The conditions of the cutting off of the brigantine were faithfully
observed by the contracting parties, and long ere night fell the last
boatload of plunder had been taken ashore. Tebarau, chief of Oneaka, had
with his warriors helped to heave up anchor, and the vessel, under
short canvas, was already a mile or two away from the land, and in his
hiding-place in the gloomy lazarette the half-caste boy heard Corton and
Deschard laying plans for the future.
Only these two were present in the cabin. Pedro was at the wheel, and
Tamu somewhere on deck. Presently Corton brought out the dead captain's
despatch box, which they had claimed from the natives, and the two began
to examine the contents. There was a considerable amount of money in
gold and silver, as well as the usual ship's papers, &c. Corton, who
could scarcely read, passed these over to his companion, and then ran
his fingers gloatingly through the heap of money before him.
With a hoarse, choking cry and horror-stricken eyes Deschard sprang to
his feet, and with shaking hand held out a paper to Corton.
“My God! my God!” exclaimed the unhappy wretch, and sinking down again
he buried his face in his hands.
Slowly and laboriously his fellow ex-convict read the document through
to the end. It was an agreement to pay the captain of the brigantine
the sum of one hundred pounds sterling provided that Henry Deschard
was taken on board the brigantine at Woodle's Island (me name Kuria was
known by to whaleships and others), the said sum to be increased to
two hundred pounds “provided that Henry Deschard, myself, and my two
daughters are landed at Batavia or any other East India port within
sixty days from leaving the said island,” and was signed Anna Deschard.
Staggering to his feet, the man sought in the ruined and plundered
state-room for further evidence. Almost the first objects that he
saw were two hanging pockets made of duck--evidently the work of some
seaman--bearing upon them the names of “Helen” and “Laura.”
*****
Peering up from his hiding-place in the lazarette, where he had lain
hidden under a heap of old jute bagging and other débris, Maru saw
Deschard return to the cabin and take up a loaded musket. Sitting in the
captain's chair, and leaning back, he placed the muzzle to his throat
and touched the trigger with his naked foot. As the loud report rang
out, and the cabin filled with smoke, the boy crawled from his dark
retreat, and, stepping over the prostrate figure of Deschard, he reached
the deck and sprang overboard.
For hours the boy swam through the darkness towards the land, guided by
the lights of the fires that in the Gilbert and other equatorial islands
are kindled at night-time on every beach. He was picked up by a fishing
party, and probably on account of his youth and exhausted condition his
life was spared.
That night as he lay sleeping under a mat in the big _maniapa_ on Kuria
he was awakened by loud cries, and looking seaward he saw a bright glare
away to the westward.
It was the brigantine on fire.
Launching their canoes, the natives went out to her, and were soon close
enough to see that she was burning fiercely from for'ard to amidships,
and that her three boats were all on board--two hanging to the davits
and one on the deckhouse. But of the four beachcombers there was no
sign.
Knowing well that no other ship had been near the island, and that
therefore the white men could not have escaped by that means without
being seen from the shore, the natives, surmising that they were in a
drunken sleep, called loudly to them to awake; but only the roaring of
the flames broke the silence of the ocean. Not daring to go nearer, the
natives remained in the vicinity till the brigantine was nothing but a
mastless, glowing mass of fire.
Towards midnight she sank; and the last of the beachcombers of Kuria
sank with her.