The two lads crouched, drenched through, on the bottom of the canoe,
while the Kanaka boys paddled furiously. Giant waves, true mountains of
water, hung above them threatening to engulf them, but the canoe rode
them with what appeared incredible buoyancy.
How long this kept up, neither Jack nor Billy ever knew. It seemed like
years. Dizzy and sick from the riotous motions of the canoe as it swung
wildly between sea and sky, they lost all count of everything. But the
struggle was nearing its end.
Suddenly a giant comber caught up the dugout, turtled it skyward and
then rushed it sickeningly down. It lifted the craft over the reef and
into the open sea. For one instant it hesitated and then spun round in
the trough of the sea. The next moment it was smashed into slivers
against the reef while an avalanche of waters carried all its occupants
down into the depths before they had time to even shout their
consternation. More dead than alive, Jack shot back to the surface
again. Not far from him was a projecting point of the reef. He managed
somehow to crawl to it, but as he made his progress along the lower
lying portions of the coral wall he was swept time and again by waves
and compelled to exert all his strength to avoid being dashed off. At
length, with hands cut and bleeding from the rough coral, and his
clothing in shreds, he reached his refuge and was almost immediately
joined there, to his great relief, by Anai and his comrade, who had
rescued Billy Raynor.
But it was a miserable refuge they had found. The projecting point of
rock hardly gave room for all of them, and frequently waves swept over
it. At all times they were choked and blinded with spray.
“Well, this is the limit,” declared Billy. “Never again for me so far as
pearl hunting is concerned.”
“Nor for me either,” said Jack. “Still, it was our fault for not
watching the weather.”
“How long will the storm last, Anai, do you think?” inquired Billy, a
little later.
The Kanaka boy looked at the weather with a practiced eye.
“Him get better soon,” he said. “Him not bad storm.”
“Not a bad storm!” exclaimed Jack. “Well, if this isn’t one, I never
want to see one.”
“Sometimes hurricane season come blow whole village away,” Anai assured
him.
“I hope this won’t be a hurricane,” said Jack.
The Kanaka shook his head.
“Bimeby him go way,” he assured them. “Look blue sky way off there now.”
Sure enough, in the far north-west, from whence the hurricane had come,
a shaft of sunlight was striking the sea. Behind them they could see the
storm retreating. Before long the sea had quieted down and the wind
dropped almost completely.
“Well, we are better off in one respect,” said Jack, as they lay about
on the reef, basking in the hot sun and drying their wet garments, “but
how are we to get ashore?”
The question was answered by Anai.
“Me swim, get canoe. Soon back,” he said.
The next moment his lithe brown form was in the water. To protect
himself against sharks, he carried a long knife, fashioned out of iron
wood, which was slung round his neck by a lanyard. It was as tough and
hard as steel, and he appeared to have no doubt that he could protect
himself with it against the great fish.
Half-way to the shore a triangular fin came cruising near him and the
boys dreaded to see a tragic end to their island friend. But Anai set up
diabolical yells and kicked up a great splashing in the water and the
sea monster sheered off again.
“Shark him big coward,” said Anai’s friend, who had remained behind with
the boys. Directly Anai landed he turned and waved and then set off at a
sharp run along the beach. Before they expected him he was back again
with a canoe, and thus an adventure which might have had disastrous
consequences ended safely. But it was a long time before the boys ever
forgot it.
The next morning Jack and Billy were leaning over the rail of the _Sea
Gypsy_, chatting and watching the sharks that swum around the ship
eagerly watching for scraps from the galley. The coal was nearly all
unloaded from the small, rusty tramp that had brought it, and all hands
were looking forward to a resumption of the journey.
In the meantime, Mr. Jukes had been investigating ashore and learned,
from some natives, that the “Tear of the Sea” had actually been bought
by his brother, and that just after the purchase, the _Centurion_ had
sailed away. Not long after, ‘Bully’ Broom’s ship arrived, and the sea
rover was informed of the sale. He was furious as it appeared that, in
accordance with his usual practice, he intended to raid the village and
take possession of the wonderful pearl by force. Mr. Jerushah Jukes’
arrival ahead of him had, of course, frustrated this plan. According to
the best information he could get, the millionaire learned that “Bully”
had at once put to sea in pursuit of the _Centurion_. The finding of the
empty derelict left little doubt that he had attacked the schooner and
imprisoned, or worse, perhaps killed, all those on board her.
This, in its way, was well enough, but it left the fate of the party
still a mystery, and their whereabouts unknown, for “Bully” had half a
dozen retreats scattered through the South Seas where he might have
taken them, for even Captain Sparhawk did not believe that the ruffian
would have dared to kill them.