THE ISLAND.
But the sight that greeted Tom’s eyes as he emerged on deck speedily
drove all other thoughts from his mind. The wind had died down, and,
although a heavy swell was still running, the sea was by no means rough.
Across the gray waves, not more than a mile or so from the schooner, was
visible the outlines of a rocky island.
Under the pall of gray sky, and surrounded by the leaden, sullen seas,
it looked a dismal spot of land. So far as Tom could make out, it was
craggy and mountainous in the extreme. On the side by which they were
approaching it, the island was wooded down almost to the water’s edge.
Tom found the professor at his elbow. He began to talk to him at once.
There was no fear of any one overhearing them. The crew and the leaders
of the gang were far too busy scanning the island. In the lee rigging
Simon Lake hung by one arm, while, with his free hand, he held a pair of
glasses to his eyes.
“What land do you suppose that is?” asked Tom, as the schooner plunged
onward toward it.
The professor thought a moment before answering. It was evident he was
making some sort of mental calculation. At last he spoke, and by this
time Mr. Chillingworth was one of the group about him.
“I should judge it to be one of the group of islets found to the
southward of the Queen Charlotte group,” he replied. “They are scattered
pretty thickly through these waters, and, as they are seldom visited
except by whalers short of water or seal poachers, they would naturally
afford an ideal place for men plying the trade that you have informed me
Lake is engaged in.”
“I agree with you,” said Mr. Chillingworth, in a low, hopeless sort of
tone. “Once on one of those islands and the chance of our ever being
heard of again is so remote as to be among the impossibilities. Great
heavens, my poor wife——”
He broke off with a groan. The professor, after a quick glance about him
to make sure they were not overheard, laid a comforting hand on his
shoulder.
“Brace up, sir,” he said. “I have by no means given up hope yet. At all
events, once on land we shall have more of a chance to get away than we
would have on board this schooner.”
His tone seemed to cheer the despondent rancher considerably. He glanced
gratefully at the philosopher and then said:
“You are right, professor. It is foolish to give way like this when we
ought to be bending our energies in other directions. I shall complain
no more.”
“That’s right,” said the professor heartily. The next instant he turned,
as Monday plucked his sleeve.
“What is it, Monday?” he asked.
“Boss, me at dese island once in whaler, Tuesday he here, too. Long time
ago,” said the Kanaka, an excited light burning in his eyes. “Boss, we
tell you something ’bout dese island. Him very queer island. Back in dem
hills, across dem hills, dey——”
“Hush,” cautioned the professor. “Not another word now, my man. Here
comes the head of this rascally collection of law-breakers.”
Monday subsided instantly. A vacant look crept into his eyes, which an
instant before had been dancing excitedly. His companion also relapsed
into apparent listlessness. In many ways these natives of the South Seas
were fully the equal of any white man in their quick perception and keen
insight. They were quite as much in possession of the facts concerning
Lake and his crew as were the rest.
As the professor’s sharp eye had noted, Lake had clambered down from the
rigging a few minutes before. His face bore a satisfied look as he came
toward the castaways.
“Waal, thar’s your future home,” he grinned, as he approached the little
group.
“Perhaps you can tell us if I am correct in my assumption that the
island is one of the Queen Charlotte group off the coast of Canada?”
inquired the professor, adjusting his spectacles and turning to Lake.
“I ain’t sayin’,” was the sullen rejoinder. “It’s enough fer yer ter
know thet we’re bound fer thet island, and ye’re a mighty lucky lot not
to be at the bottom of the sea at this minnit. I tell yer I hed a hard
time persuading Zeb Hunt and ther crew not ter finish yer off.”
Tom shuddered at the rascal’s calm tone. He spoke without the slightest
concern. As he gazed at the rapacious face of the leader of the Chinese
runners, Tom did not doubt that the unfortunate Chinaman at that moment
reposed where, according to Lake, Zeb Hunt and the crew would have liked
to see them.
As the schooner drew closer to the island, Tom perceived what Lake had
noticed through the glasses some time before. This was, that on the
beach, flying from a tall, white flagstaff, was a square of red bunting.
What this meant he was presently to find out in an odd manner.
Lake and Hunt went below as the schooner approached the island. Their
heads were close together in deep consultation as they entered the
companionway. Tom wondered what they could be discussing—the fate of
the castaways likely.
The island, seen at closer range as the schooner drew nearer, appeared
even more uninviting than it had from the distance. Tall, bare hills,
rock-ribbed and cloven with deep crevasses, ran back from its shores,
piling up to a mass of rugged peaks and inaccessible-looking precipices.
At the foot of these hills—or rather mountains in miniature—was a
dense growth of dark, melancholy looking trees, of dark green and
blackish foliage. These Tom learned later were mostly pine trees and
other conifers.
It was the part of the island immediately about the flagstaff, though,
that interested him the most. Here quite a clearing seemed to have been
made in the dense forest, and a cluster of rough huts could be seen,
with several figures moving about. Against the dark background the red
flag floated out like a flame.
While the others stood in a group at the rail watching all this, Tom
retired to a seat on the edge of the cabin skylight. As it had grown
warm with the dropping of the wind, one of the sections of the light was
open, and through it the voices of Hunt and Lake drifted up from the
cabin as they sat talking.
“We won’t be able to lose much time, cap,” Tom could hear Zeb say; “the
red flag is up and that means that the steamer has called with another
load of Chinks and gone away again. The sooner we run them through the
better, more especially as Chillingworth is out of the way.”
“Why, thar’s no hurry, is thar?” inquired Lake. “I’d like a bit of a run
ashore thar to git my head in shape again. Then, too, thar’s thet gold
back in ther hills. I mean ter sic’ that professer onter thet, Zeb.”
“You still think thet’s gold-bearing rock, then?”
“I’m sure uv it. Ef only it is, we’ll get rid of this crew uv ours, Zeb,
and you and I ’ull chuck this Chink running business and settle down ter
mining. It’s not so dangerous, an’ almost as profitable.”
“Well,” came Hunt’s voice, “I’ve only one thing ter say, pervisions is
short, an’ ef ther steamer has landed another bunch of Chinks, the less
time we keep ’em ashore the better. Then, too, this wife of
Chillingworth’s is bound ter kick up a turribul rumpus when she finds
her husband is gone. All things considered, I say let’s get the job over
and done with, as quick as possible.”
“I dunno but what ye’re right,” rejoined Lake, “and——”
But here the noise of the crew, as under the orders of Zeb’s assistant,
a little bow-legged fellow, with a fringe of beard under his chin, they
began to work the schooner on another tack, drowned all other sound.
Tom arose from his seat, not wishing to court discovery by remaining
there longer. He felt that he had overheard an important conversation,
though. In the event of Lake’s and Zeb’s having to make a quick run back
to the coast, perhaps it would be possible in some way to smuggle
themselves on board, or at least work out some plan to get back to their
own people. Then, too, there had been some hope in what the Kanaka had
said. Evidently he and his companion knew something about the island
which was of high importance to persons in their position.
Altogether Tom felt quite heartened compared to his despondency of a
short time before.
By dinner time the schooner had been worked quite close to the island,
and when they came on deck after the meal they found that not more than
a few hundred yards separated her from the shore. While they had been
down in the cabin she had slipped in through a passage in a sort of reef
that extended from the shore. She now lay in deep, calm water, scarcely
moving. As Zeb shouted the command and the anchor rattled and roared to
the bottom of the lagoon, several boats put off from the shore and came
toward them.
Tom looked toward the rough, precipitous shores with a strange mingling
of excitement and apprehension. What lay in front of them on that
island? Was it to prove the scene of their indefinite imprisonment in
practical slavery to Lake and his crew?
The boy could not but think that the outlook appeared as sombre as the
leaden skies, the drab, rocky hills, and the sullen, gray sea outside
the reef. But he determined to put a brave face on it, and began to
watch, with some interest, the boats pulling toward them.