ADDITIONAL HEAD-HUNTERS
The boatmen thus newly arrived off the estuary's mouth were proceeding
in a leisurely and confident manner to make themselves and their vessel
snug for the night, and Grenville had placed his second jug upon his
raft when, without a sound having come to announce their movements, two
or three Dyaks from the camp in the growth called some greeting or
challenge from the shore.
That their words were interpreted in a friendly spirit by the shadowy
natives on the anchored boat seemed to Grenville entirely obvious.
There was something akin to cheer in the voices that replied across the
water. Every man was seen to halt at his work and come to the
shoreward side of the craft, to peer through the darkness towards the
beach.
Three of the fiends with whom he had waged unequal battle now appeared
on the sand strip a rod from where Sidney was standing. Their backs
were presented as they called and gestured to the men beyond, and
Grenville identified the chief once more by the fellow's unusual height.
Apparently an argument ensued, conducted, as to the shoreward end, by
the tall and dominant leader. He waved quick, eloquent gestures,
frequently towards the headland whence Grenville had come. That some
report of recent proceedings was being thus delivered there could be no
reasonable doubt. Expressions of astonishment, satisfaction, and a
diabolical glee came back in guttural staccatos from the blood-loving
creatures on the vessel.
Grenville almost forgot where he was, and why, such indignation burned
in his breast as he grasped at the substance of the conference thus
held across the tide. Four more head-hunters, come to swell the
already heavily outnumbering forces of the island, was too much for
Heaven to permit! Against such odds and such diabolism, what possible
chance----
He smiled in a grim, sardonic manner at the thought that a fight
between himself and the now augmented Dyaks would ever again be likely,
with this boat anchored here before him, Dyaks camping in the jungle,
and no trail left by which he could reach the terrace and Elaine, even
could he creep away in the shadows and silence of the thicket.
It appeared to him now that the chief on shore was becoming impatient,
or angry. He shouted orders and waved his hand down the length of the
island in a style growing rapidly more and more imperative, while the
new arrivals answered back in a stubborn and sullen dissatisfaction
that Sidney began to hope might lead to open rupture. Should one of
the factions war against the other, he would think these four boatmen a
Godsend.
Even then, he reflected, the situation, as bearing on himself, might
present no altered aspect till all was decidedly too late. Should he
fail to return to Elaine with water to-night--she would doubtless never
see his face again. Should morning still find him hiding here--their
fates would have a sudden termination. And now, with this craft at
anchor in the current, so close inshore, there could be no chance to
escape around it unobserved, what possible alternative was offered but
to stand here, nearly to his waist in the water, aware that the
deadliest sort of snakes might be coiled within a foot of his hand?
One of the Dyaks a rod away now sat upon the sand. The colloquy
continued. The domineering leader, waxing more and more imperious,
made gestures now in both directions. That what he imparted and
declared was again concerned with himself and Elaine, Grenville could
not fail to understand. He was puzzled, however, to determine the
reason for this lengthy contest of words.
It occurred to his mind the dispute might have sprung from rival claims
as to sharing the trophies, when, at last, the defenders of the terrace
should no longer require their heads. The ghastliness of the
suggestion did not greatly disturb him; he was too far dulled and
wearied by things already undergone.
When it seemed at last as if the verbal combat might result in a
deadlier feud, the matter between the land and water factions was
suddenly adjusted with accents amazingly mild from either side.
Considerably to Grenville's astonishment, the boatmen heaved up their
anchor, eased off their sail, and put about towards the farther end of
the island.
The three men ashore called out additional instructions, presumably,
and followed for a distance down the shore. The boat was presently
gone from Sidney's view. He did not stir, though he ached in every
bone and muscle, from his long, hard session of suffering and toil, and
this cramp and strain of hiding. He was well aware that even the Dyaks
would soon be obliged, either to retrace their steps and return as they
had come, or force a way up through the jungle to cross to the island's
farther side.
That the vessel would join the others, already at anchor behind the
second hill, he had finally comprehended with a wildness of hope his
heart could scarcely contain. The chief had undoubtedly ordered the
craft away from this particular anchorage lest it be too readily seen.
With barely a grunt or two of conversation between them, the trio seen
before him on the sand now presently returned. They stood about the
estuary inlet for a moment, as if debating some second affair of
importance, then finally glided away.
Even then Grenville stirred with silent caution, waiting with
heartbeats once more quickened lest he move too soon, and be discovered
after all. The place, however, was deserted. Stiffly, but none the
less eagerly, and alert for the slightest alarm, he coaxed his raft
from the overhanging shrubbery, urged it gently out across the bar,
and, hurriedly lashing his jugs to the braces provided, pushed away and
headed far out in the tide.
The current had turned. It was flowing strongly towards the cliff, in
a certain impetuous manner that was far from being assuring. For
while, in a measure, it assisted Grenville's float, it swirled and
battled with other counter currents, into which he was helplessly
carried. His frail, narrow raft was not infrequently threatened with
disaster.
Twice, for a second, he well-nigh despaired of righting before he
should sink or plunge end downward, capsizing himself and his jugs. He
was shot far outward from his course by one of the treacherous torrents
of tide, then rocketed straight for the rocks of the cliff by another.
His paddles were wholly inadequate for such a struggle; his arms
refused the demands that his will insistently made upon them. It
seemed as if he must break at some vital center of his being before he
at length was enabled to avoid a collision with the cliff. Then he
sank exhausted, obliged for a moment to pause and rest, when the tide
once more drifted him outward.
Before he could rouse his flagging sinews to another effort, he had
floated by the cave. He was prodded to new desperation. The struggle
he waged to regain that rocky niche--only to have the whirlpool cast
him to the outside current as before, with his raft entirely
submerged---was enough to break his heart.
Nothing save the thought of Elaine could have availed to spur him yet
once more to fighting vigor. He did fight again, till it seemed he
must topple like a man of lead, and sink almost gladly in the sea, with
a sense of welcome to its endless peace.
A weak and staggering figure he presented when the landing was finally
achieved. He barely pulled his raft within the cavern. He had no
strength left to conceal it in the passage.
Hugging his two heavy jugs of precious liquid, and also with the bottle
weighing down his pocket, he groped and stumbled slowly up the gallery,
pausing with ever increasing frequency to lean against the walls and
recuperate his strength.
Elaine was aroused from a state of lethargy, where she watched and
listened at the upper door, by sounds that for a moment filled her with
alarm. That some noisily breathing animal was making its way up the
passage from the sea was her first half-waking impression.
With a cry of relief and worry blended, she immediately understood. It
was Grenville's labored panting she had heard, where he would not call
for assistance for fear she should be alarmed. She caught up the torch
she had kept so faithfully alight for his guidance, and ran hastily
down to give him welcome.
He was leaning against the wall once more, his mouth a little open for
the air his lungs demanded, his face drawn and white with his utter
weakness and exhaustion. In one keen glance Elaine comprehended his
condition.
"Sidney!" she cried. "Oh! but why did you go? Why would you work so
hard to-night?"
He could conjure no smile to his lips. "I love you, Elaine," he
answered. "It kills me to see you suffer."
"Oh please--please don't," she begged him. Her eyes were brimming with
tears.
He sank on the floor of the passage as he tried once more to raise the
jugs. And yet, when Elaine pounced eagerly upon the bottle full of
water, and pressed it to his lips, his stubborn resistance was once
more reasserted. He accepted a few sips only, then thrust it firmly
away.
"That last little pull was steeper than I thought," he admitted, as he
forced himself to rise and set his jugs more carefully in the rocks
against the wall. "If you will oblige me by taking a drink of
water----"
"Not now," Elaine interrupted, as self-denying as before. "I am not
the least bit thirsty. If you'll only rest--if you'll go to sleep----"
"I shall go to no rest till you have taken a cup of water."
She knew he would not. She drank from the bottle, perhaps three
ordinary swallows of the liquid, like nectar to her palate.
"Good-night," he said, with a touch of his old-time brusqueness, and,
adding nothing more, he continued on to the barrier and out to his post
of duty. There he sank on a rock before the door to guard Elaine from
harm.
Elaine, softly crying, went back at last to her couch. And some time,
deep in the silence of the night, she awoke sufficiently to creep to
the door, where she listened to Grenville, deeply sleeping.