The sun was high now, and the boy Harry, now a strong,
sturdy-limbed youngster of seven, as he splashed about, called loudly to
his father to come and bathe too.
“Come, father,” he called. “See, the sun is between the big and little
peaks, and to-day it is that you and I go to Utwé in the new boat.”
At the sound of the boy's voice Brandon came to the door of his hut, and
stroking his bearded chin, smiled and shook his head.
“Aye, aye, Harry. Come in, boy, and eat something, and then let us away
to the king's boat-shed. To-day the people of Utwé shall see the new
boat, and Charlik goes with us.”
“Father,” asked the boy, as he ate his food, “when shall we go away from
this place? Kanka, the priest, said to me yesterday that by and by the
king would build us a new house in the village--when you had finished
another boat.”
Brandon shook his head. He had found Charlik a hard master during the
time he had lived on the island; for although both he and the boy were
well treated in some respects, the savage and avaricious chief kept him
constantly at work, and Brandon was beginning to weary of his existence.
Just as the trade wind began to whiten the tops of the long, sweeping
ocean rollers, the new boat built by the king's white man slid out from
the wooded shores of Lêla, and, under a great mat sail, sped down the
coast towards the native village called Utwé.
Seated beside Brandon was the grim-faced Charlik, who was in high good
humour at the speed shown by the boat, and promised to build him a new
house within a few weeks. For nearly two hours the boat spun southward
along the line of thundering breakers on the eastern shore, till Brandon
hauled to the wind and ran inside the narrow passage to Utwé Harbour.
And there, right before them, lay at anchor the very frigate he had so
narrowly escaped at the Bonins!
Before the astonished king could prevent him the deserter had run the
boat ashore on a shelving patch of reef, and seizing his boy in his
arms, sprang out and made for the shore.
He would escape yet, he thought, as he sprang from ledge to ledge of
coral rock, until he gained the beach. In the thick forest jungle he
would at least be safe from pursuit by the ship's people.
Taking the boy by the hand, he set out at a run past the line of native
houses which dotted the beach, and to all inquiries as to his haste
he made no answer. Suddenly, as he turned into a path that led
mountain-wards, he found his way blocked by an officer and a party of
blue-jackets.
“Halt!” cried the officer, covering him with a fowling-piece. “Who are
you, and why are you running like this?”
“That is my business, sir,” he said. Then the officer sprang at him.
“Surrender, you villain! I know you--you are one of the men we want.”
He turned like lightning, and, with the boy in his arms, sped back
again towards the beach in the hope of getting a canoe and gaining the
opposite shore of the island. But his pursuers were gaining on him fast,
and when the beach was reached at last he turned and faced them, for
every canoe was gone.
The officer motioned to his men to stand back.
“Brandon, there is no chance for you. Do not add another crime to that
which you have already committed.”
“No, sir; no. I shall do no more harm to any one in the King's service,
but I will never be taken alive.”
He pressed the muzzle of his pistol to his heart, pulled the trigger,
and fell dead at their feet.