of the Northern Solomons was reached, and continuous
and furious squalls were experienced almost every night, he would
refuse to take in sail till the very last moment, although both his
mates respectfully pointed out the risk of carrying on under such
circumstances, for, besides the danger to the spars, the islands of the
Solomon Group were but badly charted, and the currents continually
changing in their set. But to these remonstrances he turned an
impatient ear.
"We must push her along through the Solomons," he had said one dark
night to Barry as the _Mahina_ was tearing through the water under the
hum of a heavy squall, quivering in every timber, and deluging her
decks with clouds of spray which, from there being a head sea, leapt up
from her weather bow as high as the foretopsail. "I want to get into
Arrecifos Lagoon as quickly as I can, even if we do lose a light spar
or two. I'm no navigator, as you know, but I know the Solomons as well
as any man, for I've been trading and nigger-catching there for six
years at a stretch--a long time ago; and out here, where we are, we're
safe; there's a clear run of six hundred miles, free of any danger. So
the old skipper of the _Black Dog_ used to tell me--and he knew these
parts like a book."
Presently, as he leant back on his elbows against the weather rail, he
added in an indifferent tone of voice, "At the same time, I believe
there is no cause for hurry. But perhaps Tracey has imbued me with
some of his fears that some one else might get there before us, and
either get the pick of the shell, or perhaps skin the whole lagoon out
altogether."
Northward from the lofty, verdure-clad Solomons the brig sped steadily
onward, leaving behind her the fierce, sweeping rain squalls, and the
swirling currents, and mighty ocean tide-rips, whose lines of bubbling
foam, seen far away, often caused even the native look-outs to call out
"Breakers ahead?" and then she sailed into the region of the gentle,
north-east trade wind, till the blue mountain-peaks of Ponapé the
beautiful showed upon the sunlit sea far to windward. And here the
scarcely won trade failed, and by nightfall the Mahina lay floating
upon a sea of glass, and Rawlings paced the deck the best part of the
night, savagely chewing at his cigar and cursing at the delay.
Both Barry and Velo knew from the appearance of the sky that the calm
was certain to last three days at least, and possibly ten days or a
fortnight; so on the following morning, when at breakfast, the former
suggested to Rawlings that the hands might give the ship a coat of
paint outside.
"Hardly worth beginning it," said the captain. "We're bound to get a
breeze some time this morning."
Barry shook his head. "I'm afraid not, sir. I know of calms about
these parts lasting three solid weeks, and judging from the look of the
sky and the thick haze hanging over Ponapé I think we can safely count
on this one lasting for three days at the very least. But even if it
runs into a week or ten days there is one good thing about calms
here--the current sets north-east at a great rate, two knots an hour at
least."
Rawlings cursed under his breath, and then moodily assented to Barry's
suggestion.
"Very well, Mr. Barry, just as you please. But I hope you are
mistaken about the calm continuing. It's too hot to last long, I
imagine."
Soon after breakfast the hands set to to paint ship, and worked
steadily on until a little before seven bells, when Barry heard one of
the crew, a Gilbert Islander named Billy Onotoa, call out excitedly--
"_Te bakwa! Te bakwa! Roria te bakwa bubura!_" ("A shark! a shark!
look at the big shark!")
The native (who was one of the smartest men on board), without asking
permission from his officer--permission which he knew would be readily
granted--jumped on deck and dived below into the fo'c'sle for the
shark-fishing tackle which every Gilbert Islander carries with him when
at sea. Rawlings and Barry, who were both on the after-deck, went to
the rail and looked over and saw that there was a very large grey shark
swimming leisurely to and fro under the staging on the port side where
the men were painting. Just then Barradas came on deck and joined them.
"Holy mother!" he exclaimed. "What a devil! He's half a fathom broad
across his shoulders. And he's hungry, too; look how the pilot fish
are running round the ship. That's a sure sign he has an empty belly.
If he wasn't hungry they would cruise alongside him, quite close."
As he spoke Billy Onotoa emerged from the forescuttle and was met by
the Greek boatswain, who angrily bade him get back to his work again,
and tearing the heavy shark hook and its tackle from his hand, flung it
overboard.
The dark, expressive eyes of the native, usually so pleasant and
smiling, flashed resentfully, and he bent his head in sullen silence as
he moved slowly towards the bulwarks.
"Mova quicka, you dam blacka dog!" said the Greek savagely, and raising
his foot he gave the man a heavy kick.
Like lightning Billy Onotoa spun round, his sheath knife flashing in
his right hand, and the lust of blood in his eyes; in an instant the
two were struggling madly together.
Barry, Barradas, and one of the white seamen sprang forward and
endeavoured to separate them, but the rest of the Gilbert Islanders
leapt to the aid of their countryman, and in less than a minute the
deck was filled with a group of struggling men. The Greek, who was a
man of enormous strength, had been quicker than his assailant in the
use of the knife, and had already stabbed the Islander twice in the
shoulder, whilst Billy, who was a much smaller man, had driven his own
weapon through the Greek's right arm, his countrymen meanwhile trying
their best to use their knives upon the boatswain without hurting
either the two mates or the white sailor, who were striking out all
round with their clenched fists, shouting to the natives to desist.
At last, however, the two principals in the combat were separated by
Velo the Samoan, who, seizing the now maddened Billy Onotoa by both
feet, dragged him out of the _mêlée_, and lifting him in his arms threw
him down the forescuttle, whilst Barry quietened the Greek by a blow on
the jaw, which sent him reeling across the deck with his blood-stained
knife still clutched tightly in his hand.
Barradas, who, like Barry, had kept his temper throughout, had yet
managed to receive a terrible knife slash--intended for the
Greek--across his temple, and, blinded by the flow of blood, staggered
across the deck towards the open gangway, missed his hold of the
stanchions, and pitched headlong overboard.
Velo leapt after him with a cry of alarm. "Quick, Mr. Barry! Stand
by! The shark!"
Barry and several of the men rushed to the side to assist Velo in
rescuing the second mate. They were not a moment too soon, for as the
Samoan, who had grasped Barradas by the hair and was holding his head
out of water, was swimming toward the staging under the main chains,
the shark suddenly appeared under the counter, swimming high up on the
surface. Barry saw in an instant that one of the two men in the water
was doomed unless swift measures were taken. Jumping on the rail, he
leapt overboard, feet foremost, and landed on the monster's back.
There was a swirl and rush of foam, and then a cheer from the crew as
the shark darted off in terror, and Barry quietly swam alongside again
and clambered on deck, together with Velo and his brother officer.
Then, before dinner, he went forward, examined and dressed Billy
Onotoa's wounds, Rawlings standing beside him and eyeing the native in
an unsympathetic and forbidding manner.
"The boatswain is badly hurt, Mr. Barry," he said suavely, "and as you
are such a good surgeon, perhaps you will leave this damned kanaka and
attend to him."
Barry turned on him with a subdued fierceness. "I'll attend to the
scoundrel presently, Captain Rawlings, though he doesn't deserve it.
He is a downright sweep--like all his ear-ringed kidney. He had no
right to kick this man, who is one of the best and smartest men aboard.
I gave him a clip on the jaw, and when I've dressed his arm and he is
able to turn to again I'll give him another if he tries to start any of
these tricks again."
Rawlings smiled pleasantly. "My dear Barry, don't excite yourself.
The boatswain is, no doubt, a bit of a bully, and does not understand
these natives as you do. But, at the same time, he is a good sailor
man, and erred, as Marryat says in one of his novels, 'through excess
of zeal.' So do not be too harsh."
"I have no inclination to be 'harsh' with any man, Captain Rawlings.
You are the master of this ship, and I am only your chief officer. I
take my orders from you, and I look to you to support me in maintaining
the necessary discipline. But I tell you plainly that the native crew
on this ship are a different class of natives to which you have been
accustomed in the Solomon Group and the New Hebrides. They will not
take a blow from any man--white or black. And whilst I know my duty to
you as master of this brig, I warn you that there will be bloody doings
if the boatswain ever again lays his hands upon one of the Gilbert
Islanders. They are ripe for mutiny now."
Rawlings flicked the ash off his cigar.
"We don't want any trouble like that, Mr. Barry, do we? And I shall
give Paul a good dressing down, and tell him to be careful in future.
I have the utmost faith in your judgment, Mr. Barry, and I want
everything to go on pleasantly."
Barry nodded, and then went aft and attended to the Greek's wounded
arm. This occupied him for nearly half an hour, and then as he was
entering his cabin to change his clothes, which were torn and
blood-stained, Barradas stopped him and held out his hand.
"Mr. Barry, you are a brave man. You saved my life, for if you had not
jumped on to the shark I should have been taken. Velo told me so just
now. He said that he might have been safe, but that I was on the
outside and that the shark would have had me in his jaws if you had not
jumped overboard."
Barry took the Spaniard's hand, "That's all right, Barradas. There was
nothing much in what I did; I've seen natives do the same thing for
amusement--it's the best way out of scaring a shark if you haven't a
rifle handy. Come in and have a smoke before dinner."
All that day the brig continued to drift steadily to the north and
east, and at sunset she was within eight or ten miles of the land. The
native crew, although they had continued their work quietly after the
fight, were evidently much dissatisfied, and when at six o'clock they
all marched aft and demanded to speak with the captain, Barry was not
at all surprised. Rawlings, however, was furious when the steward
asked him to come on deck and see the men. Seizing his revolver, and
calling to Barradas to follow him, he sprang up the companion; Barry
met him half way.
"Don't come on deck, sir, with a pistol in your hand, I implore you.
The men are certainly angry and discontented, but a few quiet words
from you will settle the matter; they simply want you to promise them
that the boatswain will not attempt to 'haze' any one of them again.
If you appear before them with a weapon in your hand they will take
charge of the ship. These Gilbert Islanders are as good men as you
will find anywhere in the South Seas, but they are quick-tempered and
hot-blooded. I know them--you don't."
With a muttered curse the captain threw his revolver back on to the
cabin table, and then followed his chief officer on deck. The native
crew were awaiting him. Velo stepped forward as spokesman, and doffing
his cap asked that Billy Onotoa, whom Barradas had put in irons, should
be set free.
"This man Billy," said the Samoan quietly, but with determination,
"mus' not be kep' in irons. The bos'un kicked him and made him get
mad. Why is Billy put in irons, and the bos'un who stab him twice no
put in irons?"
A murmur of approval came from his dark-skinned companions, who were
watching Rawlings' face with intense interest.
"Tell them that you'll have his irons taken off," muttered Barry, in
low tones; "if you refuse them there'll be the devil to pay."
The captain appeared to consider for a minute or so, as he walked to
and fro; then he turned and faced Velo.
"Well, men, I don't like to have any disturbance on my ship. Billy
Onotoa is a good man, but he's no sailor not to take a kick or a lift
under the jaw in good part. The bos'un himself told me he was very
sorry that he lost his temper, but you must remember that Billy drew
his knife on him."
"Yes, sir," answered Velo pointedly, "but that was because the bos'un
kicked him--American fashion; if the bos'un had hit him in the eye,
English fashion, Billy would not pull out knife."
"Well, that'll do, Velo. I don't want any jaw from you. Mr. Barradas,
please set the man free. Go for'ard, men."
The natives obeyed him silently, much to Barry's relief, for he read
and understood the danger that lay under their apparently quiet manner.
Barradas went for'ard and liberated Billy, who, badly wounded as he
was, at once turned to again as if nothing of any importance had
occurred.
All that night the calm continued, and when at midnight Barry came on
deck, he found the ship had drifted in so close to the land that the
breaking surf on the reef was plainly to be heard--not more than three
miles away, and too close to be regarded with indifference with such a
strong current, and in a dead calm.
He had almost decided to lower and man one of the whale-boats and begin
towing the brig to the eastward so as to clear the southern horn of the
projecting reef, when he heard the sound of oars through the darkness,
and then came a loud hail.
"Ship ahoy, there!"
"Hallo, who are you?" he cried.
"White trader from Ponapé."
"All right, come alongside." Hastily calling the captain, Barry showed
a light in the waist to the advancing boat, and in a few minutes she
came alongside. She was manned by a crew of semi-nude, woolly-haired
Solomon Islands natives, and was steered by a big, rough-looking white
man with a flowing red beard.
Jumping on board he shook hands with Rawlings and Barry and introduced
himself.
"I'm Bill Warner; these chaps here are my Pleasant Island boys. I've
had a ---- row and fight with the Ponapé natives, and had to clear out
to save my ---- skin. Where are you bound to, captain? Give me and my
boys a passage. I don't care where the hell you're going to, so long
as I git somewhere away. And, say, mister, give me suthin' to drink."
Rawlings smiled pleasantly. "Certainly, Mr. Warner. Come below, and
let your men come on deck. They are not dangerous, I hope."
The moment the new arrival heard Rawlings' voice he stared, and then
gave a hoarse, snorting laugh as he again grasped the captain's hand.
"God strike me dead, Jim Rawlings! I wouldn't have reckernised yer
only for yer voice. Why, what the hell----"
Rawlings laughed boisterously. "Delighted to meet you again, old
comrade. Mr. Barry, this is Mr. Bill Warner, an old Solomon Island
shipmate and friend of mine. Come below, Warner, and tell me what has
gone wrong."
The big man saw a warning glance in Rawlings' dark eyes, which he took
in quickly, and the two descended below.
They remained talking together for nearly two hours, and then at four
bells Mr. Warner staggered up on deck, and with a vast amount of
hilarious profanity and blasphemy called his boat's crew together and
addressed them in their own tongue.
"The captain of this ship is my friend. We are going with him to a new
land. We must stand by him when the time comes, for there may be
throats to cut." Then he added in English, "And now you can all go to
hell until the morning. I'm going to sleep."
So saying, he flung himself upon the skylight, and in a few minutes was
snoring in a drunken slumber.
Rawlings sauntered up on deck a few minutes later, and stood watching
the progress of the brig through the calm and glassy water, for Barry
had lowered one of the boats, and the crew were towing her clear of the
outlying horn of the reef. The wild, half-naked savages who had just
come on board were sitting or lying on the main-deck, smoking or
chewing betel-nut, while their boat was towing astern.
"How are we getting along, Mr. Barry?" said the captain pleasantly.
"Pretty well, sir. Once we are clear of that long stretch of reef we
need no more towing. But it is just as well to be on the safe side,
for there's no bottom here at ninety fathoms."
Rawlings nodded. "Just so. We don't want to get piled up on Ponapé,
Mr. Barry." He took a turn or two along the deck, and then with his
hands in his pockets inclined his head towards the sprawling figure of
Mr. Bill Warner.
"Not at all a bad fellow, Mr. Barry; but rather too fond of the wine
when it is red, or gamboge, or green, or any other damned colour. He
and I were shipmates some years ago in the Solomon Island labour trade.
He has, it seems, had a quarrel with the natives of Ponapé, who
attacked him, and he and his crowd had to clear out to save their
lives. I've told him that I'll give him a passage to Providence Lagoon
with us. His natives, he tells me, are good men, and I daresay they'll
prove useful to us."
The mate gave a curt assent. "I daresay his natives will prove useful,
sir. As for the man himself, I don't think he will be much of an
acquisition, if he is to be judged by first impressions. He's as drunk
as a pig, and I don't wonder at the Ponapé natives wanting to get rid
of him, for in my opinion he's nothing better than a drunken,
swaggering bully. Why, the fellow carries a brace of pistols in his
belt. No decent trader does that."
Rawlings held up his hand deprecatingly. "Don't be too hard on poor
Warner, my dear Barry. He's not as bad as he looks. I'm sure you'll
get to like each other by-and-by. Good-night."
"Good-night, sir," replied Barry courteously. "I think we had better
keep on towing until daylight."