Farewell to Swan Island
Launching the dinghy, Burgoyne and his companions rowed off to the
schooner. It was now close on high water and the wind had dropped to
almost a flat calm. Laboriously they manned the winch until the cable
was up and down, then for half an hour they toiled before they
succeeded in breaking out the heavy anchor from the tenacious hold of
the bed of the lagoon. Then followed a strenuous task under the
broiling rays of the afternoon sun as they towed the vessel into the
creek.
By that time Burgoyne realized that he had been over sanguine in his
surmise. He had not taken into account the almost inevitable hitches
in his plans, and he had forgotten the now patent fact that none of
them had had a good sleep for the last thirty hours.
"She'll lie there nicely," he decided, as the anchor was let go and a
stout warp taken ashore and made fast to a sturdy palm tree. "We'll
spend the rest of the day making everything ship-shape, but I don't
quite fancy sleeping aboard to-night."
The work of cleansing this maritime Augean stables proceeded with a
will, for the schooner was indescribably filthy both on deck and
below. Her paraffin motor was in a terribly neglected state, so that
it was a source of wonder to Alwyn and Peter that the pirates ever
succeeded in getting the engine to perform duty at all. Most of the
running gear was good, having been renewed from cordage taken from
the captured merchantmen; but the sails, though serviceable in light
winds, did not appear to be capable of standing up to a stiff blow.
Of provisions they found a liberal quantity, although the quality
left much to be desired. Aided by stores from the island, the new
crew ought to be able to subsist comfortably for a month without
having to reprovision the grub-lockers. Particularly acceptable were
air-tight canisters of tea, coffee, and cocoa, boxes of sugar, and an
unopened crate of condensed milk, as well as a variety of cooking
utensils.
"Knock off time!" declared Burgoyne, to the relief of his weary and
tired companions, although they had no cause for complaint that he
had shirked his fair share. "We'll turn in in the cave to-night,
since most of our gear's there. Bring that grub along, Jasper; I'll
see to the kettle and the tea-pot; Peter, you cart along the knives,
and milk, sugar, and tea. We're going to surprise Miss Vivian when
she wakes up."
Soon after they landed a fire was blazing merrily. While the kettle
was boiling Mostyn made some tea-cups by cutting out a section of
several coco-nut shells. Although there were enamelled tea-cups in
plenty on board, the three men could not bring themselves to make use
of them. They were not fastidious, but they drew the line at drinking
out of cups used by pirates.
Compared with the food to which they had been accustomed during their
captivity at the secret base and their subsequent escape, the meal
promised to be a sumptuous one.
When all was in readiness they roused Hilda from her slumbers. Beyond
a slight stiffness she felt little the worse for her alarming
experience. A refreshing sleep had driven away her headache, and, to
quote her own words, she felt ready to go anywhere or do anything.
"Then, how about tea?" asked Burgoyne. "Real tea?"
Hilda looked a bit doubtful. She rather fancied that Burgoyne was
"chipping her". Then she caught a whiff of the fragrant odour as
Peter poured the boiling water on to the tea.
"Oh, how nice!" she exclaimed enthusiastically, and almost in the
same breath she added anxiously: "but I hope you washed the tea-pot
thoroughly?"
The meal over, another surprise was forthcoming when Minalto proudly
produced a tin of tobacco and some cigarette papers, which he had
found in the after-cabin of the schooner. With unexpected dexterity
Jasper's huge and clumsy-looking fingers rolled half a dozen
cigarettes, and soon the three men were enjoying the long-denied
luxury of smoking the fragrant weed; while Hilda, not to be left out
in the cold, proceeded to make appetizing coco-nut cakes of flour,
sugar, and grated nuts, which she baked on a piece of sheet iron over
the fire.
Early next morning all hands were up and doing. Each had his or her
allotted task: the men to overhaul and clean out the schooner, while
Hilda baked biscuits and boiled ham for the voyage.
By noon the schooner was presentable. The decks had been scrubbed
down with sand and water, the paintwork in both cabins washed down,
and everything well aired. Mostyn tackled the motor, an American
kerosene engine, taking down the four cylinders, cleaning plugs and
magneto, and overhauling the thoroughly dirty carburettor.
"I don't know what her consumption is," he observed to Burgoyne, "but
assuming that it is three gallons an hour, we have only enough fuel
for a twenty-four hours' run."
"Ought to be enough unless we strike bad luck in the way of calms,"
replied Alwyn. "We'll carry on under sail whenever possible, and only
use the motor in cases of emergency. Think she'll fire?"
"We'll try her," said Mostyn hopefully. "We can declutch, but we
can't go astern. Not that that matters very much. Flood the
carburettor, old son, while I dope the cylinders. Yes, that's the
petrol-tap. When she's warm we can change over to paraffin. Ready?"
A dozen swings of the starting-handle failed to produced the desired
effect. The two men, perspiring profusely, looked at one another more
in sorrow than in anger.
"Try advancing the ignition," suggested Alwyn.
"She may back-fire," demurred Peter, "but I'll risk it. Give her more
dope. Sure the carburettor's flooding?"
Again they swotted at turning the engine over, Peter at the fly-wheel
and Burgoyne at the starting-handle.
"Obstinate as a mule," declared Mostyn. "Get Jasper to bear a hand,
while I ''ot up them plugs'--you remember old Paterson's recipe for
a refractory motor?"
They heated the sparking-plugs, primed them with petrol, and replaced
them. Minalto at the starting-handle heaved until the veins in his
forehead looked to be on the point of bursting, but not the faintest
sign of an explosion on the part of the motor rewarded his efforts.
"I say," remarked Alwyn; "I suppose you've switched on the ignition?"
Mostyn pointed to the switch. The knob was down right enough.
"Swing her again, Jasper," said Burgoyne coaxingly.
Placing his fingers on the magneto, Alwyn received what he described
as a "beautiful shock".
"The mag's all right," he announced, rubbing his tingling elbow.
"Now, once more, Jasper, while I try the plug terminals."
Not the suspicion of a spark was obtainable with any of the four
plugs. Burgoyne scratched his head in his perplexity.
"Faulty insulation, I believe," he hazarded.
"Perhaps the ignition-switch has to be up, not down," he said.
"Sometimes they fit the wiring so that the current is 'shorted' and
not broken by the switch. Now try."
The result surpassed expectations, for the engine back-fired,
throwing the starting-handle violently against the roof and barking
Minalto's knuckles into the bargain. But the motor was buzzing round
with the precision of a steam-engine.
"_Experientia docet!_" exclaimed Peter, raising his voice above the
din of the whirring machinery.
"Ay, ay, sir," agreed Minalto, wiping the back of his hand with a
piece of cotton waste. "Experience does it. Does she kick every time
we'm starting her like? Ef so my name's Johnny Walker this trip."
At length Mostyn decided that the initial trial was satisfactory. The
ignition was cut off, and the engine clanked into a state of coma.
The midday meal over, the task of conveying the treasured relics of
their stay on Swan Island from the cave to the schooner was begun.
The provisions were shipped and the water-tanks replenished--the
latter a tedious task, since it necessitated twenty journeys between
the spring and the schooner By four o'clock in the afternoon,
according to the schooner's chronometer, all was in readiness to
heave up anchor and get under way.
"We'll be well clear of the reefs before sundown," said Burgoyne. "If
we keep her under easy canvas all night and crack on during daylight,
we ought to make a fairly good passage."
Hilda was below, arranging to her requirements the after-cabin which
had been allotted to her. The clanking of the winch, and the grinding
of the cable as it came in link by link through the hawse-pipe,
warned her that the last material bond with Swan Island was about to
be broken. She hurried on deck to find the dinghy already hoisted
inboard, and the cable almost hove short.
"Good enough for the present," exclaimed Burgoyne. "Start up, Peter.
Well, Miss Vivian, we're saying good-bye to the island."
"I'm sorry--and glad," replied Hilda. "We--at least, I have had some
good times on Swan Island. Until the pirates came I rather enjoyed
it, although the thought that my father and the others were suffering
hardships made me feel as if I were wasting time. Not that it could
be helped."
For a few moments her gaze rested on the blackened slopes of the
fire-devastated part of the island; then her eyes travelled in the
direction of the still verdant part where the marauding pirates had
not left their mark.
She remained silent for a little longer, feasting her eyes on the
picturesque scene, then with a sigh she turned abruptly and looked
resolutely seaward.
"All ready, skipper!" shouted Mostyn from below, as the deck quivered
under the rapid impulses of the engine.
Going forward, Burgoyne assisted Minalto to break out and heave up
the anchor. Then, leaving Jasper to secure the ponderous "mud-hook"
in its proper place, Alwyn returned aft to the wheel.
"Easy ahead."
The schooner forged gently through the placid water. A few turns of
the wheel steadied her on her course, and in a few minutes she was
clear of the inlet and slipping quietly across the lagoon.
Keeping the schooner almost dead slow, Burgoyne nursed her through
the narrow southern passage between the reef. Then, porting helm to
avoid the ledges off Man-o'-War Island, he steered for the open sea.
Half an hour from the time of getting under way, the schooner was
curtsying to the deep blue waters of the Pacific. Ahead as far as the
eye could see--and much farther--was a vast expanse of ocean.
"Do you mind taking her for a few minutes, Miss Vivian?" asked
Burgoyne, standing aside to let the girl grasp the spokes of the
wheel. "Yes, south by west, please."
Then, stepping to the motor-room hatchway, he called to Mostyn.
"Finished with the engines, my festive. All hands make sail."
For the next quarter of an hour the three men were busily engaged in
hoisting the head-sails, since the wind was almost right aft, and
then the fore- and mainsails. In view of the approach of night, they
decided to dispense with the jib-headed top-sails. Not until the
canvas was well peaked up, and the falls of the halliards neatly
coiled down, did the crew relax their efforts, and by that time the
highest part of Swan Island had vanished in the gathering darkness.